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Hardcore sex story for your enjoyment....

	
               
 
                                                  
                                                  

    




                                                  
                                                   
                                   First/ursula.mf
                                     Friar Dave
                                       Ursula
                Ursula is the explicit tale of a girl exploring her newly emerging 
              sexuality as she enters adolescence. If such things offend you, please 
                                          read no farther.
                                                  
                       Everything you are about to read is probably fiction.
                                                  
                                                  
                    Almost all the other kids on the block were Catholic and went to 
                the Catholic grade school, so that made Ursula an outsider from the 
              start. She was Lutheran and went to public school. Nor did it help much 
             that her family had only moved onto the block the previous September, so 
                 she'd had no chance to get to know the other kids  during  summer
                                             vacation. 
                    Her parents were rigorous about studying. Ursula was expected to 
               get As, always As. An A-minus was cause for stern lectures in German 
                     from her father and in English and German from her mother.
                  And that was another obstacle. Her parents had come to America only 
             two years before. Ursula had studied English in grade school in Hamburg. 
                 At the New York City public school she  attended,  she'd  quickly
              assimilated all the current terms -- "Fuck," "Shit," "Piss," et cetera 
              -- from her schoolmates. But even the one or two times kids from school 
                had come over to play with her, they'd been put off by her parents' 
                         German and her mother's heavily accented English.
                   Of course, there was Roxanne, upstairs on the third floor. Roxanne 
             was three years older than her, but she had the same background. She was 
             friendly enough and willing to chat in English with Ursula and in German 
                 with Ursula's parents. Ursula's parents and Roxanne's were always 
              visiting one another's apartment, or all four of them were going off to 
                                         church functions.
                   The main difference was that Roxanne had already spent four years 
             on the block and she got along fine with the rowdy Irish and Italian and 
             Polish kids. It helped that Roxanne had dark eyes, thick dark hair and a 
              dark complexion, like many of the Italian kids. But the primary reason 
             she'd become part of their activities was that Roxanne loved sports. She 
             was only an acceptable hitter, but she was a solid outfielder with great 
                speed and a superb arm -- a trait considered doubly valuable in the 
               winter, during the snowball wars on the block. And when the Brooklyn 
                streets weren't snow-covered, there seemed always to be a few kids 
               playing roller hockey on the broken asphalt, and Roxanne was right in 
               there with the rest of them, roughing it up and giving as good as she 
             got. Roxanne was tall, lean and so much the tomboy that she fit right in 
                                           with the boys.
                   Which was yet another, and possibly the most damning, difference. 
              There was no way Ursula could fit in with the boys, even if she hadn't 
               had bright red hair, blue eyes and an almost translucent complexion. 
                 Ursula was small, even for  ten,  with  a  very  compact,  petite
               frame...except that her breasts were already developing. They weren't 
              terribly prominent, but they were so wide that they nearly covered her 
             entire chest, starting just beneath her collarbones and reaching all the 
              way down till they were even with her breastbone. And her nipples were 
              always, it seemed, sticking out. Worse, her parents refused to consider 
                          a bra for her. A bra for a ten-year-old? Absurd!
                   All of it led to her standing in the doorway atop the short flight 
             of steps leading to the entry of the tenement, forced to content herself 
             with watching the other kids laugh and play. Ursula was wearing her play 
             clothes: sneakers, a tee-shirt and a modest skirt. (No jeans for Ursula, 
              because that was what the hippies wore, decreed her mother and father.) 
             And no matter what she did, nothing could hide the swells of her rapidly 
             developing breasts. She was shy about that, as she was about everything, 
              and kept her arms folded as she squinted in the early May sunshine and 
              watched the other kids play in the little four-square-block park across 
                                            the street. 
                  As she turned her head to follow the flight of a ball hit by Louis, 
                 the handsome Italian boy from around the corner, the sun  glinted
              brightly off the thick braid of red hair hanging over her shoulder. She 
               watched Roxanne track the ball down, glove it and hurl it back in to 
               Jackie. Then all the kids on the field were yelling at each other to 
              back up, because it was Daniel's turn at bat. Even the park attendant, 
               sweeping the pathways, paused to watch when Daniel came to the plate.
                  Daniel! She hugged her arms tightly to herself, feeling her nipples 
             harden conspicuously. She'd watched him covertly from her window when he 
              played hockey or touch football during the long winter. Time and again, 
               she studied him secretly during the winter months when he took an old 
              bat into the park and practiced hitting progressively smaller pebbles. 
                  Ursula had begun regularly taking a schoolbook and sitting outside, 
              on one of the benches sprinkled along the periphery of the park. She'd 
              finally, after three freezing Saturdays, gotten up the nerve to ask him 
                and he'd explained that when he could hit even the smallest pebble 
                   exactly where and how he wanted it, he would be a good hitter.
                  He lived up to his promise. He swung and hit the third pitch like a 
               rocket through the treetops in dead center field. Roxanne didn't even 
               bother chasing it; she just loped past the trees and the pathway and 
              climbed into the "greengrass" -- the fenced-in area reserved for birds 
                                     -- and retrieved the ball.
                  Daniel! She watched him running the basepath and felt the tightness 
             inside, where she'd lately been able to work one grudging finger inside. 
             Ursula knew the facts of life. Her mother had made sure of that, whether 
               or not she would admit the need for a bra. And Ursula had, that same 
              night, taken time in the bathtub to investigate the deep cleft between 
                                  her legs. In here? No -- here! 
                   The opening was tiny and she worked at it and finally got just the 
               tip of one finger inside to the first knuckle. It felt...interesting, 
               but was -- as her mother warned -- not particularly pleasant. Sort of 
                                 neutral, at least the first time.
                   But there was a spot at the top of her cleft that felt really nice 
                when she touched it. So she kept touching it and she felt something 
              begin to swell there and whenever she touched it, that spot felt better 
             and better. She kept rubbing it and playing with it and soon her nipples 
              were so hard she just had to squeeze them and her hips were shaking and 
             then she thought she was going to die, it felt so good. She became faint 
             and frightened from the little orgasm. She was afraid she'd pass out and 
             drown in the tub. Or release the yelp of pleasure she felt and give away 
                            the fact that she was playing with herself.
                    Better to practice this at night, in her bed, under the cover of 
                her blankets and with a pillow that could muffle any noise that she 
              might make. Besides, then she would not have the time limit she had to 
                              deal with whenever she was in the bath.
                     And that was just what she did. Every night, shy little lonely 
              redheaded Ursula lay with her face in her pillow, her fingers busy over 
             that magic spot above her opening, bringing herself to orgasm. Sometimes 
              she would venture a fingertip inside herself at the same time, and then 
               she would feel her little vagina clenching fiercely on the digit when 
                        she came. Often, she came more than once that way. 
                   More and more, as the winter waned into spring and then threatened 
             to become summer, she would find herself imagining it was Daniel who was 
              touching her there, that it was his finger moving inside her. She would 
                try to imagine what it would be like to have him kiss her breasts, 
                 especially her nipples, and her lips and eyes. She would dream up 
               scenarios that usually included Daniel saying he thought her red hair 
              was beautiful (even though she was sure he thought it was ugly, as she 
              was sure it really was) and eventually confessing that he'd always been 
                in love with her, but he couldn't say so because his Papist family 
             forbade him to have anything to do with a Lutheran, but he couldn't help 
             himself -- he was going to convert to her church so he could be with her 
                                           and -- and --
                  About that time, the scenario usually collapsed into Daniel kissing 
             her nipples and rubbing her between her legs and she would come over and 
                                           over and over.
                    She masturbated at night and every chance she got to be alone in 
             the house, which was pretty often. Both her parents worked and they were 
                very active in the church and in a group that helped other Germans 
                                       emigrate to America. 
                   Apparently, Daniel's hit had ended the game, because the dozen or 
              so kids were separating into a few small groups of two or three or four 
                and going their own way. Daniel and Roxanne and Jackie were walking 
               toward her side of the park, talking and laughing. Daniel had his bat 
               and glove and he held the battered baseball. Jackie, who was smaller 
              than Daniel though only a few months younger, was capering raucously as 
             always. Occasionally, he darted in close and touched Roxanne -- "copping 
              a feel," Roxanne had once explained -- and leaped away before she could 
                                             get him. 
                                     "Jackie, knock it off, willya?"
                      Daniel's voice carried to Ursula's ears and she felt the now-
              familiar moisture gathering between her legs. He was so handsome! Even 
                her parents said so, as did Roxanne. And her parents thought he was 
             really a good young man -- for a Catholic. He had refused to join any of 
               the gangs in the neighborhood and had never been seen engaging in the 
             petty vandalism or rowdiness that so many of even the better kids played 
                 at. He even had an after-school job, as a  bonded  messenger,  in
             Manhattan. If only he weren't five years older than Ursula! She was sure 
              Roxanne was going to snare him as a boyfriend -- her parents were much 
             less strict about the different faiths, at least for friends -- and then 
              he'd be completely out of reach by the time Ursula was old enough to --
                                      "Hi, Ursula!" Roxanne called.
                                     "Hello, Ursula," Daniel said. 
                   She tried to reply, but all she could manage was a shy smile. She 
               wasn't sure what would come out if she spoke. "I love you!" or "Kiss 
             me!" or "I want you to touch my spot!" She felt her face turning scarlet 
                 and smiled and waved and then scurried into the tenement. She let 
              herself into the endless cool darkness of the halls and scampered up to 
                the second floor. Once inside her deserted home, she hurried to her 
               room, quickly stripped off her soggy panties, rolled her skirt around 
                the place where her waist would be when her hips finally flared and 
              began rubbing furiously. It didn't take long before she was cumming and 
              cumming -- and then crying in frustration. Oh, she wanted him so much! 
              She felt as if there were a fist in her belly that twisted whenever she 
               considered her loneliness and yearning for the forbidden boy down the 
                                              block --
                      She suddenly silenced herself and heard the sound again -- a 
             knocking at the door to the apartment. Her first thought, of course, was 
               that it was him...but her practical thinking processes quickly dashed 
             the hope. No one had rung the doorbell in the lobby to gain admission to 
                               dark hallways of the quiet tenement. 
                   "A moment, please!" she called, properly, as she straightened and 
               patted her skirt. No time for the panties; besides, even Ursula could 
               smell the ripe scent of her aroused juices on them. She moved quickly 
              and quietly toward the door, pausing to splash some cold water from the 
                                   bathroom sink onto her face. 
                      When she opened the door, she held a face towel in one hand. 
                                                Roxanne. 
                    "Hi, Ursula!" Her voice, as with her heavy-boned, open face, was 
             bright and enthusiastic -- and strong. Roxanne was smiling, and when she 
               smiled, all of her face smiled; even her stance seemed to smile. "Are 
                      your folks home?" She stepped right into the apartment.
                                            "No, they're -- "
                  "Yes! I forgot! So are mine." She turned in the narrow foyer of the 
             apartment and leaned against the wall, facing the younger girl. "Want to 
               come upstairs and listen to records? I have some new ones. Or we can 
                                    play cards or watch TV -- "
                        She broke off and stared at Ursula. "You've been crying."
                                             "No, I -- Yes."
                                               "How come?"
                    Ursula shrugged. "I don't know. I just sometimes feel so sad..." 
               She shrugged again, hoping to end the discussion. "Who won the game?"
                   "Oh, they did, of course. Whatever side Daniel is on always wins." 
                        She laughed. "Maybe someday, another team will win."
                   "He's very good," Ursula ventured. "Doesn't it bother you that his 
                                         side always wins?"
                  Roxanne shrugged, now. "A little. Someday, the other team will win. 
               But I don't mind that much; I like to watch him run and hit and catch 
                                           and throw -- "
                                       "Me, too!" she blurted out.
                   Roxanne looked at her oddly, then smiled. "I thought so. He is so 
                                   handsome and nice...too nice."
                                           "What do you mean?"
                  "I wouldn't mind him copping a feel on me, the way Danny and Jackie 
                and the others try to. But he never tries. Of course," she sighed, 
              "maybe like the other boys he'd rather grab Sharon or one of the other 
               girls with big knobs. They don't try to touch me unless I'm the only 
                girl." She looked down at her featureless shirt. "I hope I get mine 
                                               soon."
                   Ursula didn't hope Roxanne got hers soon, but kept quiet about it. 
               "You think he touches the other girls?" She hoped she was keeping the 
                                     jealousy out of her voice.
                  "Anything in the refrigerator?" Roxanne asked, turning abruptly and 
             heading for the kitchen. They passed Ursula's room. "What did you -- oh, 
              yeah. No, I don't think so. He doesn't really hang out with the rest of 
               the guys and he doesn't seem interested in the other girls. I thought 
             maybe he was queer for a while -- that's what some of the guys suggested 
               -- but I heard he was making out really hot and heavy with a girl he 
                                    went to grade school with."
                            Ursula burned with hatred. The slut! "Oh, yeah?"
                   Roxanne opened the refrigerator and scanned the contents. Ursula's 
             parents' idea of a soft drink for a growing child was Hi-C. They settled 
                 for that. "Want some?" Roxanne asked, as if she were the hostess.
                   Ursula shook her head. "A girl from his grade school? The Catholic 
                                              school?"
                    "Yeah." Roxanne poured two glasses of the sweet stuff anyway and 
               slid into one of the hard chairs placed around the tiny kitchen table.
                                 Ursula took the other. "Does he still?"
                                              "Still what?"
                                          "Make out with her?"
                   Roxanne shook her head and looked out through the window, studying 
             the clotheslines full of laundry that stretched between the backs of the 
              tenements. "Her mother found out and stopped it, I heard. He was really 
                pissed, but what are you going to do? You know parents. And I think 
               Jackie said he goes out with a girl from another Catholic high school 
                 sometimes." She took another drink of the Hi-C. "He thinks you're 
                                          pretty, y'know."
                                   Ursula almost choked. "Wh-wh-what?"
                  Roxanne made a face. "Yeah, he said that a couple of weeks ago, and 
                           just now when you got all red and ran inside."
                                           "What did he say?"
                  Ursula's eyes watched her face. "He said, uh, he thinks you're cute 
                    and wonders why you always run away when he comes near you."
                                 Because I'm terrified, Ursula thought.
                    Roxanne was still talking. "And he asked me how old you are and 
              seemed a little sad when I told him almost-eleven. He said that's what 
             he thought, but he was hoping he was wrong, because he wishes you were a 
                 little older so you could, I dunno, be friends, I guess. I dunno."
                                               "Me, too!"
                   The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Ursula 
              put her hands on her face in horror at her self-betrayal and was ready 
               to bolt, but Roxanne reached across the table with her tomboy-strong 
             hands and took Ursula's forearms in a preemptive grip. "You have a crush 
                                        on him, don't you?"
                                   "No! Yes! I can't, because -- No!"
                  Roxanne slowly let go of her forearms and smiled. "It's okay. So do 
              I. So does every other girl I know of, even the ones who won't admit it 
                           to their clubs. Why should you be different?"
                    "Because -- because he's so much older and he's Catholic and he 
                       always hangs out with you and -- " She ran out of gas.
                    Roxanne looked at her with eyes that were suddenly somehow more 
              knowing and intelligent than Ursula had expected or ever seen before in 
                        her best friend. "You think he's interested in me?"
                          "More than some skinny ten-year-old!" Ursula blurted.
                   "Almost eleven, next month, and you're not going to be skinny much 
                longer." She stared pointedly at Ursula's tee-shirt. "That's why he 
              thought you might be older. You're already getting yours, and yours are 
              probably going to be real big." She looked back into Ursula's eyes. She 
                   caught her lower lip between her teeth and seemed about to say
               something. A long moment passed, then the indecision was resolved and 
               Ursula knew that whatever it was Roxanne had been considering telling 
               her was going to remain a secret for the moment. "But it won't matter 
              how old you are or how pretty you are or how big your knobs are if you 
                         run away every time a guy says something to you."
                    "I guess. I just get all scared I'm going to say something or do 
             something or -- I don't know! It's like I'm supposed to do something and 
                                     I don't know what it is!"
                  Roxanne stood, draining her Hi-C and rinsing the glass in the sink. 
                                  "You'll find out; don't worry."
                                         "What does that mean?"
                     Roxanne ignored it. Suddenly, bouncy, enthusiastic Roxanne was 
              back, displacing the thoughtful, wise Roxanne. "Hey, want to go to the 
                                              movies?"
                                      "I don't have much money..."
                        "We can go to the cheap-charly matinee at the Meserole."
                                         "What're they showing?"
                                         "'Sink the Bismarck!'"
                         Ursula giggled. "But we can't tell my par -- my folks."
                                Roxanne laughed, too, and it was agreed.
                   That night, Ursula would again ponder Roxanne's words, especially 
                                   the promise: You'll find out.
                   What did it mean? She couldn't spend too much time on the subject, 
                 because all-too-soon, she was remembering  that  other,  critical
             information: Daniel thought she was pretty and wished she was older. She 
               held that thought and all the possibilities it unlocked as she rolled 
              over and pushed her face into her pillow and her hands between her legs 
                                     and furiously masturbated.
                                            CHAPTER TWO
                                                  
