("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2008. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Oh Swell! by Old Bill (address withheld) *** A randy high school girl and her geeky brother find ways to entertain each other on a camping trip. (mf- teens, youths, inc, 1st) *** Oh swell, oh wonderful, oh just grand; we are going camping out in the wilderness. They are going to feed my beautiful body to the bugs, to the snakes, to the mosquitoes. I have begged; I have wept; I have promised, but I am going. No choice. No mercy. It isn't fair. No way! We have been to good old Uncle Dave's rustic cottage before. It's up in the West by-gawd Virginia hills, ten miles from nowhere on the edge of a lake fed by ice cubes. There are not any human boys within a hundred miles, only gawking cretins who slobber and drool when the look at my chest. I'll die, shrivel up and die. And worst of all, my brother is going, that nerd, that geek, that dork. They didn't ship him off to camp this year, pleading poverty or something. He and his new iPhone are going; his iPhone loaded with geeky games that nobody understands, and I know from experience that my cell phone will not work out there in the wilderness, out there in the sticks, in the woods. Damn, a whole week without boys or girl friends. No IM, no nothing but bugs and my dopey brother. I was all set to hook up with Wolfy Jankiwitz (I'm not sure how that's spelled), who is reputed to have the biggest and strongest cock in the whole high school, and who finally smiled at me at lunch after I accidentally on purpose ran into him and sort of spilled my tray on the front of my thin shirt, the cup of diet soda putting me immediately into a wet t-shirt display since I also sort of forgot to wear a bra, and my boobs really are world class. He actually grinned as he helped me up and he licked his lips. I mean he hasn't really talked to me yet and asked me to hook up with him or anything, but I know that look. And now I have to go camping with my brother during the spring break, a whole week. I'm ruined. Pack me off to a convent and sew my pussy closed. After all I'm not a child, a baby, an infant. I've almost had sex with four different boys, and I have a reputation of being a first-class cocksucker, a talent I have been improving, off and on, for the last three years, ever since I had Charlie Robbin's big prick shoved in my mouth when I was thirteen and very drunk at his birthday party. And I've been doing Kegel exercises for almost two years now, and I can get my pussy to squeeze a pencil if I want to and hold it for at least ten seconds. Anyhow, none of the guys who have tried to stick their stiff things in me have been any good, the giggling incompetents with their weak, little-boy pricks. It was all going to be wham-bam if you know what I mean, the five-second express; I'm sure of that. One of them actually blew his wad while he was feeling me up. They got off, grinning like fools when I jerked their little things, and I got nothing except a bit of incompetent fingering, nothing except a gooey groin and some panting and slobbering and stains on my clothes and sticky fingers. Just swell! Besides I think all of them would have preferred to stick their adolescent peters between my big jugs. Now I will admit that I have enjoyed having my tits sucked a lot more than attempts at pig sticking, as some of them claim to call it. When a boy goes down on my bare breasts and sucks and licks and roots around and slobbers, I really go nuts, and I get all wet and hot down there, especially if he bites and gnaws and tries to stretch them out. I always like it when a male slides his hand up under my shirt because I know he going to end up nibbling on my nipples. I get chills. Really, when they get all excited, my nips stick out like little finger tips and the area around them gets all raised and pebbly, puffy like. If you really want to know, they are 32C's and really firm too. So I'm packing as ordered, one lousy little soft bag, and I am wearing my sloppy gray, Stanford sweat-shirt with the cut off arms and my old, raggedy jeans that hip hug, barely, and my flip-flops, oh and some underpants of course, if you're so curious, bikinis from Vickies that just about disappear in my butt crack. That's all. I'm sure not going to dress up to go camping and besides you can see my boobs through the arm holes of that baggy shirt if you're interested and the top of my buttocks too since those old jeans barely stay up. I really don't need a bra, if you want the truth, and the stupid things are so uncomfortable. I'm going to sit in the back seat and pout and sulk and complain all the way up there and then I'm going to park my tail in that dumb wooden chair and look at