I stared down at this impossibly small and delicate human being in my arms. His fingers were impossibly small and grasping my boob as he suckled at my nipple. My boob! I had a boob. That would have blown my mind last summer. Hobart Willis Neeley IV ... what a pretentious sounding name, but it was his father’s, grandfather’s and great-grandfather’s too. His father and I agreed to call him Willie, so he wasn’t confused with his father, who goes by Bart. His grandfather’s nickname is Bob and is great-grandfather goes by Willis.

I stared down at the tiny boy wearing his blue, knit cap, which covered his nearly bare head. He continued to suckle at my breast. I marveled as this tiny human who came out of me ... ME a few hours earlier. How was this even possible? I remembered back to that fateful day, Wednesday, September 11, 2024.

We were in Algebra II. Mr. Robinson, our teacher, was lecturing about quadratic equations and I just wasn’t getting it. My “boyfriend” Bart Neeley had the same class as me. Bart is smart. Strike one to too many boys in our grade. Strike two, he is short, only 5’-1” with a slim build. He weighed in at 96 pounds. He has short, brown hair, parted on the left. He was cute, to my eye. Too many boys in our grade took great sport in teasing Bart, both for his brains and his size. I didn’t care. Bart was sweet to me.

I should explain about the “boyfriend” part. I am Ella Grace Williams, newly fourteen three weeks earlier. My parents said I was not allowed to date or have a boyfriend until I was sixteen. They were strict and wanted to keep me safe. Bart and I did not “date” but, purely by “chance,” we often met at the movies and sat together, and did this since last May. Like many of our friends, we did take advantage of the darkness in the theater to kiss. A month ago, I didn’t object when he ventured to feel my boob, such as it was.

I’m average in size for a girl my age, about 5’-5” tall and weighing 108 pounds. I have shoulder length, blond hair. What I don’t have is much in the boob department, at least not last summer. My chest has slight swells, not really breasts, like a high school girl should have. Despite their diminutive nature, they were sensitive, especially my nipples. I liked it when Bart felt me up in the darkness at the theater.

The two of us managed an hour of privacy alone together just before the school year started. We explored, both of us ending up bare from the waist up. I enjoyed the feelings of Bart’s hands roaming and fondling my boobs, especially when he played with my nipples. I found out Bart’s nipples were sensitive too. Our hour together was way too short. Both of us could have gone longer, but I had to be home for dinner, so that was it. We sat together a couple more Saturday nights at the movies since then.

I bitched about how screwed I was in algebra after class. I just did not get it and Mr. Robinson was giving us our first exam on Friday. I was in so much trouble.

“Why don’t we get together after school to study?” Bart suggested.

“I appreciate the offer,” I replied. “But you know my parents. They’d have a fit if they found out a boy came over to my house after school when I am home alone.”

“Would they object if a ‘friend’ came over to study with you?” Bart answered. “I am a friend.”

“Lie to them?”

“No, just tell them a friend is coming over to study with you,” Bart answered. “It’s not a lie. I am a friend and we will work on algebra, I promise.”

I knew what I should do but I was in a bind. I knew Bart could help me with those damned quadratic equations. I texted my mom to get permission to have a “friend” over after school. She said OK.

Bart rode his bike to my house after school was over. We spent the first forty-five minutes actually studying quadratic equations. Bart was way better at explaining things than Mr. Robinson was. Mr. Robinson explained the why the equation for solving quadratics worked. I did not get that. Bart told me to ignore they why. That wouldn’t be on the test Friday. I just needed to know how to apply the equation to get the solutions.

The imaginary solutions still baffled me. I get that you can’t calculate the square root of a negative number. Bart counseled that if I got a negative number for the b2 – 4ac part, I had an imaginary, not a real solution. Not sweat. Just report what I calculated.

I felt we made real progress. After a while, we decided it was time for a study break and a snack. Mom made peanut butter cookies a few days ago. I got some for us to enjoy with a coke. We took our break in the family room. I turned the TV on. An ancient movie was playing that I wasn’t familiar with. It featured a teen-aged Tom Cruise! I found out later the movie was called “Risky Business.”

The situation was risque, especially when Tom hired a hooker to come to his house. The scene where Tom strips the hooker by the window as the door blows open was a turn-on. Then they did the deed on the steps and then on the rocking chair. The situation on the screen got our motors running.