                   Her eleventh birthday came and went with appropriate celebration. 
               The summer fled and then it was school time. As she'd known, she was 
               totally separate from the world of the other kids on her block. Only 
                 Roxanne's bulletins gave her any sense of what was happening. She 
              sometimes saw Daniel from her window and a few times passed him on the 
                sidewalk. He always said hello and she always managed to return the 
                           greeting -- blushing furiously all the while.
                    Christmas came and fled and the depth of the New York winter was 
               upon her. She watched enviously from her window as the snowball wars 
             raged during one of the heavy blizzards. One afternoon when classes were 
               canceled because of the snow, she watched Roxanne, Jackie and Daniel 
               alone stand off most of the rest of the block for more than hour. She 
             wished she could have been out there with them, She couldn't throw worth 
              a damn, of course, but she could make the snowballs for them -- for him.
                   The winter broke and spring erupted in the park across the street. 
                 She had little time to observe it; her parents were adamant about 
                                maintaining her straight-A average.
                    Near the end of June, with the beginning of summer vacation, her 
              parents announced she was going to spend two weeks in Pennsylvania at a 
             Church-sponsored camp. Ursula was not thrilled. She had tried to be more 
                relaxed with the kids on the block and was succeeding. With most of 
              them, she felt no pressure, since she had no interest in any of them -- 
                 except Daniel, of course -- and they were as stand-offish as  her
              intuition had told her at the start. Which, even at twelve, she didn't 
               hold against them. Most were two years or so older than she was, and 
                those are very big years to 14-year-olds. Also, she had always been 
               pretty separate from them; no surprise that her warming now should be 
                                         largely unnoticed.
                     Still, she found she could risk their laughter or derision -- 
                 "rank-outs," Roxanne explained  --  and  not  die  or  melt  from
             embarrassment. She'd yet to try her evolving social skills on Him, and a 
             two-week absence in Pennsylvania with a bunch of "nice children your own 
                 age and with the same background, ja?" wasn't going to help much. 
             Especially since she knew that when she got back, Daniel would be off to 
                        his family's beach home for the rest of the summer.
                      In the end, of course, she was packed off  to  the  camp  in
               Pennsylvania. Her mother and father took her and her luggage at eight 
               o'clock in the morning to the Port Authority Bus Terminal, where they 
             eventually found the chartered bus, already two-thirds filled with other 
              10-, 11- and 12-year-olds bound for an idyllic two weeks at the church-
             sponsored camp. All were girls, of course, since the boys' sessions were 
                    held separately, lest some 10-year-old go on a rape rampage.
                   The bus ride was endless and Ursula spent most of it suffering the 
              childish prattling of the 11-year-old seated next to her and wondering 
               if she would go crazy after two weeks of being unable to relieve the 
              nightly ache in her little cunny. After all, they would sleep six to a 
                cabin and there was no way that even the pillow would sufficiently 
                   muffle her pleasured cries with five others in the same room!
                   Not to mention her other ache -- the one from being away from Him!
                    The camp was efficient. It took less than an hour to unload the 
               cargo from the bus, instruct it, assign it and have it all ready and 
                      reported for the first activity of the day -- exercise.
                  Her parents had purchased all of the recommended clothing and gear, 
               so Ursula was ready. She was shy about changing in front of the other 
              girls; she'd never really been undressed in the presence of anyone but 
             her mother and her doctor, not since she was four or five years old. She 
              changed almost furtively into the gym shorts and tank-top tee-shirt and 
                 quickly lined up with her roommates in front of the little cabin.
                    Their cabin Chief was a large, heavyset woman with a no-nonsense 
              expression on her face. Mrs. Wollman looked them over and sent all but 
               Ursula down the path to the exercise field. She kept Ursula back, and 
              sat on the top step leading up to the little cabin, which was raised on 
              blocks about three feet off the ground. She patted the step beside her 
                                      and motioned to Ursula.
                  "Come here and sit with me. I need to ask you some things, Ursula." 
              The fortyish woman's tone was going to brook no resistance; neither was 
                                  it unfriendly. Ursula complied.
                    "Ursula, I need to ask you some personal questions and maybe to 
                                    give you some advice, okay?"
                   The grave tone was a bit disturbing. Ursula nodded, her bright red 
                         braid flashing fire in the clear afternoon's sun. 
                   "Ursula, has your mother explained to you about the birds and the 
                                               bees?"
                     Ursula nodded. "She explained about men and women and -- " She 
                                              blushed.
                                  "You can say it; this is between us."
                                        "Sex." It was a whisper.
                                   "Good. So you know what men have?"
                                             "She told me."
                   "And you know what women and men do. Good. Now, do you know what a 
                                  period is -- the menstruation?"
                               "Yes. I know it's going to happen someday."
                                      "Good. But not yet for you?"
                                                  "No."
                    The woman nodded gravely. She was so big, Ursula thought, almost 
             like the bear she'd seen in the Central Park Zoo, but she seemed gentle, 
                                                too.
                  "Ursula, your breasts are already very developed. You should wear a 
                                    brassiere. Do you have one?"
                   She shook her head. "My mother said no girl so young needs one -- 
                                  but I think I do, I really do!"
                   "So do I." She sighed. "This happens too much these days. At least 
              your mother explained the facts of sex to you, but she should recognize 
              that you are already developing and need a bra. You are still young and 
                very firm, but the bouncing and all -- " She stared at Ursula. "You 
                                   would have boys all over you."
                                    "But there aren't any boys here!"
                   "No matter. There are some men and even if there weren't, you are 
               going back in two weeks to...Brooklyn, yes, and there are boys there."
                               "Oh, yes!" she said a bit too exuberantly.
                   Mrs. Wollman laughed. "I see you've noticed! Good! That's healthy 
              and normal -- but difficult for someone who's only a month past twelve 
                                 years old. You have a boyfriend?"
                   Ursula felt the hot blood in her face again. "Well, not really, I 
                  mean, I really like him and stuff but, well, I'm just a kid..."
                   "I think I understand." The woman's arm went around her shoulders, 
                                urging her to stand. "Come with me."
                                                "Where?"
                    "You are going to change into the clothes you wore when you got 
                here and you and I are going to drive into town -- " Harrisburg was 
               about fifteen miles away. " -- and I'm going to buy you a bra or two."
                                                "Really?"
                                                "Really."
                      "Thank you!" Ursula hugged the woman impulsively and  noted,
               curiously, that Mrs. Wollman's face was red when Ursula released her. 
                     When the woman returned to collect Ursula, she had three other 
              girls with her. All had the same "problem" -- and one of them had it in 
             spades. Ursula asked and Mrs. Wollman explained that with every busload, 
              there were three or four girls whose parents weren't prepared to admit 
                what they could see. The camp routinely laid out the money for the 
              undergarments and then tacked it onto the parents' bill. There'd never 
                                        been a problem, yet.
                    They parked behind Troutman's in downtown Harrisburg and entered 
              through a back door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. In the Lingerie Department, 
               the impossibly old and wrinkled saleslady greeted Mrs. WOllman warmly 
             and ruefully. The old woman expertly surveyed the girls, disappeared and 
                returned moments later with four boxes, then ushered the girls into 
                                          dressing rooms.
                    The simple, white cotton bra fit perfectly, with maybe a little 
              room to spare. "For growth," the old woman explained. "You are going to 
               develop a large bust very quickly. And as soon as the cups or straps 
                start to leave welts in your skin, you complain and make sure your 
              parents buy you more, and make sure they fit. It's okay to be a little 
             loose, but not too tight." Ursula thanked her. The quintet left the same 
               way they'd entered, but with less bouncing, and returned to the camp.
                   Mrs. Wollman promptly became Chief WOllman and they spent the rest 
               of the day catching up with their roommates in exercises, volleyball, 
                 prayer, badminton, dinner, singing and canoeing, more prayer  and
                                             finally...
                                                ...sleep.
                    When Ursula woke, she realized that playing with herself wasn't 
               going to be a problem in this environment. By the time she got to bed 
                        each day, she was too tired for anything but sleep.
                  The two weeks came and went with amazing rapidity. Suddenly, it was 
               departure day and she found herself unaccountably crying as she said 
                good-byes to her roommates and the various activity leaders and -- 
              especially -- to Mrs. Wollman. The first part of the bus trip back was 
               obscured by tears and the second part was lost in wondering what she 
              would do when she saw Daniel again -- and if he'd still bother to give 
                                        her the time of day.
                   She needn't have worried, though. A week after getting home -- and 
                three days after her mother's curt questioning on the brassieres -- 
               Ursula was drafted into service at a Church cake sale. It was a major 
                fund-raising event and everyone was impressed into duty. Including 
               Jerry, whose parents had a lot of money -- his father was a doctor -- 
                and who was really handsome and 18 and had a bright red Mustang. A 
              Mustang convertible. She couldn't help but think how jealous the others 
              on the block would be if this cute hunk picked her up in -- not only a 
                    car, but -- a Mustang convertible that was fire-engine red!
                         So when he got around to asking how she was, she lied.
                                               "Sixteen."
                    "Hmmmm -- don't think I've seen you around here before." He kept 
              glancing surreptitiously at her little white blouse, which was so well-
                              filled with her bra-clad breasts. "New?"
                   "No, but I don't work at these things much." She glanced around at 
             the crowd of (generally paunchy) middle-aged people knowingly and looked 
                                       to him for agreement.
                               He nodded in conspiratorial understanding.
                   "Besides, my parents -- " She pronounced it as if it were a cross 
              she had to bear. " -- think I'm too young to mix with other people...I 
                             mean, to be out where boys would see me."
                                 "Too young?" He laughed a stage-laugh.
                    Ursula was glancing quickly around. She was the only one at the 
              table where the layer cakes were sold, for the moment. Layer cakes were 
               slow movers in midsummer. Lucky for her. But she didn't need someone 
                     coming up and patting her on the head right at the moment.
                   They exchanged idle chitchat. Having brazenly lied once -- for the 
                first time in her life -- about her age, Ursula carefully played a 
              little game of evasion to avoid being pinned down on anything else that 
               had to do with the issue. And, to her astonishment, she found herself 
              enjoying the way she got away with it and Jerry's ready willingness to 
               buy increasingly outrageous equivocations for the chance to stay near 
                       her and keep stealing peeks at her well-filled blouse.
                           And then she spotted Roxanne's father approaching.
                   He was a small, swarthy, wiry man who was not -- Thank Heavens! -- 
              terribly bright. But he was warm and friendly and dedicated and he was 
                Just Checking to see that everything was okay. Ursula reported that 
               business was slow -- as Jerry had faded quickly into the crowd -- and 
              Roxanne's father finally moved along, after a promise to provide relief 
                          for her at the big, still-laden, folding table.
                    As soon as he left, Jerry returned and offered her a ride in his 
                                      Red Mustang Convertible.
                   Maybe, she thought, if Daniel saw her pulling up to the kerb in a 
               Red Mustang Convertible driven by this cute hunk of an older -- even 
              older than Him -- man, he would get jealous. At least Daniel would stop 
                                     thinking of her as a kid.
                    "I'd like that," she said, and then bent from the waste over the 
                 table, enjoying the way Jerry's big blue eyes went to the exposed 
                            expanse of her (bra-clad) cleavage. "A lot!"
                                   "At three? In back -- on Meserole?"
                           She smiled -- seductively, she hoped -- and nodded.
                                         "See ya' then, honey."
                   It was only at ten to three that she began worrying about what he 
                                      was expecting from her.
                   But when the time approached, Ursula knew she couldn't duck. He'd 
              easily discover her true identity and then she would really be scorned 
                  as a little kid and worse -- what Roxanne had called "a tease." 
                  Well, she told herself, she'd wanted to learn the ways of the older 
                and, presumably, wiser...and she scurried out the back door at the 
                                          appointed hour.
                        He was there in the Fire-Engine Red Mustang Convertible. 
                    Ursula took a deep breath, meaning to calm herself, instead only 
              reminding Jerry of the attributes that had first attracted him -- those 
              and the legend that redheads were really hot to trot -- and hurried to 
                the waiting car. And Jerry, true to form, popped the clutch, laid a 
              patch and zoomed her off toward the place where all the guys went to Do 
                It: on Gardner Avenue, where the City of New York parked the street-
                                         sweeping machines.
                                           CHAPTER THREE
                                                  
                  She was doing pretty good, she thought. She'd let him soul-kiss her 
                and grope her tits through her shirt and bra, then through her bra 
                only,when he'd finally undone enough of the shirt buttons. But she 
               wasn't sure she wanted him to keep running his hand up her quivering 
               thigh and she really doubted she wanted him to get the cup completely 
              off one ripe little tit and she was sure that she didn't want her hand 
               put on the rather sizable Thing that was straining beneath the crotch 
                 material of his bell-bottoms. This was not what she had in mind. 
                    But he kept telling her how pretty and sexy she was and he kept 
                licking the side of her neck and then she found herself moaning and 
                   pushing herself at him and then he had his lips on her nipple.
                      Ursula felt the shuddering contractions within and hoped  he
             wouldn't be able to smell her scent (above the lovely aromas of the soap 
              factory on the other side of the Newtown Creek or the nearby fragrance 
               of the detrius drying on the brushes of the street-sweeping machines' 
                              brushes) and know how excited she was. 
                   It didn't matter, of course. The give-away was the lack of resolve 
               when she tried to close her thighs to block his fingers' path to her 
               Tricot-adorned cunny. Once he managed to wedge one finger against the 
             crevice so tightly contained in her ever-wetter panties, he began to rub 
                furiously and kept it up. Simple warmth -- from the friction of his 
                moving knuckles -- would have been her undoing, but he also applied 
              pressure and soon, she found herself sighing and arching up to help him 
                                        remove her panties.
                    When he got the tip of one finger on her Special Spot, she was a 
                                               goner.
                   "Are you sure you're sixteen?" he asked, working the finger around 
                and around, his roughness lost in her sensations of having someone 
                        else's finger touching her There. "There's no hair!"
                    "Unnnggghhh!" she replied. Apparently, it satisfied him because 
                then she found herself laying back on the bench seat with one foot 
              caught in the steering wheel and the other draped over the back of the 
                 seat and a healthy 18-year-old positioning  himself  between  her
              twitching, governing thighs. She groaned pleasurably when he rubbed his 
             cock up and down against her hairless 12-year-old cunt and again when he 
                                fit the head into the tight opening.
                    Then he drove down and in, ripping away her prepubescent cherry 
               with a single, untutored lunge that buried his cock balls-deep in her 
                                         tight little quim.
                                       She screamed with the pain.
                                           "AIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!"
                     "What the fuck's the matter with you?" demanded the son of the 
             influential parishioner as he rocked frantically. "Damn! Fuck! You're so 
                                  tight! Hey, were you a virgin?"
                                           "AIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!"
                   He thrust ever more urgently in and out of her. It took maybe, oh, 
                                 30 seconds for him to cum in her.
                  She was grateful, because his hot teenaged load was almost soothing 
               -- despite the burning saltiness of it -- in her newly ruptured cunt.
                   Then he collapsed on her and Ursula decided she was being punished 
               for her unholy behavior. Not only were her innards burning with pain, 
               but she was being suffocated by the weight of him. She was terrified 
              that he'd died on top of her and began desperately pushing and prodding 
                at his inert bulk. She could distantly feel his cock still spasming 
              inside her 12-year-old no-longer-virgin cunt, straining and paining her 
                 as he continued leaking his burning load  into  the  pain-induced
                                  clutchings of her little pussy.
                    By the time she got him moving off her, Ursula had already vowed 
                 she would never do this again, if only she got home  without  her
             bleeding, semen-leaking pussy being noticed. She rearranged her clothing 
                  as he drove -- wordlessly -- through the dusky Brooklyn streets.
                      When they pulled up in front of her building -- one of  four
              identical structures -- she saw all the kids on the block were outside. 
          Most were playing Boxball, and they paused to watch. Especially Roxanne.      Sh
                                                 e 
              bit her lip hard enough to taste blood in the effort to compose herself 
              and let herself out of the car. She meant to turn to Jerry and put on a 
              show of saying something -- anything -- that would make it seem she had 
              simply added yet another conquest, but as soon as the door was closed, 
              Jerry was laying a patch to get out of there and Ursula had to make the 
             best of it...despite the unmistakable feel of the admixture of his semen 
             and her blood leaking from between the (formerly) tight lips of her cunt 
                       (Would they ever regain that tightness, she wondered).
                     She was glad, when she reached the top step of the stoep, that 
             Roxanne had exited her game of Boxball to half-trot to her side, because 
              as soon as she opened the door to the vestibule of the tenement, Ursula 
              felt very faint...but not too faint to think she could do it again, if 
                                         it would get Him.
                   Once they were inside the tenement hallway, Ursula leaned against 
                                  the wall and caught her breath.
                       "You okay?" Roxanne asked. Ursula nodded. "What happened?"
                               "Upstairs," Ursula said. "Your folks home?"
                     "Naw. Neither are yours. They're all at the volunteers' party."
                   "Good." She managed to make it up the stairs pretty well, but once 
                inside her apartment, she sat quickly on her bed and panted out her 
                                               tale.
                     "And you promised on your soul you'd never tell -- remember," 
              Ursula concluded. Roxanne nodded gravely, and then began peppering her 
              with questions: How did it feel? Was there a lot of blood? Did he leave 
              his stuff in her? What was his penis like? How big was it? Did he kiss 
                                   her and tell her he loved her?
                  Dozens of questions, and they made Ursula realize how uneducational 
                                     her experience had been. 
                      After Roxanne left -- eyes brighter than usual and her  face
              slightly flushed, making Ursula suspect her tale had excited her friend 
              -- Ursula drew a hot bath and examined the damage. To her astonishment, 
              her little labia were clamped together as tightly as ever and only the 
                slightest discoloration, like a bruising, gave visual hints of her 
             ordeal. Sticking a finger inside, though, confirmed what she'd suspected 
             -- though still tight, she was still sore. When she withdrew the finger, 
                        some blood and dried white stuff came out with it. 
                    She wanted to wash herself out. What could she use? Her gaze lit 
               upon the hair-sprayer. It was only two-foot length of pink hose was a 
                 rubber showerhead at one end and a flexible, cup-like gasket  for
              attachment to the faucet on the other. She removed the showerhead -- it 
             was always popping off if the water pressure was too high, anyhow -- and 
                attached the gasket. When she had the water at the temperature she 
             liked, she carefully fit just the tip of the hose into her little pussy. 
               The water felt good inside, soothing and she held it there for fully 
             thirty seconds, until the back-pressure forced it out. Then she squeezed 
              down as best she could and expelled it from her cunt. There was little 
              to see, but she felt cleaner. She was going to repeat it, but the water 
               brushed her clitoris and sent a surge of sheer pleasure through her. 
                   Ursula held the end of the hose close to her clitoris and let the 
                 water strike her clitty again. "Oooooooooh!" she gasped. This was 
             amazing, she thought, and she was determined to make the most of it. She 
              lay back in the tub, which was of the old-fashioned enameled cast-iron 
               four-footer flavor. She draped her long red braid carefully over the 
                back of the tub to keep it dry and splayed her legs. She hooked her 
                ankles over the lip on either side of the tub and began playing the 
                               stream of water over her cuntal area.
                  Each time it hit her clitoris, she hunched her hips up slightly and 
               moaned. She brought the hose closer to her clit and moved it back and 
              forth and she felt the orgasm building with a speed and intensity that 
                                         almost scared her.
                    Finally, she brought it down to almost point-blank range and she 
                 fired off the most powerful orgasm she'd ever known -- and almost 
               immediately came again and then again. Her knees straightened and she 
               quivered and shook, cumming over and over again until she lacked the 
              strength to hold the hose. It slipped from her fingers and whipped back 
              and forth in the almost overflowing tub. Ursula barely managed to move 
               one leg enough to grip the faucet with her toes and turn off the hot 
                                       water, then the cold.
                   She lay there quivering and shuddering. She'd never known pleasure 
              like that, never dreamed it was possible. Could it be possible to have 
                                          that with a man?
                                 If so, she was sure who the male was. 
                    On trembling legs, she stood. She bent to remove the drain plug, 
              her firm, precocious young tits swaying just a bit. She got out of the 
              tub and dried herself, planning. If she was get His attention, she was 
                    going to have to be more educated about social intercourse.
                                The thought made her giggle like a child.
                                                  
