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Oh Swell!
by Old Bill (address withheld)
***
A randy high school girl and her geeky brother find
ways to entertain each other on a camping trip. (mf-
teens, youths, inc, 1st)
***
Oh swell, oh wonderful, oh just grand; we are going
camping out in the wilderness. They are going to feed
my beautiful body to the bugs, to the snakes, to the
mosquitoes. I have begged; I have wept; I have
promised, but I am going. No choice. No mercy. It isn't
fair. No way!
We have been to good old Uncle Dave's rustic cottage
before. It's up in the West by-gawd Virginia hills, ten
miles from nowhere on the edge of a lake fed by ice
cubes. There are not any human boys within a hundred
miles, only gawking cretins who slobber and drool when
the look at my chest. I'll die, shrivel up and die.
And worst of all, my brother is going, that nerd, that
geek, that dork. They didn't ship him off to camp this
year, pleading poverty or something. He and his new
iPhone are going; his iPhone loaded with geeky games
that nobody understands, and I know from experience
that my cell phone will not work out there in the
wilderness, out there in the sticks, in the woods.
Damn, a whole week without boys or girl friends. No IM,
no nothing but bugs and my dopey brother.
I was all set to hook up with Wolfy Jankiwitz (I'm not
sure how that's spelled), who is reputed to have the
biggest and strongest cock in the whole high school,
and who finally smiled at me at lunch after I
accidentally on purpose ran into him and sort of
spilled my tray on the front of my thin shirt, the cup
of diet soda putting me immediately into a wet t-shirt
display since I also sort of forgot to wear a bra, and
my boobs really are world class.
He actually grinned as he helped me up and he licked
his lips. I mean he hasn't really talked to me yet and
asked me to hook up with him or anything, but I know
that look. And now I have to go camping with my brother
during the spring break, a whole week. I'm ruined. Pack
me off to a convent and sew my pussy closed.
After all I'm not a child, a baby, an infant. I've
almost had sex with four different boys, and I have a
reputation of being a first-class cocksucker, a talent
I have been improving, off and on, for the last three
years, ever since I had Charlie Robbin's big prick
shoved in my mouth when I was thirteen and very drunk
at his birthday party. And I've been doing Kegel
exercises for almost two years now, and I can get my
pussy to squeeze a pencil if I want to and hold it for
at least ten seconds.
Anyhow, none of the guys who have tried to stick their
stiff things in me have been any good, the giggling
incompetents with their weak, little-boy pricks. It was
all going to be wham-bam if you know what I mean, the
five-second express; I'm sure of that. One of them
actually blew his wad while he was feeling me up. They
got off, grinning like fools when I jerked their little
things, and I got nothing except a bit of incompetent
fingering, nothing except a gooey groin and some
panting and slobbering and stains on my clothes and
sticky fingers. Just swell!
Besides I think all of them would have preferred to
stick their adolescent peters between my big jugs. Now
I will admit that I have enjoyed having my tits sucked
a lot more than attempts at pig sticking, as some of
them claim to call it. When a boy goes down on my bare
breasts and sucks and licks and roots around and
slobbers, I really go nuts, and I get all wet and hot
down there, especially if he bites and gnaws and tries
to stretch them out.
I always like it when a male slides his hand up under
my shirt because I know he going to end up nibbling on
my nipples. I get chills. Really, when they get all
excited, my nips stick out like little finger tips and
the area around them gets all raised and pebbly, puffy
like. If you really want to know, they are 32C's and
really firm too.
So I'm packing as ordered, one lousy little soft bag,
and I am wearing my sloppy gray, Stanford sweat-shirt
with the cut off arms and my old, raggedy jeans that
hip hug, barely, and my flip-flops, oh and some
underpants of course, if you're so curious, bikinis
from Vickies that just about disappear in my butt
crack. That's all. I'm sure not going to dress up to go
camping and besides you can see my boobs through the
arm holes of that baggy shirt if you're interested and
the top of my buttocks too since those old jeans barely
stay up.
I really don't need a bra, if you want the truth, and
the stupid things are so uncomfortable. I'm going to
sit in the back seat and pout and sulk and complain all
the way up there and then I'm going to park my tail in
that dumb wooden chair and look at the stupid lake and
pout some more and swat at the bugs. They're just mean;
I don't mean the bugs; my parents, they're just mean. I
mean, here I am, one of the hottest girls around, and
my life is ruined.
