This week, I'm still not sure who or how, I'm going to get number nine and be ahead of my stinky brother. He's got eight red dots on his dashboard, symbols of the eight virgins he's deflowered, although I suspect some of them were really sluts that lied about it. It doesn't matter.
I just got my eighth boy, one of the best, and I'm still a bit sore, my labia glowing with A&D ointment, but either Joe James or Michael Nulley is going to do what I demand and give me his cherry. I've already got both of them primed and they both have sizeable cocks, which is what I want and need. One will be nine and the other number ten. And I'm three years younger than my stuck-up brother and hibig cock.
I typed number eight's info into my data base, estimated him at 7.5 which might be a slight exaggeration, and leaned back and smiled. I had been babysitting last night, Friday, two cooperative little kids, an easy twenty bucks, when this tall boy came in the back door wearing a gray uniform, their older brother. I didn't know they had one.
So he saw me and stopped and blinked. That was when I knew I had him, right then, nailed. I know what I look like and how men look when they see me. He was nearly pretty he was so handsome, tall and lean with a close-cropped haircut.
We said hi to each other and I told him his folks had gone to dinner and a movie. He said his name was George and he went to a military school on the edge of town, out in the sticks, stayed there all week. "I just got promoted," he said proudly, "first sergeant. And we're free this weekend, until Monday morning."
I hugged him and kissed him hard and leaned back in his grip, our bellies mashed together, and said, "Congratulations." I could feel his cock hardening.
Well I'm, let's admit it right now, pretty exiting to look at, jailbait my daddy calls it. I wriggled and he took his hands away, mouth hanging open. He let me go, blushed and said he was going to go take a bath and go to bed.
"Need any help?" I asked.
He ran up the stairs.
I straightened up the mess I'd made with the kids, waited a few minutes and when I heard the water stop running, quietly went up the stairs and waited in the hall, feeling my belly quivering, my pussy leaking, hot and quivering, ready for action. In a minute he came out naked, rubbing his hair with a big towel, and I squealed.
He turned toward me and dropped the towel. Obviously, he had been playing with it. And it was a beauty sticking straight out from his well-muscled body, prime, at least a half-foot of rigid boy member, just what I needed.
In the last year and a half I've become something of a connoisseur of cocks, and most times I can judge length and girth with just a glance and usually estimate endurance as well when I see them jump or wag about. I just the love the up-curved ones but the straight-out horns were OK too as long as they are skin-stretchers. I really can't tell you how many I've handled.
George's was kind of thin but it was nicely curved and pointed upward, and I smiled and licked my lips, planning on at least three sweaty couplings, one with me on top. I sure hoped he was cherry. He looked it, shocked and embarrassed.
I walked across the rug in the dark hall, rolling my hips and tensing my chest muscles as he reached down to pick up his towel and hold it to his belly.
"You look so good, George, really good," I told him. And he did, thin but well-muscled, a handsome, well-groomed kid who was about to get the thrill of his young life. "I just love your muscles, especially that long, stiff one." I smiled and licked my lips.
He nodded and ducked into his room and closed the door.
I laughed and followed, then leaned back against the closed door and stripped off my clinging polo shirt and dropped it on the floor. He stood there frozen so I stepped right up to him smiling, my boobs jiggling, my big nipples already jutting out and pointed up at him. He made some funny noises in his throat, gulped and swallowed.
"Have you ever done it?" I asked sweetly as I grabbed his towel and tossed it away behind me. I always check. I've humped a couple of dozen guys who were not cherry, but right now it's virgins I want. I just love teaching them and breaking them in and being their first. It's extra exciting, the cherry on top if you don't mind the pun. And it often means I can use them any time I want.
His mouth fell open, and he shook his head; his eyes were riveted to my breasts, but his cock flopped limply. I think he might have been drooling. My tits are worth drooling over, especially when my fat nipples get excited. I lifted one and licked it. He whimpered and backed up. His prick was, I was glad to see, alive, quivering.
I grasped my jugs, squeezed and lifted them up toward him, smiling as I felt my nipples hardening.
"Did you come in the shower, jerk off?" I asked calmly as I stepped toward him, reached out and grasped the head of his trembling penis. It was firm and warm; it filled my palm, and I grinned at him, twisting my fingers around the flange as if I were going to unscrew it.
He shook his head and gulped as I stroked down the hardening shaft to his ex cited balls and then back up a couple of times. I had been right, six or seven inches and decent width, like the handle of an aluminum bat.
"Well you don't want to come too quickly, do you, so let's take care of that." This was a lesson I learned early on. I've had virgin boys ejaculate before they got it all the way into me and cry like babies in my arms as they begged me not to tell on them so I always want my lovers to have come at least once recently, and blow jobs, while they aren't my favorite activity, do the important task of priming those testicles.
Most young men are multi-orgasmic and have short recovery times, but one of my eager virgins rolled over and fell asleep after humping me just once. I kicked him in the balls before I gave up on him and don't even count him in my eight.
.... There is more of this story ...