                    About a month or so later, in the middle of a steamy August day, 
                 Ursula and Roxanne were walking through the park on their way  to
               Freerick's, an ice-cream parlor that also had home-made candies. They 
              were chattering about a planned trip to Rye Beach -- an amusement park 
              reached by excursion boat from Manhattan -- and were totally unprepared 
                                          for the ambush.
                   "Get 'em!" shrieked Danny in his cracking, pierce voice and a half 
             dozen other boys whooped and suddenly, Roxanne and Ursula were being hit 
              with a ferociously accurate barrage of water balloons. Roxanne screamed 
              like a banshee and lit out after the boys, who were already scattering. 
               None of them wanted the dark-haired Valkyrie to get her hands on them.
                    Ursula just stood there and tried not to cry. Her clothing would 
                dry and so would she -- but her hair was soaked! The braid reached 
                almost to her waist and took hours and hours to dry -- hours during 
                 which she could nothing but sit around in the stifling apartment.
                   Roxanne returned, muttering dark imprecations, and the two of them 
             started back toward their tenement. Ursula noticed a bunch of older guys 
             -- in their late teens -- watching them and exchanging quiet words. They 
              were known as the Stompers and they were a justifiably notorious gang. 
              None had any visible means of income, yet they always seemed to have a 
                 few six-packs. When the bottles were empty, they tossed them with 
              varying degrees of accuracy at the litter baskets. The gray, hexagonal 
               stones of the park pathways around the baskets tended to twinkle and 
               gleam. By unspoken law, the Stompers stayed in one corner of the park 
                and were never bother, as long as they kept the noise down. If they 
                  ventured into another area of the park, cops suddenly appeared.
                           And Ursula believed they were staring at her. Why? 
                      When she and Roxanne ascended the short, slate steps to  the
              vestibule of the tenement and she caught sight of her reflection in the 
                big glass panes of the old wooden doors, she understood. She'd gone 
              braless in the heat and the water had plastered her loose tee-shirt to 
                   her breasts -- and turned the white cotton nearly transparent.
                     Her breasts had grown rapidly in the last month. She'd already 
             outgrown the bras obtained at the camp. Both mounds were clearly defined 
               through the short and her nipples had hardened prodigiously from the 
                                            cold water. 
                      By the time they reached her door, they were laughing again. 
               Roxanne suggested they change and go to Freerick's anyhow, but Ursula 
               reminded her about her hair. Roxanne said she was going to change and 
              come back down and keep her company while she started drying her hair. 
                               And she had something to show Ursula.
                                     She wouldn't even give a hint.
                   Ursula went into her apartment, stripped off her shirt and shorts 
                and panties and sat in the tub. She might as well shampoo her hair, 
              since she'd have to waste the rest of the day drying it, anyhow. She'd 
             just finished rinsing it when she heard Roxanne's knock on the door. She 
                     wrapped a big towel around herself and let her friend in.
                   They chattered about nothing at all while Roxanne helped her press 
             the lustrous red tresses between successive towels. Then she wrapped her 
             hair in a towel and they went to sit in her room. Ursula's towel slipped 
               and Roxanne stared at her breasts. "They're really getting big," she 
                                          said admiringly.
                      For some reason, Roxanne's stare was making Ursula feel odd. 
             Especially since her nipples were again hardening. She didn't understand 
                            this at all, but it made her uncomfortable. 
                   "You were going to show me something?" she said as she readjusted 
                                             her towel.
                              "Yeah, well, promise you won't tell a soul?"
                                   LIsa nodded rapidly. "What is it?"
                                          "Well, it's...dirty."
                            Ursula's blue eyes widened. "Really? What is it?"
                    "A book. It's called 'The Autobiography of a Flea.'" She stood, 
              reached into the back of her jeans and withdrew a paperback. The cover 
                                was green, with the title in white.
                                             "No pictures?"
                      "Yeah, it has pictures -- in the words! They  make  you  see
                                             pictures!"
                   Ursula was dubious. A dirty book! She knew there were such things, 
                               but had never seen one. "Let me look."
                   Roxanne handed it over. Ursula started to read it, but didn't find 
                              it very interesting -- and she said so.
                    "Wait." Roxanne took it back, flipped expertly further into the 
              book and began to read aloud. It was about a young French girl who had 
                     just confessed to a priest that she'd played with herself.
                   Ursula blushed at that and Roxanne saw it. She laughed: "You, too, 
                                               huh?"
                    They both giggled and Roxanne resumed reading: The priest in the 
                 small 17th century village, tells the girl she must report to the 
                                rectory for her penance and there --
                      As Ursula heard the description of the girl's seduction  and
               willing, orgasmic submission -- sucking the priest, then fucking him, 
                 then letting others fuck her, even in the ass -- she felt herself 
                 getting incredibly aroused. By the time Roxanne was done with the 
              chapter, Ursula wanted nothing more than to climb into the tub with her 
                                magic hose and cum and cum and cum!
                            "Wow!" she said breathlessly. "Can I borrow it?"
                         "I don't know," rita said. "I promised to return it..."
                                    "Return it? Who gave it to you?"
                                                "Daniel."
                     Ursula was absolutely stunned. "He gave you a book like that? 
                                   Daniel? Where did he get it?"
                    Roxanne explained that he'd bought it in a Manhattan drug store, 
               thinking it was something else -- a series of diaries by a flea that 
              he'd been told about in an English class. When he realized what it was, 
                               though, he was less than heartbroken.
                        "How did you find out about it? How'd he give it to you?"
                   He frequently sat in the park and read. Roxanne had chided him one 
              Saturday for not wanting to play ball, for preferring to sit and read, 
              and demanded to know what he was reading that was so riveting. He told 
              her it was none of her business -- which was unlike him; he was always 
               trying to get the other kids to borrow his books, so they could talk 
              about them. She insisted and he'd told her it wasn't a book for a girl. 
              She'd realized then it was a dirty book and dared him to loan it to her.
                   That had been in June, before he'd gone away fro the summer. When 
               he'd asked for it back, she'd pleaded to let her have a little longer 
                 and he agreed, showing obvious interest in a girl who liked  ripe
                                            pornography.
                                  "Please? Let me borrow it from you?"
                   "Well, for a while, I guess. He won't be back from the beach house 
                           till Labor Day, anyhow. But on one condition."
                                               "Anything!"
                               "You have to tell me if the book is right."
                                                 "Huh?"
                     "If what that guy, the writer, says the girl feels is what you 
                really feel when you do it. If it is, I'm going to get fucked fast!"
                    "It's a deal." Roxanne handed over the book and, with a gleam in 
                 her eye, said, "Well, I better get going. I'm going to Freerick's 
                         anyhow. Want me to bring something back for you?"
                                       "Pistachio ice-cream cup?"
                               Roxanne nodded. "Okay. See ya' in an hour."
                  For most of the next hour, little Ursula lay naked on her bed, with 
                          the book in one hand and her pussy in the other.
                                                  
                  A week later -- and with 'The Autobiography of a Flea' already read 
                through twice -- Ursula was walking down the block past the grammar 
               school. She was on her way to the candy store for some magazines. The 
              weather was hot, but not unbearable. She was wearing shorts and a loose 
                                   white blouse and her new bra. 
                    On the school steps lounged three of the Stompers. "Hi!" one of 
             them called to her. She automatically turned to reply. He was a big guy, 
             at least six feet tall, and kind of cute in his sleeveless tee-shirt and 
                                           tight jeans. 
                              "Do I know you?" she asked, slowing a little.
                                  "Nahh. I'm Johnny. What's your name?"
                                               "Ursula." 
                                            "Where ya goin'?"
                              "Uh, candy store to get -- the candy store."
                                            "Can I walk ya'?"
                    She couldn't really think of a pretext to refuse and before she 
                 could say anything, he was up and walking beside her. He  smelled
              slightly of August sweat and a little bit of beer, but not bad. And he 
               really wasn't bad-looking at all. Still, she knew he was with a rough 
                                 gang and much older than she was.
                              "You're kinda cute, y'know. How old are ya'?"
                      From behind, she heard one of the guys call out  --  softly,
                                   teasingly -- "Cradle robber!"
                   John spun on his heel. "Yo, Dumbo, you wanna make somethin' of it?"
                            The others laughed and John resumed their stroll.
                                               "How old?"
                                           "Uh, 13," she lied.
                    "Yeah, you are kind of young. Hey, I saw those little pr-- punks 
             hit you and your friend with the water balloons. You want me to go rough 
                                   'em up a little, no problem."
                  "No, that's okay. You know how little kids can be." So that's where 
                 he'd seen her -- with her boobs clearly exposed. His interest was 
               suddenly comprehensible. So was the now-conspicuous -- and sizable -- 
                                     bulge in his tight jeans.
                  She remembered how much Jerome's had hurt, and John's looked larger 
             -- but she'd also learned that the first time always hurt and after that 
                                           it shouldn't.
                       And she remembered what she'd been reading in that book...
                            She became aware that he'd asked her a question.
                                 "I'm sorry," she said. "What was that?"
                  He blushed and rammed his hands into his pocket and sort of shifted 
               his weight back and forth. "Like, y'know, we could maybe take a ride 
              down to Coney Island or somethin' and go on the rides and all, y'know. 
                                             WOuldja?"
                   They were at the corner, waiting for the traffic to clear. "That's 
                                            a long way."
                   "It's not so far in the car, maybe an hour, maybe less. Ya wanna?"
                                       "Can my friend come along?"
                  He looked uncomfortable. "Well, I was thinking like a date, y'know? 
                        Just like, uh, you and me and no one else, y'know?"
                    She considered for a moment. A date. Her first, real date. She'd 
                 have to invent some tale for her parents, but -- "Sure, why not?"
                              "Pick ya up tomorrow at six, at your house?"
                  She shook her head. That was out of the question. "I'll meet you at 
              -- on the other side of the park at one. And I have to be back by four, 
             in case someone gets home early. I'm not supposed to be out of the house 
                                    when my parents come home."
                          "Won't someone squeal, like your brother or sister?"
                                     "I'm an only child," she said.
                                           "Cool. Uh, see ya!"
                                               "Tomorrow."
                    He turned and went back to his friends and Ursula went on to the 
               candy store. She'd only been to Coney Island once and she'd liked it.
                   She had the distinct feeling, though, that she was going to be on 
                                other rides than the ones at Coney.
                                            CHAPTER FOUR
                                                  
                   It was a midnight-blue Cadillac convertible and the hood was down.
                    "It's my brother's," he explained. "He said I could use it when 
                                he's not on leave. He got drafted."
                   John had cleaned up considerably. He was wearing clean jeans and a 
                regular shirt, with buttons. He was still wearing his black leather 
               shoes with the raised heels and the pointed toes -- "guinea stompers" 
              was what they were called in the neighborhood. Ursula wore a dark brown 
               year-old skirt that was fashionably too short for her and a matching 
               blouse with short sleeves that was more recent. The color set off her 
              hair and eyes beautifully, Roxanne had told her. She was wearing one of 
                                  her new bras beneath the blouse.
                  They didn't talk much once he got on the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway 
                because at the speeds he drove, they couldn't hear each other. They 
                 reached Coney Island in a half-hour and were in the midway by two.
                  John really didn't seem like a bad person. In fact, he seemed nice. 
              He said "Please," "Thank you" and "Excuse me" when appropriate, didn't 
              interrupt when she was speaking and seemed to genuinely listen to what 
              she said. He worked when he could as a truck mechanic and sometimes got 
              some day work as a furniture mover or painter. He'd dropped out of high 
             school -- "Cause they didn't teach anything I could really, y'know, use" 
                 -- but thought maybe he'd go a trade school and learn welding  or
                               something where could make good money.
                  He bought her a genuine Nathan's hotdog on the boardwalk and cotton 
              candy and licorice, and he took her on all the rides. She regretted the 
             junk food when they rode the Tilt-a-Whirl, but didn't lose it. There was 
             a small petting zoo that she simply adored, though Johnny seemed annoyed 
                   and embarrassed at the way the goat kept sniffing his crotch. 
                   On the big roller coaster, he insisted they sit in the first car. 
              She screamed and shrieked and clutched him in terror and she loved it. 
               And she noticed when she got off that her nipples ached and she was a 
                 little wet. She was having no part of the parachute jump, though. 
                   On the big Ferris wheel, he had his arm around her, and when they 
                                 paused at the top, he kissed her.
                  It was a good, hungry, expert kiss and it was the whole nine yards, 
               tongue and all. Her breath became shallow and fast and when his hand 
                 found its way to her bra-and-blouse-clad breast, she welcomed it, 
             thrusting herself into his grip. He found her nipple quickly and pinched 
                it, a little roughly, but still knowledgeably. She sighed into his 
                                               mouth.
                   His hand slid down and he pulled her shirtwaist out of her skirt. 
               He slid the hand back up, this time under her blouse, and cupped her 
                   tit. He squeezed slightly and she groaned and he groaned, too.
                     His other hand went around her back and through her blouse he 
                                    managed to unsnap her bra. 
                     Ursula was shocked. She couldn't undo it that easily, herself.
                  His other hand went beneath the bra and she felt his fingers on her 
              bare flesh and she knew that if he didn't stop, she was going soak her 
                                        panties and skirt. 
                   The wheel jerked and they broke off for a moment. She put her hand 
                 over his and pressed it against her tit. "I like that," she said.
                                   "I want to make it with you, baby."
                                                 "Here?"
                                       "I don't care -- anywhere!"
                   She shivered at the naked lust in his voice. He took her hand and 
                 led it to the crotch of her jeans. His cock felt awfully hard and 
                                           awfully big. 
                        She squeezed it. She felt the juices running out of her.
                     "Oh, yeah!" he moaned. "Keep doing that and I'll cum for you!"
                   And something in the way he said that -- as if she was totally in 
                 control of him -- really turned her on more than  she'd  imagined
                                             possible.
                   "I'll do better than that," she murmured, still gripping his rigid 
                                 19-year-old cock. "But not here."
                                    "Where?" His voice was agonized.
                                           "What time is it?"
                    "Tine? Tine? What the -- " He looked around. On top of the penny 
                             arcade was a clock. "Quarter past three."
                    "My folks come home at six. Can you get us back to my nice empty 
                                        apartment by four?"
                    He stared at her numbly, then shook himself. He leaned over the 
                side of the car and yelled, "Yo! Get us down! She's gettin' sick up 
                                             here! Yo!"
                   "Awright, awright, awright..." someone muttered below as the wheel 
                began its ponderous turning. Ursula quickly patted the base of her 
                blouse down, knowing that only if it was loose would it conceal the 
                 disarray of the bra beneath. By the time their  car  reached  the
                debarkation, she was groaning pitifully and holding her hand to her 
                       mouth as if fearful she was going to toss her cookies.
                     "Not here, take the barf someplace else," ordered the swarthy, 
             surly attendant. Johnny held her around the waist as they hurried out of 
                                  the midway and back to the car.
                    Unfortunately, they hit a traffic jam on the Expressway. At four 
             o'clock they hadn't even reached Brooklyn Heights and Ursula knew it was 
                              hopeless. Johnny was muttering fiercely.
                     "You can come over tomorrow, you know," she said. "Around one 
              o'clock? We'd have the whole afternoon." She said it as seductively as 
                                             she could.
                   The lump in his crotch hadn't abated. "Baby, that sounds great -- 
                  but I want you so bad right now I feel like it's gonna explode!"
                   She scooted across the seat next to him and he put his arm around 
                her. He let hand dangle and cupped her breast. Her nipple hardened 
                                            instantly. 
                      "I want you, too," she cooed. "Bad. But maybe I can help -- "
                     She put her hand on the iron bar of his cock and squeezed. He 
             groaned and she pulled a little bit. He groaned louder. She unzipped his 
                 tight jeans and reached inside his jeans and his boxer shorts and 
                          grabbed his naked cock. He groaned still louder.
                                     And she began jerking him off. 
                   "Oh, shit, yeah," he hissed as they rolled along at a steady five 
                                          miles-per-hour. 
                   She remembered what she'd read and jerked faster and then she felt 
               his dick swell even more and start spasming. She could feel his cock 
              jerk as he came. She got some on her hand and it was hotter than she'd 
                                   expected -- and more copious.
                                    "Oh, yeah, baby, do that for me!"
                    When he finally finished, she sniffed the stuff on her hand. Odd 
                 smell, she thought. Some of the girls in the book had sucked  and
                swallowed this stuff, so she licked a little of it. It didn't taste 
             great, but it wasn't too bad, either -- and he kept watching her lick at 
                 it, so she fastidiously licked it all off and then smiled at him.
                         "You're giving me another hard-on doing that," he said.
                                         "Save it for tomorrow?"
                                     "You can count on that, baby!"
                  And just like that, there was a break in the traffic. He gunned the 
               accelerator and shot into the opening and they speeded past the wreck 
              that had caused the tie-up and made it back to the park by a quarter to 
              five. Ursula gave him a quick, but urgent, kiss before climbing out of 
                             the car and walked home through the park.
                                           Her pussy was wet.
                                                  