Oh swell, now we've just found out that Daddy can't get
away from work, some sort of crisis at the bank, like
anybody cares about mortgages, and Uncle Dave is going
to take us up in his truck, a big crew-cab Dodge that
probably gets zero miles to the gallon and doesn't have
any springs as far as I can tell. Uncle Dave, who is a
rich contractor and divorced, is a lot like Daddy
except that he's younger and has a crew cut. He's
always had a crew cut, and I think he has the hots for
Mom. It's left over from when he was a captain in the
Marines I guess, the haircut not the hots.
He's my mother's youngest brother, and he's got muscles
on his muscles and a voice that cuts through metal. He
scares me when he looks at me so I am going to be a
good girl, that's for, as he says, for dang sure. Then
he cackles and thinks it's a laugh. Uncle Dave scares
me shitless, honest he does. Sometimes, even when I
don't want to, I think about what's inside his pants if
you know what I mean. It must be huge. I mean it bulges
like there's a football or something in there.
Now let me tell you about my geeky brother, who I'd
like to drown, or is it whom. Most people call him
Slim, but he's just plain skinny. He's taller than I
am, maybe five-eight or ten or so and weighs, the last
time I heard, 120 pounds soaking wet, as Daddy puts it.
He eats like a pig and drinks sodas and milk like
water, but he never gains any weight. It isn't fair. If
I ate like him I'd look like the Goodyear blimp or
something, but he just gets taller and his feet are
bigger than mine already.
I don't think he would know what to do with a girl if
he had one, which he never has. He's a pimply-faced
fourteen, the nerd, and he's started growing wisps of
facial hair, reddish hair, so he looks even weirder
with his freckles and pimples and shaggy mop of red
hair plus whiskers on his chin. Sometimes I think he's
gay, at least I used to. But he's not, so forget that.
He has hair under his arms too, if you're interested,
and other places, curly red hair.
Anyhow, I went into his room the other day and there he
was on his Mac looking at pictures of girls, naked
girls. "Whoa," I yelled at him and he jumped like I had
stuck his big toe into the electric socket and yanked
his hand out of his pocket. I pushed him aside and
scrolled down and there were these skaggy girls on
their knees sucking cocks, these real young girls,
girls my age, even younger. "Ew," I said to him,
"you're such a pervert." Boy, you should have seen the
size of some of those male things, like fire hoses. My
brother was the color of a fire truck, mouth open,
sweat faced.
He reached over and shut off the iMac and asked me who
invited me into his room without even knocking. I sat
down, right on his lap, and turned the computer back
on. "You look at this stuff much?" I asked as a bunch
of thumb-nails appeared, each one showing a big rigid
cock, some of them black, and a girl's lips and nose,
all of them white. The sound was ghastly, just slurping
and moaning on top of acid rock, really weird, metallic
or something. I mean real old stuff.
He sniffed and admitted that he did, that he thought
about girls a lot, and that it really excited him to
see girls sucking cocks. Talk about strange, that's my
brother. I think his thing was even hard. I'm pretty
sure I could feel it under me.
I wiggled, trying to get comfortable and make him even
harder, and said, "So, geek, how often do you think
about sex, hm?" I turned toward him and pressed a boob
into his chest. Sweat popped out on his forehead for
some reason and the hair rose on his arms. He swallowed
like he had something stuck in his throat and started
breathing funny.
"I dunno," he said, licking his lips, "maybe, every ten
seconds or so. I think the studies say every seven
seconds is normal. But I'm only fourteen. You can
Google it."
I jumped up, said, "You really are queer," and left,
feeling very odd that my geeky little brother was
thinking about sex at all. I mean he's got pimples all
over his face and his wrists are thinner than mine; he
doesn't have a decent leg muscle that I've seen, and
he's thinking about sex all the time. Swell, just
swell. Talk about weird. He's totally sick. I mean I
haven't seen him naked since he was about five, but
I've seen him in his baggy bathing suit and if he has a
bulge it sure doesn't show. Obviously, appearances can
be deceiving, very deceiving.
