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o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories. o
o They have been submitted by people from all over the world. Also o
o from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no particular order o
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Tits
by Old Bill (address withheld)
***
A young girl, too young for sex, asks for my help and together we
figure out why she isn't enjoying sex as she should or perhaps
shouldn't. (M/g, extreme-ped, inc, rom)
***
Tits Monaghan was a natural wonder, almost an oddity because her
breasts were so full, firm, shapely and sensitive when she was so
young, so innocent and immature. They were not a big, soft mounds
like poor Anna Nicole's nor like Pamela Anderson's mature set of
wonderfully supported jugs, but were a youthful pair of perfectly
shaped and sculptured melons topped by lovely nipples and areoles
that were the size of some young girls breasts, rising from her
lean chest and turning upward and slightly outward, barely
jiggling when she walked and bobbling wonderfully when she ran.
Tits never wore a bra, and as far as anyone knew did not own or
need one although the towns' matrons were sure she would someday.
No one knew what size she was. More than a handful was the usual
measure, usually done with gestures and smiles.
Until she was twelve, Tits was known as Marcie, a fair-haired
tomboy with long legs and an impish smile under her pug nose and
crown of golden curls, good hitter but a weak arm. But then,
almost suddenly, around Thanksgiving as most later recalled, there
they were, conical at first, like ice cream cones, but soon
wonderfully filled out, well rounded, bell shaped, up-turned, and
when her brother came home from college that winter, he found that
his kid sister had developed the best set of knockers in town, in
the county, perhaps in the state. By the time he went back to
school eight days later he had fucked her thirty-seven times in
every way the two of them could think of or discover on the
Internet other than tit fucks, which never crossed his mind
despite her incredible cleavage. Joseph lost ten pounds and slept
through the first day of classes that second semester, his prick
so sore it hurt to pee. Tits became addicted to sex, a burning
need within her, a need to copulate, and her breasts so sensitive
she could produce an orgasm by lifting a nipple to her own lips
which she did only when truly desperate.
Her brother went through three dozen condoms and ejaculated
happily every time he bonked his little sister, but she never
climaxed except for the times he sucked and nibbled on her
breasts, then she came like a tornado, squealing like crazy and
beating on him with her fists. Her horny brother never noticed
this since he was usually fucking her when he sucked her knockers.
For Tits, sex meant getting her big jugs licked and sucked and
mauled no matter what the rest of her luscious body was doing or
was having done to it. She loved getting her clit sucked and
certainly encouraged that practice, but her tits seemed even more
sensitive, and her randy brother gave her what she wanted because
she gave him her body, her pussy, her ass and her throat. Joseph
found that he could spend all the time between erections licking,
sucking, nibbling and pulling on his lush sister's wonderful jugs
and thus keeping her aroused and submissive, eager to do whatever
he asked.
Tits returned to her seventh grade classes a much more
knowledgeable young woman than most of the girls in her up-scale
middle school. Of course there were a few sluts, girls who had
gained an unsavory reputation for giving out blowjobs like they
were Tootsiepops and one known as Trailertrash, or just Trash, who
went home to her empty apartment with high school boys or
community college men, a different one almost every day, having
fun and making a decent profit, so it was widely believed. There
were also, if anyone could have quietly inquired, a couple of
girls whose father's were enjoying their nubile bodies and two or
three others who had girlfriends on the sly and played 69
regularly with their talented tongues, ignoring boys completely.
Tits got some new clothes, sloppy shirts and bulky sweaters that
did their best to conceal her amazing assets, but the boys flocked
to her like honey bees and elbowed each other to sit with her at
lunch time and bump into her in the hall or at her locker, which
became so popular that her home room teacher moved it to a distant
corner location. She was not allowed to date and until her brother
came home that spring, she had found pleasure only with herself.
She learned that rubbing a rough washcloth on her jugs felt good,
that she could excite herself with water painting brushes and
that, with some effort, she could lick her nipples and even nip at
them when she lifted her gorgeous mounds to her mouth. She even
tried using clothespins on them, but that hurt too much.
Being only twelve, Tits was unaware of the effect she had on full-
grown men although she was, of course, conscious of the icky boys
slobbering all over her. Mr. Hughes, her young math teacher, was
the first to get up his nerve along with his cock, and invite Tits
to stop by after school for some help with her algebraic
equations. When he locked the door to his classroom and taped a
piece of paper over the window, Tits knew she was in for some sort
of an unusual experience. Her eager brother had never tit-fucked
her, but Mr. Hughes stripped off her new sweater and undershirt
and then laid his angry cock between her shapely boobs with a
smile on his face as she perched on the edge of his desk. He
grasped her firm melons, pushed them together, dripped spittle on
his cockhead and thumbed her hard nipples as he slid his thick rod
up and down her smooth cleavage until he spurted in her mouth, and
she climaxed in her panties, from his thumb actions and her
jutting nips rubbing at each other several times.
