Jeanne Franks' eyes scurried to see if anyone was close enough to hear. I'd seen that conspiratorial look before. What was she up to?
"I know you and Jeff Morrison had sex in that bus, last winter," my sometimes friend
said, so close to my head her voice made my eardrum itch. "No way that you couldn't. Come clean, how was it?"
Another bullshit question, and I'm so tired of having to come up with answers about that stupid bus wreck. Girls especially wanted to know everything. They were relentless, and I had exhausted all my sparkling words of how Jeff Morrison looked up close, what he said, and blah, blah, blah . . . it was becoming surreal. Like someone else had been there, and I was just reading lines in a very old school play.
Jeanne is in many opinions the school whore. It was said she'd fuck anything. Take her to dinner and you were rewarded with a blow job. All I know is that she has been seen with a lot of
boys, and that could mean nothing. Some of those same boys had the habit, at least in my high
school to spread rumors if they couldn't spread some girl's legs.
Like I said, I was fried, and said, "Fuckin' fantastic," just to be rid of her.
"Really? Oh, my, God. How was he?"
"Didn't I just say?"
"No, I mean how big is he?"
Without thinking I held my hands like an ad for a Foot Long Sub.
Jeanne's large mouth fell open. "You've got to be kidding."
"Yes," I answered.
Jeanne had already run off to blab to her other friends, and missed it.
So stupid. How was I going to answer the flurry of questions over this? And how many indecent proposals were coming Jeff's way because of my retort?
Having told the harrowing story so many times of how we had been trapped, I almost wished it would have been someone else in that bus instead of me. I always left out parts with sex as I didn't want Jeff in trouble with school authorities. They had a zero-tolerance policy about anyone who worked for the school system fraternizing with students. And, after all, I am the one who pushed it.
Enrolling at the local junior college before highschool graduation, was the best thing I could have done. To save my parent's money, I still lived at home, but between college and night work at the local restaurant to help with expenses, time was squat to spend with anything extra-curricular, including Jeff Morrison.
Closing my eyes for a few seconds brought instant relief to tired, smoke entrenched iris'. The buzz of June bug's on the screen door at the back of the restaurant, made me think of the bulldozers working the street next to Jeff's home. When I opened my eyes, the bug-pair was in the process of copulation. Shit, they do it right in front of everyone, and I'm nineteen, plenty old enough to have sex. Why should we have to keep it secret? Everyone knew anyway, even my
parents. How could they not? And, unlike them, it's down to one night a week for us. Even the lard-ass cook knew how horny I was.
"Jump yer bones right here in da restaurant, if ya want." He'd said only the day before yesterday, and I'd even given it a passing thought. Shaking my head at the inconsistences of my life, I wasn't about to allow some dumb-ass flip-flop cook take my cherry. Not that he wouldn't be willing, but to have fart face even between my legs sucking my juices, wasn't appealing, and I so much enjoyed oral sex. I'll revert to using my own fingers until tomorrow night.
In bed, I'd fallen asleep almost immediately, awoke in the early hours of morning to the
'rump, rump' through the wall behind my head. They were at it again. Pulling the pillow over my head, I held it tight to both ears, but it didn't drown out the fucking sound, or the pictures in my head of mom and dad screwing just inches away. In exasperation, the pillow went flying, struck the far wall with a feathered plop. If I had to listen, might as well join in.
My fingers played along the soft spot between my long legs, envisioning Jeff's stiffness there. My other hand scoured both breasts, bringing the nipples to ridge points. Stretching a nipple to it's fullest and rolling it between my finger and thumb raised a sex enhanced growl. Rubbing harder, I found the jump button. The little-man-in-my boat suddenly had hooked something, and warmth cascaded through my entire body.
Straining to hear mom over my own moans, her voice built in pitch and strength. She was close. I hurried, imagining that I lay beside her, dad and Jeff together in motion, their ass' pumping side by side. My fingers moved rapidly across the now swollen penis like clit in jack-hammer precision. The entire length of my over-stimulated pussy seemed about to ready to crack. My breath caught. There it was, mother and daughter in complete sync, both heart's pounding, peaked, then surges of pleasure as we exhausted themselves.