He's never even been to a movie with a girl or hooked
up, never been to a real party with people his age
except maybe a birthday party. But that reminded me of
Charlie's party and his big horn poking my cheek. I
could still remember how scary it felt in my mouth and
how foul it tasted. Anyway, I was thinking about that
as I finished packing and went down to gush over Uncle
Dave, as expected, throw my stuff in the back of his
big red truck (is that the only color Dodge makes?) and
then climb into the backseat beside my skinny brother
who already had his earbuds in and a game on his stupid
phone. His thumbs are strong, I'm sure of that. He
bought it with his own money, lawn cutting money and
birthday money, and he's got I-don't-know how many
goofy games on it. The nerd does better in school that
I do, I'll admit that; he's smart. In a dumb way, of
course.
I took a nap, as much of a nap as anybody can take
being shaken up and down in the back seat of a pickup
truck that smells of male sweat and paint thinner.
Mainly I sulked, which I do well, and watched my boobs
bobble. I swear, on some of those potholes, my nipples
jumped two or three inches.
Two long hours later, there we were way up in the pine
tree hills at the end of a gravel road. Uncle Dave's
log cabin has two small rooms, a sleeping loft and no
glass in the windows, just screens. When I opened the
refrigerator, all I found was beer, acres of canned
beer. Uncle Dave has a generator that runs his stuff so
there are electric lights and a butane stove or grill,
and Mom brought her little TV-DVD and a bunch of tapes
like "Music Man" and "Sound of Music" and like that.
Hopeless. I mean, really hopeless.
My dumb brother got down the old canoe and went
paddling off somewhere out of sight, wearing a life
vest of course and his Orioles hat, plus gobs of
sunscreen, he's such a goody-goody, and Mom and her
brother headed for the store at the bottom of the hill,
like ten miles away, and I sat on a hard wooden
Adirondack chair and felt sorry for myself and sucked
on a TootsiePop I found in my pocket, probably left
from Halloween which was the last time I wore these
raggedy old jeans that won't even button at the top. It
was kind of hairy but orange, so I licked it.
Pretty soon Stanley, that's my brother's name, he came
rowing back, lifted the canoe up onto the dock which
kind of surprised me `cause the thing must weigh fifty
pounds, came trotting up to the house and then sat
beside me, plopped down a can of Bud and opened the one
in his hand. "That's all there is," he said, "just
beer." Stanley was very pale, barely sun tanned at all
except on his arms.
"Since when do you drink beer?" I asked, putting the
cold can down between my legs and enjoying the chill
through the heavy denim. If you haven't done that, try
it. Frozen pussy.
"Tastes good," he said. "I've been thinking about what
you saw, I mean on my computer, those girls, sucking."
He sniffed and glugged, not looking at me.
"Every ten seconds?" I asked.
He smiled at me and chugged more beer, letting some run
down his chin.
"You're sick," I said. "Every ten seconds! Swell, just
swell."
He drained his beer, set it down, grabbed the one
between my thighs and popped it open. "Just about. I
was thinking you might show me stuff, you know, about
sex." He sniffed and drank. "We could do some things,
like screw around, you and me." He sniffed.
"You're crazy," I said. I got up, walked down to the
lake and back and sat down, thinking. There were two
more cans of beer on the arm of the chair.
"You want one?" he asked.
I opened a beer and drank a gulp. I hate the stuff,
vile taste, but I knew I had to learn how to drink it.
"I like Miller better," I said, pouring some more down
my throat.
"We've got some time now, and you could come sneak into
bed with me tonight I guess." He looked at me and
smiled. "Up in the loft, into my sleeping bag." He has
the dumbest smile, crooked, goofy. Oh sure, swell, into
his sleeping bag. He'd love that.
I snorted. Here I was, one of the best looking girls in
the junior class, and a nerdy ninth grader was
propositioning me. I've had senior boys all over me,
fighting them off, and here's this skinny child who, I
guess wants to kiss me or grope me or something. He was
looking at me all hot-like and his shorts were kind of
bulging up like maybe he had a baseball in his pocket.
Oh swell.
"I'd rather you do it than some dumb girl, somebody who
might make fun of me because I'm a virgin." He drank
some more beer, glugging it down, not looking at me.
"If I go down on you, will you go down on me?" I asked,
not looking at him, my mind busy, my vagina pulsing. It
was, after all, an opportunity for exploration and
maybe some fun. There was certainly nothing else to do.
I've always wanted to have a boy eat me. And despite
everything, I had to admit he was a male, a boy. He had
what I didn't, and I had what he wanted. I smiled at
him.