the stupid lake and pout some more and swat at the bugs. They're just mean; I don't mean the bugs; my parents, they're just mean. I mean, here I am, one of the hottest girls around, and my life is ruined. Oh swell, now we've just found out that Daddy can't get away from work, some sort of crisis at the bank, like anybody cares about mortgages, and Uncle Dave is going to take us up in his truck, a big crew-cab Dodge that probably gets zero miles to the gallon and doesn't have any springs as far as I can tell. Uncle Dave, who is a rich contractor and divorced, is a lot like Daddy except that he's younger and has a crew cut. He's always had a crew cut, and I think he has the hots for Mom. It's left over from when he was a captain in the Marines I guess, the haircut not the hots. He's my mother's youngest brother, and he's got muscles on his muscles and a voice that cuts through metal. He scares me when he looks at me so I am going to be a good girl, that's for, as he says, for dang sure. Then he cackles and thinks it's a laugh. Uncle Dave scares me shitless, honest he does. Sometimes, even when I don't want to, I think about what's inside his pants if you know what I mean. It must be huge. I mean it bulges like there's a football or something in there. Now let me tell you about my geeky brother, who I'd like to drown, or is it whom. Most people call him Slim, but he's just plain skinny. He's taller than I am, maybe five-eight or ten or so and weighs, the last time I heard, 120 pounds soaking wet, as Daddy puts it. He eats like a pig and drinks sodas and milk like water, but he never gains any weight. It isn't fair. If I ate like him I'd look like the Goodyear blimp or something, but he just gets taller and his feet are bigger than mine already. I don't think he would know what to do with a girl if he had one, which he never has. He's a pimply-faced fourteen, the nerd, and he's started growing wisps of facial hair, reddish hair, so he looks even weirder with his freckles and pimples and shaggy mop of red hair plus whiskers on his chin. Sometimes I think he's gay, at least I used to. But he's not, so forget that. He has hair under his arms too, if you're interested, and other places, curly red hair. Anyhow, I went into his room the other day and there he was on his Mac looking at pictures of girls, naked girls. "Whoa," I yelled at him and he jumped like I had stuck his big toe into the electric socket and yanked his hand out of his pocket. I pushed him aside and scrolled down and there were these skaggy girls on their knees sucking cocks, these real young girls, girls my age, even younger. "Ew," I said to him, "you're such a pervert." Boy, you should have seen the size of some of those male things, like fire hoses. My brother was the color of a fire truck, mouth open, sweat faced. He reached over and shut off the iMac and asked me who invited me into his room without even knocking. I sat down, right on his lap, and turned the computer back on. "You look at this stuff much?" I asked as a bunch of thumb-nails appeared, each one showing a big rigid cock, some of them black, and a girl's lips and nose, all of them white. The sound was ghastly, just slurping and moaning on top of acid rock, really weird, metallic or something. I mean real old stuff. He sniffed and admitted that he did, that he thought about girls a lot, and that it really excited him to see girls sucking cocks. Talk about strange, that's my brother. I think his thing was even hard. I'm pretty sure I could feel it under me. I wiggled, trying to get comfortable and make him even harder, and said, "So, geek, how often do you think about sex, hm?" I turned toward him and pressed a boob into his chest. Sweat popped out on his forehead for some reason and the hair rose on his arms. He swallowed like he had something stuck in his throat and started breathing funny. "I dunno," he said, licking his lips, "maybe, every ten seconds or so. I think the studies say every seven seconds is normal. But I'm only fourteen. You can Google it." I jumped up, said, "You really are queer," and left, feeling very odd that my geeky little brother was thinking about sex at all. I mean he's got pimples all over his face and his wrists are thinner than mine; he doesn't have a decent leg muscle that I've seen, and he's thinking about sex all the time. Swell, just swell. Talk about weird. He's totally sick. I mean I haven't seen him naked since he was about five, but I've seen him in his baggy bathing suit and if he has a bulge it sure doesn't show. Obviously, appearances can be deceiving, very deceiving. He's never even been to a movie with a girl or hooked up, never been to a real party with people his age except maybe a birthday party. But that reminded