Date: Fri, 16 Jun 2006 20:17:51 +0100
From: mozzie@zalau.ro
Subject: Suzie #10

This is the story of a girl's sexual awakening and her experiences and
those of her friends. How her curiousity and self-doubt bring her to
explore new heights in pleasure. The story will develop to show instances
of masturbation, M/F, M/F/F, F/F, M/M - if any of this is likely to cause
you offence, please do not read on ....

I came home from school on the bus. I hadn't met up with Claire or Marc
through the day. I saw Claire in the distance during mid-morning break but
didn't really see the need to speak.

There was no one home as usual. I made myself a drink and went upstairs to
my room. I hadn't had a great deal of sleep last night so I shelved the
plans to catch up on the growing mass of homework, and settled on my bed
for a snooze.

A click downstairs woke me with a start. It was dark! My snooze had
instantly turned into a deep blissful sleep. I prised my aching body off
the mattress and staggered to the door, wondering why my legs seemed to be
trying to walk in different directions. By the time I reached my door I was
regaining both my composure and co-ordination, I remembered why I hated
waking suddenly.

I went downstairs and into the kitchen "Good morning, Sleepyhead" said Dad
smiling at his own joke, of course it wasn't morning. Mum joined in "I
looked in on you, you were dead to the world, I just left you to it"

The TV program abruptly changed in the lounge. I realised that Artemka was
in there trying to find a TV program that he could understand without
having to listen to much fast English. Mum saw me register Artemka's
presence and spoke again "Suze, I know it's a pain love, but could you keep
Artemka amused while we pop into town and do the shopping. It's his last
night and we don't want to tire him out, you know how overwhelmed he is in
huge supermarkets ..." She let the explanation drift off. I was amazed how
well we had been able to conceal the amount of time we had actually been
spending together over the past few days, let alone what we had been doing.

I nodded disinterestedly; mum was pleased and grabbed the chance before I
could change my mind. Suddenly it was all car keys and handbag as she
almost bustled dad out of the door, "We'll be quick love, thanks."

Clearly they had been wondering how to occupy Artemka while the shopping
was done. I wondered if they had been arguing who was going to stay behind
and I had provided the welcomed answer. It was true; Artemka couldn't cope
with the seemingly endless well-stocked shelves in the hypermarket.

I went into the lounge; Artemka was looking at the car driving off. He
turned to see me in the doorway and smiled. "Suze, you hear I go home
tomorrow?" He beamed, delighted with his news "thank you for ... for
... your body." He had struggled for the correct word and I smiled at his
apt but mistaken choice.

I walked forward and smiled back "Thank you Art". I could have said, thank
you for letting me experiment with your body, or thank you for letting me
steal your innocence, or even thank you for taking my virginity, but a
simple "Thank you" seemed enough.

I stood with my hand gently resting on his hips and kissed him gently on
the lips. He kissed me gently back. Within a few seconds, dozens of kisses
caressed our lips, we were just brushing or lips gently together.

My hands almost automatically strayed round his back and pulled him gently
towards me. As his body met mine, I could feel the lump in his groin push
against my thigh. I ran my hand around between us, down and over that
now-familiar bulge, giving his tightly coiled shaft a squeeze as I my hand
slid on down.

A little devil spoke to me. Mum and Dad would only be twenty minutes, could
Artemka and me get it on in time? They had already been gone maybe three
minutes. Hell, it was worth trying.

Brazenly I pulled at the elastic waistband of his jog trousers. Tugging
them lopsidedly a short way down. The tight elastic caught on the hard
bulge in the boy's tight white briefs but I simply pulled hard to force it
over. Almost frantically I pulled at the waistband of the briefs.

Artemka looked shocked at first and then smiled mystified. I tapped at my
watch and pointed at the empty drive. I left his briefs half pulled down,
to make a driving motion. A quick impression of a car engine and ten
fingers to accompany "Ten minutes." got the message across.

I lay down where I was and pulled gently on Artemka's hand. He was beside
me in an instant and pulling his briefs down. His smooth erection sprang up
as it was released from its cloth enclosure.

Without ceremony he lifted the pleated front of my grey school skirt and he
put his hand straight onto my mound that was firmly clad in my navy cotton
panties. I didn't really expect any foreplay; as soon as his cock had
sprung into view my fist was around it and pumping hard.

I felt so wicked. It was a real turn on. My parents were due back very soon
and here I was trying to get screwed on the lounge carpet. My senses
screamed at me, my body trying to catch up with what was happening to me.

Artemka had pulled my panties down at the front. I hadn't lifted my hips at
all so they were still pulled up at the back, but that didn't bother my
lust-crazed boy bent on beating my time deadline. His finger stole down
beneath me and pushed gently on my vagina lips.

He probed and pushed slightly. I marvelled that just a few days ago he
didn't even know where it was and, now, thanks to me, he was spot on. A
little juice started to slime onto his probing finger, hardly the gushes
and outpouring of the previous days.

Still without finesse Artemka manoeuvred himself between my legs and pulled
the front of my panties down further with one hand. He knocked my fast
pumping fist away from his straining rod with the other hand and guided
himself in.

He thrust hard. It was rough; there was none of the slippery intrusion that
I was used to. It was sort of sticky and nearly painful. There was a little
resistance but Artemka simply pushed in harder. As he started to thrust I
could feel a little more lubrication start to ease things along.

I was still lying on my skirt and the back of my panties was still in
place. The front of my skirt was hitched up over the boy's shaft, and the
front of my panties was so high the waistband was brushing his balls. He
was thrusting and pounding away inside me. This was no love making, this
was a hurried ... experiment; how quickly could a boy cum?