                  Roxanne wanted to know all about her date and Ursula told her a lot 
              of it. But Roxanne knew there was more and kept pestering her. Ursula's 
               resolve began to crumble and finally: "Well, yeah, we made out on the 
                                           Ferris wheel."
                                       "Yeah? Did you soul kiss?"
                   Ursula looked at the closed door of her room. It was almost eight 
              o'clock and both her parents were home. Her father would never question 
               her activities, but she didn't put eavesdropping past her mother, not 
               for a moment. Ursula got up from her seat on the bed and motioned for 
                  Roxanne to sit with her near the corner farthest from the door.
                                                 "Well?"
                                 "Yes! It was lovely! I got so excited!"
                        "Did he feel you up, too? Like, did he grab your knobs?"
                     Ursula tilted her head slowly from side to side. "Sort of. He 
                 touched my breasts, but he didn't really grab them. It was nice."
                            "Wow, and right up there on the Ferris wheel..."
                                  "And he got his hand inside me bra."
                            Ursula's eyes widened. "Really? Was there room?"
                        "After he unhooked the back -- right through my blouse!"
                   Ursula shook her hand rapidly in admiration. "He really knew what 
                                           he was doing!"
                    "Then he played with my nipple -- he even pinched it a little -- 
                and I thought I was just going to have an orgasm from that! He's so 
              hot!" She closed her eyes and shivered with the pleasure of the memory 
                                -- and anticipation of the next day.
                   "You sure are lucky! I can't believe it can feel that good to have 
              someone pinch your nipple. Whenever the boys grab my knobs, they leave 
                                       black and blue marks."
                     "Sure, it can feel nice. Didn't you ever play with your own?" 
                                        Ursula asked softly.
                    Roxanne shrugged. "Sure, but boys don't know how to do it." She 
               looked Ursula right in the eyes. "Not the way a girl knows how." She 
              blushed. Ursula was surprised, because Roxanne never blushed. "I can't 
              believe the way that sounded," Roxanne said. "Like I wanted a girl to, 
                                          well, you know."
                    Ursula took her friend's hand. "Maybe sometime I could show you 
                                what it's like, when I know better."
                  Roxanne looked troubled for a moment. "I -- I don't know. It sounds 
                 kind of weird, two girls touching each other's tits." She laughed 
             softly. "Besides, I haven't got that much to touch. I'd feel like one of 
                                   us was getting a better deal."
                                              "Which one?"
                   "I don't know that, either." Roxanne laughed a little louder. "Are 
                                    you going to see him again?"
                    "Who? Oh!" Ursula laughed, too. She'd been lost for a moment in 
              imagining what it would be like to feel Roxanne's lips on her breasts, 
             her soft hands on her thighs and stomach and...other places. Now she was 
                    jolted back to the sensual reality of what she was planning.
                                      "Yes," she said. "Tomorrow."
                             "Really? What're you going to tell your folks?"
                             "They won't be home. He's coming here at one."
                   It took a moment for the comprehension to dawn on Roxanne and then 
              she looked like she was going to burst. "You mean, you're going to have 
             him come over here, alone, when there's nobody else -- " She covered her 
              gaping mouth with her palm and her eyes widened till they seemed set to 
                      pop out of her head. "You're going to, you know, do it?"
                   "I want him so bad," Ursula sighed. "I've been wet between my legs 
                                       all day -- even now!"
                                         Roxanne stared at her.
                   "I want to try some of the stuff in that book! It sounds so hot! I 
                   want him to lick me down there and I want to suck his thing!"
                         "And have him shoot that stuff in your mouth? Euuuuuw!"
                    Ursula shook her head. "It doesn't taste that bad, actually -- "
                    "How do you know?" Roxanne demanded, her hand gripping Ursula's 
                                forearm. "Did you already do that?"
                     Ursula explained about the handjob in the car and licking her 
              fingers afterward. "It wasn't pistachio-walnut ice cream, but it wasn't 
             bad, either. Kind of salty and sharp, but really thick and hot, too. And 
             I really liked the way he was like completely paying attention to me and 
              what I was doing. While I was doing that with him, I was the only thing 
              in the world that mattered and what I was doing was the most important 
              thing in the world to him. I moved my fingers and he'd moan or sigh or 
              gasp or tell me how good it felt. It made me very, very important. That 
                                           turns me on."
                                       "What if Daniel finds out?"
                    Ursula blinked in surprise. "What? How would he find out? You'd 
                                    never tell him, would you?"
                            "Never, I promise. But what if he did find out?"
                  "Well, I...I don't know. He might think I was a slut and never talk 
               to me." She thought it through. "I mean, there's not much he could do 
                                 about it, except not talk to me."
                     "I don't know. My brother -- " Roxanne's brother was two years 
              older and two years wilder. " -- told me the Stompers don't mess around 
               with him. They told him not to start with him, that he can be really 
                crazy. He thinks -- swear you'll never tell -- he thinks they're a 
                                       little afraid of him."
                     "Of Daniel?" LIsa laughed. "That's silly. He won't even fight 
                                              people."
                      "Yes, he will. You know Dennis and Eddy, from  over  by  the
                                             projects?"
                                  Ursula nodded. "I know their faces."
                    "Well, I saw them jump Daniel once. Big fat Eddy grabbed him and 
                   held him and Dennis hit him in the face with a baseball bat."
                                             Ursula gasped.
                   "Yes, right across here -- " Roxanne traced her fingers across her 
               cheekbone and saw. "Well, Daniel, he just blinked and then he like to 
               went crazy. He just sort of bucked and got loose from Eddy and Dennis 
                      started running like crazy. Daniel picked  Eddy up -- " 
                                    "Big fat Eddy? He picked him up?"
                    "I saw it. Like he was nothing. And he threw him over the fence 
              into the greengrass reserve. Then he ran Danny down and punched him in 
                the head. That's why Dennis has that scar on his forehead, from the 
               stitches. I think he would have killed him if Dennis had tried to get 
                            up, but he's a chicken and he stayed down. 
                  "You think he's just this nice guy because he doesn't act weird all 
                 the time and he reads books and he's polite and he's  not  always
             fighting. But I'll tell you something, Ursula -- I've seen him when he's 
             mad and I can believe my brother when he says the Stompers are afraid of 
              him. A guy you can hit in the face with a ball bat and and all it does 
             is piss him off -- that's not someone to mess with. What do you think he 
                         might do if he found out about you and this guy?"
                    Ursula tried to sift through all the new information and finally 
               came to her conclusion. "Nothing," she said. "Because he doesn't care 
                                about me at all. I'm nobody to him."
                   Roxanne stood, looking at her strangely. "Don't be too sure about 
                              that. And things can change, you know."
                                                  
                  Ursula lay in her maiden's bed that night with her hand idly moving 
                 over her still-sopping pussy. Roxanne was right;  she  had  never
              considered what He might think if He found out about her exploits. But 
              he had never given any indication to her that he had the least interest 
             in her. Besides, he wasn't the only guy in the world. There were others, 
              and they thought she was sexy and attractive and wanted her. They were 
             nice to her and took her places and drove her in nice cars with the tops 
             down. They had hard cocks and some of them had knowing hands and tongues 
                             and, most important, they were available.
                   And, until September, Daniel was not. And even then, he wasn't all 
                                          that available.
                                           In the meantime -- 
                  She thought of Johnny, here, in this very bed with her. She thought 
             of his hands on her breast and between her legs. She thought of his lips 
               and tongue on hers and maybe -- no; certainly -- on her breasts. She 
                                wondered if she could get him to -- 
                   What was it the book had called it? "Gamahuche" her. That was it. 
                                   Lick her pussy and clitoris. 
                    Holding that thought, she rolled over and buried her face in the 
              pillow and imagined Johnny -- or was it Father Clement? -- licking her 
             pussy and then impaling her with his hard cock and dumping his hot semen 
                                  into her clutching little pussy.
                                                  
                     By noon the next day, Ursula was in high arousal. Her mother's 
              wake-up knock on her door interrupted a vivid dream of Johnny insisting 
             he wanted nothing more than to keep kissing her breasts and playing with 
             her clitoris while she masturbated him to endless, impossible streams of 
                   semen that were steadily filling the bathtub in which she lay.
                    She found herself absent-mindedly caressing her pussy no matter 
               what she was doing -- watching TV, brushing her teeth, surveying the 
              contents of the refrigerator -- or where. She seemed unable to make her 
               little cunt stop drooling and itching, and her nipples actually ached 
                with their hardness. Pinching them, of course, did not relieve them.
                   At noon, she finally had to decide what to wear for his arrival. A 
              nightie? That was out; all of her nighties had animals on them or were 
               dramatically unattractive. Shorts and a shirt? Maybe, but they might 
              make her look even younger and the last thing she wanted was for him to 
               show up and suspect her lie. Finally, she decided that what seemed to 
               draw boys most was her bust. She dug through her dresser drawer until 
               she found the tanktop tee-shirt for camp workouts. She put it on and 
                                       checked in the mirror.
                     Perfect. Her tits were so large that the too-small shirt only 
                emphasized them. It was so tight, where it did cover her, that her 
               breasts were almost visible through the tight material. And it didn't 
              cover her completely. The armholes were stretched by her breasts so the 
                sides of the firm, creamy swells were visible. She stepped into her 
             yellow panties, snugging them around the chubby morsel of her pubis, and 
             then pulled on her only pair of jeans -- bought with her saved allowance 
               money and permitted only when she was going out in the cooler weather.
                    She checked herself in the mirror again, posing and turning. The 
                jeans weren't as tight as she would have liked, but they were tight 
                enough to show the wiggle of her tiny butt. Ursula was counting on 
                            Johnny's eyes never getting below her tits.
                    She braided her hair carefully, a tedious process, and then sat 
             down to wait. Fifteen minutes, assuming he was on time. The clock seemed 
              to pause longer and longer between ticks. Maybe it had stopped? If so, 
                                   he was late -- or not coming.
                   She went to the living room, opening the window to watch for him. 
                 As soon as the window was open, she heard the rude BRRRRT of  the
              doorbell. Ursula closed the window and scooted to the kitchen, pressing 
                 the button of the entrance buzzer and listening carefully for the 
                     downstairs door slamming back into place before relenting.
                   The shadow on the frosted, mesh-glass of the door to her apartment 
              was his. She undid the locks and opened the door and he stepped quickly 
                                        inside. "Hi, baby!"
                    She closed the door and leaned up on tip toes to kiss his cheek. 
                                        "I'm glad you came."
                    "Yeah, well, uh, yeah." He looked her up and down nervously. His 
              eyes went to her breasts, her face, her breasts, down the hallway, her 
             breasts, into the master bedroom, her breasts, her face, her breasts. He 
                rubbed his nose, brushed back his hair, danced from one foot to the 
               other, brushed back his hair, put his hands in his pockets, took them 
             out, brushed back his hair, scratched his arm, brushed back his hair and 
                  put his hands in his pockets. "Like, uh, you're all alone, huh?"
                   "Not anymore." She slipped her arm through his and led him toward 
              the living room. He glanced nervously at the bed as they traversed the 
                  master bedroom. "Would you like a drink of water or something?"
                                               "Uh, yeah."
                  "Sit here." She pushed him gently onto the big old couch. He looked 
              all around the room. It was, of course, impeccably neat and clean. When 
              she returned, carrying two glasses of water she smiled at him. "Johnny, 
                  I am really glad you came. I was thinking about you all night."
                                       "Oh, yeah? You were, huh?"
                  She set the glasses down on the little occasional table in front of 
               the couch, bending and enjoying the way his gaze focused on her tits. 
                       She could already see the lump hardening in his jeans.
                   Ursula straightened and went to the windows, drawing the curtains. 
                  "What're you doing that for?" he asked suddenly, as if her movement 
                                    made him even more nervous.
                   "Sunlight's bad for the carpet," she explained. "Besides, it's hot 
                                          enough in her."
                  "Oh, yeah, right." He sipped the water cautiously. "So, uh, what've 
                                          you been doing?"
                     "I told you," she said, stepped directly in front of him. She 
               nudged his legs apart and stood between his knees. "Waiting for you." 
              Her tits were right at his eye level and her nipples stuck out against 
                    the flimsy shirt as if trying to burrow through the cotton.
                                                 "Jeez."
                   She took the glass from him and slowly drank from it, upending the 
              glass and putting her head back. She was purposely sloppy and half the 
                      water ran down her chin and onto her shirt, soaking it.
                     "Look familiar, Johnny?" She put the glass down. "Oh, my, I've 
              gotten my shirt all wet. I better take it off before I catch a death of 
                                               cold."
                      She put her hands at her waist and slowly, wiggling her hips 
               gently, pulled the shirt upward. The water had soaked down below her 
              breasts and the shirt clung damply to her skin as she pulled it upward. 
                  It felt like a huge kiss when it separated wetly from her skin.
                    She pulled it up and over her head, taking a long time about it, 
              knowing the picture she presented -- she'd posed in the mirror that way 
                often enough. Her arms high, her breasts were tautly raised and her 
              nipples were swollen to hard points. She dropped the shirt on the table 
                                    behind her and looked down.
                                    "Touch me, Johnny -- I want it!"
                  His hands came up and covered her tits lightly, as if they were the 
               delicate china that was their complexion and might shatter. He rubbed 
              his thumbs over her nipples and she groaned and slowly brought her arms 
               down to rest across his shoulders. He leaned forward and covered one 
                nipple with his mouth, sucking and tonguing the turgid flesh avidly.
                    Suddenly, he pulled away and dropped his hands. "I shouldn't be 
                                            doing this!"
                                               "Why not?"
                     "Because you're -- I can't believe this -- you're only twelve! 
                                        You're just a kid!"
                    She put her hands on either side of his face and drew it to her 
                                   breasts. "A kid? Just a kid?"
                   "You're so damn sexy -- " He dove his face forward and licked and 
               sucked her tits frantically, as if having gone this far, he was lost 
                            anyhow and might as well give in completely.
                     Ursula released a deep sigh of pleasure at what his mouth was 
             doing, then another when she felt his arms go around her. His hands were 
               all over her slim back, then dropping to squeeze her hard little butt 
               through her jeans and panties. She brought her hands to her waist and 
                                 unfastened and unzipped her jeans.
                                "Push them down?" she pleaded. "Please?"
                    She felt the jeans slide off her narrow hips and fall about her 
               lanky thighs and finally catch around her ankles. She stepped out of 
              them as he reached between her legs from behind and rubbed and prodded 
              the panty-clad slit that was oozing so much juice in happy anticipation.
                   Ursula put her hands on his jaw and pulled him up from the couch. 
                "Come with me to my bedroom," she said. Half-dazed, the tough gang-
              member let the nearly-naked 12-year-old nymphette lead him by the hand 
                    out of the living room. He hesitated in the master bedroom.
                  "Not here," she said. "In my bed, so it can be what I was imagining 
                       last night in my bed while I was playing with myself."
                             At her door, he said, "You play with yourself?"
                    "All the time." She led him inside and sat on her narrow bed. He 
               would've looked around the room -- he'd never been in any girl's room 
              except his older sister's, once, before she threw him out -- except she 
                     was distracting him irresistibly with what she was doing. 
                                   She was unbuckling his combat belt.
                  "Take off your shirt," she said. He pulled the sleeveless tee-shirt 
             over his head, revealing a stringy, well-muscled body with a thick patch 
                of dark hair on his chest. She ran one hand through it. "Nice," she 
                 whispered and kissed his belly. She kept kissing his belly as she 
              returned to opening his pants. The zipper sounded very loud. She pushed 
                                   his pants down to his ankles.
                   "Shoes," she said and he worked his way out of them without using 
                                 his hands or loosening the laces. 
                    His cock was making a tent of his boxer shorts. She put her hand 
                      into the opening and grabbed his meat and pulled it out.
                  It was, she thought, absolutely gorgeous. Six or seven inches long, 
               almost too thick for her touch her thumb and forefinger around it and 
              hard as iron in her grip. And hot! The glans was swollen and purple and 
                 unbelievably soft to her touch.

