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Archive name: hormone.txt (MM/f-teen)
Authors name: Venturer (venturer@wowmail.com)
Story title : Hormone Therapy
--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2003. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial
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Hormone Therapy (MMf)
by Venturer (venturer@wowmail.com)
***
Sheryl is sixteen, bored but with hormones that are
fairly fizzing through her veins. She's fertile, too, she
knows she is, as well as unprotected, but common-sense
departs entirely when first her uncle, then an 18 year
old, an older married man and finally a lad she meets in
a nightclub administer the only treatment her aching body
understands. Will she survive a late event unscathed?
***
I'm bored, she thought. I've been on this train only five
minutes and I'm already bored out of my brain. She should
have stuck to plan A and gone back home on the overnight
sleeper like they'd arranged.
She was in the very last section of the train, containing
only a few pairs of bench seats, but it was linked to the
next part of the carriage by a corridor. She looked
around idly. There was an elderly couple she could just
see over the backs of the seats in front, and a couple in
their thirties on the bench seat diagonally cross from
her, and two boys. One of them, aged about eighteen, she
could clearly see through a gap.
A couple of minutes' study confirmed her first
impression. He was tasty, very much so. She felt the
familiar, delicious disturbance in her crotch. A couple
more minutes and she knew her cunt was juicy. Another
five minutes, she thought, and I'll be soaking my
knickers - again. I wonder what he'd be like to fuck?
Fairly good, I should think. I wonder if he's got a big
cock? Does he know how to use it? I bet he has got a big
one, long and thick and smooth and I bet he'd get it
right up inside me, and then he'd fuck me, and then...
Hell! She shook herself out of the fantasy. Don't be a
bloody fool! It all comes from having a long journey in
front of you with not much to do, and from it being this
particular week. She really should have insisted on
coming home on the sleeper last night. Had it been a
mistake to allow her uncle to persuade her to stay the
extra night? He and her aunt had been persuasive, though.
The whole visit could have been a mistake, thought
Sheryl. Well, alright, a frustration, and in many
different ways, too. Her mother had been very insistent,
however.
"You have seen John and Kirsten for years and they're
always asking me to let you go. Just for a week, that's
all. You'll like it, they're interesting and different."
They're not, they're fossils, Sheryl had thought, they're
over forty and therefore decrepit, and live on a farm in
the middle of nowhere. I'm sixteen, my hormones are doing
cartwheels, all I have a mind for is boys and sex,
especially sex, and I'm being asked to spend a week
without a bright light in sight. No!
But her mother had insisted, so she'd gone, taking a load
of books and any number of CDs to use with her portable
player. She'd need them.
In truth, it hadn't been that bad. John and Kirsten had
made her very welcome and she'd got on with them. Their
farmhouse had a large garden with woods close by, so for
long periods she had found somewhere quiet and laid out
in the sun in next to nothing, usually just a pair of
very brief knickers. Her mother never had qualms about
stripping off entirely, she even did it on beaches
sometimes, but Sheryl couldn't quite come to that yet.
She'd listened to music and read her books, or just lain
around thinking.
And when she'd done that, it had been about sex. She
couldn't help herself. It had probably been a good thing
she'd been there, she'd thought, because her period was
due the day after she got back. There'd be no risk of a
mistake. She wasn't a virgin, of course, she'd been
fucking with increasing regularity since she'd reached
fourteen, but hadn't bothered to go on the pill yet. She
just took care to fuck in the two weeks after her period.
The problem was, she'd noticed that she was actually more
aroused in the week before it. Let's be up-front, she'd
thought, I'm as horny as hell. I want sex so much it
feels like I could kill for it. It's like that at the
moment, it's what my hormones do to me. There ought to be
a treatment for it other than the obvious.
Involuntarily, she found herself shuffling in her seat so
the boy could see more of her legs. She twisted so the
outline of her tits beneath her tight tee-shirt became
more obvious. She was proud of her tits, round and firm
if not yet quite full-sized, and she knew boys liked
them, too. They hardly needed a bra for support. Her arse
wasn't quite so shapely, but at least it wasn't fat.