Mr. Hughes fell back in his chair, gasping for air, while Tits
mopped her legs with tissues from his desk drawer and then walked
home, bookbag on one shoulder, nipples still sore and tender from
twenty minutes of hard abuse, somewhat puzzled. She had found that
if she wore her backpack in the normal way, she caused traffic
accidents and drew unwanted howls and whistles from passing
truckers. In her room, she stripped and looked in her mirror. Her
nipples were jutting out like fingertips, and she lifted her
breasts to her mouth and soothed them with her tongue, producing
two more shuddering climaxes as she did so, orgasms that put her
on her knees, gasping for air, her pussy liquefied, her labia
moving like a fish's mouth, her forehead on the floor, toes curled
in ecstasy.
Mr. Phillips, the popular music teacher, was the next to give in
to temptation, and Tits was a walking temptation, truly a wet
dream on wheels, with a jiggling rack like no other. Mr. Phillips
bent her over his paper-strewn desk, ripped off her tiny panties
and drove his puny cock into her tight-lipped slit while he mauled
her big boobs with both hands. He came almost at once, sobbing and
shaking and then fell to his knees behind the nubile youngster,
begging her forgiveness. Tits turned, having barely noticed his
coital efforts and unsatisfied by his brief tit mauling, knelt
before him, kissed him and then pulled his face down to her bared
breast and let him suck until she climaxed, gritting her teeth and
raking her fingers through the man's sparse hair while he gnawed
at her nipples, eyes closed, heart hammering.
The school's male guidance counselor, Mr. McGonigal, held out as
long as he could, beating off almost daily in the faculty lounge
and then scheduled Tits for a high school interview in May. He
invited her to sit on his lap after he peeled off her clinging
polo shirt. Then he sucked and licked and chewed both her jutting
nipples until the girl begged him to stop, having soaked his
trousers with her juices. She went to her knees, fished out his
rigid rod and swallowed his single ejaculation with ease, feeling
that she owed him at least that, another talent from her brother's
instruction.
I was sixteen when I met her that summer, and she had just turned
thirteen and was back to serving her brother, who despite her
generosity, was chasing a couple of girls much more his age. I
learned all the stuff above from stories she told me that summer
as we made love, over and over, much against my will, of course,
since, as a rule, I do not bonk kids. There are laws, you know.
She came and sat beside me on the tiled edge of the community
swimming pool one warm day. She smiled up at me, put her hand on
my hairy thigh, and said, "Hi, I'm Marcie Monaghan." Her rack was
truly unbelievable, especially in an outgrown string bikini that
bared 90% of her wondrous globes as they jutted out before her,
cantilevered as it were, with tiny triangles of cloth baring much
of her puffy areoles. It was like putting a bandaid on a bowling
ball, twenty pounds of clay into a five-pound bag. Her jugs seemed
alive, constantly squirming to be free.
I put my hand on her smooth and beautifully tanned thigh, tried
not to look at the outstanding pair of outstanding beauties an
inch away from my upper arm, and said, "Hi, my name's Billy." Like
every male in town, I knew who she was.
She nodded and smiled. "I know. A lady who's a friend of my
mother, I heard about you from her." She stroked my leg.
"Really. Who's that?" I asked, feeling my eager cock stir. Close
up, her breasts were even more wondrous with their light tracery
of blue veins and her oversized nipples were even more enticing,
jutting up and outward as they did, the puffy nipple mounds bigger
than a silver dollar, stretching the thin cloth covering them, the
outer edges of the pink circles evident, shaped like the nipples
on a baby bottle, the tits like finger tips, just begging to be
sucked. If you have ever seen any of Dementia's girls, you know
what I mean, nipples meant for chewing.
She wrinkled her forehead. "Barbie. I didn't get her last name.
She's big blonde." She smiled at me and thrust back her shoulders.
"Big as I am up here, maybe even bigger." Her jutting nips were
spectacular; they made my mouth water as they stretched her tiny
suit. They quivered. So did I.
I knew the woman. I had cut her lawn and done chores for her and
humped her a number of times. Barbie was a very enthusiastic
fucker, a great and generous lay who was in the process of wearing
out her fourth husband at the age of twenty-five or so. Serving
her was hard but very satisfying work.