me of Charlie's party and his big horn poking my cheek. I could still remember how scary it felt in my mouth and how foul it tasted. Anyway, I was thinking about that as I finished packing and went down to gush over Uncle Dave, as expected, throw my stuff in the back of his big red truck (is that the only color Dodge makes?) and then climb into the backseat beside my skinny brother who already had his earbuds in and a game on his stupid phone. His thumbs are strong, I'm sure of that. He bought it with his own money, lawn cutting money and birthday money, and he's got I-don't-know how many goofy games on it. The nerd does better in school that I do, I'll admit that; he's smart. In a dumb way, of course. I took a nap, as much of a nap as anybody can take being shaken up and down in the back seat of a pickup truck that smells of male sweat and paint thinner. Mainly I sulked, which I do well, and watched my boobs bobble. I swear, on some of those potholes, my nipples jumped two or three inches. Two long hours later, there we were way up in the pine tree hills at the end of a gravel road. Uncle Dave's log cabin has two small rooms, a sleeping loft and no glass in the windows, just screens. When I opened the refrigerator, all I found was beer, acres of canned beer. Uncle Dave has a generator that runs his stuff so there are electric lights and a butane stove or grill, and Mom brought her little TV-DVD and a bunch of tapes like "Music Man" and "Sound of Music" and like that. Hopeless. I mean, really hopeless. My dumb brother got down the old canoe and went paddling off somewhere out of sight, wearing a life vest of course and his Orioles hat, plus gobs of sunscreen, he's such a goody-goody, and Mom and her brother headed for the store at the bottom of the hill, like ten miles away, and I sat on a hard wooden Adirondack chair and felt sorry for myself and sucked on a TootsiePop I found in my pocket, probably left from Halloween which was the last time I wore these raggedy old jeans that won't even button at the top. It was kind of hairy but orange, so I licked it. Pretty soon Stanley, that's my brother's name, he came rowing back, lifted the canoe up onto the dock which kind of surprised me `cause the thing must weigh fifty pounds, came trotting up to the house and then sat beside me, plopped down a can of Bud and opened the one in his hand. "That's all there is," he said, "just beer." Stanley was very pale, barely sun tanned at all except on his arms. "Since when do you drink beer?" I asked, putting the cold can down between my legs and enjoying the chill through the heavy denim. If you haven't done that, try it. Frozen pussy. "Tastes good," he said. "I've been thinking about what you saw, I mean on my computer, those girls, sucking." He sniffed and glugged, not looking at me. "Every ten seconds?" I asked. He smiled at me and chugged more beer, letting some run down his chin. "You're sick," I said. "Every ten seconds! Swell, just swell." He drained his beer, set it down, grabbed the one between my thighs and popped it open. "Just about. I was thinking you might show me stuff, you know, about sex." He sniffed and drank. "We could do some things, like screw around, you and me." He sniffed. "You're crazy," I said. I got up, walked down to the lake and back and sat down, thinking. There were two more cans of beer on the arm of the chair. "You want one?" he asked. I opened a beer and drank a gulp. I hate the stuff, vile taste, but I knew I had to learn how to drink it. "I like Miller better," I said, pouring some more down my throat. "We've got some time now, and you could come sneak into bed with me tonight I guess." He looked at me and smiled. "Up in the loft, into my sleeping bag." He has the dumbest smile, crooked, goofy. Oh sure, swell, into his sleeping bag. He'd love that. I snorted. Here I was, one of the best looking girls in the junior class, and a nerdy ninth grader was propositioning me. I've had senior boys all over me, fighting them off, and here's this skinny child who, I guess wants to kiss me or grope me or something. He was looking at me all hot-like and his shorts were kind of bulging up like maybe he had a baseball in his pocket. Oh swell. "I'd rather you do it than some dumb girl, somebody who might make fun of me because I'm a virgin." He drank some more beer, glugging it down, not looking at me. "If I go down on you, will you go down on me?" I asked, not looking at him, my mind busy, my vagina pulsing. It was, after all, an opportunity for exploration and maybe some fun. There was certainly nothing else to do. I've always wanted to have a boy eat me. And despite everything, I had to admit he was a male, a boy. He had what I didn't, and I had what he wanted. I smiled at him. "I