Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Don't worry my friend, no offence was taken. I'm loving your story and looking forward to reading more.
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Taking Chances
- Thread starter BEThalia
- Start date
BEThalia
Executioner
Chapter Four (Part 2 of 3)
I had dressed very simply. There did not seem any point to being elaborate since my clothes would just be coming off when I got here. I was wearing black, slingback, one-and-a-half-inch block heels, jeans, a tee shirt, and underwear. There was a desk next to the window. I bent my knees one at a time, reaching back to take off my heels. I put them on the desk. As I put my bare feet on the floor I had a moment of queasiness. The soles of my feet were feeling...what? The floor was filthy, and I hoped that all I was stepping on was dirt and grit. Then I perceived two points of sharpness digging into my right heel. An upended nail clipping? I started to heave a little but controlled it.
I took the tee over my head and deposited it on the desk; took my jeans down and off, and they joined the tee and heels. I was close to tears as the reality of taking the last of it off was before me. The guys were standing a few feet away, snickering. It was unbearable. I unhooked my front closure bra, took it off my shoulders, my perky little B-cups and their dark brown inch-wide areolae swaying into view. I put it on the desk. Then I just stripped my panties down and off. Like many women, I have an aversion to the term ‘panties’, but what I was wearing qualified for that descriptor. I’d actually planned on wearing my everyday underpants, you know, the ones from the department store women’s underwear section that come rolled up in a shrink-wrapped package of four: plain, cotton, hip-hugging, with a full rear, and in blue, pink, yellow, and green. Then, incredibly enough, I had thought: Do I really want to drop my jeans to reveal such mundane bloomers? The boys will be snickering about them for weeks. So, I had made a conscious decision that I should reveal something that at least suggested I was a sexual creature. Have you ever heard of anything so absurd? Now I deposited on the desk with the rest of my clothing my very abbreviated, light blue, lace panties with the little silk bow in the front. I made a mental note that when Patrick and I finally climbed into the sack that I would not be wearing those.
The boys immediately went into a little dance, semi-singing the words "jungle pussy.... jungle pussy" to the tune of that old Kool and the Gang song Jungle Boogie. I could feel the heat rise in my face. I had not been in a relationship for a while, and when I wasn’t, I just let my pubes grow. I had recently been thinking that with the way things were progressing with Patrick I would soon have to do something with my bush, but for now it was indeed just that: a bush - big, wild, thick, and black. I had also been wearing a honey blonde hair color then.
"Now what do you think of that, Stan?" asked Paul/Ollie, again poking Hank/Stan lightly in his chest.
"Why I'd say the carpet and the drapes are clashing rather badly, Ollie," squeaked Hank/Stan, "but I'd venture to say her rack could be classified as well above average."
"Why, you must have read my mind, Stan," said Paul/Ollie.
Oh, God! I thought. Please tell me I’m not actually going to get fucked by Laurel and Hardy!
My shame and disgrace were beyond anything I had ever experienced or imagined. I wanted desperately to cover my jungle pussy and my well-above-average rack, but I just couldn’t. It would be too much of a victory for them. I felt tears start in my eyes and spill onto my cheeks.
Then Paul was talking to me. "Right this way, Bobbi," he said, indicating one of the two beds. I had started at his use of the diminutive for my name and he’d noticed. "Hey, Bobbi, we're all friends here, right?" he asked expansively.
Feeling defeated, I took the few steps to the bed and crawled on. Hank told me to put my hands on the metal railing that served as the footboard, and I just did it. There was no point in resisting. I rested my hands on the metal bar, gripping it. I spread my knees about a foot apart.
The boys still had their clothes on, and when I looked to the side, I saw them taking in my nude form: appreciating, leering, whatever they were doing. Paul had an arm across his waist, the other elbow in his hand and his chin in the raised hand; Hank had three fingers of each hand under his jaw bones with his hands reversed bringing his circled thumbs and forefingers to his eyes in a comical imitation of glasses.
Then they were both laughing hard, slapping each other on the back.
"This is fucking great!" Paul said, and they laughed again. "How about you, Bobbi? Havin’ fun yet?"
I remained silent, my face crimson, and shook some hair out of my eyes. I kept my head up, just enduring and looking forward to when this would mercifully end. The boys started stripping and were soon nude, their dicks hard and prominent.
"Okay if I take her pussy first?" Paul asked Hank.
Hank moaned. "Well, I was kind of hopin’ to dip the wick there first, if you don't mind."
They continued in this way for another couple exchanges then became silent. I heard two soft slapping noises, and as much as I just wanted to ignore their presence, I couldn’t help but look to the side.
"Rock smashes scissors," Paul was saying, his hand in a fist. Hank showed two fingers in a V.