Sheryl shuffled again, parting her legs beneath her
short, flared skirt. She was being increasingly
provocative but felt unable to stop herself. She intended
the boy should be able to see her knickers if he wanted
to.
He did. Within a couple of minutes, he'd moved to sit
opposite her, and a chat-up routine started. He turned
out to be called Wes, and was staying on the train until
the town before her own. After half an hour or so, Wes
had turned a chat-up into something resembling a
friendship. At the same time he made no attempt to hide
the fact that his cock was good and hard.
Sheryl hadn't missed it, not at all. She felt her sex-
drive raging along, close to out of control. She kept
crossing and re-crossing her legs as the itch and
discomfort between her legs increased, but all that did
was to work her hemline higher up her thighs. She knew
what time of the month it was and what the risks were,
but she was finding it hard to care. If Wes wanted to
fuck her, she'd find it very difficult not to join in
with enthusiasm.
He suggested a walk towards the buffet. Smiling, she
agreed. They never got there, though. A couple of
carriages down the train they came on a parcels section,
where the corridor ran down one side with various
packages and large parcels in the rest of the carriage.
Wes suddenly slipped his arm round her waist and guided
her, far from unwillingly, in amongst the stacked
packages.
She turned, leaning her back against a large packing
case. Wes moved up against her and they went into a
lengthy clinch, kissing hungrily. Sheryl could feel his
cock pressing hard against her abdomen and felt a thrill
pulse through her. His body was strong and firm in all
the right places. 'I want to fuck him, I want to fuck
him' the sensual part of her mind insisted, despite the
resistance of her common sense.
Wes pulled up her tee-shirt. Sheryl giggled, then
wriggled so he could get it up far enough to cup her tits
in his hands. It felt exceptionally good, he knew how to
handle them. She felt his cock against her again, harder
than ever. Her cunt was open and ready and soaking her
knickers with juice. After a few minutes, he moved his
hands down to her arse, pulling up her skirt to feel it.
God, that feels good!
After a couple of minutes, his hands went up to her waist
and slipped down inside her knickers. Suddenly worried
about being seen by anyone in the corridor, she looked
around. With relief, she saw they were sufficiently
hidden to do anything they wanted. Wes knew that already.
He eased her knickers down over her arse to the tops of
her thighs. I ought to be stopping him, she thought, but
I don't want to. I can't. And if he does fuck me, I stand
a very good chance of getting pregnant.
Quickly, he slid her knickers down her legs and she
stepped out of them. When he rose from his stooped
position, his hand ran up between her thighs. She parted
them and seconds later felt his fingers come to rest
against her aching, wet opening. He stroked it for a
while, allowing his middle two fingers to slide inside
her. Very quickly, Sheryl quivered her way to an orgasm.
Her common-sense control was slipping away by the moment.
Her lack of any birth-control method seemed much less
important then her frantic urge that he should fuck her
senseless.
Sheryl started undoing the buttons of his shirt. When it
was off and she could feel his delicious skin, he pulled
up her tee-shirt. She laughed as he pulled it over her
head and off. Her bra soon followed and, at last, he
could fondle her tits as he wished.
Perhaps this is it, thought Sheryl, he just wanted to
feel my tits and finger-fuck me. At least that's safe.
But then Wes' hands went to his trousers. In no time,
they were undone and, with his boxers, on their way down
his legs and off.
Sheryl's eyes bulged as she saw his splendid erection.
Transfixed, she couldn't take her eyes from it as Wes
found the zip to her skirt and undid it. It fell off.
They were both naked. Oh, God, she thought, what am I
going to do? Just go with the flow, I guess, because I
don't think I can stop it.
