We were lying on the living room floor, ignoring the late movie on TV, necking. Our tongues were sparring and my hand was up under her sweater, holding one of the plump round breasts she herself had liberated when I had had a bit of trouble with the bra catch. The breast felt so cool and smooth and unexpectedly weighty in my hand that I wanted to see it; I pushed up her sweater to look and was not disappointed. It was beautiful, a big scoop of the smoothest, silkiest ice cream, round and creamy white and topped with a juicy maraschino nipple. I lifted it to my lips, kissed its underside and top, ringed the nipple 'round with the pointed tip of my tongue.
She liked what I was doing and reciprocated by touching me through my pants, stroking the shape of my sixteen year old, everhard cock. I kissed her other breast and tried to take her sweater off, but she wouldn't let me.
I slid upwards to kiss her mouth again. I lifted her skirt, stroked between her legs over her panties. I felt her dampen there, and the dampness soon molded the thin cotton to her so that I could feel her shape; and when I realized that, realized what it was that my fingers were feeling, I got even more excited. I think I had a temperature. I tried to slide her panties off but she wiggled away. I was discouraged but only for a moment, for she was only rearranging us: she pulled me on top of her and wrapped her legs around my hips and fitted her crotch under my clothed cock and pushed up against me. Together we simulated fucking. Maybe I was disappointed that we were not really fucking, but I was a virgin who hadn't even done this very often. What we were doing was plenty thrilling.
I was visiting my cousin in Norfolk, Virginia, at Christmastime. He fixed me up with her. Her name was Nancy, and she probably would never look as good again. In that respect she was just like Carol, my girlfriend back home: curvaceous in an adorable fifteen year old way, with plump round breasts and a plump round rear. When Nancy and Carol grew up both would probably fight a never-ending battle with the scale, but at the time, who cared?
Knowing that Nancy's parents were away — they were in Washington, D.C. for the weekend, leaving Nancy and her older sister alone — emboldened me. Though Nancy was passionate and permissive, she wouldn't let me remove any clothing. I soon found out why: she was expecting her sister to come home at about this time. And when we heard the sound of a key in a lock, we were able in a flash to sit up, pull down Nancy's sweater and skirt, lean our backs against the sofa, and look innocently at the TV.
Nancy's sister was a college girl with the cool look of a model, prettier and slimmer than Nancy but not nearly so cute. Boyfriend was good-looking, too, like a Hollywood-cast college quarterback. The indifference with which Nancy introduced them to me gave me the idea that Nancy and her sister didn't get along that well. I waved, afraid to get up lest they see the bulge and possible wet spot at my crotch. They weren't hurt by Nancy's brusqueness; they were, they said, going to make themselves something to eat and then study together. As they disappeared into the kitchen the boyfriend winked at me. I had no idea what he meant.
While they were in the kitchen, Nancy and I concentrated on the movie we were watching on TV, a dumb comedy. After about five minutes Sis and Boyfriend reappeared with tunafish sandwiches, crossed the living room to the study, closed the door behind them.
"Want to see something?" Nancy asked me a minute or two later. I said sure. She put a finger to her lips to tell me to be quiet, then took my hand and led me into and through the kitchen onto a sun porch that ran the length of the house. Moving stealthily, Nancy knelt on a couch under a window and made room for me to kneel beside her. The drapes behind the window were drawn but the ends didn't quite meet; if you looked in at a certain angle, you could see into the room, which was the study.
"Oh, boy," Nancy said, "something new." Then she tilted sideways so I could see from the same angle. "Where'd she learn to do this?" she asked rhetorically.
I didn't know where she had learned it, but Nancy's sister was down on her knees, sucking her boyfriend's cock. The boyfriend was leaning back, his ass resting against the edge of the desk, his pants and underpants down around his ankles. It was a sight I'd never seen before, but I thought it looked great, the big cock, stiff and shiny with spit, sliding through the girl's fist and between her lips into and out of her mouth.
Nancy wanted to see. She pushed me aside and looked. It was impossible for us to be side by side and watch together, and Nancy rearranged us so that I knelt with my knees straddling one of hers. I was now as much behind as beside her, looking over her shoulder into the room.
We saw the boy take Nancy's sister's head in his hands as she continued to suck his cock. His own head kept rolling back, his eyes closing as he lost himself in what obviously were some pretty intense feelings, but now and then he'd make himself open his eyes to look down and enjoy the sight.
In the kneeling position Nancy and I were in, I was able to encircle Nancy with my arm and put my hand up under her sweater and take hold of her stillnaked breast. When she didn't object — indeed, she seemed to squiggle a bit to make a better fit — I used my other hand to lift Nancy's skirt and return my fingers to her crotch.
As we continued to watch the blowjob, I slipped my fingers under the legband of Nancy's panties, found find her slit and stroked it, then slid one finger between her moist lips and pushed into the warm wet inside. I squeezed and I diddled and watched, and as though all that weren't exciting enough, Nancy reached back and found my fly and unzipped, took hold of my cock and maneuvered it out, stroked it as I fingered her. Thank God, the zipper nicked my prick. I say thank God because if it hadn't been for the momentary pain, I would have come then and there. Instead we paused while I undid my belt buckle and pants. While I was rearranging, Nancy put her hand under her crotch, and when she recaptured my cock she held it between her thighs and stroked it, occasionally letting the swollen head touch the hair and damp flesh of her grotto door.
This was, I should mention, as close as my cock had ever come to an actual living cunt. Even so, I do not remember thinking that I was well situated to plunge my virgin cock in. I do not think I had any thoughts related to the possibility of fucking. I doubt I was thinking at all. I was enraptured, yes, but the visual was the stimulus at the moment; what Nancy and I were doing was a response to what we were seeing together.
In the study the boyfriend opened his eyes and released Nancy's sister's head, took her by the shoulders and lifted her to her feet. He stepped out of the puddle of his trousers and undershorts and they kissed. Within the kiss he tried to undress her, but she did most of the undressing herself. When she was naked he turned her around so her back was to him, and as he stripped off his own shirt she bent over and rested her weight on her elbows on the desk. For a second or two she presented a beautiful sight, her face turned, looking back over her shoulder at the boy, her small tits pointing down, her legs apart and her ass up high, higher than any other part of her body, round and white in presentation. Unfortunately, the vision was shortlived, for as soon as she was positioned the boyfriend moved directly behind her, almost totally blocking our view of her. Nevertheless we could see what he was doing as he took hold of his cock, slipped it under her upturned ass and into her cunt and fucked her.
On his first stroke home Nancy sighed, as if relieved that penetration had been accomplished.
"Know what they're doing?" she asked me in a whisper.
"Yeah," I said.
.... There is more of this story ...