They did it again. Slap, slap.
"Oww," whined Hank, his hand stretched flat, Paul now with the V. Apparently, it was two out of three, and Paul moved toward my ass end and Hank moved toward my front. I felt Paul behind me, close. Hank was in front of me, his cock inches from my mouth. Hank's dick looked huge to me at my first close glance. I don't suppose he was any bigger than average, but he was so thin, his hips slender and his abdomen board flat, that his dick jutted out in a way it does not from a boy with a plumper belly and wider hips.
I had dressed very simply. There did not seem any point to being elaborate since my clothes would just be coming off when I got here. I was wearing black, slingback, one-and-a-half-inch block heels, jeans, a tee shirt, and underwear. There was a desk next to the window. I bent my knees one at a time, reaching back to take off my heels. I put them on the desk. As I put my bare feet on the floor I had a moment of queasiness. The soles of my feet were feeling...what? The floor was filthy, and I hoped that all I was stepping on was dirt and grit. Then I perceived two points of sharpness digging into my right heel. An upended nail clipping? I started to heave a little but controlled it.
I took the tee over my head and deposited it on the desk; took my jeans down and off, and they joined the tee and heels. I was close to tears as the reality of taking the last of it off was before me. The guys were standing a few feet away, snickering. It was unbearable. I unhooked my front closure bra, took it off my shoulders, my perky little B-cups and their dark brown inch-wide areolae swaying into view. I put it on the desk. Then I just stripped my panties down and off. Like many women, I have an aversion to the term ‘panties’, but what I was wearing qualified for that descriptor. I’d actually planned on wearing my everyday underpants, you know, the ones from the department store women’s underwear section that come rolled up in a shrink-wrapped package of four: plain, cotton, hip-hugging, with a full rear, and in blue, pink, yellow, and green. Then, incredibly enough, I had thought: Do I really want to drop my jeans to reveal such mundane bloomers? The boys will be snickering about them for weeks. So, I had made a conscious decision that I should reveal something that at least suggested I was a sexual creature. Have you ever heard of anything so absurd? Now I deposited on the desk with the rest of my clothing my very abbreviated, light blue, lace panties with the little silk bow in the front. I made a mental note that when Patrick and I finally climbed into the sack that I would not be wearing those.
The boys immediately went into a little dance, semi-singing the words "jungle pussy.... jungle pussy" to the tune of that old Kool and the Gang song Jungle Boogie. I could feel the heat rise in my face. I had not been in a relationship for a while, and when I wasn’t, I just let my pubes grow. I had recently been thinking that with the way things were progressing with Patrick I would soon have to do something with my bush, but for now it was indeed just that: a bush - big, wild, thick, and black. I had also been wearing a honey blonde hair color then.
"Now what do you think of that, Stan?" asked Paul/Ollie, again poking Hank/Stan lightly in his chest.
"Why I'd say the carpet and the drapes are clashing rather badly, Ollie," squeaked Hank/Stan, "but I'd venture to say her rack could be classified as well above average."
"Why, you must have read my mind, Stan," said Paul/Ollie.
Oh, God! I thought. Please tell me I’m not actually going to get fucked by Laurel and Hardy!
My shame and disgrace were beyond anything I had ever experienced or imagined. I wanted desperately to cover my jungle pussy and my well-above-average rack, but I just couldn’t. It would be too much of a victory for them. I felt tears start in my eyes and spill onto my cheeks.
Then Paul was talking to me. "Right this way, Bobbi," he said, indicating one of the two beds. I had started at his use of the diminutive for my name and he’d noticed. "Hey, Bobbi, we're all friends here, right?" he asked expansively.
Feeling defeated, I took the few steps to the bed and crawled on. Hank told me to put my hands on the metal railing that served as the footboard, and I just did it. There was no point in resisting. I rested my hands on the metal bar, gripping it. I spread my knees about a foot apart.
The boys still had their clothes on, and when I looked to the side, I saw them taking in my nude form: appreciating, leering, whatever they were doing. Paul had an arm across his waist, the other elbow in his hand and his chin in the raised hand; Hank had three fingers of each hand under his jaw bones with his hands reversed bringing his circled thumbs and forefingers to his eyes in a comical imitation of glasses.
Then they were both laughing hard, slapping each other on the back.
"This is fucking great!" Paul said, and they laughed again. "How about you, Bobbi? Havin’ fun yet?"
I remained silent, my face crimson, and shook some hair out of my eyes. I kept my head up, just enduring and looking forward to when this would mercifully end. The boys started stripping and were soon nude, their dicks hard and prominent.
"Okay if I take her pussy first?" Paul asked Hank.
Hank moaned. "Well, I was kind of hopin’ to dip the wick there first, if you don't mind."
