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whimpered quietly as she continued to watch the lady in front of her suck the
dick of the man sprawled across the couch. She could see the cock of the man
who entered with the woman plunging in and out or her cunt. The woman’s tits
were not as big as hers but as they hung there being pulled, massaged and
played with, they took on a larger size than they probably were. The man
being blown stiffened as he began cumming in the woman’s mouth. “NNNnnngggggg
– uh,” they heard the man grunt. The woman kept sucking on the cock as the
man at her rear increased his thrusts. Soon, a small grunt could be heard
from him as he shot his load up her cunt. The man sat back on the couch. The
woman pulled down her skirt and sat back on the couch. She turned and smiled
at Peter as he reached up and felt her breasts. They were small breasts but
felt firm and smooth. Garolynn was going wild as Peter’s finger furiously
rubbed her clit. She came in bursts, trying to pull Peter’s finger into her

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Here were different smells and tastes. Bitter, mephitic, funky, sour; yet at
the same time smelling mildly reminiscent of certain overly-cloying flowers; a
variance which vacillated between sweet and rank. Thus so was the asshole of my
darling. My tongue slipped past her wrinkled sphincter as I attempted to fully
probe her. Alas, the task was a difficult one. Spasmodic contractions,
punctuated by tiny yelps precluded my love-skewerings.
Norma turned over onto her back, drawing me up until our yonic parts were
well-met. Reaching down, she clasped my cock and drew it into her warm,
distended pussy. Her breath came in short gasps as she held my sides,
orchestrating my movements. Wanting to prolong her pleasure, I stuffed a bit of
pillow into my mouth, biting down hard upon it. My hand reached around to her
ass, which she obligingly lifted. It was wet with the overflow of her copious
secretions. Gradually, I worked my finger into her asshole. Initially, it was
tight, but I was eventually able to gently coax her anal ring to relax and
dilate. As my middle digit entered its whole length, Norma’s breath sucked in
languidly. Though the base of my finger was being firmly gripped, inside there
was room to move about. I perceived my cock moving in her vaginal canal, and
massaged the barrier which was common to both openings.

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As my head nestled between her legs, I soon realized that this was the
axis, the veritable nucleus of the woman Norma. My tongue fluttered about the
creases where her thighs met her trunk, then assertively darted full into her
sex. Oh mellifluous, mucoid myrrh which is the ineffable woman-dew! Tastes and
smells of the sea, of musk and must, of urine and clitoral smegma; the feral,
fruity, primal, fermenty, fenny nectar which is the female yin-essence.
I drank her in as a hummingbird does a flower; a kaleidoscope of steamy,
heady smells, rank and ambrosial, skyrocketed through my head. I hungered for
more. I turned her over onto her belly, caressing and gently kneading her
buttocks. These preliminary palpings were short-lived; with dispatch I drew
apart the cleavage of her ass and post-haste made for her pink-puckered anus.

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As I switched my attention to her breasts, she enveloped me with her legs,
her lubricious pussy grinding against my stomach. Norma’s areolas had their own
distinctive scent, albeit a subtle, ephemeral one. My tongue delighted in the
tactile sensations her erect nipples afforded. Norma too, seemed to share my
enjoyment, softly moaning pleasure-sounds, her pelvis spasmodically jerking
upwards from time to time.
Unhurriedly, my kisses moved down her torso, lingering about ribs and
tummy. My mouth serendipitously encountered her navel, not a demure little
hollow but a great crater of voluptuous rugae. My dalliance there caused Norma
to arc her precious body to meet the proddings of my tongue-play.
“Go down there, now,” Norma hoarsely insisted.

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Her apartment was (how can one put it tactfully?) a mess. An eclectic
mixture of reprocessed Victoriana, Japanese boutique, and neo-Haight-Ashbury.
“Hey Tweezer!” she yelled out to a battered birdcage, large enough to
comfortably house an albatross. In it chirped a finch of some nondescript sort,
while the cage bottom was covered with sheets of newspaper printed in Cyrillic.
“Make yourself comfortable while I heat up the chocolate” Norma directed as
she disappeared into the kitchen. There wasn’t much room to sit down anywhere
except on a large threadbare sofa, which I doubt had ever seen better days.
Piled haphazardly on the chairs were books of all sorts, with titles like: “The
Works of Virgil Finlay,” “The Kalmyk Mongols,” “Les Fleurs du Mal,” “Sundials,”
“Memoirs of a Tattoist,” etc. In all, a most diverse assortment of interests.
When Norma returned from the kitchen, I noticed that she had changed her
clothes. She was again wearing her accustomed jeans and a black tank-top. I had
never before seen her bare arms. I was mildly shocked to note that her
underarms were unshaven; adorned with sparse wisps of silky auburn down. She
was also barefoot. Her feet were tiny and well-formed, without any of the usual
calluses heels inflict on a woman. She looked adorable; women are so sylph-like
when barefoot.

