Albert's cock was thumping and throbbing in its confined space between his belly and her face. In a minute, if she weren't careful, she would have an eyeful of cum. She wanted to quit and give the over stimulated boy a rest but the way little John was ram slamming his cock up her cunt and the way he hummed and tried to swallow her tits was not leaving Ted in the most judicious of moods. She felt herself licking and hummmmming the older boy's balls, thickling his asshole and the tender strip of perineum between asshole and balls.
Abruptly Albert bucked mightily and threw himself away from her. When he came back cock-first the only thing she could do to keep from getting stabbed vas open her mouth. This time Albert's six superb inches did not stop with their well-flanged head atop her tongue. Instead, she felt the boy's six solid inches once more slide past her palate and down her throat.
Instinctively she swallowed, trying to let this indigestible morsel slide the rest of the way down. And naturally it stayed right there. She swallowed again, not really thinking what she was doing.
But Albert was vividly aware of what she was doing. Each time she swallowed her throat muscles milked his cock outward toward the head, squeezing softly and wetly, giving him the most intensely erotic feeling he had ever experienced. Nothing. Licking, sucking, fucking, fingering-nothing else on earth was half as nice as the wonderful feel of this mature woman's throat squeezing, milking and massaging as she swallowed trying to get his cock the rest of the way down.
Albert moaned and grabbed her ears, pulling her onto his cock like a glove. Ted was already on his cock as deep as she could go. She moaned and swallowed some more, wrapping Albert's ass in her arms and drawing him closer, tighter, deeper. Albert moaned again and bucked. She was already as deep as she could go but if it gave him pleasure to thrust and try to go deeper…
Ted tried to relax and get used to the tremendous bulk in her throat. Alter a while she learned how to breathe around it. The boy's cock felt hard, hot. She could feel the eager thump of his heartbeat transmitted through the raging blood of his swollen skewer. She wondered if it was possible for the other boy to sense her heartbeat through her cunt. Suddenly she realized her own pulse was racing as bad as Albert's. She wondered which of them would cum first. After a moment she wondered which of them had cum the most times.
No contest, she realized alter a moment's reflection. She had cu more than both boys put together. And if she didn't watch it she was going to cum again soon.
She could feel the premonitory flutter in her belly that meant soon she would melt, flow, deliquesce into a puddle of passion beneath the ceaseless churning of little John's assjammer. The younger boy still fucked tirelessly, licking, kissing and humming the nipples of her still virginal tits to rock hardness. And she had six inches of Albert down her throat!
She had to do something. If she let herself cum she knew she would be played out for good. She had fainted twice now from the intensity of her orgasm. What would happen if she let herself cum now under the multiple stimuli of a cock up her cunt, a mouth on her tits, a pair of hands working over every inch of her sides and flanks, another cock in her mouth and that cock's owner busily stroking the crack of her ass, patting a prurient finger over the fluttering rosette of her asshole?
It was all too much for a girl of simple tastes. Ted knew she had to stop it-to spread it out some more. There were so many things happening to her at once that she didn't know how she had managed to resist this long. She didn't want to cum. Didn't dare cum unless she was ready to abandon the field.
And, thinking it over, Ted knew she had nurtured this secret vision of boy after boy, cocks unlimited, she had kept this situation in her subconscious too many barren years to give up now that actuality was within her grasp. She was wide awake. She was only thirty-nine. She had a boy fucking her and sucking her tits. She had another boy grabbing every inch of undisputed territory and she had his six solid inches in her mouth. Ted didn't want to stop now. She started swallowing harder and faster.
It was like that day back-on top of the mountain when she had been twelve and a half and Mr. Hughes had been half a hundred and they had both been bitten by imaginary snakes. She had known Mr. Hughes was lying and the producer had known she wasn't exactly telling the truth, but what difference did it make? Each wanted a-blow-job by the other and each had gotten it. If the snakes didn't like being blamed for it they could sue for libel.
They had lain facing each other, on the blanket, side by side and end for end in classic sixty-nine position, each pillowing his head on the other's wide-gaping crotch. She had had Mr. Hughes' cock as deep down her twelve-year throat as she could take it and he had been doing all kinds of wonderful things to her virginal twat. He had kissed her, licked her cunt lips inside and out, run his prehensile tongue around her clit, had darted its knowing tip up her vagina past the bottom of her hymeneal curtain. In short, the producer had showed her every form of pleasure short of a full-fledged fuck.
She had supposed at first that he was going to bugger her like Mr. Hammel had done but Mr. Hughes' tastes were oral After a while Ted guessed she liked it better. At least it was easier to clean up and she knew if she had been buggered with the thoroughness Mr. Hammel always dedicated to that noble calling, her asshole would have been tender and twittery for hours and sometimes even days afterward. Then abruptly and simultaneously each had crumbled in the throes of orgasm.
Now they lay, still side by side and end to end, satiated and happy, but still unwilling to call it quits. Mr. Hughes lazily kissed and caressed her taut, hairless little crotch. Ted's throat had disgorged his half-flaccid cock and she was surprisingly free of cum, having swallowed it while his hammerhead was buried somewhere in the region of her collar bones. By the time his dwindled dick had emerged from her mouth his cum was spent and his shriveled cock clean. She lay with her ear cushioned on his hairy thigh, studying the cock she had just been trying to swallow.
Mr. Hammel had always been funny about that kind of thing: perfectly willing to stuff his stabber up her twelve-year-old ass, but he had always turned and twisted and managed his affairs in such a way that she had never gotten a clear view of his cock.
Now, satiated and relaxed, she was free to indulge her curiosity. She captured the flaccid appendage in her hand. At rest it was still more than a twelve-year-old's handful. As her fist closed around the shank the half-covered head of his hammer peeped wetly at her. She squeezed and the head of his cock emerged completely from its foreskin. She studied its purple-grayness, marveling at the magnificent flare of glans penis. "What's that funny thing along the bottom that looks like a string?" she asked.
"Search me," Mr. Hughes said. "That's just the way men are made." He hesitated, then added, "I can tell you one thing about it though. That string-thing along the underside is just about the most sensitive part."
"What does that mean?" Ted asked.
"This," Mr. Hughes said, and drew his fingertip leisurely down her backbone, through the cleft of her ass, across her twittering anus, along her suddenly supersensitive perineum until his finger was tickling its leisurely way across the taut membrane of her cherry. Finally he arrived at her tiny virginal clitoris. He ran a loving finger round and round the slickness, then continued his gentle tickling way up across her prominent, hairless mons veneris, up across the hard-muscled smoothness of her belly until his finger was auguring its way into her navel for another gentle turn-on. "That's what I mean by sensitivity," Mr. Hughes explained, hugging her squirming body until she could stop wiggling and giggling. "I'll bet you never realized one finger could feel that nice."