"Over here," gasped Wes. He sat down on a parcel, and
Sheryl instantly knew what he wanted her to do. His cock
was standing rigid, upright. He reached out, putting his
hands on her hips, pulling her towards him. He was
definitely not going to use a condom. Common sense told
her it might not be safe to fuck him, his sperm would go
straight to her waiting, fertile egg, but that was now
all but run out. The power of her sex-drive simply
overwhelmed every objection and her resistance vanished.
Shaking with nerves and excitement, Sheryl straddled him.
Then, under the guidance of his hands, she lowered
herself so her cunt lips rested against his knob. Wes'
hands on her hips pushed her downwards, and she felt her
cunt push down round his knob and then the top of his
shaft. It felt wonderful. Letting herself go, she screwed
her body down further and further onto his splendid
member. Her young, tight cunt stretched until the hot
thickness filled it. She relaxed at last, legs wide
apart, sitting on his lap, his cock inside her to the
root.
And then Wes started to grind his hips, and so they
started to fuck. Every fear about unprotected sex
vanished as his pubic bone ground against her clit. In
less than thirty seconds, Sheryl had crashed into the
kind of orgasm her body had been yearning for ever since
she'd got on the train. She bucked and writhed on him,
coming easily and repeatedly. Wes did divine things with
her tits, both with his mouth and his hands.
Their fucking developed a wonderful pattern. Wes ground
his arse quicker and quicker which meant Sheryl screwed
her cunt onto him more and more vigorously, and they'd
build up until Sheryl came. Four, five times they
repeated it, until Sheryl found it difficult to repeat
the exercise. So Wes lifted her from him. She saw his
cock glistening with all the cum-juice she'd leaked.
"Over here," he gasped once more, rising and moving her
towards a long, wide package on the floor. Sheryl
understood at once he wanted her to lie down and did so.
She parted her legs wide, lifting up her knees, pushing
up her slippery opening to him. If he wanted to fuck her
some more, it was exactly what she wanted, too.
Wes did. Lowering himself to her, he pushed his hardness
right inside in one easy thrust. Sheryl groaned, then
screwed her arse as Wes started an urgent rhythm of
thrusts, plunging his cock in as far it would go every
time. Sheryl felt the pace get quicker and quicker and
knew the inevitable was fast approaching.
Wes grunted, seized her back tightly with both hands, and
then Sheryl had the familiar but always delicious feeling
of warm semen spurting out deep inside her. She didn't
quite come herself but felt intense pleasure and
satisfaction. She always did when a boy came inside her.
Afterwards, Wes rose from her and, laughing a little with
the slight embarrassment that they could have been so
blatantly enthusiastic to fuck, they searched for their
discarded clothing. Sheryl pulled on her top without
bothering with her bra, stuffing it the bottom of her
bag. She was about to restore her knickers when she was
conscious of how much her cunt was leaking with Wes's
cum. Quickly, she wiped her cunt with the knickers and
put them to join her bra in the bag.
Wes looked at her, those lovely young nipples pushing
against the tight tee-shirt, her arse that might actually
be exposed when she bent over and felt a distinct urge to
fuck her all over again. There wasn't time, he thought
with regret. He pulled her to him and contented himself
with a lengthy kiss and an exploration of her body.
Soon afterwards, Wes was gone, and Sheryl was left alone
in her compartment again, apart from the elderly couple
and the husband and wife in their thirties, sat more or
less opposite her. The wife was asleep, soundly so, but
the husband increasingly allowed his eyes to roam over
Sheryl's body. She worked out that he knew that she and
Wes had gone somewhere else to have sex, and the thought
thrilled her. The sexual high brought about by the
fucking she'd had was still fizzing through her.
Sheryl found she'd parted her legs a little and the man
was looking up her skirt. Let's give him a real thrill,
she thought. A sixteen year old girl shouldn't be
exposing herself like this, she knew that, but once more
her common sense appeared to have vanished. Looking
apparently absent-mindedly out of the window, she parted
her legs much wider. She saw from his reflection he was
transfixed by what he could see.
