Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: redragon@interserv.com
Subject: Naughty (MF, rom)
Date: 17 Sep 1995 00:33:21 GMT

			Small Town Naughtiness

	I have a secret. It's a secret because it wouldn't be approved
of at all in this small town where I live, where summer evenings are
spent gathered on front porches and back lawns, immersed in the smell
of green grass that has baked all day in the sun, and the soft voices
of neighbors drift murmuring over the hedges, where fences are painted
white and the houses are settled serenely behind rows of shady maples
and oaks.

	I am wearing my blue dress today; The one with the delicate
flower print and the lace cuffs. The wide, white collar lies flat on
my chest beneath my chin, and I enjoy the rustle as Henry and I stroll
toward church. My parasol is resting on my shoulder and I am feeling
very much a lady. I have a hidden secret, though. One that no one
knows about but me, and It makes me blush as I stroll toward the wide
doors of the church - Beneath my rustling dress, beneath my lacy
underskirts, I haven't worn any bloomers today. I am naked beneath my
skirts. I imagine my skirts being whisked above my head in a sudden
gust of wind, exposing my most intimate parts to the whole parish. I
blush warmer when I imagine this. I feel so daring, risking such
imaginable embarrassment.

	My soft underskirts rub silkily against my bottom and thighs
as I walk and I feel the young Hembrandt boy watching me. I feel he
knows my secret and I sense his lust. I become acutely aware of the
sensation of my thighs rubbing together as I walk. The skin is soft
and smooth and rubs ticklishly.

	The sermon is uninteresting and I find my thoughts and eyes
wandering as Henry and I sit on the hard pew. Jon Hansen and His wife
Hannah are on the pew next to us, Jon closest to me. They are
listening intently to the sermon.

	Jon is a lumberman and his square shoulders are burled and
wide. He is wearing tan colored pants and the material is tight over
his muscular thighs and buttocks. My eyes find themselves focusing on
his crotch where I can clearly see his THING beneath the creases and
folds. It rests like a plump sausage and my mind imagines that I see
it move. I look up and see that Jon is looking at me. I blush crimson
and turn away. I don't look over at Jon for the rest of the sermon.

	As we walk home, Henry and I nod and wave at the gentlefolk on
their porches. They all nod serenely back in the thick summer air and
murmur polite salutations. Our house is cool inside and Henry
disappears down stairs to pursue his own endeavors in the basement,
where he tinkers and toys his weekends away. I pour myself a glass of
lemonade and settle in a heap on the back porch swing. I'm not much in
the mood for polite nodding and murmuring. I am blissfully alone for a
good half hour.

	I remember, as I swing gently, my bottom is bare. My dress is
fluttering around my calves and I daringly straighten them as I swing.
The breeze draws the hem further up my legs, past my knees, and my
heart pounds. A young man's head pops up over the fence across the
back yard and I snap my legs down in embarrassment. He smiles at me
reassuringly, though something about him is unsettling. He vaults the
fence effortlessly and I see that he is impossibly tall and thin, his
clothing hanging on his frame like a wire rack. His hair is red and as
he approaches, I see his face is endowed with a generous amount of
freckles.

	"How'd do, ma'am?" he says, standing in front of the porch
with his hands clasped together. His fingers are long and ruddy, their
ends slightly spatulate. The fingers begin to worm amongst themselves
and the young man stares at me earnestly.

	"I suppose I'm as well as can be," I say back, eyeing him. My
tone was one of guarded curiosity.

	"But I," said the young man, smiling oddly,

	"That am not shaped for sportive tricks
	Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
	I, that am rudely stamped, and want love's majesty
	To strut before a wanton ambling nymph... "

	He trails off, eyeing me expectantly, and I find I am utterly
without a reply. His features melt into a smirk and his blue eyes
twinkle puckishly.