"I don't know that that means," he said, looking at
clouds, blinking, his forehead wrinkled.
"Eat me. Didn't you ever see pictures of men licking
girls' pussies? It's called cunnilingus, look it up on
your stupid phone."
"Oh yeah. Sure," he said. "That sounds fair. You do me
and I do you. Why not?"
No boy had ever done that on me, licked my pussy, no
girl either for that matter, but I had thought about it
a lot, about getting a good tonguing as my best friend
calls it. Some girls had told me that they did to each
other at slumber parties. One girl said she had her one
and only orgasm when her big brother ate her out, that
he drove her crazy with his tongue, tried to chew off
her clit and suck her socket inside out. That's what
she said, honest. It made me hot, hearing about that.
So my brother got up, this skinny geek, all knees and
elbows, and came over and stood right in front of me,
between my legs and zipped down his fly and flopped out
his penis.
I think I probably screamed. I know I yelled, "Put that
thing away."
He just stood there blinking at me with this length of
garden hose, kind of pink garden hose, hanging out of
his pants, with a purplish head on it that was like
some kind of ugly mushroom. It looked a foot long, but
it wasn't I'm sure, just big and sort of turned
sideways and covered with veins.
I reached out, curious, and grabbed it and it jumped,
and I stroked it and it got bigger and harder so I
pulled him closer, tickled under the bell-shaped head
where one guy just loved it and took it into my mouth,
just the cock head I mean, with my hand on his hard
shaft, and then both hands as it got bigger and harder.
The glans wasn't as big as a golf ball, not quite. I've
seen a few male things, maybe a dozen, and Stanley's
was by far the biggest unless Charlie's was, but I
never saw his, just sucked it.
"Um," my dumb brother said, digging his hands into my
hair and kind of quivering all over. "Um, um, um." He
came up on his toes and moved it around in my mouth,
pushing into my throat and gagging me. I put both hands
on his hard shaft, holding it down and he sank to his
knees in front of me, snorting for breath with his
balls at my chin.
I bent forward, used my tongue, lapping and circling
and stuff, and he pushed some more of his stiff thing
into my face so I started bobbing on it, moving it from
cheek to cheek and letting it slide between my lips
until it just about gagged me again. I was gasping for
breath and his thing was getting bigger so I backed off
and it jumped up out of my mouth, spraying spit.
It had grown twice as big as it was, and it was already
pretty big before I sucked it, but it was soft then and
it was rigid now. It was almost scary and his balls
were huge, knotted up like a puffball. The penis skin
was still smooth, silky, but his thing was really hard,
like metal or wood or something inside, sort of ribbed.
"Damn, dork," I said to him, "you sure have a big one."
"Yeah," he said, sitting back on his heels, "Isn't it a
beauty. I've been measuring it since last Christmas
when Dad gave me that metal tape measure thing, and
it's been growing steadily. It's almost eight inches
now. It was less than six back then." He smiled at me,
got back in my face, and I grabbed his shaft and licked
his fat glans, see I know the right name for things.
It was like grabbing a flashlight, one of those three-
celled jobs; I could barely get my fingers around it. I
mean, come on, I've handled a few of these boners, but
this one was way bigger, way harder, way more of
everything, rock hard too and blood hot as well. I had
to have it, no matter whose it was. I was really wet
between the legs. And I'm sure I stopped thinking right
about then.
"You want me to finish you off?" I asked, looking at
him as I held this jerking, one-eyed monster. Except
for the first time when I didn't know what was going
on, no boy has ever come in my mouth, but looking at my
brother's rearing prong which bent upwards remarkably
when I let it go, I was ready to try to get it right
down my throat. Besides, it was bubbling out stuff I
wanted to taste, little pearly gobs of stuff. I licked
one in. It was salty.
"No," he said, "it feels real good, wonderful. Now show
me how to eat you. Is that right, eat you?" He grabbed
his thing and stuffed it down his leg and pulled up the
zipper of his khaki shorts. The head poked out and
wiggled around, kind of a reddish purple, on the inside
of his thigh.
I stood up and skinned my old jeans and tiny underpants
down and kicked them aside.
"How come you don't have any hair?" my brother asked,
blinking at me. "I've got some."
