Kathy put one fingertip into her sopping hole, then another. She stretched the tissues until the first joint of each finger wedged in. She willed her hands to work together. Two fingers wiggled in her vagina, thrusting in and pulling out in counterpoint to the rolling, twisting, plucking pressure on her clit.
The flashes of light that had zipped along Kathy's nerves came closer and closer together. They changed from flashbulb visions to a deep, ocean-like roar in her mind.
A nest of new feelings centered in her lower belly. Kathy felt the flowing object grow and contract with each move of her pussy-wet hands. It was a bright, strong part of her body that she'd never known before, but it seemed familiar as it pulsed.
The new center drew energy from her cuntal opening, but the greatest part of its power flowed from her clitoris. Strands of heat stretched from her pussy to the knot in her belly, then connected to every muscle and nerve in her body. Kathy was aware of her nose and ears, her fingers and her clenching toes. Her flesh was totally involved in the hot jewel that flamed in her guts.
Kathy sobbed. Her tortured clit had given all its electric pulsations to the expanding knot that quivered on the floor of her pelvis. Her slender fingers couldn't wrestle another millimeter into her tight cunny. She dripped with vital, musky juices, and the wind dried them on her thighs. Tears welled in her blue eyes.
Her fingers slowed. Kathy stopped pulling at the pencil-stub segment of lusty flesh. Her fingers matched the native rhythm of her rocking hips.
The knot blossomed. Pink and meaty-feeling, sensations grew inside the little blonde girl's loins. Slow and lascivious petting, not the frantic hurry of her earlier frenzy, made the marvelous sensation change into a fuller, deeper warmth.
"Oh, yes," she whispered. Kathy caught a whiff of her heavy, female smell. She nodded, and lovingly caressed her pussy.
The pelvis-centered feeling seemed to turn slowly around, rolling and snowballing inside Kathy's flat belly. The rolling, grinding beat of her hips grew more sensuous. Beautiful, warm images of childhood pleasures floated in her mind, from the secure look of candy-cane wallpaper to the furry comfort of stuffed toys.
A languorous ocean of warmth swept Kathy up. She floated on soft waves that billowed with the incessant rocking of her hips. Her limbs' moved leadenly, but they felt light as floating feathers. She smiled and bit her lip, thinking of the shimmering of a peacock's fan.
The feeling was soft, lulling her. Kathy cruised higher than her father's glider, soaring, the swelling fullness of her cuntal sensations.
Kathy was relaxed, only her hips and hands moving. More energy flowed in her. The burgeoning feeling swept her up and her bottom began moving a little further with each rolling stroke.
Kathy had floated to the top of a steeple of profane pleasures. She felt herself teetering on the peak and knew that the fall was inevitable. She lingered, wanting the bounteous comfort of the very peak to continue.
Kathy began to struggle to keep her lofty, sensuous perch. High and warm, she balanced, staying up by pressing her clitty harder, forcing her fingertips further into her cunt. She felt sweat spring out on her forehead. It was work, hard, strenuous labor, to hold herself over the abyss.
One last hard, slippery push at her clit knocked Kathy over the edge. All the energy that had swelled the feeling in her belly escaped at one time. Her arms and legs twitched. In a sudden shock, falling into overwhelming pleasure, Kathy realized what Mary had said. Her hands prodded at her cunt, accelerating the final plunge into her orgasmic release. Mary Jackson's words echoed in her brain:
I'm cumming!
Chapter 3
"Kathy! Where are you? It's time for dinner, Kathy!" Mike Andrews called. His heavy shoes crunched on the gravel.
Kathy looked around the corner of Bob Williams' trailer. Mary Jackson and Bob had left while the slender blonde was swept up in the throes of her first orgasm.
The twelve-year-olds first impulse was to hide from her father. Her wraparound skirt was all askew. She'd been leaning against the big trailer's tailgate, one shimmering thigh gleaming in the moonlight. She struggled to control her heavy breathing. Her pointed titties rose and fell with her fluttering gasps. Kathy felt the heat in her cheeks and wondered if her blush would show.
"Kathy? Come on, honey, this is no time to play hide and seek," Mike said. He stood between two rows of glider trailers, swiveling his head from side to side. His pretty daughter peered around Williams' rig. She recognized the pleading tone in his voice, and knew her father would get angry soon.
Kathy tugged at her skirt, trying to close the flaps neatly. Dam! I'll have to untie it, she thought. She took one step backward and pulled at the laces.
Kathy had to raise her sweater. Her navel showed as an inky dot of shadow above the black lace of her garter belt. Tiny goosebumps sprang up on her pale skin as the wind dried the thin film of perspiration. She opened the skirt, holding the ends out.
Her skin was white as marble in the moonlight. The small, dark-blonde patch on her pussy was a vertical mask for the tender slit. It hadn't spread to a womanly vee.
Kathy's black garters held her stocking tops in scalloped arcs. With her nylon-clad knees touching, a delicate oval space showed at mid-thigh and a tiny triangular tunnel gaped just under her pussy. The wind shot through the little gap and dried the remnants of her pussy cream.
Kathy laid one end of the skirt over and cinched a floppy bow in the laces at her waist. "Daddy, I'm not hiding," she said, pulling her sweater back down. "I was just looking at the valley and thinking about the contest. What did Mr. Jackson say?" She stepped into view.
Mike walked toward his thin, wraith-like daughter as he answered. "It's okay, nothing to worry about. Milt wouldn't tell me who protested us, but I had the certification from the Association. All we have to do is pass the regular tech inspection tomorrow and we earn the fifty-dollar protest fee.”
"Who would protest, Daddy? Everybody knows our plane's all right. None of the regular fliers would throw away their money before a contest.”
"Nobody has to tell, Kathy, but it doesn't matter. Fifty bucks will pay for the gas to get here and back." Mike Andrews put his arm around Kathy's shoulders and gave her a quick hug. "And it will buy us a very nice dinner tonight.”
In the restaurant, Kathy was very aware of the scent of her pussy. On the way to wash the smell off her hands, she saw Bob Williams dining with the Jackson’s. She couldn't help staring. Milt and Bob were arguing quietly, leaning over the table while Mary Jackson sat back. She looked smugger than a cat in a tuna cannery.
Kathy turned away when Bob Williams looked at her. She felt her ears burning as she rushed into the restroom. No! He couldn't possibly have seen me! They went around the other end of the truck!
Scores of people were already bustling around. Inspectors with clipboards checked off gliders. Flight crews waxed and assembled their machines. As always, Kathy was torn between watching the other competitors and helping her father.
Milt Jackson handed Kathy's father a check for fifty dollars as soon as the Andrews aircraft passed tech. He smiled and left to inspect the next sailplane in the long line.
Kathy covered up the cockpit, hoping to keep it cool until Mike's takeoff time. She squinted in the bright sun when she saw Mary Jackson approaching. Both men's and women's heads swiveled as Mary threaded her way through the inspection area.
The curvy brunette wore a thin white sweater that accented her swaying, braless breasts. The shadowed circles of her nipples showed darkly through the strained cloth. Her full, round thighs were evenly tanned, right to the high-arched hem of her white shorts. Her ample buttocks rolled fluidly in figure-eights and little wedges of pussy puffed beside the pants seam in her crotch.