They continued in this way for another couple exchanges then became silent. I heard two soft slapping noises, and as much as I just wanted to ignore their presence, I couldn’t help but look to the side.
"Rock smashes scissors," Paul was saying, his hand in a fist. Hank showed two fingers in a V.
They did it again. Slap, slap.
"Oww," whined Hank, his hand stretched flat, Paul now with the V. Apparently, it was two out of three, and Paul moved toward my ass end and Hank moved toward my front. I felt Paul behind me, close. Hank was in front of me, his cock inches from my mouth. Hank's dick looked huge to me at my first close glance. I don't suppose he was any bigger than average, but he was so thin, his hips slender and his abdomen board flat, that his dick jutted out in a way it does not from a boy with a plumper belly and wider hips.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Wonderful. That first scene when our hapless girl describes the boys 'accommodation' really paints the picture.
The eroticism is obvious but the line where she thinks... Please tell me I’m not actually going to get fucked by Laurel and Hardy! ... made me smile.
Another great chapter.
BEThalia
Executioner
When I wrote it I was thinking it was worth a good chuckle or at least a minor guffaw.
Glad you're enjoying!
Loinclothslave
slave to the whip
The highlight of this chapter for me was definitely her humiliation and even her tears… and yes I laughed at “(please don’t get) fucked by Laurel and Hardy”!!!
But the humiliation/shame of her undressing. The new sexy panties seems a master stroke, it seems just like a woman to fret over choice of underwear for her stripping humiliation…
But the humiliation/shame of her undressing. The new sexy panties seems a master stroke, it seems just like a woman to fret over choice of underwear for her stripping humiliation…
BEThalia
Executioner
Chapter Four (part 3/3)
"Open wide, Bobbi," Hank said, and I opened my mouth tentatively. I felt his erection hit my cheek, and heard him say, "O-pen wid-er." The four syllables were spoken slowly, each accented by a slap of his erection on my cheek, alternating sides. I opened my mouth wider. "O-pen wid-er," Hank said again. Again, the four syllables were accompanied by his erection hitting my cheeks, this time harder. I opened my mouth as wide as I could, and Hank plunged his dick in. I closed my mouth around it.
"Well, that's better," Hank said. Speaking to Paul he continued. "Boy, Bobbi here just can't seem to get anything right. I was beginning to think she was too stupid to know how to open wide for a cock."
I felt Paul's dick poke hard against my left ass cheek and then the right. Then it poked into my ass crack and then his dick went right between my legs, grazing my labia.
"I know what you mean," Paul said. "She can't even manage to take a cock in her pussy without screwing it up."
I broke a light sweat, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Apparently, my cruel words from earlier in the semester were not water under the bridge as I had hoped and assumed. This wasn’t just pleasure for the boys, but payback, too.
Then Paul used his knees to kick my knees farther apart, splaying my legs lewdly, opening wide the access to my sex. His dick entered my vagina to the hilt all in one hard thrust. Tears sprang into my eyes again. The only penises I had ever had in my vagina were those of my lovers. Now there was one deep in me belonging to a boy I hardly knew and did not especially like; his dick in me because I had lost a bet to him.
"Damn, Bobbi, you are one hot, cock-loving bitch," Paul said. To Hank he said, "I'm glad she's bright enough to know where a cock goes. She must love it too because she’s wet and ready," mistaking the gel for natural lubrication, mistaking store-bought lubricant for the evidence of sexual arousal. They high-fived above my back.
Hank began to move back and forth in my mouth. I took one hand and brought it up to grasp the shaft of his dick. I began to pump the shaft while sucking and running my tongue around the head. I did not do this because I wanted to, but I thought if I kept things interesting enough for him, he would not start fucking my mouth. This strategy seemed to work. He stopped pushing back and forth and instead let me work on his dick.
As I sucked hard on him, I pulled air into my mouth once, making a loud sucking sound.
"God damn, Bobbi, you must love having your mouth stuffed with cock," said Hank. To Paul he said, "You hear this bitch gobblin’ my cock? I was afraid she might be too stupid to know what to do with a cock in her mouth."
At the other end, Paul had picked up his pace, pulling his dick out of me about halfway and then slamming it back in. I could feel my boobs swinging wildly each time, and I flashed on my mental image from a few days before: seeing myself from the side, dicks buried in both ends of me, boobs swinging below. Then it had been a cautionary vision of what was theoretically possible but would never happen. Now it was my reality.
Fortunately, the boys were just that: nineteen-year-old boys, and they did not last very long. In a few minutes Paul groaned loudly, buried his dick far into me, and he was coming. He pulled out. I felt sharp pain on my right ass cheek and then more pain on my left, as Paul gave them each a couple of hard slaps.
