Chapter 6: Hot Sauce

But first, before Sharon would go out and find herself a real man, with a real cock, she wanted to make sure that she was ready. She knew she was ready, actually, but she wanted to make sure that she would be GOOD. She didn't want to get into bed with the guy and find out that he didn't like her because she didn't know what she was doing. She wanted to make sure that she was on an even keel with him, that he didn't know a hell of a lot more than she did about the real McCoy.

To do so, to inform herself, she made a quick stop at her local, neighborhood adult bookstore. She walked up and down the isles, wearing her shorts and her loose open blouse, looking for the right books, the right pictures which would inform her as to the way that real sex is made. She saw photos of young men sucking out the insides of lovely young girls and she felt her heart skip a beat just from the sight of the stuff. She saw pictures of women with their fingers up their pussies and she knew for sure that they were having just as good a time at it (even though they were in front of a camera) as she had when she was home masturbating. She saw men and women eating each other out and she knew that that was going to be one of the first things she did after she lost her virginity. Wow, she thought to herself, there certainly are a lot of things I'll be able to do once I start fucking my brains out!

She roamed up and down the aisles of the book store. She found for herself a cozy enough corner of the store and sat down, crouched, with a book that caught her attention. She skimmed through it until she found a picture that she especially liked. It was a color photo of a man and a woman embracing. The man had his steely wet sword, so hot that it had turned blue, stuffed up the woman's spread twat lips. The furry wet beaver hairs were coated with a slippery looking ooze. It made Sharon hot just to look at the picture of the two naked people. She was tempted, there in the bookstore, to slide her fingers down between her soft blonde loins and start to work out on her clitoris. It would seem only natural. After all, she was turned on, she had the pictures, why not just go ahead and masturbate herself on the floor of the adult bookstore. "Oh, God," she murmured, because a particularly erotic fantasy had crept into her brain and taken over where her thinking left off.

A group of men, all of whom wore heavy brown overcoats, pulled at her body. One held her arm one way, one held her other arm out to the other side. Two more grabbed at her legs. She was naked, of course, and her big smooth titties went sliding down along her soft flesh as they flattened her out between the racks of dirty books and magazines. They kept her there on the dirty scuffed and sticky wet floor, spread-eagle, until their leader arrived, a ruffian wearing black leather with silver buttons. He had on leather slacks, too, and from outside came the sound of his revving motorbike. "Come on, baby," he said, pulling off his leather jacket, "I ain't got all day." He took off his sunglasses, smoothed back his duck's ass hair cut and climbed down between her smooth spread legs. He filled her twat with his chafing pants and rubbing zipper. He was ready to fuck her juicy twat.

"Oh, God, no," she screamed, really not meaning it. "I want to go home. I don't want you to fuck me. I don't want..." She rolled her hips from left to right and the hood stuffed her cunt. He gave her the whole thing in one big thrust. The bead of his meat pioneered out new spaces. Her sloppy wet beaver folded up and open and closed on his joint. Her clit was upright and rubbing on the meaty spike. "Jesus, God, FUCK NO SHIT PISS, FUCK, FUCK!" She was wailing on his rod. He was sliding in and out of her tube, giving her cave the first-class rubbing it deserved. He was wailing up and down inside her body, rolling on her hips and pelvis, making sure that her pussy was about as hot and lusty as it could be.

Just as quickly as she had passed into the fantasy, Sharon Pettibone came out of it. She caught herself up. She was squatting in the corner of the adult bookstore, eyes glazed, twat leaking mildly as she stared at a picture of two naked people fucking. She couldn't get over how powerful an hypnotic effect the book, the simple picture, had on her body. She wondered if she shouldn't buy the thing and take it home with her so that she could always get into such a good sexual, sensual, hot mood just by looking at it. She went traipsing up and down all the aisles and picked out for herself several different pictures, journals, books and magazines, a veritable arsenal of pornographic erotica made to get her hot and lusty, made to keep her happy on those long and lonely nights when-she was a virgin-there was nothing else to do. Her bill at the adult bookstore register came to no less than thirty-five dollars. But that included a bottle of lubricant and two attachments for her sister Debby's dildo. "Oh, Jesus," she said, marching out of the store with her big brown bag clenched tight in her fist, "this is going to be some weekend!"