Was it good for you mom, as it was for me?
I awoke the next morning refreshed. Jumped happily out of bed at the alarms first ring, clamped the button down with my pointing finger and padded for the shower. The much anticipated Friday was here. After college classes would be filled with the sounds of abundant sex in Jeff's little house on Belmont Street. Right now my sex drive was in high mode just thinking about our liaison, and this was the perfect place for uninterrupted self-exploration and gratification.
Hot, stinging water is very pleasant any time, but in the early mornings, wakes me fully, and as soon as it was the correct temperature, I stepped inside. Some enjoy the warmth of water all around them, but I prefer a pelting shower. There is much one can accomplish in a shower that can't be done comfortably in a tub, and there's seats in here.
Soap is an important part of every woman's ritual, and with the many fruit and flower scents, there is choice. I do use bar soap on occasion, but the soft liquid kind is best. The plastic squeeze bottles are so easy to use. At the moment, some squished onto my hand, and a strawberry scent wafted through the shower. I flashed it over my tits with my back to the spray so I wouldn't loose any, bent down, put the plastic bottle on one of the seats. My tits now showed their propensity to adhere to the force of gravity, and both felt extremely full and good in my hands. I envisioned Jeff standing naked before me, his well lubricated fingers mirroring my every action.
Closing my eyes, Jeff's invisible fingers kneaded the twin pillows of flesh, and I gasped as they rubbed and pulled the nipples through slippery fingers. I thought of his hard dick brushing
my tongue doing what he liked, his other hand flicking my clit, making it grow and groan with delight.
I turned, allowed the hot water to strike my breasts. The soapy water made bubbly runs of white on my legs, but I envisioned that stream as something from Jeff. The plastic soap bottle caught my eye. Unscrewing the top, a thought of the physics class about suction came whipping back. That had been a fun class, with many girly whispers about a certain type of suction.
"Get your minds back to the project, girls," Ms. Fremont, our physics teacher had said of the undertone.
That brought more giggles and some outright laughter, sure that Ms Fremont wasn't smart enough to know what we were about.
Off came the screw top, and squeezing the bottle to force out most of the air, and placing the entrance to the bottle over one nipple and tight to my breast, I released the pressure.
The nipple sucked into the bottle. I stood a few moments squeezing and releasing. It wasn't the same as a man, but somewhat gratifying, until the thin rim around the opening cut into my skin. Releasing the bottle it hung from the nipple like an elongated mouth. Bouncing up and down was more enjoyable, flexing the nipple like soft rubber, and wondered if one on my other breast would give twice the pleasure.
Damn . . . I'm oversexed. All I think about lately.
The bottle make a little sucking pop as it was removed.
With hands no longer slippery, they squeaked along my skin like on a clean lacquered surface. A little mental warmth ran through me as I grabbed the shower nozzle off the hook. My fingers twisted the dial on the head to hard, turned it on my tits, the needle like spray forming dents in the flesh, pelting the nipples, and another wave ran through me, almost numbing in intensity. The water jets as if on their own, wormed their way to the hairy patch above my throbbing pussy. A torrent of hot water ran down the folds Jeff thought of as his personal Taco.
Spreading my legs further the hot stream rushed over the more tenderer area. Whoa blistering.
I jumped, and my legs slammed together.
As the area became used to the storm of hot water, my legs reopened, and I tried again.
Ahhh, much better.
A tingle ran upward from my nether regions, and playing the spritz of water on and off built a certain tension. It was time.
Hanging the showerhead on its post, I grabbed the lotion, yanked open the flip top, squirted some onto my pubic area. Working the pink liquid into and over the thick bush, my fingers contacted the greatest pleasure point. The cool lotion was poured between my ass cheeks, and a middle finger wiggled inside the tight puckered spot. With a finger working my clit and one in my ass, cuming was inevitable, and with a great rush and sigh.
The day in college went slowly, thoughts other than learning popped into my mind. Actually my favorite subject beckoned. Every thought of Jeff made me twinge with anticipation, then I was vaguely aware of some interruption from outside.