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 She leaned forward and kissed it.
                                           "Shit!" he gasped. 
                                            "You like that?"
                                                 "Yeah!"
                   She did it again, this time parting her lips a little and letting 
                 the tip of her little tongue work across the velvety smoothness. 
                      "Damn-damn-damn-damn-" he moaned. He put his  hands  on  her
               shoulders, caressing, then dropped lower to cup her ripe young tits. 
                  She opened her lips, just as she read, and sucked his cock into her 
                young mouth. When it hit the back of her mouth, she backed off. She 
              gripped the shaft with one hand and began moving her mouth up and down 
              on him, clasping him with her lips and sucking urgently. His hands went 
                 to her head and he started thrusting his hips at her -- too hard.
                   She jerked her head back. "No! I'll do this my way! You're hurting 
                                           me that way!"
                   He shook his head, as if trying to clear it. "I'm sorry, baby, it 
              just felt so good." He caressed her head and then put his hands on her 
             shoulders. She took his cock back into her mouth and felt the tension in 
                       him as he fought the urge to resume fucking her face.
                       "Baby, you're gonna make me cum in your mouth," he warned.
                   She pulled back, releasing his thick prick with a pop. "Don't you 
                                             want to?"
                   "Yeah, but, you know, I was thinking maybe you'd rather have me in 
                     you, or maybe you wouldn't want me to cum in your mouth."
                      "That's sweet, but I won't know if I like it until I try it, 
                                              right?"
                   "You never did this before?" He sounded horrified. "Hey, you ain't 
                                        a cherry, are you?"
                     "I'm no virgin," she said and he visibly relaxed. "But I never 
              sucked a man before and I want to know what it's like." She kissed the 
               underside of his glans. "So far, I like it!" And she started sucking 
              again. She put her free hand between her own legs and began rubbing her 
               pussy and clitoris through her wet panties. She was already close to 
              cumming, herself, and knowing what a hot and nasty thing she was doing 
                                   was turning her on even more.
                  Johnny began moaning urgently. His hands tightened carefully on her 
              shoulders. She sucked harder and rubbed her tongue on the underside of 
                                             his glans.
                                        "I'm almost there, baby!"
                     She moaned around her mouthful of cock and jerked on his shaft.
                                              "Oh, yeah!" 
                   There was an eruption in her mouth. His cock swelled, lurched, and 
               then he was shooting a powerful stream of that thick cream right into 
              the hot suction of her mouth. Ursula squeezed her pussy, jerked on his 
               cock, swallowed and sucked in another geyser -- and came herself. She 
             moaned and writhed where she sat on her bed and sucked still more of the 
              thick jism from him. It was so hot and so copious! He kept cumming and 
             she tried to hold it in her mouth, but her cheeks bloated and she had to 
                swallow. Shy jerked back hard on his cock, toward the base, and was 
                rewarded with another blast of his cum. She knew she turned him on, 
                                   because he came a lot for her.
                   Finally, even he had to slow his spurts. There were a few shots of 
              reduced volume and then some dry spasms, but there was no more cum. She 
              sucked as hard she could, wanting to be sure she milked every drop from 
              his lovely dick, then she held his meat with two fingers and licked all 
                                             around it.
                        She looked up and found him staring, slack-jawed at her.
                  As he looked down at the pretty 12-year-old face and mouth that had 
               just drained him -- and she'd claimed it was her first time -- Johnny 
                                couldn't believe how sexy she was. 
                                        She watched him panting. 
                  "Baby, you are the best!" he said. He caressed her face. She turned 
                        her head and kissed his hand. "How did you like it?"
                   She closed her eyes and shivered. "I'm not crazy about the taste, 
                 but it made me so hot to be sucking your -- your cock  and  doing
                    something so nasty that I came, too, just rubbing my pussy."
                     His cock was only half-hard, but still stuck out of his boxer 
              shorts. She pushed them off his legs, then helped his socks off. He had 
             thick, dark brown hair around the base of his cock, and his balls looked 
              -- well, strange. How odd to have part of you hanging outside your body 
                 like that, she thought. His scrotum and testicles looked like  an
                                   afterthought by the designer.
                      Ursula lay back on the bed, knees bent at the edge and  arms
             stretched over her head. His gaze went up and down her form, drinking it 
             in. The way he looked at her made her even wetter. The way she looked to 
               him started pumping erection-sustaining blood back into his teenaged 
                                               cock.
                      "Wouldn't you like to come down here and touch me some more?"
                    "Hell, yes!" He lay down next to her and began running his hands 
             over her tits. He played with her nipples and she put one arm around his 
                                             shoulders.
                                               "Kiss me?"
                   He looked at her oddly, with a hint of distaste. "You just sucked 
                                              me off."
                    "If my lips are good enough for that, they're good enough for a 
               kiss. Besides, it was your jism." She tilted her face up at him. "No 
                                     kisses, no more sucking."
                    He looked troubled, but he complied. He kept his lips closed at 
               first, then let his tongue penetrate her mouth only a little. Ursula 
              clasped it with her lips and sucked his tongue, using hers to play with 
              it. She could feel his resurrected hard-on pressed against her slender, 
                                   irrepressibly moving thighs. 
                           When he broke off the kiss, she said. "Taste okay?"
                  "A little funny. But, I mean, you know -- I don't want to turn into 
                                             a faggot."
                                      She gave him a puzzled look. 
                   "You know -- a queer, a homo. Guys who like the taste of jism are 
                                             faggots."
                                           "So I'm a faggot?"
                   He looked truly troubled by the question. "You can't be no faggot; 
                                          you're a girl."
                                             "You noticed!"
                  "Yeah..." And he bent to kiss and lick her upthrust breasts, laving 
             the precocious thrust of her tits with his tongue and lips. He paused at 
              her nipples to suck hard, then soft, then twirl his tongue on them. She 
               caught his hand in hers and pushed it down to her waist and guided it 
                                        inside her panties.
                    He quickly found her slit and thrust a long finger deep inside, 
               working it in and out in a fucking motion. What she liked was the way 
               his palm was pressed against her clitoris. At last -- someone else's 
               hand was on her magic button! She writhed and ground her cunt against 
              his hand, reveling in several minor orgasms from the combination of his 
              lips on her tits and her hand against her clitty and, as afterthought, 
                       the minor stimulation of his finger in her tight cunt.
                                     Upon which he remarked, thusly:
                                 "Damn all, but you are tight! And wet!"
                                    "I've been wet since yesterday."
                            He bent and pulled her panties down. He frowned. 
                                                 "What?"
                   "It's -- I don't know. You don't have any hair down there. You're 
                                        like a little girl."
                          "I am a little girl, you dope," she said playfully. 
                   "But you got such big knobs and you sucked -- Where did you learn 
                                        to suck like that?"
                     She noticed that he'd put his hand back on her abdomen, nearly 
                                            covering it.
                                             "From a book."
                                 "Must be a hell of a book. You got it?"
                  "Sure." She turned and reached between her mattress and box spring. 
               She withdrew the book and handed it to him. He immediately opened it. 
                                     "Hey, there ain't no pictures!"
                   "Sure there are," she said, sitting up with the easy limberness of 
                         youth. "In here." She tapped the side of his head.
                                                 "Huh?"
                          "Reading this puts plenty of pictures in your head."
                   "Yeah?" He closed it and looked at the cover. She watched his lips 
                      moving -- slowly -- as he puzzled out the words. "Yeah?"
                    She took the book and opened it at random: " -- couldn't believe 
                the ease with which she accepted the mighty stanchion. His enormous 
              prick had nearly split her in two, yet her friend seemed to accommodate 
             it easily and already made the happy sounds of pleasure as he fucked her 
                                    young cunt with abandon -- "
                    She closed the book. His eyes looked a bit glazed. He said, "You 
                         learned to suck cock like that reading that book?"
                                               She nodded.
                                            "I'll be damned."
                   "Enough literature for now," she said, laying back and reaching up 
                to put her hands on either side of his face. "I want you to suck my 
                                             nipples."
                   "Now you're talking!" He happily dived back to mouthing her tits. 
               His hand found its way, without urging, to her cunt. Her hairlessness 
                                 seemed no problem at the moment. 
                      Soon, she was writhing and bucking beneath  his  kisses  and
                         fondlings. Finally, she couldn't bear it any more.
                               "Johnny! I want you to do something to me!"
                                               "Anything!"
                                   "I want you to -- to gamahuche me!"
                                  He blinked at her. "What? Gamawhat?"
                         "I want you to -- to lick my pussy and kiss my clitty!"
                                            "Kiss your what?"
                                             "My clitoris!"
                   "What's that? And I ain't about to lick no pussies, no way. That's 
                                         where girls pee!"
                    "But I sucked you!" She was shocked at his resistance and doubly 
                                     shocked at his ignorance.
                                  "That's...right. But it's different."
                    She could see she was facing an invincible ignorance. By way of 
             reply, she pulled his head down to her breasts and enjoyed his fingering 
                                          and tit-sucking.
                     Eventually, he climbed over her. She reached between them and 
              guided his cock to the entrance of her quim and they both groaned as he 
              worked his way into her tight little cunt. It stretched her 12-year-old 
               pussy immensely, but it didn't -- quite -- hurt. She was very wet and 
                very horny. She wrapped her legs around the backs of his thighs and 
                                  pulled herself up and onto him.
                    He immediately began flailing away, which was great, and let his 
             entire weight rest on her, which was not so great. She finally convinced 
                 him to stop long enough to let her wheeze out that he had to hold 
                 himself up on his arms so she didn't suffocate. During this brief 
              interlude, he continued pounding his cock into her as hard as he could. 
                     But it felt good -- it felt very, very good -- and she started 
             cumming quickly. Again and again, she reached a peak, mellowed slightly, 
              then peaked again. He knew when she was cumming, too, because he moaned 
                                   about her cunt sucking on him.
                    When she slipped her hand down to her crotch and let her fingers 
              lightly rest on his pistoning prick, he moaned at the touch and thrust 
             all the harder. But when she put her fingers on her clitoris and started 
              massaging it, her orgasms became still more powerful, more compelling, 
             her cunt locking down on him and pulling him deeper into her. He let out 
               a roar and drove into her as hard as he could and held himself there. 
              Her cunt was coating his cock and she could feel his spasms through her 
              own as he poured his hot, teenaged load deep into her quivering little 
                                               body.
                   She was already juicy and his semen quickly filled and overflowed 
                 her prick-packed vagina. The stuff ran down over her upturned ass 
             cheeks, slicking the small, hard masses of lean muscle. When he gave out 
              a death-rattle groan and began collapsing on her, she was still totally 
                             gripped in the wracking throes of orgasm. 
                    It took long seconds to work herself out from under his all-but-
                inert bulk weighing down on her, but she managed. As he snored, she 
              stood on quivering legs and checked the clock: 3:15. Ursula looked down 
               at his muscular, but unconscious, form and sighed. This was a lot of 
             fun. She had cum just as much as she'd thought she might, and part of it 
               was the knowing that he would do whatever she wanted, as long as she 
                                     kept making him feel good.
                   But he had downright refused to do something she really craved and 
              he was as stupid as a stone. She corrected herself. Actually, he might 
              be very bright; he was merely illiterate -- which to her was a damning 
                                              quality.
                                Still, she could have this fun with him.
                    She went to the bathroom. She was going to use the hose to wash 
              herself out, then wake him and thank him and see him on his way. He was 
              really nice enough and well-meaning, but he wasn't what she wanted. She 
             was sure there were plenty of Johnnys out there with whom she could have 
              fun, manipulating them into pleasuring her. She wanted a man who would 
              do the things she liked because he wanted to, a man who was at least as 
             smart and well-read as she was and willing to make her cum a lot because 
                          that was what he wanted, too -- to make her cum.
                    As she used her home-made douche on herself, Ursula told herself 
              there was no point in ducking it any more. What she wanted was a Daniel.
                             Well, she told herself, I'm going to have him!
                                            CHAPTER FIVE
                                                  "Hi!"
                    "Hi, Roxanne!" Ursula stepped back and wave her friend into her 
              apartment, locking the door behind her. In the two weeks since he first 
              -- and only -- session with Johnny, Roxanne had pumped the explosively 
             developing 12-year-old for every detail and bit of information she could 
               get. Did he kiss her nipples and suck them? Did it feel good? She did 
                 what to his what??? Eeeuuwww! What was it like? Was it gross? She 
                       actually what when he shot? And when he was inside -- 
                    It had taken many sessions of many hours to make even a dent in 
                                        Roxanne's curiosity.
                     But it was the only session with Johnny because he was getting 
             ragged on by his friends for being a "cradle-robber." At least, that was 
               what he'd said when he called her and told her he wasn't going to be 
             seeing her any more. Not that he didn't want to -- he did! -- but he had 
               to have respect from the other Stompers and, Well, You Know How it Is.
                    Roxanne tanned well and Ursula was a bit jealous of her taller, 
             rangier friend's shapely legs and rich, glowing complexion. Ursula had a 
              typical redhead's problem with the sun: She burned fine, but didn't tan 
                                           worth a damn.
                    Roxanne was striding toward the kitchen in her self-assured way. 
                 She always did this -- walked right in and made herself at  home.
              Somehow, though, Ursula found it endearing. In many way they were more 
             like sisters and friends then friends or sisters only. "Well, I have two 
                 bits of news for you," Roxanne said loudly as she strode down the 
                                              hallway.
                                              "Like what?"
                                    "I saw Daniel yesterday and -- "
                   "You did? Where? When? What was he doing? Was he with anyone? What 
                                            did he say?"
                   Ursula was looking into the refrigerator. She selected a glass jar 
                filled with orange juice, unscrewed the cap and swigged away at it.
                  "He was just checking on his apartment; said he was told to pick up 
                the mail and check the place over. He was by around two o'clock -- "
                                    Ursula had been running errands.
                                         " -- and he was alone."
                        Good, she thought. "What did he say? Did you talk much?"
                   "I guess for about a half-hour. He has two part-time summer jobs, 
                at the A out there near the beach house, and working in a hamburger 
                                  place near the amusement park."
                                            "How'd he look?"
                   For the first in all the time she'd known Roxanne, Ursula saw her 
               friend with dreamy look in her face. "Wonderful!" She gazed off into 
                       space until Ursula grabbed her forearms and squeezed. 
                                               "Tell me!"
                  "Well, he goes running and swimming every day and he spends an hour 
                 or two laying out in the sun or playing ball and he's all tan and 
              muscular! He's gorgeous! He was wearing a white sport shirt and a pair 
               of white pants and he looked so good!" She giggled. "And there's the 
              silliest thing. You know how he has this forelock -- " She touched her 
               own hair for illustration. " -- that's always a little lighter? Well, 
               his hair is all coppery at the end and the forelock is so light red, 
                             it's almost blond! It's really gorgeous!"
                                              "What else?"
                                  "Well, he asked how you were doing."
                      "He did??? Really???" Ursula couldn't believe  it.  She  was
                             overjoyed. He'd actually asked after her!
                      "Anyhow, I said I had two pieces of news for  you,"  Roxanne
                                             reminded.
                                     "Oh? Yeah, right -- what else?"
                                        "He wants his book back."
                        Ursula's eyes widened. "His book? What did you tell him?"
                                     "That I'd have to look for it."
                   Ursula thought rapidly. "You said you'd have to look for it. What 
                                            did he say?"
                    "He's supposed to be coming back next week to start getting the 
               apartment ready for his family. He's going to stop by for it then. So 
                         You have to be sure to give it back before then."
                    Ursula caught her lower lip between her pearly teeth. "I have an 
                                          idea," she said.
                                  Roxanne cocked her head to one side.
                                     "You know I want him a lot..."
                       Roxanne nodded and slowly said, "You know I like him, too."
                           Ursula stared at her best friend in all the world.
                    "But," Roxanne said slowly, "I don't think he thinks of me as a 
                girl. Not really. But you -- " She eyed the voluptuous 12-year-old 
               meaningfully. "A guy can't help noticing that you're a girl." Roxanne 
                                 sighed deeply. "What's your idea?"
                   "When he comes to you for the book, confess that you loaned it to 
               someone. Act annoyed that you haven't gotten it back and tell him he 
                              should get it back, himself -- from me."
                     Their gazes locked for a long moment. Finally, Roxanne nodded, 
                                     slowly and deeply. "Okay."
                     Ursula threw her arms around her friend and hugged her. "Thank 
               you!" she said sincerely and when she stepped back, she noticed that 
               Roxanne's face was a little red and her tee-shirt's flatness was now 
               broken by two small, thrusting points where her hardened nipples were 
                                        pressing the fabric.
                     Roxanne reached out and took Ursula's face in her hands. For a 
             moment, the 12-year-old had the distinct idea her friend was thinking of 
                                  kissing her right on the mouth.
                      "Ursula," said Roxanne. "He won't have a chance! Let's  make
                    schemes!" They returned to the redhead's room and conspired.
                                                  