"Wow, Bobbi, thank God you're bright enough to know how to bend over and get a cock shoved up your cunt. You are the best fuck I've ever had!" he exclaimed.
I did not take this evaluation as much of a compliment. I could not imagine that Paul had gotten laid all that much, so I knew I was being compared to an extremely limited list of candidates for the blue ribbon for Best Fuck Ever in Paul's Life. His slapping my ass was just another little humiliation in an afternoon full of humiliations, both petty and gross. It hardly registered.
Shortly after, Hank's hands found the back of my head. Despite my determined ministrations, I felt his dick begin to move back and forth, but only for a few moments. Then his cock jumped, and warm liquid filled my mouth. I swallowed, and more warm liquid followed, and I swallowed again. Then his ejaculations lessened. My mouth was filling again when I coughed, and semen flowed out of my mouth.
Hank withdrew his cock and looked down at me.
"Nice chin omelet, Bobbi," he said. "Good cock sucking, too. Maybe you're not as dumb as you look."
I got up from the bed, looking around the room for some Kleenex. Then I considered that I’d have about as much success finding a box of tissues in the dorm room of a couple of nineteen-year-old boys as I would have looking for the Pope in a titty bar.
I put my hand under my chin, caught some cum as it dripped. Then I went to my clothes on the desk next to the window and used my tee to wipe my chin. Paul had apparently deposited a huge amount of cum into my vagina. I could feel a little begin to leak out and down the inside of my thigh now that I was standing. I used my tee to clean that off, too.
"Look, guys," I began, "I know I said some things to you back at the beginning of the semester that were really terrible; I called you names that were wrong. I acted just horrible and what I said was really really wrong. I'm deeply sorry, and you have my very sincere apologies."
"Well, well, well, Stan, what do you think of that?" asked Paul/Ollie in his deeper voice, again poking Hank/Stan's chest.
"Why, Ollie, I'd say if she meant it, she would have apologized a long time ago," said Hank/Stan in his high-pitched voice. "I'd say it's easy to be sorry when you've got cum on your chin and leaking out your cunt."
“Why, I couldn’t have said it any better myself, Stan,” said Paul/Ollie.
"Open wide, Bobbi," Hank said, and I opened my mouth tentatively. I felt his erection hit my cheek, and heard him say, "O-pen wid-er." The four syllables were spoken slowly, each accented by a slap of his erection on my cheek, alternating sides. I opened my mouth wider. "O-pen wid-er," Hank said again. Again, the four syllables were accompanied by his erection hitting my cheeks, this time harder. I opened my mouth as wide as I could, and Hank plunged his dick in. I closed my mouth around it.
"Well, that's better," Hank said. Speaking to Paul he continued. "Boy, Bobbi here just can't seem to get anything right. I was beginning to think she was too stupid to know how to open wide for a cock."
I felt Paul's dick poke hard against my left ass cheek and then the right. Then it poked into my ass crack and then his dick went right between my legs, grazing my labia.
"I know what you mean," Paul said. "She can't even manage to take a cock in her pussy without screwing it up."
I broke a light sweat, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Apparently, my cruel words from earlier in the semester were not water under the bridge as I had hoped and assumed. This wasn’t just pleasure for the boys, but payback, too.
Then Paul used his knees to kick my knees farther apart, splaying my legs lewdly, opening wide the access to my sex. His dick entered my vagina to the hilt all in one hard thrust. Tears sprang into my eyes again. The only penises I had ever had in my vagina were those of my lovers. Now there was one deep in me belonging to a boy I hardly knew and did not especially like; his dick in me because I had lost a bet to him.
"Damn, Bobbi, you are one hot, cock-loving bitch," Paul said. To Hank he said, "I'm glad she's bright enough to know where a cock goes. She must love it too because she’s wet and ready," mistaking the gel for natural lubrication, mistaking store-bought lubricant for the evidence of sexual arousal. They high-fived above my back.
Hank began to move back and forth in my mouth. I took one hand and brought it up to grasp the shaft of his dick. I began to pump the shaft while sucking and running my tongue around the head. I did not do this because I wanted to, but I thought if I kept things interesting enough for him, he would not start fucking my mouth. This strategy seemed to work. He stopped pushing back and forth and instead let me work on his dick.
As I sucked hard on him, I pulled air into my mouth once, making a loud sucking sound.
"God damn, Bobbi, you must love having your mouth stuffed with cock," said Hank. To Paul he said, "You hear this bitch gobblin’ my cock? I was afraid she might be too stupid to know what to do with a cock in her mouth."
At the other end, Paul had picked up his pace, pulling his dick out of me about halfway and then slamming it back in. I could feel my boobs swinging wildly each time, and I flashed on my mental image from a few days before: seeing myself from the side, dicks buried in both ends of me, boobs swinging below. Then it had been a cautionary vision of what was theoretically possible but would never happen. Now it was my reality.
