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o  The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories.  o
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Ursula (mf, coa, 1st)
by Friar Dave

*******

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.      She 
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. 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&P 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 some5thing 
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 --





============================================================================
     For 99 percent of those who can read, this is a needless reminder, so I 
address this to the one percent.
     If you enjoyed this story and/or appreciate the time and effort I 
put into writing it, there's a simple way for you to quietly show that 
appreciation -- by acting as a responsible BBSer. That means:
     Don't let any minors read this;
     Don't send it to any BBS that wouldn't welcome it. You may not 
agree with the SysOp's restriction on x-rated files or stories involving 
people under 19 (21 in some states), but that's the SysOp's perogative 
and as a guest/subscriber/user of his or her BBS, you are honor-bound to 
respect the stated restrictions;
     Don't change or modify the file name or the text itself; that's a 
cheat and we both know it.

On a personal note, I ask you not to remove either this afterward or my 
handle.

Thanks, in advance.
                                                                 -- F.D.