                    Ursula counted days. At night, she masturbated furiously, always 
              playing pornographic movies involving Daniel with her. She imagined him 
                licking her clit and making her come dozens of times. She pictured 
                sucking him till he filled her mouth with his semen. She envisioned 
               herself riding his hard cock while he sucked and nibbled her breasts. 
              Sometimes she dared imagine would it would be like to have him in back, 
             in tiny ass, and would carefully work just one finger inside her butt to 
             the first knuckle while she played with her clitty. It didn't hurt -- if 
              she was careful to lubricate the finger first...and there was plenty of 
                 lubricant available in her yearning little cunt. It  didn't  feel
             particularly great, either, but it was -- interesting. Maybe it would be 
                           different with a guy's nice smooth, hot dick.
                    Once she even imagined Daniel and Johnny both with her at once. 
              Daniel would lick her while Johnny slid his cock into her. Or she could 
                suck one while the other fucked her. Or maybe she could take one in 
               front and one in back at the same time, like happened to the girl in 
                              that book who came so much she fainted.
                  Considering the stricture in the front -- never mind the rear -- of 
                her narrow-hipped 12-year-old body, Ursula thought that wasn't too 
               likely. After all, the girl in the book was older Ursula and had been 
                   doing a lot of fucking by the time she got into the trio-fuck.
                  Still, the idea of two handsome men frantic for her made Ursula cum 
                                          and cum and cum.
                           Then, On Tuesday afternoon, Roxanne devastated her.
                                             "He just left."
                    "He WHAT? He wasn't even supposed to be here till the end of the 
                                   week and this is only Tues--"
                     Roxanne stepped inside, putting her hand over Ursula's mouth. 
                                  "He'll be back tomorrow. Okay?"
                     Ursula blinked and Roxanne took her hand off her mouth. In her 
                                 other hand she had a shopping bag.
                                             "You're sure?"
                                        "That's what he told me."
                   Ursula tried to slow her racing heart. It felt as if it were about 
                          to burst through her chest. "Tell me the story."
                   "He just came in to give the janitor keys so the apartment can be 
              painted next week. Tomorrow he has to come back and fix some things in 
                 the kitchen that got messed up when the guy upstairs let his  tub
             overflow. He wants to be done by one so he doesn't miss the whole day at 
                       the beach. He's coming by my door then for the book."
                                        "What did you tell him?"
                    "That's I'd have to look for it and I was sorry for being such a 
                            pain." She grinned. "I think he bought it."
                                          "What's in the bag?"
                   "Oh, yeah! C'mon!" She strode toward Ursula's room with the busty 
                                 little redhead close on her heels.
                             "What were you going to wear when he came by?"
                   Ursula frowned. She'd been pondering that on and off for days. "I 
                     was thinking just my tee-shirt from camp and some shorts."
                                         Roxanne shook her head.
                    "Well, maybe just snatch one of my Dad's tee-shirts and not wear 
              anything under it. It would come down almost to my knees and I saw this 
               picture of a French starlet in an outfit like that and she was really 
                                               sexy."
                    Roxanne shook her head again. "With that braid and that face, in 
                             that getup you'd look like a little kid."
                   Ursula stared down at her tits. They'd continued they're explosive 
               growth, so much so that she'd begun to wonder if the street tale that 
               Roxanne had repeated to her -- that swallowing semen makes tits grow 
                bigger -- might be true. And she had swallowed a lot from Johnny...
                         But Roxanne again said: "No. Even with those beauties."
                                   "What do you think I should wear?"
                  Roxanne opened the shopping bag and laid out a white peignoir and a 
                          matching dressing robe. Both had plenty of lace.
                           "But isn't that the one you had on two years ago?"
                              RIta nodded. "It's way too short for me now."
                            "And you'll let me have it so I can get Daniel?"
                  Roxanne nodded again. Before she could say anything, though, Ursula 
                had her arms around her neck and was hugging her and sobbing, "Oh, 
             you're so sweet! You're really trying to help me get him even though you 
                                          like him, too!"
                  Roxanne hugged her back and said, "Well, we have to do something to 
                       keep some Papist slut from stealing him away, right?"
                  Ursula laughed and they continued hugging each other. She liked the 
              way Roxanne hugged her. She was a lean and muscular girl, but there was 
               a softness to her, too, that guys didn't have. It felt good. It even 
              felt kind of sexy. She looked up and saw Roxanne looking down at her, a 
               strange expression on her face -- and on impulse, Ursula stretched up 
                                    and kissed her on the lips. 
                     It was meant to be just a peck, an experimental thing, but she 
               found herself keeping her lips glued to her friend's soft, warm mouth 
                and a moment later felt Roxanne returning the eagerness -- and then 
                                 Roxanne gently disentangled them.
                    Again, Ursula noticed that Roxanne was breathing harder and that 
                                     her nipples were swollen.
                                          And so were Ursula's.
                             Roxanne cleared her throat. "That was -- nice."
                                 Ursula nodded. "Why'd we have to stop?"
                   "Because it confuses me. I haven't even had a boyfriend or even a 
                real good kiss from a boy. I want to know about that before I start 
             exploring other things." She paused. "I don't always want to be just one 
             of the guys and if I find my other needs taken care of without the guys, 
               well, maybe I won't try hard enough to be a real girl. Does that make 
                                           sense to you?"
                    "I think I know what you're saying. But -- you know I love you, 
              Roxanne! I'd like to make you feel good and have you make me feel good!"
                   Roxanne caressed Ursula's face. "Let's get you outfitted for your 
              great seduction scene. Unless, that is, you're not interested in Daniel 
                                            anymore..."
                   "No!" Ursula picked up the peignoir and held it against her front, 
                then the dressing robe. They were the right length, but she doubted 
              something that fit a skinny Roxanne at twelve was going to fit a busty 
                  Ursula. Choosing her words carefully, she expressed her doubts.
                   "Relax," Roxanne said. "The dressing robe is loose and has a sash, 
              so you can tie it a lot of ways. The peignoir has these little ties -- 
              see?" She pointed to them. "They can adjust the fit through the bodice. 
               In your case, don't tie them at all, so the sides will hang open, but 
               under the dressing robe. It'll be a little tight on top for you, but 
                                that's just what we want, isn't it?"
                                      "Show off a little for him."
                       "Exactly. He won't be able to resist. Nobody could resist."
                    They worked out the details of their plans. When Roxanne finally 
                 told him where to get the book, she would bang on the floor  over
              Ursula's bedroom. Ursula would then have time to don the dressing robe 
                              and be ready for his knock on the door.
                   As Roxanne was leaving, Ursula stopped her with a hand on her arm. 
                                               "Why?"
                                               "Why what?"
                  "Why are you doing so much to help me get him -- really? I know you 
                             like him a lot, and you know him better."
                     "I'm his friend. He doesn't think of sex when he looks at me."
                    "Maybe he does. You have a really cute figure and your legs are 
                             very long and you have a pretty face -- "
                    "Ursula, he doesn't think of me that way. Maybe someday he will, 
                                           but not now."
                  "But aren't you afraid that if he and I...do it, well, he may never 
                              be interested in anyone else that way?"
                   "Oh, Ursula, you're so sweet -- but you don't know him like I do. 
              He's so smart that he's probably going to win a college scholarship -- 
               or two. He might win one for track or for swimming. He wants to be an 
              astronaut and he might just be one someday. Does that sound like a guy 
                           who's going to tie himself down one girl -- "
                                    "Especially a 12-year-old girl."
                   "-- or a 14-year-old girl? Does that sound like a guy who's going 
              to stay on this block forever? He wants to go places, see things, meet 
               people, do things, explore, learn -- do. It burns in him! And he just 
                   might do all the things he wants to, because it burns so hot!"
                    Ursula looked at her best friend in something approaching awe -- 
              and sudden realization. Roxanne loved Daniel, passionately and deeply. 
                Ursula realized that, now. But she couldn't say anything about it, 
                        because if she did, she knew she'd burst into tears.
                    "So you be down here and ready as soon as your folks leave, and 
                       when you hear me bang on your ceiling -- party time!" 
                   "Okay," Ursula said, trying to feign excitement. "I'll be ready." 
                      Roxanne stared at the front of Ursula's tee-shirt, where her 
                nipples were quite clearly outlined. "Looks to me like you're ready 
                                         already! See ya'!"
                   As soon as she was gone, Ursula flung herself down on her bed and 
                                 cried for almost twenty minutes. 
                                                  