Fortunately, the boys were just that: nineteen-year-old boys, and they did not last very long. In a few minutes Paul groaned loudly, buried his dick far into me, and he was coming. He pulled out. I felt sharp pain on my right ass cheek and then more pain on my left, as Paul gave them each a couple of hard slaps.
"Wow, Bobbi, thank God you're bright enough to know how to bend over and get a cock shoved up your cunt. You are the best fuck I've ever had!" he exclaimed.
I did not take this evaluation as much of a compliment. I could not imagine that Paul had gotten laid all that much, so I knew I was being compared to an extremely limited list of candidates for the blue ribbon for Best Fuck Ever in Paul's Life. His slapping my ass was just another little humiliation in an afternoon full of humiliations, both petty and gross. It hardly registered.
Shortly after, Hank's hands found the back of my head. Despite my determined ministrations, I felt his dick begin to move back and forth, but only for a few moments. Then his cock jumped, and warm liquid filled my mouth. I swallowed, and more warm liquid followed, and I swallowed again. Then his ejaculations lessened. My mouth was filling again when I coughed, and semen flowed out of my mouth.
Hank withdrew his cock and looked down at me.
"Nice chin omelet, Bobbi," he said. "Good cock sucking, too. Maybe you're not as dumb as you look."
I got up from the bed, looking around the room for some Kleenex. Then I considered that I’d have about as much success finding a box of tissues in the dorm room of a couple of nineteen-year-old boys as I would have looking for the Pope in a titty bar.
I put my hand under my chin, caught some cum as it dripped. Then I went to my clothes on the desk next to the window and used my tee to wipe my chin. Paul had apparently deposited a huge amount of cum into my vagina. I could feel a little begin to leak out and down the inside of my thigh now that I was standing. I used my tee to clean that off, too.
"Look, guys," I began, "I know I said some things to you back at the beginning of the semester that were really terrible; I called you names that were wrong. I acted just horrible and what I said was really really wrong. I'm deeply sorry, and you have my very sincere apologies."
"Well, well, well, Stan, what do you think of that?" asked Paul/Ollie in his deeper voice, again poking Hank/Stan's chest.
"Why, Ollie, I'd say if she meant it, she would have apologized a long time ago," said Hank/Stan in his high-pitched voice. "I'd say it's easy to be sorry when you've got cum on your chin and leaking out your cunt."
“Why, I couldn’t have said it any better myself, Stan,” said Paul/Ollie.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
That was excellent. I love how 'Bobbi's' humiliation is so obvious while the boys teenage gloating exacerbates it. Her ultimate degradation via their teenage, inexperienced abilities is the icing on the cake.
My only observation is that a box of kleenex in a teenagers dorm is a highly likely find, for those nights in watching Baywatch on the TV
Are the boys done, or is there more? Can't wait to find out!
Loinclothslave
slave to the whip
Well, iirc the bet was for a double spit roast but even 19 year olds will need to recuperate… give them 5 minutes and the whole scene should be over in say 15 minutes, probably less! Any bets on ten minutes?
BEThalia
Executioner
Good point, FMy only observation is that a box of kleenex in a teenagers dorm is a highly likely find, for those nights in watching Baywatch on the TV
BEThalia
Executioner
God, I HATE nothing more than giving stuff away, but - SPOILER ALERT - it's 23 minutes.
Loinclothslave
slave to the whip
Just so you know, it’s traditional for authors to admonish those of us in the peanut gallery who are too vocal for reading ahead…
If you were Barb, I might have even “earned” some demerits…
BEThalia
Executioner
Chapter Five (Part 1/3)
I put my tee shirt back on the desk, and while I was there looked out the window. The event outside was not very organized as a victory rally. A few members of the cheer squad were doing a routine. Mostly, it was just a big bunch of undergrads who’d found an excuse for doing what undergrads do: play Frisbee and hacky sack, drink beer, talk, flirt.
When I turned back to the room Paul and Hank were standing near the bed lightly stroking their dicks. Their members had never dropped below half mast, but now were back at full strength, their cocks fat and hard and pointing at the ceiling again. I was amazed at the recuperative powers and horniness of teen boys.
"Whadda ya say, Bobbi?" Paul asked. "I hope you're ready for round two because we sure are. Think you're smart enough to find the bed?"
There was no point to resisting or hesitating. I climbed onto the bed and assumed my position. Paul came to the front of me and Hank knelt in back. I felt Hank's dick at my entrance. The lube I had applied before was likely pretty well spent, but Paul's cum provided plenty of lubrication. Hank pushed the head of his dick into me and then pushed in all the way. His pattern was to bang me hard with his dick deep in me about half the time, starting my boobs dancing and swinging. The other half he spent almost out, pushing the head of his dick in and out through my inner labia, enjoying the sensations the stimulation produced from his glans.
