But it was no good. There was no sense in it. Gary had her. He wasn't going to stop now, not after he'd placed his meat so deep inside her body, not after he'd penetrated her rear canal all the way down to the oily pit. There was no way he would stop. It would take animals with super strength to pull him away.
He slipped his finger up and down on her clit. He knew that if he could get her clitoris rolling and rubbed at the right pace she would melt and go easily with him the rest of the way. He wanted her to cum, too. Not that it really mattered all that much if the woman, Sharon Pettibone, got herself satisfied. That wasn't nearly so important, but he knew that it would be that much better a fucking for him if she were equally hot and lusty. He worked out on her clit meat. He rubbed it into a frothy later.
"Oh, God," she moaned, "I'm c-c-c-cum-ing! I'm cuming! Oh God fuck…"
Her asshole muscle started to squeeze on Gary's joint. She rolled her hips and her buttocks and her smooth interior muscles contracted right on cue. Gary gave way with a sensuous welp. He cried out: "Fucking-A!" and then he let loose with his jism. He shot it all forward, into her bowel pit, filling her up, giving her a big, sticky puddle of hot juice to deal with. She loved that part of it, as did he, the throbbing, the orgasm, the squeezing, the climax, the ecstasy of cuming and shooting off that way. Then he pulled his meaty spent wand out of her tube and rolled off of her.
"Baby," he said, "I really do think you're a good fucking kid. You know that? You're alright."
A moment later Sharon Pettibone was back in the reality of her parents' bathroom. She was still sitting on the tiled floor next to the back wall. She had plenty of juice dripping from her wet twat lips. She was hot and frustrated, and she was wondering what she was going to do to satisfy herself one last time. She couldn't live with the persistent itch that was crawling up and down inside her vagina. She needed something to get in there and scratch it, something to give her twat walls a good rubbing. She wanted, needed, had to have a real live cock muscle. She decided right then that come hell or high water she must go out into the real world fairly soon and find for herself a man, a man with a big boner and the will to satisfy. She knew that such a man must exist and that his penis rubbing inside her vagina would be the only thing that would make her truly sexually happy.
CHAPTER SIX – Hot Sauce
But first, before Sharon would go out and find herself a real man, with a real cock, she wanted to make sure that she was ready. She knew she was ready, actually, but she wanted to make sure that she would be GOOD. She didn't want to get into bed with the guy and find out that he didn't like her because she didn't know what she was doing. She wanted to make sure that she was on an even keel with him, that he didn't know a hell of a lot more than she did about the real McCoy.
To do so, to inform herself, she made a quick stop at her local, neighborhood adult bookstore. She walked up and down the isles, wearing her shorts and her loose open blouse, looking for the right books, the right pictures which would inform her as to the way that real sex is made. She saw photos of young men sucking out the insides of lovely young girls and she felt her heart skip a beat just from the sight of the stuff. She saw pictures of women with their fingers up their pussies and she knew for sure that they were having just as good a time at it (even though they were in front of a camera) as she had when she was home masturbating. She saw men and women eating each other out and she knew that that was going to be one of the first things she did after she lost her virginity. Wow, she thought to herself, there certainly are a lot of things I'll be able to do once I start fucking my brains out!
She roamed up and down the aisles of the book store. She found for herself a cozy enough corner of the store and sat down, crouched, with a book that caught her attention. She skimmed through it until she found a picture that she especially liked. It was a color photo of a man and a woman embracing. The man had his steely wet sword, so hot that it had turned blue, stuffed up the woman's spread twat lips. The furry wet beaver hairs were coated with a slippery looking ooze. It made Sharon hot just to look at the picture of the two naked people. She was tempted, there in the bookstore, to slide her fingers down between her soft blonde loins and start to work out on her clitoris. It would seem only natural. After all, she was turned on, she had the pictures, why not just go ahead and masturbate herself on the floor of the adult bookstore. "Oh, God," she murmured, because a particularly erotic fantasy had crept into her brain and taken over where her thinking left off.
A group of men, all of whom wore heavy brown overcoats, pulled at her body. One held her arm one way, one held her other arm out to the other side. Two more grabbed at her legs. She was naked, of course, and her big smooth titties went sliding down along her soft flesh as they flattened her out between the racks of dirty books and magazines. They kept her there on the dirty scuffed and sticky wet floor, spread-eagle, until their leader arrived, a ruffian wearing black leather with silver buttons. He had on leather slacks, too, and from outside came the sound of his revving motorbike. "Come on, baby," he said, pulling off his leather jacket, "I ain't got all day." He took off his sunglasses, smoothed back his duck's ass hair cut and climbed down between her smooth spread legs. He filled her twat with his chafing pants and rubbing zipper. He was ready to fuck her juicy twat.
"Oh, God, no," she screamed, really not meaning it. "I want to go home. I don't want you to fuck me. I don't want…" She rolled her hips from left to right and the hood stuffed her cunt. He gave her the whole thing in one big thrust. The bead of his meat pioneered out new spaces. Her sloppy wet beaver folded up and open and closed on his joint. Her clit was upright and rubbing on the meaty spike. "Jesus, God, fuck no shit piss, fuck, fuck!" She was wailing on his rod. He was sliding in and out of her tube, giving her cave the first-class rubbing it deserved. He was wailing up and down inside her body, rolling on her hips and pelvis, making sure that her pussy was about as hot and lusty as it could be.
Just as quickly as she had passed into the fantasy, Sharon Pettibone came out of it. She caught herself up. She was squatting in the corner of the adult bookstore, eyes glazed, twat leaking mildly as she stared at a picture of two naked people fucking. She couldn't get over how powerful an hypnotic effect the book, the simple picture, had on her body. She wondered if she shouldn't buy the thing and take it home with her so that she could always get into such a good sexual, sensual, hot mood just by looking at it. She went traipsing up and down all the aisles and picked out for herself several different pictures, journals, books and magazines, a veritable arsenal of pornographic erotica made to get her hot and lusty, made to keep her happy on those long and lonely nights when – she was a virgin – there was nothing else to do. Her bill at the adult bookstore register came to no less than thirty-five dollars. But that included a bottle of lubricant and two attachments for her sister Debby's dildo. "Oh, Jesus," she said, marching out of the store with her big brown bag clenched tight in her fist, "this is going to be some weekend!"
At home, in the privacy of her bedroom, Sharon stripped down. She made herself hot and nude, slick and naked, ready and, when she'd been fingering herself for about five or six strokes, very, very horny. She eyed her finger as it went sliding to and from the slit in her bush. "Oh, boy," she moaned, "this is going to be first rate."