Teen
2012-07-02
One night in the lives of 18 girls from the same class. There is some incest involved, but I chose to publish under "Teen Stories" because the emphasis is on sexual experiences at that age, not on incest per se.
Samantha is taking extra lessons in kissing at her tutor's flat. The guy is seven years older than she is and his experience shows in the way he pries open her lips with his tongue, sucks hers into his mouth and lets his teeth brush over her swollen lower lip. At first she doesn't mind his hands feeling her up under her shirt, but when he makes to open her bra she pulls away. Later that day she will tell her mom she needs a new tutor, preferably a girl this time, because there are some things a man just can't seem to be able to explain.
Cindy can do nothing of the sort to keep her breasts from male inspection. Ever since her mother died of skin cancer less than a year ago, her father has insisted that they inspect each others' bodies for moles and melanomas on a weekly basis, going over every centimeter of skin with a magnifying glass and diligently noting any change in size or pigmentation of every birthmark or impurity. Since Cindy's breasts have turned from tiny cones into small hillocks topped by ever-widening areolas, her father has gotten it into his mind to palpate them as well, looking for tubercles to make sure his little girl does not develop breast cancer. Her nipples always pucker and contract half-painfully when he touches her there, but that is not the worst part of the process. The worst part is when he is kneeling before her, his face level with her pubic mound, parting the hair there with his fingers and pulling apart her outer labia to see if anything unusual is developing on the inside of the tender folds. Standing there in the bathroom, naked and exposed to her father's probing touch, she finds that she is actually looking forward to the moment he tells her to turn around and bend over the rim of the tub so he can go on to inspect her buttocks.
Mara, meanwhile, is sitting in the back seat of her parents' car, staring out of the window and trying to keep her face from flushing as she thinks of the day after tomorrow, the day Daniel has promised he will take her to the movies. It's all arranged for, finally: her parents think she's going to a sleepover at Fanny's place, Fanny has promised to cover for her, and less than an hour ago they've snuck into the men's room at the train station and bought a pack of condoms from the vending machine, giggling like mad with relief and excitement when they finally had it in their hands and were safely out of the stinking place again. Now the packet is resting safely in the secret pocket in Mara's schoolbag, and every other minute she has to resist the temptation to reach for it and see if it's still there. The thought of what may happen when Daniel takes her to his flat after the movie makes her stomach flutter.
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When she notices that she's unconsciously squeezing her thighs together rhythmically and swaying slightly back and forth in the car seat, the blush wins over and she has to raise a hand in front of her face to cover it, acting like she is yawning. "I'm so tired," she sighs to enhance the impression. "Can't wait to be in bed. "
Fanny is there already, doing exactly what Mara is looking forward to doing herself: lying on her back with her raised knees making a tent out of the blanket, she is rubbing away at her clitoris with one hand, her eyes shut so hard she's seeing stars and her hips buckling as the feeling builds up inside her, ever up, way past the point she used to stop when she started masturbating half a year ago, thinking what she had felt had been all there is to an orgasm already. But she knows now, and she's proving it to herself every evening, that there's no limit to how far you can go, to how high you can get, other than the termination of the fantasy inside your head. Right now she's thinking of the stinking place, the men's room at the station, she's thinking of sneaking in there on her own one day to buy a box of condoms for her own use, and to take her time doing it until there's a creaking noise behind her, the door opens and in comes a man, she doesn't see him clearly and she doesn't need to, all she needs is his voice as he asks her if she needs it and she says yes and his big hands as they lift her skirt and touch her burning thighs, pull down her underpants to leave her all exposed and wet as he tells her to bend over and spread her legs, he doesn't have to tell her twice. . . Fanny explodes at the instant of penetration, she has no idea how to go on from there, it's as much as her mind can bear, the moment when the tip of his thing pushes apart her labia, and she contracts in her bed, her shivering hand caught between her thighs, her juices overflowing, crossing her perineum and making the crack of her ass all sticky which she hates, next time she'll do it on her belly again she promises herself, because a sticky mattress is still better than having to wipe your own juices out of your ass.