Paul began by putting his dick up at my hairline and then slowly dragging it down my forehead, down the bridge of my nose. He was pushing lightly, and his dick slipped off my nose and into the corner of one eye.
I reacted to that and he said, "Sorry, Bobbi. I've gotta be more careful with this thing. It could put an eye out." He chuckled, self-satisfied with the little joke he’d orchestrated.
Paul’s dick continued down my nose and then to my upper lip.
"Open wide," he said. I opened plenty wide, not wanting to repeat the experience of having my face slapped with a cock, and he shoved his erection in. If I had to do this, I was glad to be getting it over so soon: glad I did not have to wait around naked for half an hour or an hour for round two. The end of this nightmare was in sight, and that was a good thing.
For the moment, though, I had two dicks in me again. I tried to do with Paul what I had done with Hank, stroking his cock, and sucking hard on the head. He let me do that for a short time, but then seemed to decide it was not exactly what he was looking for. He grabbed my ears firmly, holding my head still, and began to push his dick in and out of my mouth. The boys had lasted only a few minutes the first time, but now, with one orgasm out, it seemed they would last a good deal longer.
The first go-around I had not had time to think about much. The experience was over so quickly. This time was much lengthier. They both settled into a very controlled rhythm, Hank stroking steadily in and out of my vagina and Paul doing the same with my mouth. Neither seemed in a hurry or like they were building uncontrollably to a climax. They were both just serenely taking pleasure in a measured way. So, unlike the previous session, this time I, unfortunately, had a long period to reflect. I thought about how different this sex was from any other I’d ever had. With my limited number of lovers, each sexual encounter was a shared experience: both of us deeply into our own and the others’ body. There, the feel of an erection inside, whether my vagina or mouth, set me off on a carnal search for release. A cock in my vagina quickly had me straining against the plump hardness, ramping up my erotic engine in search of release and hoping to take my partner with me. The feel of an erection in my mouth psychologically excited me in the same way. The physical stimulation was not the same, but the solidity, the substance, experiencing the different feels a cock presents to the mouth: the texture of the veins, the flair of the head, the bend if it had one, could entertain me for long periods (much to my lovers’ delight), and playing with my clitoris (or my lover taking the initiative to play with it, much to my delight) added the bodily stimulation I could use to advance toward my goal.
None of that was present now. I had time to reflect on how entirely detached from the sex experience I was with these encounters today. Hank’s hardness working in and out of my vagina was simply a sensation without any erotic context. Paul’s erection doing the same in my mouth had no effect of carnality, and the physical details of his cock were of no interest to me. Both in front and behind, I simply perceived a hard penis engaged with my body, and I felt only numbness in both places: two cocks providing me with no sensual satisfaction at all.
Those realizations were the worst part of this whole episode for me. Making the bet and waiting for the game presented me with a never-before-felt tingling tsunami of suspense. Considering what forfeit I would want from the boys was engaging in that the exercise took my mind to places and carnal activities I had never considered. My trip to the boys’ room today had me feeling embarrassed, mostly from plain being wrong and losing the bet. Visiting the Ladies was the first bad part: realizing I was going to shortly have sex and needed assistance from artificial lubricant to make sure it wasn’t painful: that I could expect no assistance from my body’s natural sexual responses. Then in the boys’ room. Standing in front of two near strangers and taking off my clothes, and their great amusement, even hilarity, watching me. Standing there, humiliated, utterly and unwillingly naked, listening to their snickers and taunts, the evaluations of my naked body they had won the right to make. The first session was so quick I had not had time to really appreciate what I was having to do. This time, though, I held my position on hands and knees for long, seemingly endless, minutes while the boys stroked their cocks in and out of my body. I flamed redder and redder with shame when they began to moan, the result of the pleasure flooding their brains from the sensations they were feeling, and feeling because I had no choice but to allow them to rub their erections inside me. I had plenty of time, while the boys used my body, to reach the utter end of the line: that all this was happening to me because I’d made a foolish bet and lost a foolish bet. My capitulation was complete, and I just steeled myself in complete mortification to endure until this was finally and mercifully over.
Thankfully, at last it ended. I had been disengaged enough from the sex that I had nothing to focus on but my thoughts and a digital clock on one of the dressers. Seventeen minutes after we started this session Hank picked up his pace, and at nineteen minutes came inside me hard enough that I could feel squirt after squirt inside my vagina. His load was obviously not diminished by being his second in half an hour. After Hank was out of me, Paul continued to stroke in and out of my mouth. At twenty-three minutes, and without much change in his rhythm, he suddenly shoved deep into my mouth a few times, and withdrew his cock. A strong spurt of cum hit me on the forehead, a second went directly into my open right eye.