Just like at the theater, we cuddled and began making out. Soon our shirts came off. We had a rare opportunity for privacy again, so we began teasing each other’s nipples. Bart felt up the swells that would become my breasts one day. He shuddered as I ran my hands across his hairless chest.

I was getting so turned on from what we were doing. I knew Bart was too, because his shorts tented out from his stiffie. How big was my boyfriend? I last saw a boy’s penis years ago, when my cousin Ryan and I were six or seven. My mom and my aunt often had the two of us take a bath together when we vacationed together. Ryan had this little penis that was barely more than an inch long except the one time it got stiff. Then it was over two inches long.

Bart had to be way bigger than Ryan had been back seven or eight years ago. My boyfriend had to be at least a foot taller and thirty pounds heavier than my little cousin had been back then. What did Bart’s stiffie look like?

We kept kissing, caressing and playing with each other. It felt amazing. I slipped my hand down to Bart’s crotch, curious to feel how big his stiffie was. Bart shuddered as I felt his erection. Bart was way bigger than Ryan had been so many years ago. This ... this thing, it was intended to slide up inside my tight hole. How could it ever fit? I had to see if it was as big as I suspected.

“Can I see this?” I asked quietly when Bart paused kissing me.

“See ... this?” Bart choked, his eyes wide in surprise. He stared back at me for a moment before gulping and adding, “Um ... OK, if I can see you too. You know ... down there.”

“Oh ... kay,” I said quietly. Was this really going to happen? I am not body shy. I did the usual playing doctor with a boy back in elementary school. Both times I did it, the boy chickened out and did not show me his. “You go first,” I directed.

“First?” Bart squeaked. “Um ... oh ... kay.” He stood up from the couch and unzipped and pulled down his shorts. He blushed before pulling down his boxers and dropping everything to the floor. My “boyfriend” was naked in front of me.

His stiffie was about three and a half inches long, a pale white shaft about an inch wide, capped with a pink, mushroom shaped head. It stuck straight out from his belly. A small, thin, patch of curly brown pubes crowned it.

“Can I touch it?” I asked as I stared stiff little rod.

“Um ... uh, touch it?” Bart squeaked. “Um ... that wasn’t our deal. I show you mine if you show me yours. Let’s see yours first.”

“OK,” I agreed, embarrassed at forgetting that part of our deal. I unbuttoned my shorts and dropped them to the floor. I gulped before lowering my panties too. I sat down on the couch and spread my legs to give Bart a better view.

Bart moved closer and stared at my labia. I had considerably more pubes than Bart did. I wanted to get a bikini, so I wanted to shave them, but Mom forbid both. I pulled my labia open and displayed their pink insides. Bart leaned in and peered closer without shame or embarrassment.

“Where does uh ... this go?” Bart asked as he gestured to his stiffie. “I don’t see the hole for your pussy ... uh, you know ... where a ... uh ... this goes.”

I opened my labia wide and lay back on the couch, so he could see the hole at the bottom of my slot. Bart stared while his hand went to his stiffie. He gave it a couple strokes.

“Um ... the deal is done,” I commented as he stroked. “Can I touch yours if you get to touch mine?”

“Touch?” Bart gulped. “Touch ... OK, you can go first.”

“Sit.” I sat back up as Bart sat down beside me. I reached out as Bart dropped his hand from his stiffie. I wrapped my hand around it. It felt warm, much hotter than I expected. The skin was soft and pliable, while the insides were so hard.

“Your stiffie ... it’s...” I murmured as I marveled at this rod in my hand.

“Stiffie?” Bart smirked. “That’s a kid’s word. This is my cock, or dick or uh, my prick. We’re not little kids.”

“Your prick ... can I give you a hand job?”

“Jerk me off?” Bart gulped. “Sure.”

I stroked my hand up and down his small shaft, from its base up to the rubbery helmet at the tip. Bart started to pant as I stroked him. “Firmer,” he gasped. “Faster.” I obeyed his requests as I stroked his ... his prick.

I knew what came next. I stroked him for less than a minute. Bart’s face flushed red and he grimaced in pain.

“Am I hurting you?” I asked as I stopped stroking.

“Don’t stop!” Bart snapped. “Keep going.” I obeyed my boyfriend. Seconds later, I felt his shaft throb before it exploded. Cum flew out, splattering onto his chest, belly and dribbling onto my hand. I was shocked at the almost violent outburst.

“Thank you,” Bart gasped as he slumped back against the back of the couch. “Shit! Thank you.”