At home, in the privacy of her bedroom, Sharon stripped down. She made herself hot and nude, slick and naked, ready and, when she'd been fingering herself for about five or six strokes, very, very horny. She eyed her finger as it went sliding to and from the slit in her bush. "Oh, boy," she moaned, "this is going to be first rate."

She had the house to herself because her parents and her sister were away for the weekend. Her father and mother had taken the two days to visit with relatives in a mountain retreat, and as for Debby, she'd gone with boyfriend off to Catalina and wouldn't be back until Monday morning. "Jesus," moaned Sharon as she continued to warm up in front of the mirror, "I can't believe I'm going to have this whole house to myself for a full seventy hours or more. I'm going to get so raunchy, so fucked-up, so debased that Mom and Dad and Debby won't even recognize me when they get back." She drew a chair up close to the mirror and straddled it with her thighs. She sat backwards on the thing, her legs dangling on the sides. She reached between the slats of the back of the chair in order to get to her gash. Finding her clitoris upright and ready, she took to stroking it. Up and down went her nimble fingers, from side to side and back again. She spared herself nothing. She took her time, too, waving the clit meat up and down, making sure that every little portion of its rubbery wet surface was properly stimulated. "Oh, Jesus," she mumbled to herself, "I'm going to be awfully hot pretty soon. I sure do hope that I remember to do everything according to plan."

According to plan, of course, included some very bizarre auto-erotic methods. For one thing, before she'd trotted off to the adult bookstore, Sharon had prepared a bowl of fresh chocolate pudding. She wanted to be sure and have something nice and sticky to make herself gushy with. She wanted to feel her fingers coated with the thick stuff and rubbing up and down on her twat lips.

Now, as she heated up in front of the mirror, she decided to go and use some of the pudding. She got up from her seat in the bedroom and with her titties bouncing every which way she went to the kitchen and tested out the pudding. It was just the right temperature, and very tasty, too. She spread herself out on the kitchen floor with the bowl of pudding alongside her. She reached in and took a big helping of the stuff and rubbed it into her loins. Then she slowly but surely worked it into her pie. "Oh, God," she said, feeling the oozing hot stuff as it went to work between her twat lips, "that's going to be awfully fucking nice."

She couldn't help but close her eyes, lift her legs, and pretend that there was a man down there between her loins, and she pictured him rubbing his tongue up and down across her twat lips, eating out her pie, her chocolate pudding flesh dish. He rubbed his tongue up and down on her sweet thick labia and he ate up and swallowed the mixture of juice and pudding. "Mmmm, good," he hummed up to the pretty teenager. "I like the taste of your fresh goo, my little darling. It's very, very nice." He licked and gobbled at the chocolate ooze until he'd cleaned her lips of the sticky pussy. Only the bare oily twat lips remained, and they were clean and juicy, ready for tongue rubbing. "I think I'll just keep right on eating you, little darling," said the man between Sharon's legs, his long tongue rolling up and down on her meaty little pie. "You don't mind if I get myself another serving or two of that pussy flesh of yours, do you?"

"I like it when you eat me," she said softly to herself. "I like it a lot. I really do." She rolled her hips up and down in his face. She gave him her spread cunt for his tongue. "Go deep," she ordered him. "Go on in deep..."

He smiled to himself and speared the teenage twat with his long wet tongue. He filled the breach with mouth muscle. His pink oral device went sliding up and down against her long clitoris. The thickened spear of pussy flesh enjoyed the twisting and wrestling that the man was willing to give with his tongue. It was a very long and very horny eat out session for them both.