Still apparently without thought, she parted her legs
wider still, slumped down a little and lifted one leg
slightly. The result was to present to him a clear vision
of her open cunt, her open, juicy, recently-fucked cunt
that was still slippery with Wes' cum.
Sheryl held the pose for quite some minutes. Managing to
steal a glance at the man's crotch, she could see the
bulge where his cock was standing up rigid. She felt
pleased, smug even. Gradually, she closed her legs,
knowing she'd have to prepare to get off the train in a
few minutes. She sat, apparently quite demure, apart from
the lack of a bra, until she saw the train was entering
her town, and she prepared to get up.
The exhibition had been intended to be just that, it
honestly had. A follow-up hadn't been in Sheryl's mind,
however sexually aroused she was. However, when she moved
to pull her bag from between the opposite seats, she had
to bend over to do so. Unintentionally, she kept her legs
straight, so the hem of her skirt went right up at the
back. As her legs were apart and she'd disposed of her
knickers, the man was presented with a vision of her cunt
far closer to him than Sheryl had ever considered.
His hands rested on her thighs first. Sheryl nearly
jumped but didn't move, enjoying the naughtiness of it.
But then she felt him slide his palms upwards, one to her
hips, caressing her delightfully, the other right up to
her exposed cunt. The lips were open, she knew they were,
and still slippery with cum, so the man's fingers could
slip inside quite easily. They did, pushing in as far as
he could, slowly, deliciously, two or three times, before
his finger-tips found the mound of her clitoris.
Sheryl knew she must pull away, she knew she must. She
was being publicly explored in the most intimate way
possible. She must straighten up, that's what she must
do, and she must do it now.
But she didn't. Instead, on an increasing tide of sexual
excitement, she parted her legs a little further and
pushed out her arse to him. It was utterly shameless, she
knew it was, but she was so aroused she was past caring.
Let him finger-fuck me if he wants to. And I want him to.
The train will be in the station in a couple of minutes
anyway, so what the hell? The man continued to use both
hands on her cunt, her clit and her arse.
The train started to slow and so, reluctantly, she moved
to straighten up. The man's hands slid from her. Sheryl
pulled her back from beneath the seat and thought that
was it.
"Thank you," said the man quietly.
"My pleasure," said Sheryl, smiling her cheekiest smile.
"Now then," he said, conversationally, "move over there,"
- he gestured towards the next set of seats at the very
end of the carriage, which were empty - "and take your
clothes off."
Sheryl was stunned. What had he said? Exposing herself to
him, even letting him finger-fuck her, yes, but more than
that?
"Take your clothes off," he repeated softly.
"But...?"
"Take your clothes off." He said it so matter-of-factly.
"We're going to fuck."
"What? I couldn't. Not here."
"Yes you could. Just do it."
The train was slowing even more now.
"But I've got to get off here." She suddenly realised she
hadn't said 'no' to the idea of fucking him.
"That doesn't matter. Take off your clothes. We're going
to fuck."
Sheryl's mind reeled. The idea was, indeed, very exciting
to the substantial part of her that was thoroughly
stirred up sexually, but his wife was on the seat here,
for God's sake!
"I can't. My mother's waiting for me. This is where I get
off."
"There's another station soon. Phone here on your mobile.
Say you fell asleep. There's a train back very soon."
The train was slowing right down.
"I can't," Sheryl said plaintively.
"Yes you can. Take off your clothes, we're going to fuck.
Here, I'll help you."
He stood up and moved her gently over to the seat he had
in mind. This isn't happening, thought Sheryl. I can't do
it. I do want to fuck again, though, a hell of a lot. The
man found the zip at the back of her skirt and pulled it
down. Sheryl's skirt slipped easily over her hips and
down to her ankles. She felt his hands slide up under her
tee-shirt, working it over her tits.
Involuntarily, she lifted her arms so he could take it
off. She was naked again.