don't know that that means," he said, looking at clouds, blinking, his forehead wrinkled. "Eat me. Didn't you ever see pictures of men licking girls' pussies? It's called cunnilingus, look it up on your stupid phone." "Oh yeah. Sure," he said. "That sounds fair. You do me and I do you. Why not?" No boy had ever done that on me, licked my pussy, no girl either for that matter, but I had thought about it a lot, about getting a good tonguing as my best friend calls it. Some girls had told me that they did to each other at slumber parties. One girl said she had her one and only orgasm when her big brother ate her out, that he drove her crazy with his tongue, tried to chew off her clit and suck her socket inside out. That's what she said, honest. It made me hot, hearing about that. So my brother got up, this skinny geek, all knees and elbows, and came over and stood right in front of me, between my legs and zipped down his fly and flopped out his penis. I think I probably screamed. I know I yelled, "Put that thing away." He just stood there blinking at me with this length of garden hose, kind of pink garden hose, hanging out of his pants, with a purplish head on it that was like some kind of ugly mushroom. It looked a foot long, but it wasn't I'm sure, just big and sort of turned sideways and covered with veins. I reached out, curious, and grabbed it and it jumped, and I stroked it and it got bigger and harder so I pulled him closer, tickled under the bell-shaped head where one guy just loved it and took it into my mouth, just the cock head I mean, with my hand on his hard shaft, and then both hands as it got bigger and harder. The glans wasn't as big as a golf ball, not quite. I've seen a few male things, maybe a dozen, and Stanley's was by far the biggest unless Charlie's was, but I never saw his, just sucked it. "Um," my dumb brother said, digging his hands into my hair and kind of quivering all over. "Um, um, um." He came up on his toes and moved it around in my mouth, pushing into my throat and gagging me. I put both hands on his hard shaft, holding it down and he sank to his knees in front of me, snorting for breath with his balls at my chin. I bent forward, used my tongue, lapping and circling and stuff, and he pushed some more of his stiff thing into my face so I started bobbing on it, moving it from cheek to cheek and letting it slide between my lips until it just about gagged me again. I was gasping for breath and his thing was getting bigger so I backed off and it jumped up out of my mouth, spraying spit. It had grown twice as big as it was, and it was already pretty big before I sucked it, but it was soft then and it was rigid now. It was almost scary and his balls were huge, knotted up like a puffball. The penis skin was still smooth, silky, but his thing was really hard, like metal or wood or something inside, sort of ribbed. "Damn, dork," I said to him, "you sure have a big one." "Yeah," he said, sitting back on his heels, "Isn't it a beauty. I've been measuring it since last Christmas when Dad gave me that metal tape measure thing, and it's been growing steadily. It's almost eight inches now. It was less than six back then." He smiled at me, got back in my face, and I grabbed his shaft and licked his fat glans, see I know the right name for things. It was like grabbing a flashlight, one of those three- celled jobs; I could barely get my fingers around it. I mean, come on, I've handled a few of these boners, but this one was way bigger, way harder, way more of everything, rock hard too and blood hot as well. I had to have it, no matter whose it was. I was really wet between the legs. And I'm sure I stopped thinking right about then. "You want me to finish you off?" I asked, looking at him as I held this jerking, one-eyed monster. Except for the first time when I didn't know what was going on, no boy has ever come in my mouth, but looking at my brother's rearing prong which bent upwards remarkably when I let it go, I was ready to try to get it right down my throat. Besides, it was bubbling out stuff I wanted to taste, little pearly gobs of stuff. I licked one in. It was salty. "No," he said, "it feels real good, wonderful. Now show me how to eat you. Is that right, eat you?" He grabbed his thing and stuffed it down his leg and pulled up the zipper of his khaki shorts. The head poked out and wiggled around, kind of a reddish purple, on the inside of his thigh. I stood up and skinned my old jeans and tiny underpants down and kicked them aside. "How come you don't have any hair?" my brother asked, blinking at me. "I've got some." "I shaved it off, dork, so I can wear my new swimsuits." I sat on the front edge of the chair and spread my knees. He knelt down and smiled at