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Some of the courses one is required to take in college are absolutely
unreal! Sociology is one of them. Sitting and trying to feign attentiveness
while listening to some professor pedantically drone on about “Modes of
Alienation” is surely beyond the threshold of endurance. As such, thoughts and
eyes tend to wander to more stimulating subjects. My preoccupation in
Sociology II was Norma.
I had met Norma through a mutual friend at the beginning of the semester.
When we discovered that we both had the same class, we naturally gravitated
towards each other’s familiar territory, sitting side-by-side in the same row.
Norma was slim and leggy; her short hair was of a nondescript brownish hue.
Her unencumbered breasts were small and she had a compact little tush which was
invariably ensconced in tight-fitting, faded jeans. She wore no make-up and I
never saw her in a dress or skirt. Often, she’d sport a purple scarf about her
head, effectively framing her face in a manner quite pleasing. Perhaps her most
striking physical attribute was her hands, pale and long-fingered, with
shortly-cropped nails. She probably could have been a marvelous keyboard
virtuoso. The whole demeanor of her gazelle-like being was decidedly hoydenish;
sort of a willowy Jamie Lee Curtis type if quantification was necessary.

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“Hey are you going to give me a massage or just stand there and hold a
bottle while drooling all over the carpet???”

Calvin, now broken out of his “contemplation”, proceed to do the task
at hand.

First opening the bottle and pouring some of the liquid onto his hands
and then starting with her neck he gently massaged it, kneeding it
caressing it with his strong yet gentle hands feeling the muscles in
Keri’s neck loosen up.

“Mmmmm” Keri moans. “Boy does that feel soooo good”.

Calvin moves his hands from her neck to her shoulders and arms, gently
caressing kneeding, massaging all the way. He goes back up and starts
on her neck and works downward to the middle of the back. Taking care
not to miss any spots. Calvin did the back of her legs with equal care
then her round ass. Keri rotated her hips as he kneaded her globes
thoroughly. As her fingers worked up Keri’s spine to her neck and
shoulders her back arched and I heard a satisfied sigh escape her lips.

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“Calvin dear, you’re drooling. You like them young dont ya Calvin” she

“She does have magnificent legs I’ll grant you that, but there will be
more than enough of that later and all the more stamina, my dear Keri,
all the more stamina…” I replied

Calvin picked a paper off the desk. “This is the agenda for the
weekend. This afternoon is the pool party where we can meet the
others and get aquainted.” He explained that the people who came
here were all ‘adventurous’ in their own way. Some straight, some gay
but most were into scenes with both men and women. “You’ll see. “It’s
an opportunity to explore new territory and test your limits a
little.” Keri was bitting her lower lip in an effort to control her
self then her tounge snaked out and licked her lips.

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“AAaaaahhhh. Oh. Oh. Ohhhhh!” I am being driven over the edge. You
move one hand down to my clit, and press your body closer to mine. I
can feel your breath in my ear. You begin biting it, pulling on it
with your teeth, forcing my head to arch back further.
whore pussy “Stay like that.” Your request is a hoarse whisper, betraying your
weakening self control. With my head arched back, my hair cascades
down to the middle of my back, well below the shoulderblades. You
bury your face in the silkiness. Nuzzling it, plunging slowly but
deeply into me, squeezing my clit between two fingers at the same
time. I reach down a hand to help you, to guide you to the right
spot. With my hand on top of yours I rub myself, and rock against
you, until, “Ahh! Ah! Ah! Uhhhhhhh…. unnnngggghhhh!” I am shuddering and
coming, my ass squeezing *hard* with each spasm, my knees locked
straight. Even as it subsides, it is too much for you. You rise up
and begin fucking me harder and harder, our bodies mashing into each
other. You are grunting, and I am moaning, my voice rising to a
fever pitch. I don’t care any more who hears us it just feels so
damned good!

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Your head flops back to the pillow as I release you, and sit fully
upright on my knees. I begin a slow, sumptuous ride. Your hands
explore my body through the shift, and then you tire of it, and pull
it up over my head. It lands in a heap beside you. As I rise up on
another stroke, you grab my hips, digging your fingers in, and hold
me there. Bending your knees, you start actively thrusting into me.
Until this point, I had been happily doing all the work.
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pumping becomes increasingly vigorous. Each deep penetration
extracts a moan from my throat. My back archs, and my own hands now
squeeze my breasts and rub my nipples excitedly. I am coordinating
my movements with yours. Your breathing turns ragged. You begin to
grunt. My voice is starting to rise in pitch, I can feel you
swelling, and it feels incredible. Then you stop suddenly.