"Oh, God, Mamma," moaned young Sharon Pettibone, coming to her senses on the kitchen floor. She had spread chocolate goo everywhere, up and down her slick thighs, between her supple loins, across her soft, oily twat lips. There was even some of the pudding inside her vagina, filling her slit. "I better clean up a little before going on to stage two," she whispered to herself.

Sharon picked herself up without leaving behind too much of a mess on the kitchen floor. There were only a couple of puddles, one of clit juice, one of chocolate pudding. She figured that she would take care of that later, after she'd spent herself sexually. For right now there was plenty more self-abuse to attend to.

She made her way into the shower. She still had the bowl of pudding with her. There was a little of the chocolate stuff left in it. She took that and for some reason spread it into her arm pits. She lifted one arm and put the chocolate mess into the hollow beneath her upper arm and alongside her rib cage, and, enjoying the feeling, decided to do the same for the other arm pit. After all, she reasoned, she was in the shower, and she could always wash it all off.

But no sooner had she applied the goo when the phone began to ring. She didn't know what to do, to stand there and wait for it to stop ringing, to wipe off the chocolate on her arm pits and her rib cage, or what. Finally, a bit frantic, goo dripping from her pits and her rib cage, she rushed into the bedroom, her parents room where the closest phone extension was, and answered the ringing.

It was Davey, a young friend of hers, a nice boy from school who she had on occasion imagined herself fucking. "Gee, Davey," she began, thinking that she might tell him to call back, but she couldn't finish her sentence. He was excited about something, and he just had to tell her about it right then. She let him go on. But to make the conversation enjoyable for herself, she spread out her parents bed sheets, pulled back the blankets and linen, and climbed down onto the bed. She spread her legs and laid down, her head against the pillow. She listened to Davey explain about some movie he had seen, one called Tirez Sur Le Pianigte by a French film maker named Truffaut. While she listened to the excited young man, she had no doubt that the film was good, but she grew bored with his description of the action. Rather than find herself going sexually down, she decided to take advantage of the moment, to turn it into something nice for herself. She reached down between her spread loins with the hook of the phone and rubbed the solid round plastic earpiece up and down next to her spread and oozing twat lips. She jacked herself off with the earpiece of the phone. Whenever there was a lull in the little cackle coming out of the phone, Sharon picked it up to her ear and said, "Mm-mm," or "Oh, yes," or "I see," and then, when Davey began to speak again, she put the phone back between her comely loins and continued to rub up and down against her heated clitoris and hot little labia. Finally, at one point, when she became so turned on that she couldn't stand it anymore, and when she was breathing like a cyclone and unable to control her emotions--her hips swiveled up and down, her pussy was nearly clapping with excitement--she put the phone aside and replaced it with fingers. She rubbed up and down on her twitching clitoris.

She was nearly there, nearly over the top of the Mount Orgasm when she heard this terrible shrieking coming from the phone. She'd forgotten about young Davey. She picked up the phone and breathed heavily into it. "Are you alright?" asked Davey. "Sharon? Are you o.k.? I was worried there for a minute that some stranglers or something came into your bedroom and killed you or something! That you were being raped or something! Are you o.k.?"

"I'm fine, Davey," she said, "but I really do have to go now." She didn't wait for him to say anything else. She hung up the phone and sighed in relief. "Oh, God," she moaned to herself, "I have to get off. I just have to get myself fucking off..."

She climbed out of her parents bed and went back to the shower. She'd temporarily forgotten about the chocolate pudding under her arms. But now it was hot and runny, and it felt good for her to spread it around on her body. She took some of it and rubbed it into her chest. She used it to lubricate her titties, to stimulate her nipples and make her breasts stimulated and horny. "Oh, fuck," she mumbled from time to time. Or, "Oh, Jesus, I'm going to cum if it kills me." She worked the chocolate up and down her excited belly and tits. Finally, she rubbed it into the tops of her thighs and sat down with her legs spread in the tub. "Now," she said, "now I'm going to really get off..."