As the train drew to a halt in the station, anyone at the
very end of the platform would have seen a man deftly
removing his trousers to reveal a swollen, stiff
erection. Fortunately, there was no-one, least of all
Sheryl's mother. Sheryl hadn't moved in the few seconds
it had taken him to strip, awaiting his good pleasure.
The risks she'd seen earlier in the day no longer seemed
relevant. She'd fucked Wes already, and it was at least
possible he'd got her pregnant already, so what the hell?
And she was still feeling very horny. She needed another
fucking and the man had realised it. He was going to give
it her, too. His hands lightly rested on her hips.
"Kneel on the seat," he said quietly.
Sheryl did so, instantly realising what he wanted to do.
Parting her legs and thrusting out her arse, her lithe
young body was perfectly positioned for him. She felt his
knob against the top of her thigh. It moved to the parted
pink lips where it belonged. The man pushed forward
slightly and for the second time in an hour, Sheryl felt
her cunt opened up by a warm, impressively large,
erection.
He knew how to fuck her, he really did, screwing his body
so his cock moved in and out of her cunt but with the
maximum of intensity. There was an orgasm on the way,
Sheryl could feel it, and it was going to be wonderful.
It was, mind-blowingly so. She tried to keep herself
silent, she'd wake his wife, surely, but the sheer thrill
of fucking so openly right in front of her, in front of
anyone who chose to look through the window, added
immensely to her sensations.
The train started to move again. The man didn't stop,
anything but, fucking her firmly and rhythmically as they
moved past crowds of people. They must have seen them,
surely, the man and the girl fucking freely on the rear
seat of the train? And her mother? The thought petrified
and thrilled her at once.
The man's fucking came in waves, getting quicker and
harder until he felt her come, then slowing again. Each
time, Sheryl felt her plateau of excitement getting
higher, the third time she felt she might pass out. But
then she felt the man groan and grunt and she knew what
would follow. Sure enough, he felt her seize her hips,
push his cock right inside her and start to quiver. The
familiar sensation of cum spurting out inside her felt
both electrifying and relieving at once. She did love it
when men came inside her like that.
The man waited until he'd quite finished before slowly
withdrawing his cock. His hands released her hips. Sheryl
moved from her kneeling position and, as quietly as
they'd stripped naked, the pair redressed. Once more,
Sheryl found she needed her knickers, not to wear but to
wipe away copious amounts of cum leaking from her cunt.
"Thank you," said the man when they gently sat down, as
he'd done before.
Sheryl giggled.
"My pleasure."
She opened her legs to give him a good sight of her cunt,
again recently-fucked, but this time it was the man's own
cum seeping from between the open, juicy lips.
The train slowed again. This time, Sheryl did pick up her
bag and leave, but not before she'd phoned her mother
who, naturally, had been concerned. Twenty minutes later,
they were re-united. Sheryl wasn't aware her mother had
noticed her flushed cheeks, absence of bra or knickers,
and the faint but unmistakable aroma of fresh sperm. She
assumed Sheryl knew about birth control. Her period was
due soon. Sex was fine, she'd expected her to be fucking
by now, but a baby she didn't need.
Sheryl went to bed, contented. Her mother had probed
around the edges of what she done on the train without
asking any questions too directly. It had become a game,
with Sheryl dropping hints but no more.
The point was, it hadn't been Wes who'd threatened the
regularity of her periods. The truth had been very
different and would have horrified her mother, she was
sure.
Two afternoons before she'd been supposed to come home,
Sheryl had been lying out in the sun, as she'd done for
the previous few days. She'd found a secluded position in
the grounds of the farmhouse and had used it almost every
day. She'd stripped to her knickers to get as close to an
overall tan as she dared
That afternoon, her sexual drive had been at its most
intense, not leaving her alone for an instant.
Eventually, she'd done what she'd previously been doing
only in bed, every morning and every evening. She
wriggled her knickers right off, pulled up her knees wide
and allowed her fingers to caress her cunt and her clit
and bring her relief. For these few days every month,
when her cycle neared its height, masturbation became a
necessity, not a choice, and she needed lots of it.