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When I return, you are looking more awake, though somewhat rumpled.
I suppose I must look about the same. Your eyes light up hungrily
when you spot the plates of food. It’s almost the same look you
gave me last night, when I put on that short jungle-print sundress,
and flashed my bare rear-end at you. The same look you wore, when
you later removed that dress, rather roughly, from my body…. I put
the plates on the bed, and we begin to feast. Until that moment, I
didn’t realize how ravenous I was. teen pussy gets fucked by huge cock monster
“Wow. This is wonderful. I’m starved.” I am delighted by your
obvious enjoyment, since I love to give pleasure in many ways. You
lick your fingers seductively, and brush your hand over my breast as
you reach for another laden cracker. The grapes and strawberries
are tart, tangy, – a delicious offset to the sweetness of the
preserves and the smooth creaminess of the cheeses. The slices of
apple are crisp, the melon and mango, juicy and quenching.

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I place the cups on the bedside table, and tear open the curtains,
gasping when I realize the sliding door to the deck has been open all
night. And all morning. If there are any people in the adjacent
condos, I am now too embarassed to meet them…. I look out at the
sparkling lake below. There is a special beach on the other side,
that I am anxious to show you. But that can wait till later.
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Turning to your still dozing form, I pull back the single sheet
covering your delicously hairy, naked body. You grunt and roll onto
your side, away from me. A hand half-heartedly gropes ineffectually
for the sheet. I start nibbling on your ear, working my way down
your neck, down your side, to your ticklish spots. With my hand, I
pinch your bare backside gently, teasingly. You begin to stir,
growl, and reach across lazily to grab me, your arm still sluggish
and heavy from sleep. I dodge it easily, as your eyelids finally
open, and I place a coffee in your open hand.

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I was cold

I remember I went cold the following Monday, when I heard Sharon had
been fired Friday for her extended lunch. When I heard that her
husband had phoned her boss to complain about it, my coldness turned
to ice. Why hadn’t she told me? How could she have done what she
did to me? What was so wrong with me, that someone could think they
could do something like that and have everything be OK? That really said
a lot about my worth as a human being. I tried to take a leave of
absence from work, but the inactivity made me think of her all the more
so I quickly went back. I’d never hurt so much in all my life.

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Some people say “Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have
loved at all.” Whoever said that has never been through what I’ve been
through – and I’m not so sure they’re right.

It’s been over a year now, and I can’t get her out of my thoughts. I
don’t understand why she did what she did. Maybe before you get totally
confused, I should tell you my story so you’ll understand the depth of
pain, uncertainty, and confusion I feel.

I should probably tell you a bit about myself – I’ve been a “computer
nerd” most of my life, and in high school I only had 2 dates. In
college, I decided to change my image a bit, and I was pretty successful.
I grew to weigh 200 pounds (muscle) traded my nerd-glasses for contacts,
and consulted a few friends on my wardrobe. Funny, but it didn’t
change my “luck” with women as much as I thought it would.

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I was at a dance on an old paddlewheel steamboat which cruised down
the Ohio River while we listened to music and danced the night away. I’d
gone with a girlfriend, not willing to be tied down for the night in a
place where there was no escape if my date turned out to be a dud. And so
far, I hadn’t met anyone who rang my chimes in the slightest.

I went for a walk around the deck, clearing my head in the fresh
air and letting the sweat dry from my body. Then I went back into the
ballroom, ready to face more inane conversation.

I was skirting around the dance floor, making my way back to our
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The sound of the door opening told Darynn that his student for the
evening had arrived. He put down the quill he worked with, moving slowly,
and then covered the inkwell with a small stone cap. He turned slowly,
anticipating the look of awe in the student’s face (they always looked the
same). But when he turned, he found himself surprised, because he had
never before had a female student. “Well,” he said.

He estimated her age between fourteen and fifteen years. That age
where children become just perfect for teaching the ways of the advanced
magicks he, of all the mages, understood best. Her hair hung about her
face and down her back in a black frame of soft, tight curls. He saw
beautiful, powerful slate blue eyes under that frame, and a tiny, delicate
nose hovered above an equally small and expressive mouth. “Come here,
child. Sit, over there, on that stool with the blue pillow, yes.” She
moved as he directed, and although she needed her heels on the bottom rung
of the stool, she did manage to get onto it without help. “Now then,” he
said. “Tell me your name.” Continue reading Fantasy Teen Hoe Sex Story