Catherine is more experimental in her explorations of her budding body. Reclining in the bathtub with her eyes and legs wide open, she gingerly inserts the smooth handle of her toothbrush into her vagina, taking care not to damage her hymen but still pushing it inside as far as it will go. And it goes far, further than she imagined, all the way in until only the brush itself is sticking out. Still, she is disappointed, because other than the excitement of the act itself she cannot find any of the sensations within her that everybody says come with deep penetration. So after some more poking she decides to try the other hole, the yucky one, the even more forbidden one. .
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. and the electric tingle that runs all the way through her body at the first touch of the brush handle against her anus tells her she has hit on gold. Years later she'll surprise her third boyfriend by finally working up the courage to ask him if he could imagine having anal sex, and by climaxing almost instantly the moment his glans breaches the tight barrier of her sphincter.
Perhaps the most innocent of her classmates, Alyssa is already sleeping soundly, dreaming her childish dreams. She does not stir when her brother slips out from under his bedsheets across the room and sidles to her bedside, breathing quickly with excitement, his hard-on making a tent in his pajama pants as he cowers beside his little sister's sleeping form. She has her back to him, her knees drawn up, his favorite position: he feels more secure when he can't watch her sleeping face as he invades her privacy. With practiced diligence he feels his way under the cover, traces the depression in the mattress along the curve of her buttocks, around the hem of her nightshirt. Feeling secure in her own home, Lizzie never wears underpants to bed, except during her periods, unknowingly giving her brother easy access to her most private paths whenever he comes to fondle her at night. When his fingertips brush the warm skin of her thigh, she shivers slightly in her sleep, but doesn't wake. Her brother can tell by the rhythm of her breathing that her sleep is deep enough for him to go all the way, so he traces a line along the inside of her thigh until he reaches the damp spot between her legs where the flesh is so incredibly soft that his fingertip seems to sink into it of its own accord. While his right hand traces the cleft of his sister's virgin pussy, his left hand pulls his burning penis out of his pajamas. He only needs to stroke it a little to work himself up to a climax, contracting spasmodically at his sleeping sister's side and squirting his sperm against the side of her bed. Lizzie sighs and wriggles a little in her sleep as her brother's index finger pulls out suddenly from between her labia, but again she doesn't wake. Her dreams are peaceful for the day being and she will not even notice the dried stains on her bedstand when she gets up in the morning.
Francesca, on the other hand, enjoys her boyfriend's caresses wide awake in his French bed, her eyes glued to the painted ceiling as his hands move all over her body.
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Her lover is twice her age, a friend of her brother's and a student of English literature: it shows in the way he whispers in her ear while he caresses her. Your breasts are like ripe peaches, he says, smooth and soft, and crowned by -- here he shifts his head and uses his lips and tongue to nibble on her nipples for a change -- sweet mulberries, puckered and hard. Her belly he compares to a swan's wings and her hips to limestone shaped by centuries of water pouring over it. Francesca shivers as he pulls away the blanket completely, exposing her legs and center to his gaze and touch. He will not sleep with her, she knows, they have agreed to wait until she is at least sixteen, but that won't stop him from exploring her body in every other way imaginable. The scent of your sex, he whispers as he opens her thighs with gentle pressure and moves to kneel between them, is like the ocean, only sweeter to the taste. With the tip of her tongue, he samples a little of her juices, making her gasp in sudden ecstasy. Your depths, he says, are like the fountain of youth and eternal pleasure. Will you let me drink of it? Please say you will.
Bianca doesn't like her dessert. The coarse hair on her stepfather's thighs scratches her cheek, the unruly bush of pubic hair around her nose smells of old pee and mould, and the swollen penis inside her mouth pushes against the back of her tongue and her soft palate alternatingly, making her want to gag with every twitch. But she knows he will not let go of her hair until he has spilt his load, so she moves her tongue back and forth and massages his hairy scrotum with her hand, careful not to squeeze it too hard or he will squeeze his fists into her hair so hard that whole strands come off like last week, forcing her to spend half an hour every morning just to cover up the mess on her head.
Finally she can hear him breathing harder, then his hand comes down to grip the hilt of his penis, pulling it out a little. . .