I was about to get up to get tissues to clean us up when Bart embraced me and went in for a kiss. His tongue snaked into my mouth. I couldn’t help but respond with my own. I felt his hot juices on his chest smear against my chest.

Bart pressed against my body, pushing me onto my back. Bart pressed against me as we continued kissing. His lighter body rolled on top of me as we locked lips. Bart’s stiffie ... um, his prick was still hard and pressed against my belly. I felt his balls bounce against my clitoris as we deep kissed.

Our sticky chests rubbed together as we made out. Bart’s prick rubbed against me too, reminding me of its presence. We kissed and kissed. After a bit, one of Bart’s hands dropped down to tease my nipple and feel my swells.

“Mmmm...” I purred as I enjoyed the intense feelings. “Kiss it,” I begged. Bart obeyed. He slid his body lower, until his mouth went to my left nipple. I sighed as he suckled, nipped and teased me. I felt his prick settle into my slot just as it gushed more juices. God, I was so turned on.

My hand went through Bart’s hair as he teased me breast and rubbed his prick against my hungry slot. God, this was so intense. Bart’s grinding in my slot grew more insistent. I responded by rubbing back. When the tip of his prick rubbed on my clitoris, I thought I’d explode.

Bart took longer and longer strokes up and down my slippery labia. Damn! This was amazing! I felt his prick rub across my rim as he rubbed more. Oh shit, this was amazing.

Bart made short strokes but stayed lower in my slot, repeatedly rubbing against my hole. ‘Was he trying to do this on purpose?’ I wondered. I had my answer in a couple more rubs. His prick notched against the rim of my hole. He pressed against my tight opening.

“Ella, can I...” Bart began. I knew what he wanted. I desperately wanted it too. My hands grasped his ass cheeks and yanked them down towards me. His prick pressed against my opening, worming its way into my tight hole.

I knew girls felt some pain when a boy tore through their hymen. I yanked on Bart’s ass cheeks again, signaling my desire. I felt my hole stretched as Bart continued pressing in. I stared between our bodies. The head and an inch of his shaft had disappeared. I guided his ass cheeks as he pressed in deeper. Another inch disappeared as he prick pried open my tight nut extremely wet tunnel.

“Oh fuck!” Bart gasped as he pressed deeper. I was surprised that I felt no pain, just a little stretching. Bart’s sparse pubes rubbed against mine as his belly bounced against mine. His balls bounced against my bottom. “Are you OK? Does this hurt?”

“No,” I answered. “You stretch and stuff me. I feel so full. Hold still for a minute while I get used to you.”

“OK,” Bart agreed. His suckled on my nipple while I got used to a boy filling my pussy. “Ready?” Bart asked after giving me about twenty seconds to get used to a boy’s prick filling my tight tunnel.

“Go ahead,” I huffed. Bart withdrew his prick a little and plunged it in again. Oh, that felt amazing. He pulled out and pumped in again. He did this repeatedly. It gelt better and better as he continued stroking.

‘Sex is fucking amazing,’ my friend Hannah told me earlier this week. She and her boyfriend Danny had done the deed the first time just last Saturday. Was Hannah’s glowing description of sex why I consented so readily when Bart tried to penetrate me? Maybe it was. It did not matter why anymore. Just keep fucking me, Bart.

My lover’s face went from smiling to a grimace as the pace of his strokes quickened.

“Oh fuck...” he chanted as he hammered me with short, fast strokes. “Oh fuck ... oh fuck...”

I felt his prick swell as he jammed it in deep, until our pubic areas bounced together. The explosion I saw earlier? I felt it was he splattered his cum deep inside me, spurt after spurt. Bart slumped down on me. My ninety-six pound lover was no burden. I cuddled the boy as he recovered from his orgasm.

Hannah was right. Sex was fucking awesome. Bart and I were going to have to do this again, and again, and again.

I kissed Bart repeatedly while he lay dazed and recovering. I loved what we had just done so much.

“SHIT!” Bart barked unexpectedly. “Shit! Shit! SHIT! How could I be so dumb?”

“What?”

“I didn’t use a rubber,” Bart snapped. “How could I be so stupid? I’m sorry, Ella.”

“What?” I repeated. “Silly, this is my first time. We’re safe.”

“No, we’re not safe,” Bart retorted. His head came up as he looked me in the eye.