Tits exhaled and wiggled closer, rubbing her left jug against my
right arm. "Barbie said you were big and strong; I mean that your
thing is big and strong." Her exploring fingers edged closer to it
as it filled my jock strap. My balls were in turmoil. My brain was
about to quit and hand my body over to older centers.
"Thing?" I said, and she put her hand down on it. It was maybe
halfway riled. It surged. She patted.
"This thing. You know what I mean."
I moved her hand away. "And?" I asked, smiling at her and glancing
down at the deep valley between her youthful mounds, her upright
volcanoes. That's was what they looked like, I decided, volcanoes,
well-shaped young mountains, Fuji type. Like Mount St. Helens
before it exploded.
"And, well, I have this problem. We can't talk about it here. You
have a car don't you?"
I nodded. "But I just got here."
"OK," she said with a sigh. "When you get ready to go, come find
me."
"That won't be hard," I said.
She laughed, shaking those gorgeous boobs, and pulled her swimsuit
back up over her hard nipples.
So an hour or so later she found her little Hawaiian shirt and
flip-flops and followed me out to the Fiero, many parts jiggling
wonderfully. She sat, turned sideway and pouted. "Can I trust
you?"
"A lot of women do," I said. "I'm surprised Barbie talked about
me."
"She's Mom's best friend."
'Still. I'd never talk about her."
"I've got this problem. I don't enjoy sex the normal way, you
know, fucking, getting poked."
"That's a shame," I said.
She nodded. "I like getting my big knockers sucked, and boys have
gotten me off with their tongues a few times, down there, you
know, on my clit, gash licking."
"That's good. A lot of women seem to like that."
"But most won't do it, you know, go down on me. They just want to
stick their things in me and grunt and spurt and maul my jugs."
She sniffed. "It's no fun."
"And you don't like that?"
"Not really. So I guess there's something wrong with me."
"Tits," I said, letting the name slip out, "I am sure there is
nothing wrong with you. How old are you anyhow?"
She hesitated. "Sixteen," she said, looking away.
"How old?"
She sniffed. "Almost."
I laughed.
"All right. I'm thirteen, just thirteen, durn it. So there, and
I've been doing it for about six months, since Christmas, but,
well, but I'm not hooked up now. You know, seeing anybody regular
like." She told me later that she was sleeping with her brother
off and on that summer.
I smiled.
"It's not funny. I've done it a lot; I don't know how many times,
maybe twenty or thirty. But I've never come. And I'm on the pill."
I shook my head.
"So this lady, Barbie, she said you were the best, the biggest and
the best."
"I can't make love to you, Tits. I can't even kiss you much less
fuck you."
"Why not? Am I too ugly or something?"
"No, sweetie, you're thirteen."
She sighed and her luscious pair bobbled. "I was afraid of that."
She snorted and looked determined, folding her arms under her
glorious pair. "Couldn't you just put it in me so we could find
out. I mean, well, now this is a secret, my brother's thing is
only about this big." She held her thumb and forefinger wide
apart, maybe three or four inches. "It's about the size of your
thumb." Then she grabbed my hand and gripped my middle finger.
"And I don't think anybody's put more than this in me."
"Have boys fingered you?" I asked, trying to get my eager horn to
relax.
She nodded. "Some, a few." She sniffed. "It just felt, I don't
know, odd, annoying."
"Well," I said, getting car started and trying to ignore the
turmoil between my thighs, "everybody's different."
I drove to a shady part of the park, and we walked down the hill
toward the creek, hand in hand. As usual, I can resist almost
anything except temptation. I spread the blanket I had carried on
my shoulder, turned off my scruples, and we sat and then we hugged
and we kissed and we pulled off each other's shirts and fondled
each other until I was pretty sure she was excited and knew I was.
I had never handled a better set of knockers than Tits' beauties
and every time I licked a nipple, she shook and squealed and then
mashed my face into her chest.
"Now," I said as she helped me get her shorts and underpants off,
"let's try a couple of things." She was almost hairless between
her legs. "Understand, this is an experiment on account of you're
too young to have sex with." I eased a finger up into her,
surprised she was so wet and slick as well as very tight. I added
a second finger with some effort, hooked them forward and rubbed
gently inside her vagina in an area where many women seemed to
have what was usually called a G-spot, kind of behind her clit.
"How's that feel?" I asked her as she lay back, hands under her
curly head, breasts still high despite being on her back, no sag
at all, nipples erect and as big as the tip of her little finger,
hemispheres firm, wonderfully ridiculous.
"Odd, peculiar, irritating." She smiled.
I fumbled around inside her and then gave up, pried off my shoes,
pulled down my shorts and boxers and watched my eager horn jump
out and up.
"Oh god," Tits said, getting up on her elbows and looking at my
rising horn, mouth and eyes wide open. "I thought she was kidding.
