Chapter 9: Throw Back the Little Ones

Two days later, I was back on the couch with Pauline. I had encouraged her to think about me when she brought herself off, and promised to think about her when I did.

And I had. Sort of. My self-pleasuring the night after our first meeting had started with recall of our mutual excitement roleplaying teenagers on Pauline’s couch. But as I stroked myself and my excitement mounted, it had been Leslie that I had been remembering and fantasising about, and when I had finally cum, it had been my memories of the warmth and slickness of Leslie that had taken me to my peak.

Pauline was again expensively dressed in a silk blouse and skirt. The modesty signalled by her long sleeves and high buttoned neck was contradicted by the little bumps of her nipples that made it obvious she was braless and excited. Her skirt came to mid calf, and her skinny legs were bare. I wondered idly what she was wearing under the skirt, and decided to get things moving.

We sat quite close together, and I reached out to take her hand. “Did you bring yourself off? She lit up.

“Three times the night we were together, and twice last night!”

“Did you think of me?” She reddened slightly. “What was I doing?”

“You were down between my knees, looking at my Coochie”

“Just looking?”

“Yes. It made me so hot. And wet!”

“Even just thinking about that makes me really hard”

“I can see you pushing out your pants.” Pauline reached out to touch my length, but she was quite tentative, and I made a snap decision and held both her hands.

“No touching until we have talked enough to make us both sure we are ready for that. Besides – I’m nearly cumming in my pants from just imagining you getting off while thinking about me looking at you.”

“OK. No touching yet. But can we at least look? After we have talked some more? I’d love to see you cum.” Her eyes sparkled and her grin was genuine.

“Sure. So you fantasised you were sitting? Lying with your legs apart?” She nodded.

“I was half off the couch. You were kneeling on the floor with your face between my knees. You were looking – “Pauline trailed off. I pushed a bit.

“Looking at what?” She blushed and looked uncertain for a moment so I pushed a bit more. “Say it!”

“Looking at my cunt.” It came out as a whisper. I kept pushing.

“Say it again”. Say it loud!”

“You were looking at my cunt.” Pauline pulled one hand out of my grip and began to touch herself through her skirt, so I kept going.

“Tell Sister Louise.” She gave a half gasp and for a second I thought I had gone too far or too fast, but she picked up the suggestion and ran with it, beginning to press her hand against her groin with mounting urgency.

“This is my cunt.” Pauline took a big breath and hurried on, “A little cunt. A tight wet slippery little cunt” Her voice rose in pitch and volume as she confronted the ghosts in her head. “I want boys to look at my cunt. I want boys to smell me and lick me and finger me!” She started to pant, and let go my other hand to pinch one nipple as she increased the tempo of her stroking her groin. “I want them to fuck me, to stretch my tight little cunt with their big fat cocks!”

I sat beside her on the couch, with a throbbing monster in my pants. I could hear myself panting and it took all my available will power not to grab Pauline and give her what she was saying she wanted, or grab myself and relieve the pressure. But I sussed there was more, so I pushed again. “But spunk makes you pregnant.”

Pauline deflated like a torn balloon. Her skinny body seemed to collapse in on itself, she abandoned her nipple and groin and clasped her hands on her lap in front of herself. Little Red Riding Hood was replaced by the hag, and Pauline was once again verging on ugly. She turned towards me and as we made full eye contact, she seemed once again on the verge of tears.

“Not with me. I never had a child, although I tried with my first husband.” She sniffled a bit, and as befitted a well brought up lad, I fished for a handkerchief, but Pauline hadn’t finished with the nuns at St Mary’s. She turned away from me and addressed the bookcase where she had evidently located the phantom Sister Louise. She clearly had more to say.

“I want to fuck boys. I want their sperm inside me. I want them to plant a baby in my flat little belly and make it swell.” Pauline was clearly winding herself up. She was almost shouting, her face was red, and she was starting to shake a little. I waited.

“You go on and on about sex outside bloody marriage. You try to scare us shitless about getting pregnant if we even think about holding hands. You rave on about the gift of life and sacred motherhood. And it’s all Bullshit!”

Pauline turned back to me and flung herself into my arms. She laid her head against my chest and began to weep silently. I stroked her hair and made sympathetic and soothing sounds, and after a few minutes the energy between us subtly changed. I found myself starting to turn on again. Pauline obviously felt it too.

“Can we look at each other? When I was getting myself off, I was imagining you looking at me, but part of the buzz was imagining I was finally going to see a real cock”

“You show me yours and I’ll show you mine!”

“Alright – but I’m still not ready for touching each other. We can each make ourselves cum. I really want to see your spunk. Take off your pants”

I followed Pauline’s instructions with some haste and a teeny bit of nervousness. I am well equipped, but the “first big reveal” causes most men just a touch of anxiety.

I need not have worried. As my briefs and chinos dropped around my ankles and my cock sprang free at full mast Pauline gave a little gasp and lay back on the couch. I knelt on the floor inching closer as she spread her knees and lifted her skirt to bunch around her waist. She was naked beneath it.

Pauline did indeed have a little cunt. Her pubes were very sparse. She didn’t shave, but there was no obvious hair on her very thin labia, which were closed. No camel toe, no protruding inner lips or clit, just a somewhat irregular slit. But she was wet. There were beads of moisture coating her lips, and I could faintly smell her arousal.

“Touch yourself.” Her right hand snaked down to her groin and her left went to the nipples poking to tent her blouse. Pauline pressed the flat of her hand against her vulva, and began to press and rub rhythmically. She twisted and pulled at her nipples.

“Open yourself. I want to see!”. She gave her nipple a last tweak, and used the first fingers and thumbs of each hand to grasp and separate her labia. And there she was. Even with her labia spread, her clit wasn’t prominent, and she had no inner lips to speak of, but she was wet, and smelled delicious. I forgot myself again. I moved my face to within a handspan of her crotch and blew a strong puff of air onto her vulva.