	"Come over here, there is something you must see," he says. He
turns his back on me and strides back across the back lawn. He is
assuming I will follow, and against my judgment, I do. He enters the
black rectangle that is the door to the garden shed. The door is
framed by rough whitewashed boards that are so bright, the contrast
makes the tall young man disappear as though he were stepping into a
pool of ink. I pause at the door and peer in, allowing my eyes to
adjust to the humid darkness.

	His hand grabs my wrist and I am pulled inside. Before I can
scream, the man's cool fingers wrap themselves across my lips,
bruising them with their urgency. He is standing behind me and I can
hear his breath softly behind my ear.

	"We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot, A cherry lip, a
bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue... " whispers the man.

	His hand unpetals from my mouth and I find I can't scream. I
am transfixed. He pushes me away and turns me around. At arm's
length, he lets his hands slide down my arms to my hands where he
rolls my fingers between his. Finally he lets them drop.

	I realize, looking at myself, he can see me clearly from my
chest down while he remains shrouded, next to the door. My upper half
is immersed in the same sort of blackness. I am awash with strong
feelings of fear and other, more subtle stirrings. Without really
realizing what I am doing, I begin to bunch my skirts in my fists,
gathering more and more of the material into them as the hem rises
from the floor. The skirt rises above my knees and I know they are
starkly framed to his eyes. I feel my face flush hotly as my hands
continue to grab the material. He can see my thighs, but I cannot
judge his reaction, and I do not think he can read my face either.

	I pause in my rustlings and I can hear him breathing. I hoist
my skirts higher, exposing more of my white trembling flesh. I reach
that point at the top of my thighs and I pause again, this time
greeting the silence of baited breath. I finally pull my skirts the
rest of the way, showing the man the soft hair growing between my
legs. I find myself standing, without any further plan, my vagina
exposed to a young stranger.

	His body is against mine in an instant and without warning.
His face is burrowing itself into my neck and I realize, while I was
pulling up my skirts, he was letting his trousers drop to the floor of
the shed. His penis hot against my belly and its stiffness presses
with urgency against my cool flesh. I can tell as it lies against my
skin, that it is long and thick as my wrist and his sinewy hips
tremble against mine. I feel him hunching himself down, the round
point of his penis traveling down my front until it nestles in the
soft fur between my legs.

	I tremble, stricken with the sudden knowledge of what is about
to transpire. I feel the head of his penis spread the folds of my
vagina and my hips betray me by pushing forward against my will.

	He pushes me back, against the potting table and as I stagger
back a step, my legs spread to accommodate his bony thighs. The smell
of my own humid vagina fills my nostrils and I realize I have
moistened - become ready to accept his throbbing penis. He slowly
fills me, hunching himself further and further upward, as I lubricate
his shaft with my tender labia.

	He feels huge and substantial inside me and I feel my soft
folds are stretched around the rough root of his penis. He begins to
draw the shaft of his thing out and then back in, spearing me to my
core. I find myself becoming very excited and begin to lose myself
little by little to the feelings in my belly. The huge smooth head of
his penis is rubbing the inside of my vagina and I can feel it travel
the distance from my entrance to my womb and back again.

	I realize I am very lubricated and his penis is sticky and
wet. He begins to plunge urgently. He humps his body against mine,
soundlessly in the dark while our mingled juices travel in beads down
my thighs. I feel his penis grow more rigid in my body and the urgency
makes me wanton with desire. My mind's eye imagines the white liquid
shooting hotly into my innermost folds and I begin to tremble with a
climax. The ecstasy envelops my whole being as the thickly veined
shaft saws between the swollen lips of my vagina.

	I tilt my hips toward his jack hammering pelvis and lift my
feet off the ground, draping my legs around his narrow waist. I
envelope him and his wonderfully rigid, hot penis, willing him to
violate me to my very core. He begins to shiver and plow me harder,
slapping his hips against my bare bottom. A few more strokes and he
stops with his enormous penis thrust fully into my lusting vagina. I
can feel the shaft pulse as the man deposits his sticky seed in my
belly. We remain for a time in that manner, breathing, until I feel
him begin to wilt.