Holy gee!"
"Now," I said as calmly as I could, suppressing a proud smile. "We
are not making love or fucking or anything like that. We are
experimenting. Understand? I don't fuck thirteen-year-olds. This
has nothing to do with love. Or even lust for that matter. It's
scientific. Right?"
She nodded, lay back down, hands at her sides, knotted into fists.
She licked her lips. "I don't think you can get that thing in me."
"We'll see," I told her. "Lift your knees and spread your legs." I
examined her folds, rubbed her clit gently and decided she might
be right. "OK, Tits, roll over and get up on your hands and
knees."
"My brother did me that way a few times, bunny he called it," she
said as she got into position, and I came up behind her on my
knees, my big ram straight out before me, just a bit above
horizontal and slightly curved, dripping, ready, in fact much more
than ready. "Did I tell you I was on the pill?"
"Here we go," I said, setting the head of my prick at her slick
but tiny opening, remembering how she had squeezed on my curious
fingers. My shaft was so thick it filled my hand. But it was also
hard enough to poke a hole in a sheet of wallboard.
"Ah," she gasped when the big head popped into her and her puffy
lips closed behind it. "You did it." Her young vagina was grasping
firmly, quivering.
I held her hips and pushed hard, sliding inward, butting her open,
plowing, bulldozing, throbbing. "You OK?" I asked, maybe halfway
in, penetrating steadily but slowly. Her pussy was in constant
motion, rippling and convulsing, squeezing firmly.
She nodded and wiggled her ass. "You sure are big."
I backed off a bit and pushed in and up again and then to the
side, holding her pelvis, pulling her to me, sure I was stretching
her, feeling around, exploring. I rotated my hips a bit, trying to
screw it in. I tried to remember what I had read about young
girls' vaginas, but couldn't exactly recall their size or length.
I thought they were about inch in diameter and maybe three or four
inches deep. I was already five inches into her and twice the
normal diameter. I pushed harder and she whimpered, stretched
obviously and probably painfully. I gritted my teeth, ignoring her
pain.
"Tell me when you want to stop," I said, leaning over her and
reaching up to grasp her big jugs and maul them a bit while I
moved it in and out an inch or so, humping gently and getting
somewhat deeper with each pleasurable insertion. She was hot and
wet, undulating within. I was maybe a half-foot deep and really
enjoying the experiment, my balls swing to and fro.
She nodded. "More," she sobbed, shivering as I paused and tried to
relax.
I got back in position, backed off, took a deep breath and drove
in, all the way in, right to the balls, which by then had drawn up
tightly at the base of my pole.
She squealed and her head went down until her forehead touched the
ground so I backed up some and felt my cock jump and flex deep
within her.
She gasped and climaxed, squeezing hard on my thick shaft as
ripples of pleasure coursed through her. "You did it," she gasped,
shuddering and ripping up handfuls of grass and weeds. "You did
it." She sighed, bucking and heaving. "I came; I came!"
I looked down and saw that I had recoiled and now had perhaps
seven inches in her and two outside and waiting, slick with our
juices. I thrust again, held it deep and waited for it to jerk,
feeling her squirming on my balls. It jumped and she came again,
gasping for breath and bucking on my thick ram. I thrust and held
it. It felt great, massaged and stretched. She climaxed again, as
multi-orgasmic as any female I've ever known.
"Good," I said, sliding the whole thing back out of her, enjoying
the vibrations and pulses of her pussy. When it popped free, it
made a wet and sucking sound, and we both chuckled as I fell on my
back and she pounced on me and kissed me fiercely, my face, neck
and chest.
I patted her bare butt. "Now you know. There's nothing wrong with
you."
She kissed me some more, and she stroked my soggy ram as it lay
resting on my heaving belly, still blood filled. "Let's check to
make sure," she whispered as she ground her magnificent pair into
my chest and nudged my scrotum with her knee. Some strenuous
licking and sucking got me fully hard and eagerly erect, and the
busty girl swung a leg across my loins and screwed herself down my
pike and then smiled at me.
"I feel it coming, rolling through me, I'm," and she cried out and
put her hands by my ears and leaned forward. I couldn't resist and
sucked first one big dug and then the other giving the luscious
girl three orgasms in a row, maybe even four but who's counting.
She collapsed atop me, sobbing and quivering, and eventually we
got dressed and back to the car. I was well satisfied although I
had not ejaculated.
We drove to her home in relative silence and when we got there she
turned in her seat. "Now what?"
"Now, I guess you have to take a measuring tape with you." I
smiled.
"Right, and I think we need to do some more experiments."
We did. A lot of them...