“Sure we are,” I insisted. “Everyone knows a girl can’t get pregnant the first time they do it. We’re safe. I’m a...” I giggled. “I was a virgin.”

“You don’t believe that horseshit, do you?”

“What?”

“A girl can’t get pregnant the first time she has sex,” Bart stated. “That is a lie horny boys tell their girls to get laid when they don’t have a rubber. It is not true.”

“You’re sure?” I gasped. I was starting to worry.

“I am certain,” Bart answered. “I have a second cousin who knocked up his girlfriend the first time they had sex last year. My cousin has a baby boy to look after now. I am sure.”

“CRAP!” I exclaimed. I could see in my mind all those little spermatozoa swimming up inside me from the huge load of cum Bart fired into my belly. Pregnant! “I can’t get pregnant!”

“Hopefully not,” Bart said. “Maybe we will get lucky and you don’t catch. When is your next period due?”

“Um ... about two weeks,” I replied. Bart went suddenly pale. “Is that bad? It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“I don’t really know,” Bart answered, but without any conviction.

“What do we do now?”

“Wait,” Bart replied. “See if your period comes.”

“What does that mean?”

“Didn’t you pay attention in sex ed unit in health class last year?” Bart asked.

“My parents wouldn’t allow me to take those classes,” I replied. “To quote my dad, ‘No egg-head liberal teacher is going to teach my daughter about sex. That is something you do in your family.”

“What did your parents tell you about sex?”

“Keep my knees closed and tell the boy no,” I giggled, mostly from my nervousness.

“How’s that working out?” Bart asked pointedly.

“Not as well as Mom would have liked,” I replied. “Two things she told me certainly are true. The first is that all boys want is to get in my pants.”

“I can’t argue with your mom at all,” Bart smirked. “All boys DO want to screw whoever will have them. I did not plan on this happening today and would have been satisfied with some kissing and making out after we finished with algebra. When my dick ended up beside your pussy, I just couldn’t really help myself.”

“Which goes to my mom’s second point,” I said. “Things can spiral out of control quickly if I allow things to go too far. I never expected to have sex when I asked to see your ... prick ... um or your dick? Which do you prefer?”

“I call it my dick,” Bart answered, grinning. “You can call it anything you want if you give me hand jobs ... or more like today.”

“Your dick ... OK,” I said. “How risky is what we did?”

“I’m only guessing,” Bart answered. “My dad’s little brother, Uncle Jim, is a lot younger than my dad. He and Aunt Beth are only starting a family now. I overheard somethings while he and Aunt Beth were trying to get pregnant. This was a couple years ago and I was almost twelve then. Aunt Beth and Mom wanted to talk about something and sent me out of the room. I knew it was about sex and I was curious, so I eavesdropped on them. Aunt Beth was upset because her period came again, for the third time. I took that to mean that a girl getting her period can’t be pregnant and Uncle Jim and Aunt Beth had been trying for three months. It was four months later when they finally announced my cousin Jimmy was on the way. Aunt Beth was two months pregnant then. Do the math. It took my aunt and uncle seven months of trying before she got pregnant. Maybe we will be OK. Can you google it and see what tour chances are?”

“No, my parents have controls on my phone,” I answered. “It’ll never do a search that has anything to do with sex or pregnancy. What about your phone?”

“I have the same issue,” Bart replied. “However, I can break the controls on my laptop at home. I will check tonight and text you what I find out.”

“So, you think the chances that I get pregnant aren’t too high?” I asked hopefully.

“Maybe, I just can’t be sure,” Bart said. He cuddled with me and kissed me to reassure me. His kisses and our tongue swapping relaxed me. I loved the feeling of his smooth body rubbing against mine. We made out for a few minutes.

“You never said exactly, Ella,” Bart purred to me during a pause. “Did you enjoy what we did? I didn’t hurt you too much when I slipped inside you?”

“I expected it to hurt worse,” I answered. “I felt you stretching me and felt really full when you were inside me, but it was nice.” I giggled. “It was more than nice. I really was starting to like it when you were moving in and out. I was ready to keep going and going.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t last very long,” Bart said. “I’m new to this. I hope I get better with practice.”

“I can see us doing a lot of practice,” I giggled. “Once you get protection.”

“Yeah,” Bart agreed before kissing me some more. One of his hands teased my nipple while we deep kissed. I felt his dick swell and rub against me as we played.

“What if...” we both gasped after a long kiss. “You first,” Bart said.