After her second orgasm, she was feeling more contented
but very aroused. Masturbating naked outside like this
had delivered particular pleasure. What she hadn't
bargained for was that her uncle should have observed her
and then approached her, slowly, almost stealthily, not
wanting to make her jump.
"Oh, God!" she gasped when she knew he was there,
standing near her feet. Her hands went to cover her cunt
and her tits. Had he seen her working herself off? He
must have done. Hell, what was she going to do?
"It's not like it looks," she lied. Astonishingly, she
still felt sexually close to the boil. The shock of
discovery had served only to diminish the arousal
slightly.
"Yes, it is," he smiled, and started to undress. "They're
quite natural for girls of your age, strong sexual
urges."
She couldn't reply, not knowing what to do next. The
thought of fucking him had, indeed, been an option that
had shot through her mind.
John sensed her embarrassment.
"Perhaps it would help if I undressed too?"
In what seemed like no time, he'd stripped to his boxers.
Sheryl felt that, by now, she should have had her dress
on and been marching back to the farmhouse, but she
wasn't. Transfixed, she watched him pull down the boxers,
to be presented with as big and long an erection as she'd
ever seen. Oh, my God, she thought, he does want to fuck
me! What do I do now? I can't! Can I?
The problem was, a lot of her was very desperate for him
to fuck her. She couldn't though, she thought, the risk
was enormous. She looked at his cock, which was starting
to leak pre-cum. It was very exciting. He was kneeling in
front of her now, close to her legs, very close. I can't,
she thought, I absolutely can't.
"I'm not on the pill," she breathed. "I can't. The wrong
time."
"You'll be fine," said John, smiling, "just fine. It'll
be no problem."
These girls always get it wrong, he thought. Every time I
fuck them, they think they'll get pregnant.
"I'm not sure," gasped Sheryl. Not sure? She was dead
certain!
"You'll be fine," he soothed, "it always is. Just do what
comes naturally."
Sheryl knew what that would be - fucking, and lots of it.
John moved across and she allowed him to put his hands on
her. There followed minutes on end of increasing arousal
as he caressed her in all the right places.
Soon, he focused only on her nipples and her open,
slippery crotch. His fingertips found her clit and
stroked it delicately, over and over. Sheryl was highly
aroused already, so John's stroking merely transported
her into a massive orgasm, and another and then another.
All she could think of was fucking John, how much and how
often. All thoughts of protecting her womb against the
potency of his sperm were forgotten.
John moved easily between her legs, moving them apart and
lifting her knees up high. Then, Sheryl felt his knob
resting against her juicy opening. John pushed forwards
and his prick entered her, stretching her pussy wide.
Gradually and deliciously, his shaft pushed further and
further inside her until she felt his balls come up
against her arse.
And then she was being fucked, wonderfully, gloriously
fucked. As the fucking got firmer and quicker, Sheryl
squirmed and writhed ever more vigorously beneath her
much older partner, wanting more and more of him. The
divine copulation lasted for what felt like for ever
before, at last, Sheryl felt John quiver and shake. He
groaned, and then she felt him squirting jet after jet of
warm cum really close to her womb.
Afterwards, he lay with her for a while.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he grinned.
"No," she sighed, "it was lovely!"
Sheryl wasn't lying. The risk of pregnancy was high but
not that high, not yet, but it would be tomorrow and
especially the next day. Still, if there was a next time,
and she thought there could be, she'd have to tell him to
be careful.
Trying to be relaxed and casual, Sheryl slipped into her
sundress, pushing her bra and knickers into her bag. John
had pulled on his shorts and shirt and it was like it had
never happened, except for the tell-tale flush in
Sheryl's cheeks after so many orgasms.
Slowly, they ambled back to the house. Sheryl caught
sight of Kirsten in the orchard, chatting with the
village lad, Brian, who she'd seen helping out in the
garden sometimes. She went up the stairs, and was nicely
conscious that John followed her. He must have had a very
good view of her arse and pussy, she thought, and got
excited again.