me, his hands on my thighs. "This is my pussy," I said, stroking my puffy lips, "now you kiss it and lick it and make it feel good." I spread my lips some to make it easier. He bent and kissed up and down my folds as I rocked my pelvis up toward him and then along the inside of both thighs and my heart got to beating hard and I was suddenly shaking. I could even feel his little whiskers. "Now poke in with your tongue, roll it up if you can. No lower, lower. Yes, right there, lick. Stick it in me. Go ahead. More. Yum, that's good. Now push, push harder." He was in me, my brother had his tongue in my sex, wiggling it around where nobody had ever been. "Oh, that's good," I said, both my hands on his head and pushing my mons up into his mouth, trying to smother him as his nose nudged my clit flap. I was being tongue fucked, me. He licked upward again and again, licked hard, and I jumped and squealed as a thrill ran through me. He sat back on his heels and blinked at me. "What'd I do?" He wiped his lips with his hand. "You hit my love button, my clit, you geek." He just blinked at me. "You had sex ed," I said, "Didn't you learn anything. Girls have a thing like your prick called a clitoris, a little one. It's right there." I poked gently, "right where you licked." I pushed down and it poked out, interested I guess, erect I'm sure. "OK,' He said, "I'm sorry. I won't do it again." He really looked sad. "No, no," I said quickly. "It's good. Do it some more, but be gentle." So he licked and sucked and licked and nipped, and I squirmed and arched and gasped and finally with my legs up on his shoulders, I came. I mean I really came, gushing all over him and shaking like I had the flu or something. I'm sure I yelled, but he kept right on licking and sucking, and I came again, twisting away from his face and falling to the ground, clawing at the weeds and gasping for breath, my pussy convulsing, humping the ground. "Get dressed," he yelled, standing up and wiping his mouth with his hands. "I hear the truck coming up the hill." I yanked on my panties and pulled up my jeans despite my knees feeling like they were made of jelly while my brother trotted up the house. I was really confused. My dorky brother had given me the best climax I'd ever had, absolutely the very best and the second best too. It was weird, impossible, strange, geeky. Oh swell, I couldn't get the picture of his big thing out of my mind; I kept seeing flashlights, big, heavy ones with mushroom heads. Obviously, I wanted some more. Talk about unbelievable. Anyhow we ate supper and then sat outside and counted stars and swatted bugs until it was really dark and then we went to bed. My mother and me in the front room on these old army cots and my uncle and brother in the other. Stanley liked sleeping up in the loft in an old, quilted Boy Scout bag. Uncle Dave snored. I lay there looking up at the timbers and thinking about my brother's thing and fingering myself. It was, I finally decided, just weird, but somehow I was going to get that big, hard prong in me. He was going to pop my cherry, the dork. Talk about weird. The next morning Uncle Dave and my mother went puttering out in his aluminum bass boat that has an electric motor, and my brother and I sat on the chairs and watched them go, both of us just thinking our thoughts I guess, horny thoughts. As soon as they were out of sight, I went rummaging through Mom's bag and found a package of condoms that I knew she usually carried. They were Dad's lubricated ultra-thins. But in Uncle Dave's big leather bag, there was an open box of a dozen Trojan Magnums with a couple missing. I took one out, saw it was called a Twister, and went back outside. Briefly I wondered if he had been using them on Mom. "Know what this is?" I said, handing Stanley the condom. He nodded and blinked. I licked my lips. "If you use that, we can have sex, I mean safe sex." "Honest?" he said, holding the little square as if it were going to explode. I nodded. "The package says they're eight inches long." "Let's go inside," he said, standing up and offering me his hand. So we went inside, hand in hand and right to my canvas cot. "You think it will hold both of us?" he asked, looking worried. I was nervous and was glad he was too. "It holds Uncle Dave doesn't it," I said as I pulled my t-shirt over my head, and he gawked at me. "Oh geeze," he said, "they're beautiful, just, just beautiful," and he pulled his shirt off and started getting out of his shorts. Pretty soon we were both naked and standing there facing each other, just looking at each other, real nervous; at least I was. He reached out and held my hand. I knew what he was seeing, mainly my tits, but I sure was surprised to see that my brother actually had some