“What if we practiced again today?” I asked. “I already have your sperm inside me. How much riskier could it be if you put some more in me?”

“What if we practiced again, but I pull out before I come?” Bart suggested. “That way we can have more fun and not increase our risk.”

“Rub your dick against my pussy like before we did the first time,” I replied. Bart slid down until his head was at my neck. I felt his dick slide into my slot. He rubbed against my slot and clitoris for a couple minutes, driving our lust to the stratosphere.

“DO IT!” I begged. I need dick and I needed it now. Bart dipped lower, aiming for my hole. He missed, slicing up my slot again. After the third try, he reached between our bellies and placed his dick right at my rim. “There,” I confirmed. My sweet boyfriend humped his hips and slipped a couple inches of his sweet dick inside me, stretching me deliciously. Two more hip hunches mashed his pubic area against mine and slapped his loose balls against my bottom. I felt full and complete.

Bart got to work, stroking his lovely dick in and out of me. I loved how his dick pried open my folds as he thrust in. I clenched, trying to prevent him from pulling away again. In and out. Oh my. In and out. It was the greatest.

Bart easily passed the mark when he came the first time. He kept stroking away. Mmmm ... God, this was good. I did not want this to stop. Bart continued drilling me for a while longer. His pace picked up. I knew my ride was close to ending. I needed more. I felt an orgasm cling closer.

“Gotta ... oohh ... pull ... out ... soon.”

“Don’t stop!” I snapped as I clasped the almost orgasmic lover to my body.

“Don’t... [pant] wanna ... cum ... ooOOHHhhhh ... in...”

I wrapped my legs around Bart’s backside. ‘Keep going’ I willed to my frantic lover. “Don’t STOP!” Bart tried to pull out but my legs locked him inside me.

“FUCK!” Bart groaned as he gave up escaping. I felt his dick swell in me and then throb. More of my lover’s semen and sperm flooded into my pussy, certain to be sucked up into my womb. I ... did ... not ... care. Fill me. I felt something missing from my first fourteen years of life was found. I was complete. I felt the last feeble spurts from Bart’s dick as he collapsed on top of me, spent.

As my lust and need drained away, I felt fulfilled. My conscious brain insisted on disturbing my peace. ‘What if Bart gets me pregnant?’ I ... did ... not ... care ... at the moment. Whatever.

Bart slowly roused himself. “I’m sorry, I tried to pull out but you wouldn’t let me.”

“It’s OK,” I replied, kissing him. “I needed that.”

“What if?”

“Whatever, Bart,” I replied soothingly. “I needed exactly this. Anyway, what difference will a few million more sperm make if our timing is wrong? Did you enjoy this?”

“Um ... yeah, it was awesome,” Bart agreed. “I’ll find rubbers somehow. I hope you’ll want to try this again sometime. You’re the most special girlfriend a guy could have.”

“You’re pretty special too,” I agreed, kissing him. “I definitely want to do this again ... a lot of times, when we can be safer than today.”

“Maybe we better clean up and get dressed,” Bart suggested as he climbed off me. “We need to finish your homework. I don’t want you failing the exam on Friday and getting grounded. That could spoil us having afternoon fun in the future.”

“We don’t want that,” I agreed.

Bart picked up his clothes and got dressed. I did too. “I’ll go online tonight and text you what I find out about what our risk is that I get you pregnant.”

“That’s fine,” I agreed.

Bart and I headed back to the kitchen to finish my algebra homework. He headed home about twenty minutes before my mom was due home from work. I made sure everything looked neat and clean, so Mom would have no clue how Bart and I spent our afternoon.

Bart texted me later in the evening. “The answer to question 11 is 20-25%.” A minute later he texted, “Looking forward to next period algebra.” My thoughtful boyfriend made sure he passed me the information in a parent friendly manner. I got what he meant. We had a 20-25% chance he could have knocked me up. He was wishing for my next period, so he would know he hadn’t knocked me up.

I talked with Bart the next morning before classes started. I understood his message properly. 20-25% chance we were screwed and I was knocked up. The odds could have been a lot worse. I got a B+ on my algebra exam.

Bart and I did not get together after school. It was too risky. He was struggling to find a source for rubbers. In the suburbs where we live, it is miles to the nearest pharmacy. Neither of us had a driver’s license or access to a car. It was too far to ride a bike there. Bart and I agreed that it was best if we did not spend after school time at my house until we had protection. As horny as both of us were, we knew what would happen if we were alone together without protection. We did not need to compound our first mistake by taking more chances.