"I shaved it off, dork, so I can wear my new
swimsuits." I sat on the front edge of the chair and
spread my knees. He knelt down and smiled at me, his
hands on my thighs. "This is my pussy," I said,
stroking my puffy lips, "now you kiss it and lick it
and make it feel good." I spread my lips some to make
it easier.
He bent and kissed up and down my folds as I rocked my
pelvis up toward him and then along the inside of both
thighs and my heart got to beating hard and I was
suddenly shaking. I could even feel his little
whiskers. "Now poke in with your tongue, roll it up if
you can. No lower, lower. Yes, right there, lick. Stick
it in me. Go ahead. More. Yum, that's good. Now push,
push harder."
He was in me, my brother had his tongue in my sex,
wiggling it around where nobody had ever been. "Oh,
that's good," I said, both my hands on his head and
pushing my mons up into his mouth, trying to smother
him as his nose nudged my clit flap. I was being tongue
fucked, me.
He licked upward again and again, licked hard, and I
jumped and squealed as a thrill ran through me.
He sat back on his heels and blinked at me. "What'd I
do?" He wiped his lips with his hand.
"You hit my love button, my clit, you geek."
He just blinked at me.
"You had sex ed," I said, "Didn't you learn anything.
Girls have a thing like your prick called a clitoris, a
little one. It's right there." I poked gently, "right
where you licked." I pushed down and it poked out,
interested I guess, erect I'm sure.
"OK,' He said, "I'm sorry. I won't do it again." He
really looked sad.
"No, no," I said quickly. "It's good. Do it some more,
but be gentle."
So he licked and sucked and licked and nipped, and I
squirmed and arched and gasped and finally with my legs
up on his shoulders, I came. I mean I really came,
gushing all over him and shaking like I had the flu or
something. I'm sure I yelled, but he kept right on
licking and sucking, and I came again, twisting away
from his face and falling to the ground, clawing at the
weeds and gasping for breath, my pussy convulsing,
humping the ground.
"Get dressed," he yelled, standing up and wiping his
mouth with his hands. "I hear the truck coming up the
hill."
I yanked on my panties and pulled up my jeans despite
my knees feeling like they were made of jelly while my
brother trotted up the house. I was really confused. My
dorky brother had given me the best climax I'd ever
had, absolutely the very best and the second best too.
It was weird, impossible, strange, geeky. Oh swell, I
couldn't get the picture of his big thing out of my
mind; I kept seeing flashlights, big, heavy ones with
mushroom heads. Obviously, I wanted some more. Talk
about unbelievable.
Anyhow we ate supper and then sat outside and counted
stars and swatted bugs until it was really dark and
then we went to bed. My mother and me in the front room
on these old army cots and my uncle and brother in the
other. Stanley liked sleeping up in the loft in an old,
quilted Boy Scout bag. Uncle Dave snored.
I lay there looking up at the timbers and thinking
about my brother's thing and fingering myself. It was,
I finally decided, just weird, but somehow I was going
to get that big, hard prong in me. He was going to pop
my cherry, the dork. Talk about weird.
The next morning Uncle Dave and my mother went
puttering out in his aluminum bass boat that has an
electric motor, and my brother and I sat on the chairs
and watched them go, both of us just thinking our
thoughts I guess, horny thoughts. As soon as they were
out of sight, I went rummaging through Mom's bag and
found a package of condoms that I knew she usually
carried. They were Dad's lubricated ultra-thins. But in
Uncle Dave's big leather bag, there was an open box of
a dozen Trojan Magnums with a couple missing. I took
one out, saw it was called a Twister, and went back
outside. Briefly I wondered if he had been using them
on Mom.
"Know what this is?" I said, handing Stanley the
condom.
He nodded and blinked.
I licked my lips. "If you use that, we can have sex, I
mean safe sex."
"Honest?" he said, holding the little square as if it
were going to explode.
I nodded. "The package says they're eight inches long."
"Let's go inside," he said, standing up and offering me
his hand. So we went inside, hand in hand and right to
my canvas cot. "You think it will hold both of us?" he
asked, looking worried. I was nervous and was glad he
was too.
"It holds Uncle Dave doesn't it," I said as I pulled my
t-shirt over my head, and he gawked at me.
"Oh geeze," he said, "they're beautiful, just, just
beautiful," and he pulled his shirt off and started
getting out of his shorts.