John followed her into her bedroom. Without a pause, he
moved her to her bed. Smiling, he found the zip to her
dress and undid it. Sheryl smiled back, let the dress
fall to the floor and lay down on the bed, knowing he
wanted to fuck her again. John slipped out of his shorts
and shirt, moved to the bed with her, and the whole
exquisite process started again. This time, John fucked
her for longer but with greater intensity, and Sheryl
just came and came. And when eventually John did unload
his cum inside her, Sheryl felt quite flooded with it,
there was so much.
That evening, she at last realised what John and Kirsten
were really about. Quite openly, Kirsten was seducing
Brian, probably not for the first time that day. That was
obviously the deal - John could fuck the girls if she
could fuck the boys. That night, she was hardly into bed
before John joined her, a fresh erection at the ready.
Kirsten had clearly taken Brian to her own bed. John
fucked her in the morning, too, a lovely way to be woken
and the first time it had happened as it was the first
time she'd slept all night with anyone.
The next day passed in a blissful sexual haze as John
pleasured her, and so himself, at regular intervals.
Sheryl's brain went into suspended animation concerning
the pregnancy risk, allowing herself to think it was only
likely to happen, if at all, on the next day, when she'd
be safely on the way home. That was when, she'd convinced
herself, the real fertile period started. Just now, she
was safe still, surely?
But then John came and spent the night with her again. It
was like a drug, she couldn't refuse. She didn't want to
refuse, she was eager for him, he fucked her so
beautifully. And in the morning, perhaps her first
fertile morning, John fucked her for the last time,
lengthily and deeply. And he delivered her a massive load
of cum, as close to her womb as he could. Her fertile
womb? Not until later in the day, surely?
Sheryl thanked both John and Kirsten when she left for a
wonderful holiday. The last few days, at least, had been
fantastic! Kirsten looked a lot more content than a few
days ago, too, so Brian had clearly done her some good!
When they put her on the train, Sheryl could still feel
the last of John's cum oozing out onto the crotch of her
knickers, and her pussy was warm and gently throbbing. So
never mind the risk, she'd been halfway to fucking Wes
even before she'd seen him.
Sheryl had not long got home when a friend, Jackie,
phoned. Would she like to go out tonight, to celebrate
coming home? Yes, she would! And so it was that they got
hit on by a couple of especially juicy lads in a club
that, strictly speaking, they should not have been in.
Sheryl lied about her age, telling her lad she was a
young-looking eighteen. She lied that it didn't matter if
she went home or not, and lied when she phoned her mother
to tell her she was staying at Jackie's house overnight,
just as Jackie lied to her mother, telling her she was
going to Sheryl's place.
And Sheryl lied that she didn't really care if she went
back to the lad's flat - she did care, very much! And she
lied when they got into bed, telling him she was on the
pill, and she lied to herself that she was probably safe
from pregnancy. The lad fucked her, repeatedly and
magnificently, overnight and again in the morning.
Naturally, a fortnight later, Sheryl wasn't entirely
surprised that a regular monthly event didn't happen on
the day it was supposed to. For a couple of days, there
was no action, and a third and a fourth. Sheryl was numb
inside, unable to feel anything. She'd have to get a test
kit later in the day to confirm the inevitable.
Her mother found her that evening in her bedroom, sitting
on the edge of the bed, crying. She had on her tee-shirt
and nothing else, which was unusual.
"Is something wrong?" asked her mother.
"It's okay, mum, I'll be fine."
The tears were not all they seemed. He mother hadn't
noticed Sheryl's knickers on the other side of the room.
The crotch was stained dark red. The tears were ones of
relief.
END
Comments and opinions on Venturer's stories are always
welcome to: venturer@wowmail.com
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Remember Venturer's Rule: Sex In The Head is great, but
leave it in the imagination. Stories are stories and
should be seen as just that.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 23