                   Ursula was wide awake, but pretended to be asleep, when her mother 
                      rapped on the door. "Up, backhout! Time for breakfast."
                    She had Kleenex in her panties to soak up some of the secretions 
              dripping from her. She sat, horrified, at the table as her father said 
               his back was really bothering him and maybe he should not go to work 
               that day. In the end, the Old Country ethic and her mother's warning 
                that he got paid for unused sick days -- won out and Ursula's heart 
               resumed beating. She stripped, stuffed her voluminous hair inside two 
                 shower caps, one atop the other, and showered  for  a  half-hour,
                masturbating twice. She'd washed her hair before going to bed. She 
                pulled on her old bathrobe and sat in her room, listening to Cousin 
                 Brucie on the radio tell her it was going to be a real scorcher. 
                    Ursula absent-mindedly cupped her tits and bent her head to lick 
             her tits. She was able to lick her nipples and could almost get the left 
              one in her lips. If her mammaries were so firm -- even hard -- she'd be 
             able to do it, but they were not elastic at all. Even when she hopped up 
                and down in place -- which she sometimes did naked in front of the 
                     mirror -- her tits barely wobbled and bounced not at all. 
                    Her breasts were still growing at a prodigious rate. She had her 
                own measuring method, since she found inch sizes were meaningless. 
             (Roxanne had a larger bust measurement than Ursula, but no tits to speak 
               of.) Ursula would put her hands over her tits and see how much of her 
              hands were filled. When Jerome had savaged her little pussy, she could 
              almost completely cover one tit with each hand. Now two hands failed to 
                                         cover one breast.
                   At ten o'clock she got into the tub with her water toy and brought 
              herself off endlessly, hoping it would relieve some of her tension. It 
              didn't. She dried herself off (on the outside; the inside kept leaking) 
               and made herself a sandwich of peanut butter and jelly on toast. She 
                 tried reading TeenBeat and found herself looking for singers  who
             resembled Daniel. At half-past-eleven, she turned on the television, but 
              quickly found herself staring at the sat but actually seeing images of 
              Daniel reaching for her -- and she sat in panties on the sofa with her 
              hand between her legs, kneading her pussy lips and idly toying with her 
                                              nipples.
                    In dismay, she went in and showered again, trying not to imagine 
              that the hands caressing her slippery, firm curves were His. She dried 
              off before permitting herself the indulgence of masturbating to orgasm, 
               and set about combing out her hair. Without the braid, her hair was a 
                shimmering cascade of bright red that reached almost to her waist. 
               Combing it out was a time- and attention-consuming challenge. At one 
                point she gathered it into two loose falls which she held over her 
                breasts. She looked at her self in the mirror, cocked her hips and 
                 pouted. "You like?" she asked, trying to make her voice seductive.
                   Her hair was so UGLY! she wailed to herself. Why did it have to be 
              such a hideous color? And why did her skin have to be so pale? To her, 
             it looked like she was sick, but with a fever to give her flesh a bit of 
              a glow. And would she never get any hair on her pussy, so she wouldn't 
              look like a little girl down there? Auuuughhh! He was going to look at 
                                 her and laugh, boobs or no boobs!
                   She took the brush to her hair with a vengeance, punishing it, and 
               then noticing how the handle of the brush was shaped and she was sure 
              he'd have a penis as hard as the brush handle and again, her pussy was 
                                      throbbing, distracting.
                    She went to her room and donned the peignoir. She unfastened all 
              the ties down both sides, except for one tie on each side of her waist. 
              She looked at herself in the mirror. The peignoir was pale blue and the 
              bodice was square-cut. On flat-chested little Roxanne, it had been cute 
                                            and demure.
                   With Ursula's amazing tits filling it, the peignoir looked like it 
              had been designed for Bardot. Even completely loosened. Her tits filled 
              the lacy bodice almost to bursting. The satiny fabric was pulled taut. 
             The string-like shoulder straps were pulled out slightly as they reached 
             down to their juncture with the material charge with modestly -- hah! -- 
                                       covering her breasts.
                    She pulled on the dressing gown. She experimented with the sash, 
              finally deciding the gown should be pulled in so that the edge ran down 
              over her nipples and the sash should be tied high under her tits. That 
              made her proportions more womanly and less like those of a little girl 
                                     with someone else's tits.
                   She draped her hair over the back of the dressing gown and studied 
                     herself in the mirror. Actually, she thought, not too bad.
                   The clock said 12:30. One o'clock, she thought. Just like Johnny. 
              And she planned to do the same, and more. There, the similarity ended. 
              This was serious. This was with Him, the man she'd dreamed about. This 
                              was, she told herself, for Love Eternal.
                     Maybe she should take another shower? Naaaah -- no time to get 
              really dry. Well, then, what could she do to fill the -- at least -- 29 
               minutes and 30 seconds? She stood in front of her mirror and examined 
              herself. She didn't look bad at all. Actually, she conceded, she looked 
                      good. Would he think so? Maybe. But what would he say? 
                   So Ursula began to run through scenarios. Where he laughed at her 
               invitation to come in while she looked for the book. Where he simply 
             grabbed her and ravished her. (She liked that word -- "ravished.") Where 
              he told her how good she looked and she invited him in and he asked how 
              a pretty girl like her had come to be wearing such an outfit this late 
              in the day and, by the way, did the book make her as hot as it made him 
                -- as hot as he was for her while his lips descended on hers and he 
                   unfastened the sash of the dressing robe and then began to ...
                     "Ohhhhhh," she groaned, her fingers somehow finding their way 
              through the open side of her peignoir and worming their way down to her 
                                    perpetually drooling cunt. 
                                             Bam! Bam! Bam!
                                              Ursula froze.
                                             Bam! Bam! Bam!
                   The noise came from the ceiling above her head. It was only 12:50 
                             -- and he was already coming to her door!
                     Ursula pulled her hand from her sopping snatch and retied the 
              dressing robe. She was standing in the door of her room when she heard 
                 the knock on the door. Before she could give herself a chance  to
               transfer her sexual arousal to nervousness, she hurried to answer it.
                   She didn't ask who it was. She unfastened the locks and pulled the 
                                        door open a little?
                                               It was Him.
                                                "Oh, Hi."
                             "Hi. I understand you have something of mine."
                  He was wearing a yellow shirt, beige chinos and blue deck shoes and 
                   he was beyond dispute the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen. 
                  "Ummm -- oh, yes! Come in and I'll get it!" And did he have to move 
              so quickly and quietly? It was unsettling. One moment he was out There, 
               in the hallways of the tenement and the next he was inside, standing 
               less than two feet away, his very presence a sudden and unbelievable 
                             reality. "Uh, I have something of yours?"
                    "A book," he said, glancing around, then spearing her with that 
                              steady, hazel-eyed gaze. "A dirty book."
                     "Oh, sure. In here." She led him down the hallway to her room. 
                                   "I'm sorry if I woke you," he said.
                                             "Woke me -- ?"
                                        He glanced at her attire.
                   "Oh, well, as hot as it's been, this is about as comfortable as I 
                                             can get."
                          "I know what you mean. It's a good day for swimming."
                   "I know. But I don't tan; I just burn." She dared smile at him and 
              caught him looking at her breasts. Encouraged, she said, "Have you been 
                                    swimming a lot this summer."
                   "Every day. I just got my certification as an auxiliary lifeguard."
                                        "Really? What do you do?"
                  "Sometimes a bunch of people get into trouble at once, and then the 
                      auxiliaries help the fulltime lifeguards get them out."
                   She sat on the bed, letting herself bounce. "Really? A whole bunch 
                                             at once?"
                      "Sure." He seemed to be seeing it as he spoke. "At low tide, 
              sandbars form and a lot of people feel confident going to them. But if 
              the tide comes in or there's a cross current, suddenly there can be ten 
              or fifteen people at once who can't get back." He grinned, then almost 
               blushed beneath his smooth, glowing tan. "That can even be fun." The 
                                          blush deepened.
                           "I don't understand," she said. "Is it dangerous?"
                   "Not at all -- as long as they're enough trained people available."
                                        "But how can it be fun?"
                                               "Well -- "
                                                "Please?"
                   "Sometimes they're pretty girls and we help them back in, and the 
               most reassuring carry for pulling someone through the water, well..."
                                              "What is it?"
                   He suddenly couldn't look her in the eye -- and she took advantage 
                         of it, undoing the sash-knot of her dressing gown.
                                 "Well, we call it a cross-chest carry."
                   She shook her head in bewilderment -- as if she couldn't figure it 
                                         out from the name.
                    "Well, you sort of throw your arm across the person's chest and 
                  then do a one-hand backstroke to get them in. It can be -- fun."
                                           "Can you show me?"
                                     He looked at her appraisingly.
                  "Please?" She patted the bed. He sat beside her and put an arm over 
               her shoulders. "Like this," he said, "but lower." He paused. "And in 
                                              front."
                   She reached up and took his hand, then shifted so her back was to 
              him. Then she led his hand down and across her breasts and put it under 
                her armpit. His forearm -- Damn, his muscles were so hard! -- were 
                    pressed into her breasts. The dressing gown had fallen open.
                                              "Like this?"
                                          He nodded. "Sort of."
                      "Oh, but you wouldn't sit up and swim," she said and pressed 
               backward. He went with the motion and then he was laying on his back, 
                     with her snuggled into him and his arm across her breasts.
                                Feel my nipples hardening? she wondered.
                                              "Like this?"
                    He sighed. "Yes," he said. "But auxiliaries don't usually get to 
              help pretty young women like you. The senior guards go for them, first."
                   Pretty young women like you. It echoed in her mind. So she wasn't 
                  just a kid to him. She was a young woman, a pretty young woman.
                  "And after they're safe, do they thank you?" She arched her neck to 
              look back and up at him...and arched her back, bringing his hand up to 
                 rest against the side of her breast. The unfastened ties  of  the
              peignoir, combined with the thrust of her breasts, meant his fingertips 
                     rested on her bare flesh. "Do they show their gratitude?"
                                          "Sometimes," he said.
                  "I'd thank you," she said and used her hand to lead his to the full 
              thrust of her hard young breast. "I'd want to kiss you." Her other hand 
              had reached up and back, to the back of his head. She led his face down 
              to hers. "Like this," she whispered and after that, he needed no urging.
                   When their lips meant, Ursula felt as if she'd touched an electric 
              line. The shock thrilled through her. His lips were thin, yet soft. he 
              was hungry, by his kiss, but not demanding. It all gave her a sense of 
              ineffable sweetness and passion and it was she who open her lips first 
               and let her vixen-pointed tongue dart out to tantalize, encourage and 
                                         then toy with his.
                  She'd expected him to use his hand to reach under the opened fabric 
              of the peignoir and began mauling her tit; instead, he reached farther 
             and rolled her onto him, focusing on the kiss. Occasionally, he drew his 
               lips from hers to kiss her face and sometimes her ears or the side of 
             her neck. His hands moved up and down over her, turning the satin of the 
                 dressing robe and peignoir into assets for caresses rather than a 
                                          barrier to them.
                    When he pushed the dressing robe off her shoulders, she made her 
             arms slither to accommodate it, then raised up again to undo the buttons 
              on his shirt. There was just a little sparse hair on his chest and even 
                in the dim illumination that filtered through her doubly-curtained 
              windows, she could see the sun had bronzed the hair. She had to kiss it 
               and he slid his hands down her sides and then back to cup her ass and 
                                squeeze it powerfully -- but gently.
                               She wondered if he could smell her juices.
                     Ursula pulled her legs up and caught one of his thighs between 
                 hers. She hunched down onto it and rubbed her cunny up  and  down
              urgently, savoring the feel of his lust-corded muscles against her. He 
              worked his hands up under the satin of the peignoir and began caressing 
              and kneading the rock hard cheeks of her tiny ass. He took one buttock 
                 in each hand and held her firmly, guiding her down onto him.  She
              wantonly pulled the front of the peignoir out of the way, the better to 
                           feel the contact with the fabric of his pants.
                   "Let's get rid of this," he said, tugging the peignoir still more. 
             She raised her hips and then one arm and then the other and he pulled it 
              over her head. He kissed her lips again, hungrily, then her throat and 
                 then she was kneeling up. She bent slightly and cupped her  tits,
                 offering them to him. He took the offerings eagerly, licking  the
              undercurves -- and surprising her with a discovery: the neglected part 
                                  of her tits was very sensitive.
                    He licked his way up, never touching her nipples and making her 
                                   want that touch all the more. 
                              "Suck them!" she hissed. "Please suck them!"
                   Finally, he brought his hands up to supplant hers on her breasts. 
               He lowered her left nipple till it was almost at his lips. She could 
              feel his breath on it. Finally his tongue reached out and drew spirals 
               around it, always tightening spirals. They seemed to always close but 
                                never reach that throbbing spike...
                    ...until his tongue finally touched her nipple and she felt the 
                orgasm growling inside her. When he actually closed his lips on her 
                                 nipple and sucked it, she did cum.
                   "Oh, yes! YES!" She was shocked at the volume of her own cries and 
                             the way her hips lurched wantonly at him. 
                   He ran his other hand back down over her back. When he splayed his 
             fingers in the small of her back, she realized that he could nearly span 
              her waist with one hand. Then the hand went farther, covering first one 
               cheek and then the other, and then it rested in the very center. She 
             felt his fingertip against her tight, hairless little quim. She tried to 
             press back against it and when the tip of the finger penetrated, she was 
              sure she couldn't wait one more minute. She arched her head back, eyes 
                closed, and groaned from deep within her, and then her hips flailed 
                                     wildly as she came again.
                   "I have to have you in me," she hissed and sat up. She fumbled at 
                his belt buckle, then the waist snap and zipper of his chinos. She 
              forced them down to his hips only to find a pair of Jockeys restricted 
              what she wanted. She hooked her trembling thumbs in the elastic at the 
               waist and pushed them down, too. She shifted lower and pulled both to 
                      his thighs, then shifted and pulled them over his knees.
                    His cock, freed, stood up at a 45-degree angle from his stomach. 
              His stomach was taut and hard, with a hint of the hard muscles beneath, 
               His cock throbbed and bobbed with his heartbeat. It wasn't as big as 
              Jerome's or Johnny's, though it was awfully thick, but it was gorgeous 
                                        because it was His.
                    Ursula couldn't resist. She bent at the waist and took it in her 
              fingers bad kissed it, then took the glans in her mouth and sucked it, 
                                  running her tongue all over it.
                   He groaned pitifully and arched up. His scrotum was tight and when 
             she cupped his balls with one small hand, they felt as hard as -- and as 
               big as -- jumbo eggs. She sucked his cock and moved her mouth up and 
             down on it. His hands touched the sides of her head, at the temples, and 
                his fingers brushed back her hair. His cock tasted exactly as she'd 
               dreamed -- salty, a little musky, very masculine. It was as hard and 
              mouth-filling as she'd always hoped, and it was filling HER mouth. She 
                  ground her cunt down onto his pants-clad shin and sucked madly.
                    His hands tightened on the sides of her head and her forced her 
                                   back and tilted her face up. 
                     "If you do that any more," he said, "I'm going to cum in your 
                                              mouth."
                    She looked at him slack-jawed for a moment, and mumbled, "Yes, I 
              know." And promptly stuffed his cock back into her mouth. With one hand 
                she played with her hard-to-bursting nipples and with the other she 
               alternately dandled his balls and jerked the unmouthed bottom of his 
                                               shaft.
                  He continued caressing her face, his hands trembling more and more. 
               Then she felt his hips shudder and heard him say -- with astonishing 
                           calm and clarity -- "I'm coming now, Ursula."
                     She sucked all the harder and was rewarded. He shuddered as he 
             poured a long spurt of very hot semen into her nursing mouth. It went on 
              for so long that she wondered if he was pissing, but, no, the taste and 
              texture were unmistakable. Her mouth filled and she swallowed and then 
               he was cumming again. It was too much to hold in her mouth. Again she 
               swallowed, but not before almost half of it forced its way out around 
             the gasket of her lips on his fat prick. Her hips shook and she felt her 
                          vagina clenching in a little orgasm of her own.
                  She put her fingers under his balls and she felt a swelling between 
                his legs, behind his scrotum, just as his testicles shivered and he 
               started to cum again. She pressed against the swelling and he groaned 
               loudly and this time he came and came and came into her hotly sucking 
                    mouth and she didn't have a chance of containing all of it.
                      He fell back prone and spent as she continued sucking on his 
                shriveling cock. She released it finally and covered it with little 
              kisses. She pressed her sperm-slicked lips to his thighs and belly. His 
                 hands went under her arms and he pulled her up over him. Her tits 
             dragged across the overflow of his cum and acquired a slippery sheen. He 
                  took her face in his hands, kissed her eyes and then her lips. 
                  Ursula broke off the kiss and buried her face against his shoulder, 
               wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands were constantly moving, 
              caressing her back, her shoulders, the sides of her breasts where they 
               were forced outward against his chest. He gentled her thighs and her 
                               tiny, hard ass, which still quivered.
                   Ursula let her thighs part and straddle his. She slowly rubbed her 
               wet cunt against the powerful muscle. She could feel his semen in her 
              belly and on her tits and chin, yet she couldn't quite believe this was 
               really happening. She kept fearing this was a late-night half-asleep 
             fantasy and at any moment, she'd drift off the sleep completely and then 
                 her mother would be banging at the door to wake her for breakfast.
                    But then he was rolling her off him on the narrow bed, arranging 
              her on her back, and he was kissing his way down over her tight little 
                                               body.
                    "What are you doing?" she breathed. His kisses were arousing her 
                      even more -- something she didn't believe was possible.
                   He paused to tweak one nipple gently and lightly cup his hand over 
                                   each of her fabulous breasts.
                                 "Turnabout," he said. "It's fair play."
                  He kissed her flat little belly and abdomen as he turned himself on 
              the bed. His hands went over her slim thighs and parted them. He knelt 
                between her legs and backed farther down the bed, then lay with his 
               torso on the bed and his legs off and he began licking the insides of 
                                            her thighs.
                            She felt his hot breath on her cunt and moaned. 
                      "You're so young," he said and she knew it was her  hairless
                 childlike cunt that prompted the comment. "But you're so sexy and 
                                            beautiful!"
                    Then he was cupping her butt in his hands and he was kissing her 
                                               pussy.
                      "OOOOooo," she moaned. Her fingers went to his head and  she
               caressed him. When he started running his tongue up and down her cunt 
              lips, she grabbed him by the hair and arched her hips, driving her quim 
              up at him. She felt his tongue, so hot and strong, push past the tight 
                clam of her swollen labia and penetrate her a little and her juices 
                                        pulsed inside her. 
                  But when he brought his lips up to fasten them around her clitoris, 
             Ursula began cumming in an unbroken string of ever more intense orgasms. 
             She kept cumming harder and harder and better and better. She felt as if 
             something inside of her was tightening, as if her insides were trying to 
                grip something so they could relax. She couldn't make a sound even 
                 though her mouth was open. She just kept inhaling, more and more, 
              sucking air desperately as the orgasms intensified to the very brink of 
                                               pain. 
                  And then it let go, all at once, and she screamed in pure pleasure, 
               writhing and bucking madly as all the pleasure washed through her and 
                 exploded the tightness out of her. It went on and on and  somehow
               increased when her sinuous writhing caused his juice-slicked thumb to 
                                     wedge against her asshole.
                  "YES!" she shrieked and ground her tiny butt down, taking his thumb 
                inside. "YES!" She craved the penetration, craved having something 
              wedged inside, even back there. Her ass muscles fluttered on his thumb 
              as the orgasm ripped through her again and again. She locked her thighs 
               around his head, crossed her ankles over his back and imprisoned her 
              against the core of her pleasure-wracked being. She felt totally out of 
              control of herself, of her body, and she was afraid she might be unable 
                             to restrain her bladder if this continued.
                    But it did continue and she gasped frantically as another long, 
                         powerful explosion of pleasure ripped through her.
                   Ursula fell back to the bed, totally limp, but still shuddering in 
              orgasms. He withdrew his thumb from her ass and turned his face to kiss 
              her thighs, then crawled up over her and next to her. She rolled easily 
                    into his arms and wept uncontrollably as he held her close.
                  "Himmel, Himmel, Himmel," she babbled. "I never knew anything could 
                                   feel so good. Oh, thank you!"
                    "Don't thank me," he said, gruffly. "I enjoyed it, too -- but I 
                                    doubt I enjoyed it as much."
                  She looked up at him and saw him smiling and dared smile back. Then 
                 she chuckled and he laughed with her. It felt strange -- and good.
                                 "I -- Why are we laughing?" she asked.
                     "Because it feels good. Is there something wrong with laughing 
                                       together during sex?"
                                       "You're ears are all red."
                          He laughed again. "Can't imagine how that happened."
                     She kissed him hard on the mouth, then said, "I've never felt 
                                    anything like that before!"
                                               He frowned.
                                             "What's wrong?"
                    "Gee, maybe you wouldn't be interested in what I was thinking of 
               next." He shifted so she could feel his re-erected cock push against 
                        her. "I mean, after that, maybe you don't want -- "
                     She groaned. "I have to have you in me. I have to. Right now."
                        "Maybe you should get on top. I don't want to crush you."
                    She scooched over and he lay back. Quick as could be, Ursula was 
               crouching over him. He reached down to grip his cock and aim it. She 
               felt him brush the velvety glans across her sopping cunt a few times, 
               then rub it against her still-throbbing clit. She shivered and almost 
                                       toppled at that touch.
                   His other hand went to her narrow hips, resting on one hipbone. He 
             guided her down till the knob was wedged into her cunt grip. She felt it 
                throbbing there against and almost in her and jacked her hips down, 
                             taking half of his thick cock in a stroke.
                     Ursula closed her eyes and leaned her head back, her long hair 
               tickling down her back to brush her tightly clenched ass. She sighed 
              deeply. She finally had Him inside her. That was His cock throbbing in 
             her little pussy, His prick stretching her little cunt, His dick bathing 
                               in the molten juices of her tiny quim.
                     She worked her hips down slowly, wriggling them sensuously and 
             savoring the feel of his dick going deeper and deeper into her. She felt 
               her hard little ass brush his thighs and then his wiry, coppery pubic 
                               hair was against her stretched labia.
                  Shivering with pleasure, Ursula leaned forward and rested her hands 
               on his strong chest. With her eyes still closed, she shifted till she 
              was on her knees. She opened her eyes when she felt his hands brush up 
              over her precocious tits and then her shoulders. She sighed again when 
              his fingertips brushed her hair back. Then his hands were running down 