Pretty soon we were both naked and standing there
facing each other, just looking at each other, real
nervous; at least I was. He reached out and held my
hand. I knew what he was seeing, mainly my tits, but I
sure was surprised to see that my brother actually had
some chest muscles and a hard belly and a gigantic cock
that was not just sticking straight out but rearing up
at about a forty-five degree angle, its shaft slightly
curved and its helmeted head pointing right at my nose.
He had some curly hair down there too. My heart skipped
several beats. I could see his ribs too, of course, and
his little nipples. They looked as excited as mine.
"Can you put it on?" he asked handing me the shiny
square of foil. His hand shook some.
I nodded. I sure didn't want to tell him I had never
done it. I tore open the package with my teeth and took
out the limp circle of latex, bit my lower lip, grabbed
his hot shaft and eased the rubber thingie onto the fat
head of his rearing cock.
He groaned. "It's going to spurt. I can feel it
coming." He grabbed his big stalk with both hands and
ran for the cabin door, bumping into things. I
followed, the unstretched rubber in my fingers. He
leaned against the door jamb, let go and ejaculated
three thick ribbons of cum while he sort of whimpered.
They arched out, maybe three or four feet, heavy ivory
snakes, and then splatted into the dirt, and Stanley
sobbed and shook his prick up and down.
"Damn, damn, damn," he said, turning toward me.
"How long's it take you to get it back up," I asked,
feeling sorry for him. He was at least as eager as I
was and now his big thing was flopping limply over his
swollen scrotum, a fat noodle. He shook it. It was
dead.
"I don't know, half an hour," he said, shaking it
again. It was still pretty fat and maybe a half-foot
long.
"Bet I can help," I said, kneeling right there in the
doorway and slurping in his soft member. I mean, I felt
I had some expertise in that department so I got to
work and pretty soon, maybe three or four minutes, with
my hands on his legs, I could feel it swelling as he
moved it in and out of my sucking lips. I raked with my
teeth, gently of course, and paid special attention to
his fat glans and the ridge around it, taking him as
deep as I could without swallowing the gross thing
while I kneaded his swollen balls.
He was leaning back in the doorway, eyes closed, hand
on my head, a smile on his lips, and moaning softly as
he got harder and harder, longer and longer with his
other hand along with mine on his throbbing scrotum
that was the size and shape of a baseball. I could feel
his pulse in it, and it was pretty fast.
I stroked his long shaft, squeezed his testicles, and
he snorted and pulled free with a sucking pop, like
pulling a cork out of a wine bottle. I wiped my mouth
and we moved back to my cot with this stiff thing
bouncing around in front of us.
He sat with his rod sticking up, and I carefully rolled
the big latex tube all the way down his shaft and then
stroked it some, feeling the small ribs circling the
thing and making sure it fit tight. It had like screw
threads toward the top and just round and round rows of
ridges at the base. There was a little bulb that stuck
up on the head of my brother's big penis, but I guess
it was supposed to and it fit tightly down near his
hair.
He really looked good with that glistening thing on his
big dick, like something out of a monster movie, and he
smiled at me as I got down on the cot and spread my
legs, my toes touching the floor and my tits standing
up proudly. I took a deep breath and scrunched my mouth
closed.
Stanley smiled down at me and licked his lips. "You
ready?"
I shivered and nodded, looking up at the huge club he
was going to stick in me and starting to feel that I
had made a mistake, a big mistake. It was, I was sure,
impossible. It was not going to happen. And if it did,
it was going to hurt, really hurt. Oh swell! I almost
chickened out.
My brother got on his knees between my legs and then
leaned down over me, supported himself on one hand on
the side of the cot and then tried to push the head of
his penis into me with the other. "It won't go in," he
gasped after three or four attempts, having butted me
everywhere but the right place. I was about to call him
a name, but bit my lip instead.
"Let me," I said, just like I knew what I was doing. I
spread my thighs wider, grasped his big, hard, latex-
covered prick between thumb and forefinger and brought
its bulbous head right to my quivering little vaginal
opening where the inner lips were more than ready,
tingling and wiggling, warm and wet. "Push," I said
after kind of screwing it into the stretched labia,
spreading myself open. I could feel the head poking at
me, like a ping-pong ball or something. I stopped
thinking altogether. Pressure, that's what I felt, and
then OMG.