chest muscles and a hard belly and a gigantic cock that was not just sticking straight out but rearing up at about a forty-five degree angle, its shaft slightly curved and its helmeted head pointing right at my nose. He had some curly hair down there too. My heart skipped several beats. I could see his ribs too, of course, and his little nipples. They looked as excited as mine. "Can you put it on?" he asked handing me the shiny square of foil. His hand shook some. I nodded. I sure didn't want to tell him I had never done it. I tore open the package with my teeth and took out the limp circle of latex, bit my lower lip, grabbed his hot shaft and eased the rubber thingie onto the fat head of his rearing cock. He groaned. "It's going to spurt. I can feel it coming." He grabbed his big stalk with both hands and ran for the cabin door, bumping into things. I followed, the unstretched rubber in my fingers. He leaned against the door jamb, let go and ejaculated three thick ribbons of cum while he sort of whimpered. They arched out, maybe three or four feet, heavy ivory snakes, and then splatted into the dirt, and Stanley sobbed and shook his prick up and down. "Damn, damn, damn," he said, turning toward me. "How long's it take you to get it back up," I asked, feeling sorry for him. He was at least as eager as I was and now his big thing was flopping limply over his swollen scrotum, a fat noodle. He shook it. It was dead. "I don't know, half an hour," he said, shaking it again. It was still pretty fat and maybe a half-foot long. "Bet I can help," I said, kneeling right there in the doorway and slurping in his soft member. I mean, I felt I had some expertise in that department so I got to work and pretty soon, maybe three or four minutes, with my hands on his legs, I could feel it swelling as he moved it in and out of my sucking lips. I raked with my teeth, gently of course, and paid special attention to his fat glans and the ridge around it, taking him as deep as I could without swallowing the gross thing while I kneaded his swollen balls. He was leaning back in the doorway, eyes closed, hand on my head, a smile on his lips, and moaning softly as he got harder and harder, longer and longer with his other hand along with mine on his throbbing scrotum that was the size and shape of a baseball. I could feel his pulse in it, and it was pretty fast. I stroked his long shaft, squeezed his testicles, and he snorted and pulled free with a sucking pop, like pulling a cork out of a wine bottle. I wiped my mouth and we moved back to my cot with this stiff thing bouncing around in front of us. He sat with his rod sticking up, and I carefully rolled the big latex tube all the way down his shaft and then stroked it some, feeling the small ribs circling the thing and making sure it fit tight. It had like screw threads toward the top and just round and round rows of ridges at the base. There was a little bulb that stuck up on the head of my brother's big penis, but I guess it was supposed to and it fit tightly down near his hair. He really looked good with that glistening thing on his big dick, like something out of a monster movie, and he smiled at me as I got down on the cot and spread my legs, my toes touching the floor and my tits standing up proudly. I took a deep breath and scrunched my mouth closed. Stanley smiled down at me and licked his lips. "You ready?" I shivered and nodded, looking up at the huge club he was going to stick in me and starting to feel that I had made a mistake, a big mistake. It was, I was sure, impossible. It was not going to happen. And if it did, it was going to hurt, really hurt. Oh swell! I almost chickened out. My brother got on his knees between my legs and then leaned down over me, supported himself on one hand on the side of the cot and then tried to push the head of his penis into me with the other. "It won't go in," he gasped after three or four attempts, having butted me everywhere but the right place. I was about to call him a name, but bit my lip instead. "Let me," I said, just like I knew what I was doing. I spread my thighs wider, grasped his big, hard, latex- covered prick between thumb and forefinger and brought its bulbous head right to my quivering little vaginal opening where the inner lips were more than ready, tingling and wiggling, warm and wet. "Push," I said after kind of screwing it into the stretched labia, spreading myself open. I could feel the head poking at me, like a ping-pong ball or something. I stopped thinking altogether. Pressure, that's what I felt, and then OMG. He pushed and in it popped as I relaxed all those muscles I had worked on training. I think I said, "Ew," or, "Ah," or maybe, "Oh." It was more surprise than hurt. He was in me, my