               her back and covering her ass. His fingers tightened on the resilient 
                flesh and he pulled her down harder onto her, grinding her clitoris 
                         against the bony ring around the base of his cock.
                    "Ahhh!" Ursula hissed. The strength went out of her arms as her 
              little pussy muscles twitched with the beginnings of another orgasm. He 
                groaned as she squeezed his cock inside her. She let herself settle 
                 against his chest, her breasts pressed like two fists against his 
               ribcage. Her unbound hair draped over her back and sides as she began 
                               jacking her hips up and down urgently.
                    His fingers dug into her hard little ass cheeks and he used his 
              hands to guide her faster up and down on his dick. She came again, hard 
               and shuddering, and heard him groaning about how good it felt on him. 
             His hips battered up at her faster, meeting her strokes and doubling the 
               speed of their fucking. His cock seemed to be swelling inside her and 
              then it felt like it was touching something new inside her and she was 
                 suddenly screaming as golden waves pleasure washed over her.  Her
               thrashing became erratic. She could hear the slurping sounds of their 
                                   organs sloshing in her juices.
                     When one of his fingertips suddenly began pressing between the 
                spasming cheeks of her rock-hard butt and prodded at her sphincter, 
                                though, Ursula lost it completely. 
                   "YES!" she yelped, pressing down hard against him, trying to take 
              even more of him into her cunt and hold it there. "YES!" The fingertip 
              wedged into the pinhole pucker, slicked with her overflowing juices and 
             Ursula felt a wild thrill go through her. Her cunt contracted still more 
              around him as he slid the finger into her ass to the first knuckle and 
               then the second. "YES!" She couldn't stop cumming it seemed, and she 
               loved the feeling of his finger stretched her ass and compressing her 
                              cunt still more around his cock. "MORE!"
                  He jammed his finger into her ass right to the palm and Ursula felt 
               her sphincters gripping it and jerking on it in time with the spasms 
                                 flashing through her little cunt. 
                                "Damn! I'm going to cum soon!" he warned.
                       "YES! I want you -- you -- t-to -- c-c-um in me -- oooo..."
                                    "But -- I don't want you to -- "
                   She growled, as if her animal lust had turned her into an animal. 
             Yes! She had to have his cum in her cunt. Nothing else could put out the 
              fires there! Ursula raised her upper body on quivering arms and pumped 
                her hips up and down as hard and fast as she could, adding willful 
                       strength to the involuntary contractions of her cunt.
                    "I'm going to milk all of you into me!" she hissed. "I want it!"
                   He arched beneath her, then fell back and groaned: "Take it, then!"
                    She felt his dick swell like a balloon in her clutching cunt and 
               then she felt it wildly jerking. She could feel the steaming moisture 
             within her as he shot another huge load of cum into her and she squeezed 
                  and grasped him inside her, keeping her promise -- milking him.
                  Again and again, his virile young balls lurched in their tight sack 
               and again and again he erupted inside her. Ursula felt as if she were 
               lost in a world of orgasmic pleasure, unending pleasure, a world that 
               revolved around the ejaculating cock locked in her constricted little 
               cunt. Her vagina was so tight around him, so filled with his swollen 
              cock and her abundant juices, that it quickly filled with his jism and 
                then overflowed. Each new geyser forced more of the white heat out 
                            around the stretched lips of her small quim.
                   His spasms finally slowed and then stopped. Her orgasm didn't and 
              her cunt remained locked tight around him. He withdrew the finger from 
               her ass and she resented its departure as she shuddered. He drew her 
              back down against him and the frantic quivering of her hips slowed and 
              finally settled into an occasional twitch. The touch of his lips on the 
               top of her head signaled the completion of this series of shattering 
              orgasms. She gasped for breath as his arms went around her and his dick 
              finally began to shrivel within the loosening grip of her sperm-soaked 
                                               cunt.
                      "I've wanted this with you for so long," she breathed.  "You
                            couldn't believe how much I've wanted you."
                                     "Or how much I've wanted you."
                    She blinked and tried to raise her head to look at him. She was 
                                trembling with that effort. "What?"
                                         "I've wanted you, too."
                                 "But why didn't you ever say anything?"
                      "You were, well, so shy and  young  and  --  I  don't  know;
                                     unapproachable, I guess."
                                             "Not anymore."
                    "No -- not anymore. We just seem to fit so well together and the 
                   way you were holding me inside you and cumming on me -- Damn!"
                     She kissed his chest. "I want to be better than any other girl 
                                         you've ever had."
                                He coughed slightly. "You certainly are."
                                     She looked up again. "Really?"
                                 He made an odd face. "You're my first."
                  She blinked. That was hard to believe. "But, you've had girlfriends 
                                -- you have girlfriends, don't you?"
                                   "Sure, but I've never -- you know."
                                          "You were a virgin?"
                    He nodded. "I mean, I've touched girls and licked them and been 
                               sucked, but never actually did this."
                                      "You mean you never fucked?"
                          "And I still haven't. I think we made love just now."
                       "And fucked. I think people can do both at the same time."
                   He looked thoughtful, then nodded. "I'm glad you weren't a virgin, 
                                              though."
                                       Ursula was puzzled. "Why?"
                    "Cause this way, nothing we ever do together hurts you. Besides, 
             one of us had to know what was going on!" He laughed gently. When he did 
                             that, his cock pulsed slightly inside her.
                    "I'm glad for that, too," she said. "You sure knew what you were 
              doing with your tongue and that sneaky finger." She giggled. "I really 
                                            liked that."
                                              "I noticed."
                   She licked his chest. "And I liked being on top, being in control."
                                        "And doing all the work."
                    She laughed. "I like the work. Besides, then I don't have worry 
              about being smothered." Ursula revolved her hips slightly and felt him 
                 stir inside her. "Again?" she whispered, trying not to sound  too
                                              hopeful.
                   "I think so," he said. "In a few minutes, anyhow. But I like this 
              cuddling part. I always figured this would be the best part, and I was 
               right." He hugged her against him. "Dammit, Ursula, you're wonderful."
                   That simple declaration sent a thrill through her, and the thrill 
                translated into a tightening of her cunt, which in turn speeded the 
                                        revival of his dick.
                     "Oooooo -- I like feeling you getting hard inside of me," she 
              whispered and moved her hips in a tight little circle. She felt all the 
                  juices -- his and hers -- being stirred by his reawakening cock.
                     His hands slid down to her ass again and he squeezed briefly. 
                    "That feels so good when you hold my behind," she said, her lips 
              against his chest. Her hips were moving faster on his dick, now that it 
              had almost completely regained its rigidity. But then his hands went to 
                        her slim hips and he was guiding her up and off him.
                    "What?" she asked, bewildered, as he eased her up and away from 
                  him. Her cunt was grasping, hungry for the return of his cock. 
                   "Got an idea," he said. He rolled off the bed and stood beside it, 
              then arranged her on all fours at the edge of the bed. He eased forward 
               and then she felt his wonderfully hard, thick knob burrowing into her 
                from behind. He rested one hand on the small of her back as he slid 
                                slowly into her, deeper, deeper -- 
                    "It's going so deep!" she gasped. Then she felt his hard abdomen 
               against her ass. She put her hand on her little belly as if she could 
                        feel him through her flesh. "Oh, it's in me so far!"
                                 "Hurt?" he asked, concern in his voice.
                   "No! It's wonderful!" She rolled her hips against him and felt the 
                 little explosions of pleasure rippling through her belly. She let 
             herself fall to her elbows, leaving her on the bed with her ass hiked up 
             at him. He pulled back till just his glans remained inside and then slid 
              quickly all the way back in, his cock seeming to stretch the end of her 
                                              tunnel.
                  "Yes!" she gasped as her cunt began spasming in orgasm. She fell to 
               the bed with her shoulders flat, her hair all in disarray and draped 
                                   over her face. "Awww yessss!"
                    He held her narrow little hips firmly in both powerful hands and 
               pulled her back to meet his ever accelerating thrusts. His balls kept 
             swinging forward to brush her clitoris. She came and then came again and 
              then she was just cumming, wildly, unbearably, gasping and yelping with 
             pleasure. At one point, he literally lifted her by her hips from the bed 
              and she hung there, all but impaled on the thrust of his iron-hard dick 
                            as he fucked her back and forth on his cock.
                          "T-touch my ass," she pleaded, "like before! Please!"
             He let her hips down and moved one hand between them. She felt his digit 
               being slicked with the still copious overflow of her lust juices and 
              then she felt it moved over her little asshole. It had to be his thumb, 
                 she knew, because it felt so much thicker back there. Then it was 
               forcing her ass to open and she groaned deep in her throat as it slid 
              in. Now the added pressure was forcing his swollen cock to saw back and 
               forth over that magic spot in her cunt and she just couldn't stop the 
                    orgasm for intensifying till it felt as if she had to burst.
                      His cock felt so good in her cunt and his thumb felt so good 
              working in and out of her tight backdoor that she couldn't believe he'd 
               never done this before. She was sure that if she'd been a virgin, he 
               still would have known what to do and now, for the first time, Ursula 
             regretted losing her virginity before. She wished he could have been her 
                        first, that she could have given him her virginity.
                     And then she realized that she could offer him one virgin gift.
                    "W-w-wait," she stammered, struggling for coherence through the 
                                             orgasms. 
                  He slowed and then seemed to force himself to stop completely. "Are 
                                             you okay?"
                     "F-f-fine, but I w-want you to -- " She hesitated. She was so 
                        tight. "I want you to put it where you're thumb is."
                   She felt his cock lurch inside her. The idea obviously appealed to 
                                him. "I'm afraid it will hurt you."
                       "I want it in there -- please? I want you to be the first."
                                          "If you're sure -- "
                                 She nodded over-emphatically. "Please!"
                    His thumb slid slowly out of her ass. She felt an uncomfortably 
              twinge as it was withdrawn. She was tight back there and for the first 
               time began to think it might not be totally pleasurable. It couldn't 
                feel as good as in her cunt, that she was sure of, but there was an 
                 aching in her guts for it. That ache, her desire to give him  one
                virginity -- at least -- and a strange thrill at the idea of doing 
               something so unimaginably depraved made her wish more like a craving.
                    His cock came out of her cunt, which immediately seemed to weep 
              tears of her juice at the departure. But then she felt his knob against 
                her asshole and her attention was focused there. His cock was much 
              thicker than his thumb. Would it tear her? She was grateful now for the 
                   abundance of her cunt sauce; his cock would be slick from it.
                    He pressed forward and she felt her sphincter flutter nervously. 
              She tried to relax it and bit by bit, her asshole spread. The blunt ram 
               of his glans stretched her wider and wider and still the head wasn't 
              inside her. Her asshole was beginning to burn with the tension. She had 
             to get the head into her soon! Ursula groaned and pushed up and back and 
              then she felt her rectum clamp down on his shaft in the depressed spot 
                                       just behind the glans.
                                             "Are you okay?"
                                        "Just take it very easy."
                   He pushed forward slowly and Ursula gasped. His cock was so thick! 
              It was stretching the walls of her rectum mercilessly and the deeper he 
               went, the more uncomfortable it became. The friction was too much for 
                                     her a sob of pain escaped.
                    He stopped immediately. "This is no good," he declared. "I don't 
                                         want to hurt you."
                                          "Does it feel good?"
                   "It's so hot and tight -- that's terrific. Unbelievable! But it's 
                  too dry and it's hurting you. There's no lubrication in there."
                    She felt his shiver behind her and knew that it had to feel even 
               better to him than he was admitting. Nonetheless, he was withdrawing, 
                                            very slowly.
                  That hurt even more, and gave her another pain -- of disappointment 
                           at not being able to give him her ass cherry.
                   When the glans was finally out, Ursula scrambled around on her bed 
               and reached over to her dresser. There, on top, was the little jar of 
              petroleum jelly. She unscrewed the lid and scooped a big glob of it out 
              and deposited it on his cock, then smeared it up and down, She gripped 
                his prick tightly as she covered it with the slippery jelly and he 
                   groaned a warning: "You're going to make me cum in your hand!"
                  "Don't -- you -- dare!" she said with mock ferocity. She handed him 
             the jar and assumed her previous position with her ass up at the edge of 
              the bed. "Get me slippery, too! Use plenty of it -- I want you in there 
                                    and I want it to feel good!"
                  "You got it," he said softly and then she felt him working a gob of 
             the jelly onto her anus. It felt soothing and cool and good and when his 
                 thumb slid inside, there wasn't any discomfort at all --  just  a
                               wonderful, warm, powerful stretching. 
                   "Oh, yes, that's good!" she sighed, dropped her face to her folded 
               forearms and wiggling her little butt up at him. She felt the juices 
               beginning to leak from her cunt again. He withdrew the thumb only to 
              return it a moment later with still more of slippery stuff. "Now I want 
                                   to real thing," she demanded.
                    She felt him leaning to put the jar on the bed and then his knob 
              was again prodding her backdoor. Again, it seemed it was going to split 
               her open, but this time she knew she could take it and the lubricant 
                eased the way, making it less difficult to relax. She pushed up and 
             back, feeling the ache for him in her guts return and his glans suddenly 
                                 popped into her tight little ass.
                          "Ohyesthat'sgood," she breathed. "Ohyesohyesohyes..."
                  Her babble trailed off into a deep, throaty groan as he packed more 
                  and more of his stiff dick into her tight ass. She felt his knob
                 tunneling into her, stretching the constricted walls of her young 
              rectum. She gasped when he reached the halfway point, because there was 
             a sudden discomfort, but then he was beyond it and she felt a wonderful, 
               full glow growing in her ass. She was sure his cock was going to bore 
             right up into her lungs -- it already felt like it was in her stomach -- 
              and then she felt his hard abdomen and wiry pubic hair against her soft 
                                    ass. "How is it?" she asked.
                           "Fantastic," he mumbled breathily. "How about you?"
                     "It feels so strange," she answered, her voice oddly soft and 
                relaxed. "And it feels so -- just strange. But good. Be careful in 
                                              there."
                  "Sure." He withdrew slowly, no more than a half inch -- but it felt 
             to Ursula as if she were taking a monstrous bowel movement and it scared 
                          her with its intensity. She gasped and he froze.
                       "Don't stop," she whispered. "Put it back in all the way."
                    He complied and she felt the glow strengthening. She could feel 
               every ripple and vein in his prick. Every twitch of his cock was  as 
              clear to her as if it were her own. In fact, she felt almost as if his 
                 dick had become hers at the same time it felt as if his cock  was
                       possessing her. She felt utterly wanton and depraved.
                   Again he withdrew, this time almost all the way. She shuddered at 
              the sensation and then groaned, loud and long, when he pushed back into 
                                                her.
                                             "Yes! DO that!"
                      He moved a little faster this time  and  the  sensation  was
              frightening and thrilling. This time he pushed back in even faster and 
              this time she felt her belly flutter and was amazed -- it was good! She 
                                      might even cum this way!
                                    "Harder," she pleaded. "Harder!"
                   He began fucking her ass more easily, working his thick young dick 
               back and forth, in and out of her back cavity and sending thrills of 
              pleasure through her. She was so overwhelmed by this new sensation that 
              she was unable to move to meet his thrusts. She was all but limp on the 
             bed as he gripped her narrow hips and pumped her ass. She was submitting 
                herself to him, offering her ass to him to be plundered and he was 
                             plundering her in the most delicious way.
                               "I want you to touch yourself," he gasped.
                                              "What? Why?"
                    "Do it!" he said sharply. "Put your fingers down there and play 
                                          with yourself."
                   She barely had the strength to move her arm, but she got her hand 
               down there. He stopped pumping and reached under her, levering her up 
              with his forearm. He grabbed the pillow and stuffed it under her hips, 
                                         then released her.
                      Ursula lay limply on the bed, her face and hair and luscious 
              breasts pressed into the disheveled bedcovers, her rounded little hips 
                          hiked up on the pillow so her ass was upthrust.
                  He took complete advantage of it, ravaging her little butt. Now she 
                 felt sure his cock was going into her stomach! It seemed to reach 
               everywhere inside her, displacing all of her innards and taking them 
              over until she felt she was simply filled with this wonderful, reaming 
                                               cock. 
                   Then her fingers touched her clitoris and Ursula shook. The orgasm 
               seemed to be starting in her ass, but it was also in her cunt and her 
               clitoris! It was tingling through her tits and her legs, through her 
             belly and her hair! She felt as if she were a single organism, dedicated 
               to one function: cumming. Her ass fluttered and rippled. The powerful 
                muscles at the entrance of her rectum tightened frantically, as if 
              trying to grip and hold the pumping length of hot, slippery cock moving 
              in and out of her. She felt totally surrendered and taken and owned by 
                  him and what he was doing and she found a kind of freedom in it.
                   He bent over her. Now his body was lightly against hers -- except 
               at her ass, where his weight was pushing her down onto her wriggling 
               fingers and driving his cock even deeper into her. He was holding his 
             torso off her back by resting on one bent forearm and his face was close 
                                              to hers.
                           "I want you to cum forever with me," he whispered.
                                               "Yesss..."
                                    "I want to be the best for you."
                                  "So goooood...cumming and cumming..."
                                                 "Yes!"
                                       "I just keep cuuuuming..."
                   His breathing got shallower and she felt his dick swell still more 
                        in the dark confines of her gripping little rectum. 
                         "Yessss -- cum in me there!" she gasped. "Fill me up!"
                   "Auuuugghhh!" He held his hips against hers and she felt his cock 
             delve deeper and then she felt the burning explosion of his semen in her 
              ass. She could feel every drop, every gush more clearly than she'd ever 
               imagined possible! Her ass clenched on him and he groaned -- and then 
              his cock lurched again and another long spurt of his precious semen was 
              flooding her ass. Her orgasm ballooned in her and then burst and Ursula 
               writhed like a madwoman, impaled on his thick, gushing hose of a cock 
                       while she pinched and pressed her throbbing clitoris.
                   The tension in his body seemed to drain into her through his cock 
              and then he was limp and quivering with the effort of not collapsing on 
             her. He bent farther and kissed her face through her hair as his pulsing 
               dick slowly deflated. Ursula could feel all that hot stuff inside her 
              bowels and the thought thrilled her. She'd drunk his cum, had him fill 
              her cunt to overflowing -- and now she'd milked him with her tight ass. 
              She would leak cum everywhere, but it was his cum and that made it all 
                                            the better.
                    He withdrew slowly. Her anus didn't want to release him and when 
             his glans finally came out, there was a slurpy, sucking noise. He raised 
              himself and his weight came off the bed. A moment later and he was back 
               and she felt some cool rubbing over the crack of her ass. She was too 
                          weak and spent to do more than whimper, "What?"
                        "My handkerchief," he explained. "A bit messy back here."
                                She giggled softly. "I'll bet. You, too."
                     "I'd say, `No shit,' but that wouldn't be completely accurate."
                    She giggled again as she heard him moving -- presumably cleaning 
                                             his cock.
                     Strong hands rearranged her on the bed next to him and she let 
             herself be rolled into the cradle of his arm, on her back, with her head 
                nestled against his shoulder. He rested one hand on the surprising 
                                 thrust of her precocious breasts.
                                       She had to know something.
                               "Do you think -- what do you think of me?"
                    He kissed the top of her head and caressed her breasts. "I think 
                                         you're terrific."
                   "I mean -- do you think I'm bad? Like a slut? For arranging all of 
                               this and wanting it and enjoying it?"
                      "No-oo. I  don't  think  it's  bad.  A  slut  fucks  anyone,
                              indiscriminately. Is that what you do?"
                    She thought about it. "No. The first time I did it I was curious 
             and wanted to learn. The second time was -- well, I was hot for the guy. 
             And this is the third and it's because I'm hot for you and have been for 
                             a long time. I really, really wanted you."
                                           "But not anymore?"
                    She rolled onto his chest and kissed each of his nipples. "More 
               than ever. Wanting you was -- is -- right. I want you again and again 
              and I want to be with you and know you and understand you and make you 
                                      know and understand me."
                                           He shook his head.
                                                 "What?"
                  "Nothing slutty about that." He pulled her up to him and kissed her 
             on the mouth, hard. "I want the same things," he said after he broke off 
                                             the kiss.
                   They lingered in each other's arms for a while, and then he arose 
              and dressed. They kissed again at her door and she waved good-bye from 
                her window, reassured by his promise to see her again -- and often. 
                Ursula barely had time to straighten her room and shower before her 
                                          folks came home.
                   Of course, that evening Roxanne grilled her, eyes wide and bright 
              as Ursula confided everything they'd done and much of what they'd said. 
               Ursula confirmed that, Yes, the book had been accurate in how much a 
               woman could cum from all those things and she tried -- but suspected 
               that she failed -- to convey how good it was to be licked and sucked 
                                            down there.
                   Daniel was true to his word. He came back they saw each other and 
               made love several times before the summer ended. They even went out a 
             few times -- in the afternoon, while her parents were away -- to museums 
             and once to the movies and once he took her on a rowboat in Central Park 
               and bought her a hot dog with all the fixings from a vendor and they 
                 lolled under a willow near the secret little waterfall and kissed 
                languorously throughout the last lazy Thursday afternoon of August.
                   But with the onset of the school year, there were fewer and fewer 
             opportunities. Her parents, she knew, would never permit her to date him 
              formally. Besides, he had his after-school job and she was in her first 
                year of senior high school and was taking clarinet lessons and then 
                                     there were her studies...
                   ...and then she met Larry, a nice boy from the basketball team and 
              she started hanging out with his crowd and when she asked, her parents 
              gave a cautious go-ahead to request that Larry escort her to a dance ...
                   ...and Ursula and Daniel drifted quietly apart and never saw each 
                                            other again.
                    But they never forgot that splendid summer and never regretted a 
                moment of it. And years later, Daniel would see a pretty red-headed 
               teenager and he'd quietly smile and remember, and Ursula would see a 
                young man sitting quietly on a park bench reading and she'd quietly 
              smile and remember. For the rest of their lives, they had stored within 
             themselves an endless, memory-fed glow of those blazing days of glorious 
              passion and unrestrained mutual surrender. No matter how cold the world 
             would seem in later years, that glow reminded them that there was always 
                          hope, and the ice never claimed either of them.
                                                  
                                             -- end
                                                  


 

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