Bart and I sweated for the next two weeks until my period was due. I was surprised to find myself bleeding on September 23rd. I hadn’t expected my period to start until the 25th or 26th. I told Bart the great news when I saw him before algebra started. I had my period, though it was unusually light. Both of us were so relieved to have escaped this crisis unscathed.

Bart finally found a solution to our dilemma of obtaining rubbers. A friend of his convinced his older brother to sell rubbers to Bart, but at a premium. The guy charged $5 a rubber. Bart could only afford two. We decided the ration the precious protection. We used the first two in the weeks after my period. The next one didn’t get used until Columbus Day, a day off from school.

Bart’s stamina improved with practice. By Columbus Day, he was lasting almost two minutes before he came. Sadly, we got overeager that morning and used our last rubber. He stayed for the afternoon. We tried to behave and limit ourselves to everything but intercourse, but didn’t manage it. Late in the afternoon, I took Bart’s bare dick up inside me. He did manage to give me a good reaming before pulling out and dumping his load of sperm on my belly. That shouldn’t have too risky, we hoped.

I broke out some of my savings and gave Bart money to purchase three more rubbers from his buddy’s older brother. We tried to ration ourselves, but that was hard. The last of the rubbers were used the week before my October period was due. I was broke and so was Bart.

Bart and I took a risk, getting together a couple days before my next period was due October 23rd. My enterprising boyfriend had hacked the parental controls on his laptop and managed to thoroughly research a woman’s fertility cycle. Interestingly, a woman in unlikely to conceive a few days before or after her period.

We took full advantage of the knowledge that Monday after school. We screwed three times, not worrying about him pulling out on time or whether I took a load of sperm to my womb. The chances of conception were around 1 or 2%, way safer even than using rubbers. The website reported they failed about 10% of the time, with normal use.

The fall brought changes to both me and my boyfriend. The slight swells on my chest grew impressively over the fall. I was getting looks from boys, specifically at my growing boobs. I wasn’t looking to replace Bart, but it was an ego boost to attract the eyes of other boys too. My breasts growth coincided with something else enjoyable. They became more sensitive. I loved when Bart played with them. It was a huge turn on.

Bart was starting to grow, finally. His small patch of pubic hair was expanding and getting denser. I no longer could look at the top of his head like last summer. Granted, I was still taller, looking at his forehead instead of the top of his head. He also passed 100 pounds. It was progress.

My period did not come on the 23rd as expected. I was still clear after lunch on the 24th. I invited Bart over to “study” after school. The topic? How often could a fourteen-year-old boy cum in one afternoon? The verdict? Three times. More might have been possible but we ran out of time. Bart cleared out about five minutes before my mom got home from work. We went bareback all afternoon. My insides were soaked with his sperm when he headed home for dinner. I wore a pad in my panties, so I did not dribble any incriminating evidence to my parents or my eleven-year-old sister or nine-year-old brother.

The weekend passed and my bleeding did not start. We were getting ready for the end of quarter exams at school. I passed my late period to stress from too much studying and not enough sleep. The flu was going around the school, so the following Monday when I had to puke before first period, I put it off to getting sick. I felt better and told no one at school. It happened again on Tuesday. I had to bolt in the middle of first period. Mrs. Gilmore sent me to the nurse, who sent me home. Mom picked me up and put me to bed for the day. I felt better most of the day but threw up before breakfast on Wednesday.

I felt better Wednesday afternoon. Mom sent me off to school Thursday. I was slightly nauseous, but didn’t puke that day. I was good the next day too. I was also horny. After having intercourse six times in one week the previous week, I needed more. At lunch I invited Bart over after school for more fun. Surprisingly, he was reluctant at first. He really needed to study for the exams that started next week. I convinced him to ditch studying and come over to pleasure me.

My enterprising boyfriend managed to find a website that talked about sex positions. Who knew? That Friday afternoon we tried missionary, doggie style, spoons and the cowgirl. Cowgirl was necessary for Bart. He was losing steam after screwing me hard three times in one afternoon. His dick wasn’t as hard as usual the final time, but it was stiff enough for me to enjoy the ride on it. I also diddled my clitoris as I rode him. I had a thunderous orgasm while we fucked. Poor Bart blasted off as I bucked and shimmied from my climax. I probably took a record load of sperm that afternoon.