"Oh, God," I started to complain, but the next spurt went into my mouth coating my tongue and I decided to just shut my mouth and eyes and ride it out. Paul delivered four or five strong, full squirts and then a couple weaker ones.
Paul still holding one ear, I flamed with utter disgrace as I felt him wipe his cock off across my right cheek. When he was done, I rose and stumbled from the bed, walked unsteadily, oblivious, toward the door. I was trying to wipe the cum from my eye and regain my vision. It took a while as my eyes watered heavily trying to wash out the foreign substance.
When I could see again, I took in the sight of Hank leaning out the now-open window. It was a moment before I registered that he was holding my clothes in his hands.
"Holy shit!" I exclaimed. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
I put my tee shirt back on the desk, and while I was there looked out the window. The event outside was not very organized as a victory rally. A few members of the cheer squad were doing a routine. Mostly, it was just a big bunch of undergrads who’d found an excuse for doing what undergrads do: play Frisbee and hacky sack, drink beer, talk, flirt.
When I turned back to the room Paul and Hank were standing near the bed lightly stroking their dicks. Their members had never dropped below half mast, but now were back at full strength, their cocks fat and hard and pointing at the ceiling again. I was amazed at the recuperative powers and horniness of teen boys.
"Whadda ya say, Bobbi?" Paul asked. "I hope you're ready for round two because we sure are. Think you're smart enough to find the bed?"
There was no point to resisting or hesitating. I climbed onto the bed and assumed my position. Paul came to the front of me and Hank knelt in back. I felt Hank's dick at my entrance. The lube I had applied before was likely pretty well spent, but Paul's cum provided plenty of lubrication. Hank pushed the head of his dick into me and then pushed in all the way. His pattern was to bang me hard with his dick deep in me about half the time, starting my boobs dancing and swinging. The other half he spent almost out, pushing the head of his dick in and out through my inner labia, enjoying the sensations the stimulation produced from his glans.
Paul began by putting his dick up at my hairline and then slowly dragging it down my forehead, down the bridge of my nose. He was pushing lightly, and his dick slipped off my nose and into the corner of one eye.
I reacted to that and he said, "Sorry, Bobbi. I've gotta be more careful with this thing. It could put an eye out." He chuckled, self-satisfied with the little joke he’d orchestrated.
Paul’s dick continued down my nose and then to my upper lip.
"Open wide," he said. I opened plenty wide, not wanting to repeat the experience of having my face slapped with a cock, and he shoved his erection in. If I had to do this, I was glad to be getting it over so soon: glad I did not have to wait around naked for half an hour or an hour for round two. The end of this nightmare was in sight, and that was a good thing.
For the moment, though, I had two dicks in me again. I tried to do with Paul what I had done with Hank, stroking his cock, and sucking hard on the head. He let me do that for a short time, but then seemed to decide it was not exactly what he was looking for. He grabbed my ears firmly, holding my head still, and began to push his dick in and out of my mouth. The boys had lasted only a few minutes the first time, but now, with one orgasm out, it seemed they would last a good deal longer.
The first go-around I had not had time to think about much. The experience was over so quickly. This time was much lengthier. They both settled into a very controlled rhythm, Hank stroking steadily in and out of my vagina and Paul doing the same with my mouth. Neither seemed in a hurry or like they were building uncontrollably to a climax. They were both just serenely taking pleasure in a measured way. So, unlike the previous session, this time I, unfortunately, had a long period to reflect. I thought about how different this sex was from any other I’d ever had. With my limited number of lovers, each sexual encounter was a shared experience: both of us deeply into our own and the others’ body. There, the feel of an erection inside, whether my vagina or mouth, set me off on a carnal search for release. A cock in my vagina quickly had me straining against the plump hardness, ramping up my erotic engine in search of release and hoping to take my partner with me. The feel of an erection in my mouth psychologically excited me in the same way. The physical stimulation was not the same, but the solidity, the substance, experiencing the different feels a cock presents to the mouth: the texture of the veins, the flair of the head, the bend if it had one, could entertain me for long periods (much to my lovers’ delight), and playing with my clitoris (or my lover taking the initiative to play with it, much to my delight) added the bodily stimulation I could use to advance toward my goal.
None of that was present now. I had time to reflect on how entirely detached from the sex experience I was with these encounters today. Hank’s hardness working in and out of my vagina was simply a sensation without any erotic context. Paul’s erection doing the same in my mouth had no effect of carnality, and the physical details of his cock were of no interest to me. Both in front and behind, I simply perceived a hard penis engaged with my body, and I felt only numbness in both places: two cocks providing me with no sensual satisfaction at all.