He pushed and in it popped as I relaxed all those
muscles I had worked on training. I think I said, "Ew,"
or, "Ah," or maybe, "Oh." It was more surprise than
hurt. He was in me, my dorky brother was in me, fucking
me. I was ruined and it felt great.
"Ahhh," he cried loudly, arching his back. "That's
wonderful. You're so tight, holding me so hard,
squeezing. It's quivering or something. Rolling over
me. Oh, oh, oh God!." He closed his eyes and shivered
above me, maybe two inches in. I looked down and there
was an awful lot of his thing that was not in me. I
felt dumb. My body was on fire or something, my pussy
sucking on my brother's big schlong. It would never
fit, of that I was sure.
"Push some more," I said as I reached to grasp his
buttocks and he moved his hands up by my ears and
shoved in maybe another inch, tensing his belly muscles
that I didn't know he even had. My poor little pussy
was kneading it like it was trying to smash the thing,
trying to expel the invader I guess. His cock was
pulsing and throbbing and probing, always moving
inward. Up and down, side to side, in and back. I felt
things inside me pulling apart, stretching and popping
loose. I had to remind myself to breathe. I was, I must
admit it, scared.
It hurt, having that big head in me, and I closed my
eyes and then wrapped my legs around my brother's ass,
took a deep breath and deflowered myself with his big,
blood-hot ram, pulling him to me. I squealed as all the
way in it went, slick as anything, until his belly hair
was scratching at me and our bones were rubbing. I
don't know what happened to my hymen. It was gone in an
instant.
I was not a virgin any more and neither was he.
My skinny brother let himself down on my body,
enjoying, I was sure, the feel of my big jugs mashed
into his bony chest. His hips and mine got moving
gently together like we were some sort of sex machine,
the parts of which were made to work that way, well
greased, just in and out, in and out maybe two or three
inches, very mechanical, very pleasant, rocking and
rolling just a bit from side to side on the creaking
cot. It felt wonderful, exciting and scary to have him
deep inside me as long as I didn't think about what was
going on, about who was doing what.
I could feel the big head and the little ribs that made
the big condom a twister moving in and out and tried to
adjust my bottom on the canvas to get more comfortable,
arching up my pelvis and taking him still deeper,
digging my fingers into his back. And I know I made
some odd noises but I didn't scream or cry. I moved my
legs high on his back, and he pushed up with his skinny
arms and started doing push-up in me, exhaling with
each deep insertion. Swell, push ups, over and over, in
and then in again.
I was surprised he could do one, and he must have done
twenty before I gasped and then gurgled with pleasure.
The little bed squeaked in time with our efforts, the
legs bounced on and off the floor, and we both were
moaning and sobbing I guess. I know I was. He dripped
sweat on me and I smiled up at him and urged him on,
"More! Harder! Do it." I slapped his ass, loudly, with
both hands. He surged.
"Are you getting close?" he gasped out as he rose above
me, backing out until only the head of his big, stiff
thing was still held by my fluttering inner lips as he
pulled back before ramming again. He had already
penetrated a hundred times I'm sure, slow and steady,
like I said, mechanical, like one of those small oil
rigs you see on TV. Just in and in and in, a battering
ram. My belly felt like a pan of mashed potatoes.
"Uh huh," I said, nodding and licking my suddenly dry
lips, "Move up some so your thing rubs my, ah there,
yes, right there. Do it hard." My body was on fire or
something, both hot and chilled, shivering and shaking.
I knew about my clit of course and I had read about G-
spots, and I think he hit both at the same time, and
then rubbed them over and over. And over and over. I'm
sure I squealed and arched and beat on him with my
fists. I had an orgasm, that's what I had, a humdinger
as Uncle Dave might have said.
Somewhere in there, probably about then, I stopped
think of him as Stanley, as my brother, and thought of
him only as a cock, as a pleasure stick, and a pussy
pleaser, as a girl ram. He was a cocksman and we were
doing it to each other, this big, hot, iron prick and
me, doing it and doing it.
And for the first time, I guess, he really started
fucking me, banging into me as hard and fast as he
could, his eyes closed and teeth clenched, and I gasped
and squealed when I came as he bounced me off the taut
canvas, and we fell to the floor with him under me,
knocking the air out of both of us as I cried and
kicked, feeling stabbed, speared, impaled or something.