dorky brother was in me, fucking me. I was ruined and it felt great. "Ahhh," he cried loudly, arching his back. "That's wonderful. You're so tight, holding me so hard, squeezing. It's quivering or something. Rolling over me. Oh, oh, oh God!." He closed his eyes and shivered above me, maybe two inches in. I looked down and there was an awful lot of his thing that was not in me. I felt dumb. My body was on fire or something, my pussy sucking on my brother's big schlong. It would never fit, of that I was sure. "Push some more," I said as I reached to grasp his buttocks and he moved his hands up by my ears and shoved in maybe another inch, tensing his belly muscles that I didn't know he even had. My poor little pussy was kneading it like it was trying to smash the thing, trying to expel the invader I guess. His cock was pulsing and throbbing and probing, always moving inward. Up and down, side to side, in and back. I felt things inside me pulling apart, stretching and popping loose. I had to remind myself to breathe. I was, I must admit it, scared. It hurt, having that big head in me, and I closed my eyes and then wrapped my legs around my brother's ass, took a deep breath and deflowered myself with his big, blood-hot ram, pulling him to me. I squealed as all the way in it went, slick as anything, until his belly hair was scratching at me and our bones were rubbing. I don't know what happened to my hymen. It was gone in an instant. I was not a virgin any more and neither was he. My skinny brother let himself down on my body, enjoying, I was sure, the feel of my big jugs mashed into his bony chest. His hips and mine got moving gently together like we were some sort of sex machine, the parts of which were made to work that way, well greased, just in and out, in and out maybe two or three inches, very mechanical, very pleasant, rocking and rolling just a bit from side to side on the creaking cot. It felt wonderful, exciting and scary to have him deep inside me as long as I didn't think about what was going on, about who was doing what. I could feel the big head and the little ribs that made the big condom a twister moving in and out and tried to adjust my bottom on the canvas to get more comfortable, arching up my pelvis and taking him still deeper, digging my fingers into his back. And I know I made some odd noises but I didn't scream or cry. I moved my legs high on his back, and he pushed up with his skinny arms and started doing push-up in me, exhaling with each deep insertion. Swell, push ups, over and over, in and then in again. I was surprised he could do one, and he must have done twenty before I gasped and then gurgled with pleasure. The little bed squeaked in time with our efforts, the legs bounced on and off the floor, and we both were moaning and sobbing I guess. I know I was. He dripped sweat on me and I smiled up at him and urged him on, "More! Harder! Do it." I slapped his ass, loudly, with both hands. He surged. "Are you getting close?" he gasped out as he rose above me, backing out until only the head of his big, stiff thing was still held by my fluttering inner lips as he pulled back before ramming again. He had already penetrated a hundred times I'm sure, slow and steady, like I said, mechanical, like one of those small oil rigs you see on TV. Just in and in and in, a battering ram. My belly felt like a pan of mashed potatoes. "Uh huh," I said, nodding and licking my suddenly dry lips, "Move up some so your thing rubs my, ah there, yes, right there. Do it hard." My body was on fire or something, both hot and chilled, shivering and shaking. I knew about my clit of course and I had read about G- spots, and I think he hit both at the same time, and then rubbed them over and over. And over and over. I'm sure I squealed and arched and beat on him with my fists. I had an orgasm, that's what I had, a humdinger as Uncle Dave might have said. Somewhere in there, probably about then, I stopped think of him as Stanley, as my brother, and thought of him only as a cock, as a pleasure stick, and a pussy pleaser, as a girl ram. He was a cocksman and we were doing it to each other, this big, hot, iron prick and me, doing it and doing it. And for the first time, I guess, he really started fucking me, banging into me as hard and fast as he could, his eyes closed and teeth clenched, and I gasped and squealed when I came as he bounced me off the taut canvas, and we fell to the floor with him under me, knocking the air out of both of us as I cried and kicked, feeling stabbed, speared, impaled or something. Part of me wanted him to stop, but most of me wanted him to never stop. When the shaking ended and got my breath, I pushed down on his hairless chest, tossed back my hair and sat up on his