Those realizations were the worst part of this whole episode for me. Making the bet and waiting for the game presented me with a never-before-felt tingling tsunami of suspense. Considering what forfeit I would want from the boys was engaging in that the exercise took my mind to places and carnal activities I had never considered. My trip to the boys’ room today had me feeling embarrassed, mostly from plain being wrong and losing the bet. Visiting the Ladies was the first bad part: realizing I was going to shortly have sex and needed assistance from artificial lubricant to make sure it wasn’t painful: that I could expect no assistance from my body’s natural sexual responses. Then in the boys’ room. Standing in front of two near strangers and taking off my clothes, and their great amusement, even hilarity, watching me. Standing there, humiliated, utterly and unwillingly naked, listening to their snickers and taunts, the evaluations of my naked body they had won the right to make. The first session was so quick I had not had time to really appreciate what I was having to do. This time, though, I held my position on hands and knees for long, seemingly endless, minutes while the boys stroked their cocks in and out of my body. I flamed redder and redder with shame when they began to moan, the result of the pleasure flooding their brains from the sensations they were feeling, and feeling because I had no choice but to allow them to rub their erections inside me. I had plenty of time, while the boys used my body, to reach the utter end of the line: that all this was happening to me because I’d made a foolish bet and lost a foolish bet. My capitulation was complete, and I just steeled myself in complete mortification to endure until this was finally and mercifully over.
Thankfully, at last it ended. I had been disengaged enough from the sex that I had nothing to focus on but my thoughts and a digital clock on one of the dressers. Seventeen minutes after we started this session Hank picked up his pace, and at nineteen minutes came inside me hard enough that I could feel squirt after squirt inside my vagina. His load was obviously not diminished by being his second in half an hour. After Hank was out of me, Paul continued to stroke in and out of my mouth. At twenty-three minutes, and without much change in his rhythm, he suddenly shoved deep into my mouth a few times, and withdrew his cock. A strong spurt of cum hit me on the forehead, a second went directly into my open right eye.
"Oh, God," I started to complain, but the next spurt went into my mouth coating my tongue and I decided to just shut my mouth and eyes and ride it out. Paul delivered four or five strong, full squirts and then a couple weaker ones.
Paul still holding one ear, I flamed with utter disgrace as I felt him wipe his cock off across my right cheek. When he was done, I rose and stumbled from the bed, walked unsteadily, oblivious, toward the door. I was trying to wipe the cum from my eye and regain my vision. It took a while as my eyes watered heavily trying to wash out the foreign substance.
When I could see again, I took in the sight of Hank leaning out the now-open window. It was a moment before I registered that he was holding my clothes in his hands.
"Holy shit!" I exclaimed. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
CF never stops educating ... I had no idea what this was before I read and researched ...
Methinks that maybe, in the darker, inner recesses of her mind Bobbi is beginning to feel just a little stimulated ...
What a superb turn of phrase!
Oh yes, the possibilities following these words are just wonderful to contemplate ...
Loved it @BEThalia
BEThalia
Executioner
I'm afraid that hacky sack reference indelibly dates me.
I wouldn't agree. BUT I'm always curious to learn how readers perceive and interpret my characters. There is no right or wrong.
Thank you. I like to think I exhibit the rare flash from time to time.
There are, but crime and detective stories are something I've never thought about trying.
As always, Fossy, your enjoyment is the wind beneath my wings!!
Which brings me to something I've been kicking around. Do you think I should continue the series? Volume 3 is the next story. I'd been disappointed early on with not seeing much interest in the earlier stories. But at least a limited number of readers seem to be enjoying Roberta. Do you think I should continue? Ideas? Thoughts? Etc?
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
I was thinking more about dropping her clothes out of it so that she is left naked until she retrieves them ...
Yes ... continue ...
I was taught early on in my 5 years on CF by the esteemed and still lamented late PrPr, that whilst we all seek reaction and response, the real question you should ask yourself is 'are you enjoying it?'
If the answer to the above is yes then you should carry on.
For my view, then yes please carry on ...
BEThalia
Executioner
BORING! Does she really need to retrieve them?I was thinking more about dropping her clothes out of it so that she is left naked until she retrieves them ...
BEThalia
Executioner
Thank you for your thoughts on this, Fossy. I really appreciate the thoughtful input.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
She would eventually, yes ... or head home naked!
BEThalia
Executioner
Thank you for your thoughtful ideas on this, Fossy.
Yes, continue on. As Fossy says the first joy is in the writing. If you feel inspired and excited about getting your thoughts on the page, that alone should be reward enough. Likes and comments are good too, of course, and they will come as more members discover your spirited and creative prose.