Part of me wanted him to stop, but most of me wanted
him to never stop.
When the shaking ended and got my breath, I pushed down
on his hairless chest, tossed back my hair and sat up
on his belly, his stiff horn still poked well up into
me like a flagpole or something. "You OK?" I asked,
squeezing and relaxing, using Kegel stuff for the first
time, massaging his horn with my pussy muscles,
rippling up and down. It was so big I thought I could
taste it. I could feel his fat ballsack pressing on me.
"Yep," he said, grinning, "do that again." He stroked
my thighs. I rippled him hard, and he sighed deeply and
managed to thrust upward, lifting his bottom from the
floor.
I wiggled to get comfortable in the saddle, my knees
into his ribs and started doing him like he had been
doing me but every time I went down on his horn, I
squeezed and when I moved up relaxed some. He closed
his eyes and smiled, both hands holding my boobs,
squeezing my little nipples out between his fingers,
trying to pull them down, licking them when he could. I
could hear me slapping us together when I landed on
him, and his big pole was jerking around inside me,
still ripping me apart, probing and punching,
merciless, thrilling.
"Oh, oh, oh," Stanley sobbed, "I can feel it coming.
It's like lava or something, moving. Go faster,
faster." And he exploded in me, shuddering and gasping,
his back arched under me and his thick spear spurting
hard and then spurting again and then again before he
sobbed and collapsed, still clawing at the floor. His
cock flexed and jumped again as I squeezed on it.
I eased down and hugged him, feeling his big pole
quivering within me, throbbing and jerking, softening.
"You done?" I whispered, my well-satisfied pussy
rippling and fluttering deeply, feeling like I had a
bird trapped inside me. His thing was softening. I
rubbed my nipples across his chest and he sighed.
He nodded and made a sound, sort of a groan. His spear
was not hard any more but it was still long and fat and
in me.
I rolled off and lay beside him on the floor and his
soggy penis flopped down on his lean belly, all red and
gooey after I stripped off the big rubber which was
full of his spew. It felt heavy as well as sticky.
"Let's go for a swim," he said, rolling over and
getting to his feet. "I need to cool this thing off.
It's really sore." It just hung there, dripping, a limp
noodle.
We trotted down to the lake, naked. I still had the
soggy condom in my hand when we jumped in the cold
water. I was going to throw it away, but he suggested
turning it inside out so he could use it again. I just
smiled at him since that was just what my body wanted,
another fierce fucking. I felt really vulgar or
something as we got out of the water, eager for more,
my pussy pulsing.
He took me from behind up on the lawn between the
chairs, the inside-out rubber on his big prong, his
hands on my breasts as he bent over me, and we again
moved together toward our goal, back and forth, toward
our climax, both of us grunting like pigs, our slick
bodies smacking together, both of us on our knees
although I think he sometimes got up on his toes. I'm
sure he got even deeper that way, hurting me before he
thrilled me.
We shook and shuddered when he came, jerking and
thrusting deeply, yanking on my tits and then when he
fell on his back, pulling free of me, I stripped off
the long, limp condom and sucked him clean, squeezing
his balls. Obviously, my brain had stopped working.
We lay together on the hillside, nose to nose, feeling
each others heart beat, and before either of us knew
it, his big horn was back in my little cunny and our
hips were pounding at each other. "Don't come, don't
come," I begged as we banged together face to face.
Somehow, he touched some new places that were exciting,
thrilling, and I guess I screamed some and bucked on
his hot horn while he grabbed my buttocks with both
hands and drove up and in, deeper and deeper, harder
and harder.
"Won't," he managed to gasp as he rolled me to my back,
grabbed my legs and pushed my knees back toward my
ears. The sound of our flesh slapping together drowned
out the birds, but pretty soon we did hear the buzz of
the electric outboard and pulled apart, got our clothes
on and sat on the lawn chairs, gasping for breath, not
looking at each other, trying to slow our breathing. I
felt sunburned inside, sore and satisfied. Stanley
couldn't stop grinning.
I slept really well that night and the next day, after
Uncle Dave and Mom went off antiquing in the truck, I
got a real surprise. There was my dumb brother with a
goofy smile on his face and three Trojan Magnums in his
hand. "Uncle Dave gave `em to me," he said. "Told me
that you really looked freshly fucked when they got
back." He smiled. "He said to have fun."
END
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 59