belly, his stiff horn still poked well up into me like a flagpole or something. "You OK?" I asked, squeezing and relaxing, using Kegel stuff for the first time, massaging his horn with my pussy muscles, rippling up and down. It was so big I thought I could taste it. I could feel his fat ballsack pressing on me. "Yep," he said, grinning, "do that again." He stroked my thighs. I rippled him hard, and he sighed deeply and managed to thrust upward, lifting his bottom from the floor. I wiggled to get comfortable in the saddle, my knees into his ribs and started doing him like he had been doing me but every time I went down on his horn, I squeezed and when I moved up relaxed some. He closed his eyes and smiled, both hands holding my boobs, squeezing my little nipples out between his fingers, trying to pull them down, licking them when he could. I could hear me slapping us together when I landed on him, and his big pole was jerking around inside me, still ripping me apart, probing and punching, merciless, thrilling. "Oh, oh, oh," Stanley sobbed, "I can feel it coming. It's like lava or something, moving. Go faster, faster." And he exploded in me, shuddering and gasping, his back arched under me and his thick spear spurting hard and then spurting again and then again before he sobbed and collapsed, still clawing at the floor. His cock flexed and jumped again as I squeezed on it. I eased down and hugged him, feeling his big pole quivering within me, throbbing and jerking, softening. "You done?" I whispered, my well-satisfied pussy rippling and fluttering deeply, feeling like I had a bird trapped inside me. His thing was softening. I rubbed my nipples across his chest and he sighed. He nodded and made a sound, sort of a groan. His spear was not hard any more but it was still long and fat and in me. I rolled off and lay beside him on the floor and his soggy penis flopped down on his lean belly, all red and gooey after I stripped off the big rubber which was full of his spew. It felt heavy as well as sticky. "Let's go for a swim," he said, rolling over and getting to his feet. "I need to cool this thing off. It's really sore." It just hung there, dripping, a limp noodle. We trotted down to the lake, naked. I still had the soggy condom in my hand when we jumped in the cold water. I was going to throw it away, but he suggested turning it inside out so he could use it again. I just smiled at him since that was just what my body wanted, another fierce fucking. I felt really vulgar or something as we got out of the water, eager for more, my pussy pulsing. He took me from behind up on the lawn between the chairs, the inside-out rubber on his big prong, his hands on my breasts as he bent over me, and we again moved together toward our goal, back and forth, toward our climax, both of us grunting like pigs, our slick bodies smacking together, both of us on our knees although I think he sometimes got up on his toes. I'm sure he got even deeper that way, hurting me before he thrilled me. We shook and shuddered when he came, jerking and thrusting deeply, yanking on my tits and then when he fell on his back, pulling free of me, I stripped off the long, limp condom and sucked him clean, squeezing his balls. Obviously, my brain had stopped working. We lay together on the hillside, nose to nose, feeling each others heart beat, and before either of us knew it, his big horn was back in my little cunny and our hips were pounding at each other. "Don't come, don't come," I begged as we banged together face to face. Somehow, he touched some new places that were exciting, thrilling, and I guess I screamed some and bucked on his hot horn while he grabbed my buttocks with both hands and drove up and in, deeper and deeper, harder and harder. "Won't," he managed to gasp as he rolled me to my back, grabbed my legs and pushed my knees back toward my ears. The sound of our flesh slapping together drowned out the birds, but pretty soon we did hear the buzz of the electric outboard and pulled apart, got our clothes on and sat on the lawn chairs, gasping for breath, not looking at each other, trying to slow our breathing. I felt sunburned inside, sore and satisfied. Stanley couldn't stop grinning. I slept really well that night and the next day, after Uncle Dave and Mom went off antiquing in the truck, I got a real surprise. There was my dumb brother with a goofy smile on his face and three Trojan Magnums in his hand. "Uncle Dave gave `em to me," he said. "Told me that you really looked freshly fucked when they got back." He smiled. "He said to have fun." END ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author does not condone the described behavior in real life. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 59