In spite of herself and the rub down she had given her tender skin, the new pleasantness began to creep back, and she found herself wishing, however much she accused herself of being silly, that she had not run away quite so soon. Something was missing. There was something for her that she didn't get, and the craving for that unknown something made her wriggle on the bed as it became stronger. Once again she was filling with that same kind of tingling arousal that Pete DePow had given her. Her mind began to drift with the same kind of mindless excitement that she had suffered with him, the same attitude of not caring about consequences as her mind carried her on to further heights of sexual fantasy. With the whole ball team watching, she imagined herself slowly undressing. Good grief! And another thing, she imagined she could feel Pete's warmly pulsing prick inside her trembling cunt. She recalled the touch of his lips and hands on her naked flesh just as though he were in the room with her now, and she wished he was! She began to squirm in the growing passion on the bed, and her wetly aroused cunt began to secrete its liquid excitement, moistening her fresh panties. There was a tender aching up between her legs and the need for release of her ever-increasing passion was becoming strong, too strong!
Involuntarily, the twelve year old pig-tailed tomboy's hands began to move down along her tautly rippling belly. She knew what girls talked about doing, about playing with themselves until relief came. She knew that's exactly what she wanted to do to herself so she forced her hands up and away, but they immediately went back down again as if they had a will of their own. The inside of her mouth was dry, and she ran her tongue wetly over her lips several times in an effort to rid herself of the and taste. Oh, gosh, she thought dimly, why would I do something like this to myself? I want to go back to the way things were! I don't want to get so worked up.
But in another moment, she didn't care what she was working herself up to. In a corner of her brain she knew there was no going back to anything now. Her hands were moving sensuously around to her front, moving across the full firmness of her only slightly pliant new titties. Gradually, she began opening and closing her legs as she massaged her sensitive young mounds of warm flesh, the sound of automobiles and life going on outside the bedroom and the house beginning to sound like the ominous background music of a film. She began watching, fascinated, as her own fingers began plucking at the buttons on the front of her bathrobe, opening the garment all the way down. Her skin was still pink next to the white of her panties. Her hands traveled almost greedily up and down her body now, over the mounds of her titties, down to her throbbing pubic mound, across the smoothness of her taut little belly.
Laura Cutter was looking at herself in a very different way than she had ever looked before. Instead of noticing her muscles, she noticed the attractive slenderness of her limbs and how her waist nipped in above her hips, which looked more fully rounded than she had ever seen them. Her hands seemed to be seeking knowledge of every inch of her new womanly shape, of her proportionately lovely flesh. She ran her fingers tantalizingly over the area up between her thighs, arching her long limbs up and spreading them open to the delicious, forbidden delights which her caresses were instilling within her body. Her mouth was parted, and her brain was whirling with the heat of her growing lust. She flailed her head from side to side on the pillow, her long, blond pig-tails whipping around like soft whips. She had kicked the covers completely off of her eagerly trembling body as her hands continued their mad pace up and down, down and around, teasing her now-fevered flesh into even more intense arousal, her brain alive with lewd thoughts previously unknown to her, of Pete DePow's long lust-hardened prick fucking in and out of her wetly throbbing cunt.
Laura arched her back, working her arms out of the sleeves of her robe. She found herself needing a feeling of great freedom. She wanted to touch the rigid nipples without the encumbrance of clothing under her arms and bunching up her sides. She pulled the robe away from her body and tossed it to the floor beside the bed, and her hands hungrily engulfed the soft warmth of her new alabaster mounds. Slowly, rhythmically, she began to roll the nipples back and forth, squeezing them and then releasing them, squeezing, then releasing.
The entire time he was thinking that she ought not to do this, that it was going to make it harder to give this sort thing up and return to being herself again. She was masturbating, and that, she knew, was naughty anyway. It was naughty and evil and perverted and… and… it felt so good!
Her right hand left her nakedly quivering tit and moved slowly down over her stomach to the elastic waistband of her panties. In spite of her self-recrimination, her shame at what she was doing, she wasn't able to stop herself. There was only her urgency now, her frantic need for release from the overbuilding whirlpools of passions inside her shamelessly aroused body.
What was she doing to herself? She was drawing her panties down now, drawing them sensuously over her satin pubic mound while her other hand continued to stroke the nipple of one titty. She raised up on the bed, pulling the thin wisp of a garment down to her ankles, her eyes tightly shut, and then pulling them off completely so that she was completely nakedly exposed, and although there was certainly no one else in the room, she had this magnificent feeling of being looked at by hundreds of pairs of gray-green eyes!
Again she lay back, one hand on her tit, the other stroking first one thigh, then the other, carefully avoiding for the moment the moist inferno of lust between her legs. Then when she could stand the pressure no longer, her eager hand shot to the hotly pulsating folds of her pussy and pressed against the wet sensitive flesh there as she once again brought her legs up off the bed and splayed them wide apart. Her tight little cuntal hole was opened wide now as she gently eased her outstretched finger into her wetly clasping pussy.
She could not help herself. She imagined it was Pete DePow's hand, his finger, touching her there, stroking her down there. She imagined it was he who was now caressing her hair-fuzzed cuntal lips until they seemed to be swollen with blood the way his long blood-thickened cock had been swollen, until her clitoris was as hard as his lust-rigid cock had been hard. She found her sensitive nerve bud with the tip of her searching finger and began to tease it back and forth, running the nail round the quivering tip until the delight caused her to jackknife her legs back up against her chest, mashing what little mound there was of her tits flat. Her asscheeks, white moons of the softest, most flawless young flesh imaginable, jerked and twisted in complete wantonness under her fingering, and the resulting erotic sensations caused the sweat to bead and shine on her lust-grimacing face, matting her blond wisps of hair, ever escaping her braids, to her forehead and neck.
Oh, God, she thought to herself, hoping her parents could not read the swear word in her mind, but she sure wished Pete were here! All that sounded out into the room was a groaning through the daze of passion which controlled her brain, but her thoughts were beginning to be of how stupid she had been to run away! Wouldn't it be wonderful, she thought, if it was Pete playing with her pussy. How she wished it was he who was going to put his lovely lust-hard prick into her ravished cunt and fuck her, fuck her hard, real hard until he came inside of her instead of all over her skin, where she couldn't feel filled with the warmth of it but only covered with its cold stickiness.
Faster and faster and faster, Laura's little finger fucked into her moistly clasping cunt, deliberately teasing her clitoris and her cuntal hole until her orgasm was only moments away. Her hips thrashed and pounded the bed beneath her as her other hand squeezed and kneaded her nakedly quivering tits and nipples, causing wave after wave of pain-pleasure to ripple outward from her sensitive flesh. There was no guilt, no shame for her in that frozen period of time. There was only the wonderful, rapturous feelings of impending climax which were filling her very soul.