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but Bianca's momentary relief is soon replaced by a different sort of revulsion as he squirts his semen into her mouth in seven quick spurts, one less than the day before, but still her mouth is filled to the brim with the warm slime and it's already running down the sides of her tongue and into her throat. Contorting her face, she forces herself to swallow it and then goes on to suck the last gelatinous strings of semen out of her stepfather's slowly softening glans while he wheezes and moans above her. "Good girl", he groans, now stroking the back of her head. "Good girl. Soon your tits gonna grow the way they ought to, eh? You'll see. "
"YUCK!" Sara and Kim and Mary screech in unison as the man on the screen pushes his shining rod into the woman's mouth so hard that you can see the tip pressing into her cheek from the inside. To them, the cheap porn video they found on the Internet is nothing more than a lesson in sex mechanics, and an utterly unreliable one at that; they don't feel in the least aroused by what they see, as they take care to reassure each other every other minute. What really interests them, besides brutally long, glossy members penetrating every imaginable female orifice, are the bodies of the women contorting on the surface of the TV set. "I could never have breasts like that!" Kim hisses, indicating the two huge globes wobbling on an actress's chest as she is rocked by her colleague's accelerating strokes. "How can you walk with that?" -- "Ask Cathy," Mary says, drawing giggles. "Yeah, but she's got fat all around so it balances out. " -- Later that night they will be standing in front of the bathroom mirror comparing their busts, deciding two to one that Kim's well-rounded if rather smallish orbs with their huge milky areolas are the most desirable compared to Mary's pointy hillocks and Sara's already slightly sagging breasts.
Some block away another trio of girls is pondering more malignant things. Ella, Dawn and Agnes are sitting around a black candle, the attribute of their group of would-be witches, talking in hushed voices about how to get back at Fanny, their new sworn arch-enemy. The day before, Fanny snitched on Ella as she tried to get a look at Fanny's test sheet, so today they ambushed her on her way to school and gave a good beating, no more or less than she deserved, in the process ripping her skirt and staining her white blouse with soil and dust.
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And that would have been that, if the whiny bitch had just taken it as her fair punishment instead of running to Mr Farquard and peaching on them -- again. "She deserves something worse," Ella hisses when Dawn says they could steal her schoolbag and throw it in the river. "She put us in detention for two days and made the Fuckwad call my mother. I say we bushwhack her again, only this time we take her clothes. And I mean all of them. And then let's see if she still goes up crying to the Fuckwad. " -- The girls cringe with cruel pleasure at the thought of Fanny standing naked on the sidewalk, trying to hide behind a lamppost, stared at and jeered at by all the kids going to school. . . but then they hit upon an even better idea. "I've got it," Dawn says, her voice husky with excitement. "The teachers' toilet. Agnes, you still got that rope?"
Gloria groans with pleasure as her stepbrother's fingers dig into the knotted muscles between her shoulder blades. She is lying prone and topless on her bed while he straddles her butt so he can massage every centimeter of her naked back with his oiled hands without straining too much, and he's doing it with such fervor that it's all Martha can do not to whimper and purr with pain and pleasure alternatingly. But it's not like she is the only one who enjoys these nightly sessions: when Josh leans forward to grip her shoulders, she can feel his boner grinding against her butt, more unashamedly every time, and more than once she's had the feeling that Josh is deliberately stretching the time he spends in that position, his hard-on firmly lodged between her butt cheeks with nothing but her underpants and his shorts between them.
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When he traces the outside of her shoulder blades and lets his fingers trail down her sides for a second, touching the swell of her breasts pressed flat against the mattress, both Josh and Gloria give a slight gasp as his dick and her ass give a simultaneous twitch. Not for the first time Gloria wonders how much longer they'll be able to hold back: they've been playing with fire ever since Gloria's mom hooked up with Josh's dad and they all moved in together. "Hey," she rasps when she feels him pulling back from her, probably embarrassed: "Could you do my ass, too?" -- It takes a moment before she feels his hands cupping her butt cheeks through her panties, feeling for the place where the femur sits in the hipbone. "Like this?" he asks, his voice almost as hoarse as hers. He is sitting beside her now, awkwardly leaning over her center. "Let me just take those off," she replies, giving in to a sudden impulse and pushing her underpants down to her knees before kicking them off. "Uh, okay," he says. Gloria suppresses a smile at his sudden hesitation and opens her legs a little, just enough for him to see down the length of her crack to the gleaming spot of moisture between her exposed inner labia. When he still doesn't touch her, she wriggles her ass before pushing it up slightly in the direction of his face. "Pretty please?" .