All I could think about was the time. I need not have worried; it was only
a few minutes of desperate thrusting, slamming his smooth young shaft into
me again and again. Suddenly he stopped his rapid, almost animal, pumping
and pushed in hard. His breath escaped in gasps and somewhere deep inside
me his seed spewed out inside me. His job done, he rolled off me. His
wilting tool lolled, slick with my juices, before him. He lifted the
waistband of his briefs far from his smooth flat stomach as he pulled them
up. His rubbery tube was only just covered by the stretched cloth. He
hadn't tried to get it all inside the pouch part, he seemed content that it
was covered. His jogging bottoms were quickly pulled up and, within minutes
of my proposing a quickie, he was stood up and there was no evidence that
my young Ukrainian had done anything at all - except for a gradually
reducing lump in his trousers.

I stood up quite quickly and pulled my panties back up under my skirt. Now
only our breathing gave the game away. I cold feel the warm blob of his boy
slime oozing around inside me, but outwardly there didn't seem to be
anything to give the game away.

I was just about to speak when a pair of headlights swept across the
room. My parents were back! That had been close. I shot a glance at Artemka
and we both giggled at our naughtiness. What had I become ...

I was walking upstairs as my parents came in. They probably thought that I
had been desperate to get away from my 'babysitting' chore, keen to walk
away at the first chance. In fact, I was desperate to get back to my
room. Eager to get my fingers inside my panties while Artemka's cum was
still coating the inside of my love tube.

That night I spent alone, my fingers keeping me writhing on my bed in a
world of self-induced ecstasy. The now-familiar joss stick smouldered
beside my bed, my mother not mentioning the return of the teenage 'fad'. I
hoped beyond hope that Artemka would steal into my room to add his lust to
my own, but it was not to be. I fell asleep in the early hours exhausted.

The next morning was the usual school rush. The goon squad arrived and
Artemka nearly bounded out to the car. He gave me a wry smile as he ducked
inside the dark saloon - I was glad that was all. He really hadn't formed
any sort of friendship with me over the last few days. He had used my body
and I certainly had used his - that was the extent of it. My only concern
now was ... who I could use next?

I felt a slight pang of regret at the 'loss' of Artemka's as I was sorting
the laundry that evening when I found his briefs from the evening before. I
would have liked to think that he had left them for me to find as a
souvenir, but it was more likely that he had simply dumped his dirty
laundry in the bin without thinking he wouldn't be around when it was
cleaned. I examined the material intently seeing the blotches of his cum
where he had squeezed his tool back in too soon after he had shot his load
inside me.

I had thought that I would keep the briefs as a momento, but the idea was
short lived. How would I explain what they were doing in my wardrobe,
especially when it was obvious what they were stained with. I wondered if I
could find a like-minded soul by selling them on eBay, they sold sure
enough, but some guy bought them. I had so hoped to find another girl with
a fetish like mine. I had dropped big hints around the school to the girls
that I knew also operated under-age on eBay, in the hope that one of them
might reveal themselves by bidding on my auction.

We had a few more boys placed with us over the next week or so. Some were
way too young, one was butt ugly and two apparently arrived after I had
gone to bed and were gone before I had got up. As usual I didn't pay them
too much attention. I was delighted to overhear my mother saying that I
helped with the 'guests' but never paid them much heed. She simply never
had a clue what I had got up to with Artemka.

I had a heart-stopping week or so. eBay had suspended my account because I
had got carried away selling the 'guests' underwear to raise some funds. I
hadn't thought I was doing anything wrong, I didn't know it was against
their rules. In my mind I thought it certain that they would hunt me down
and tell my parents. I was sure that the whole sordid truth would spill out
but, of course, nothing happened. Instead I bought a vanity case with a
lock, it didn't look out of place at all, but it became the centre of my
secret life.

My diary stowed neatly in the net sleeve in the lid, along with the floppy
discs that later became these stories. In the main compartment I stowed
Claire's panties. I also stowed anything interesting that I found in the
laundry from our 'guests' - at the time I thought they would just be a
collection to satisfy my fetish. I had no idea the uses that I would find
for them in the next few months ... but now I am getting ahead of myself.

By chance I was just coming off my period when a young Islamic boy called
Hafsa arrived. When I say he was young, I mean he was young. He was just 14
and, by now, I was 16. He had black curly hair and a little button nose. I
think it was his large brown eyes and really beautiful lips that made him
so cute. He wasn't tall by any stretch of the imagination. He wore the long
white robe thing, a thobe I think it is called, white trousers underneath
and he had a little white cotton skull cap on his head. Whatever he looked
like it didn't matter to my predatory instinct, something attracted me to
this new boy above all the others and my curiosity was setting me
challenges as I walked by with a dismissive nod of acknowledgement.

It was Sunday afternoon when Hafsa arrived; he was going to be with us just
the one night to be collected on the Monday morning.

Mum came into the kitchen where I was trying to be nonchalant about the
whole new arrival thing. I could tell instantly that she wanted something;
it's a mother-daughter thing. She beat around the bush for ages before
asking me to baby-sit Hafsa until gone midnight, as Dad had planned to take
her out for a meal with Aunt Gwen.

I had often baby-sat for some of the guests with genuine disinterest and
reluctance. I made a few protest noises, making sure that she knew that the
immigration service rules said that she was supposed to be available to all
the guests - I mean what if he ran off? I pushed the guilt trip as far as I
dared, I didn't want her to cancel her long-planned meal and I wanted a
chance to prowl the new boy. In the end I agreed the baby-sitting chore, to
much thanks and promises of rewards.

Mum and Dad left after the millionth briefing of what to do if ... and the
endless list of phone numbers that seemed to go with every unlikely
disaster that mum had thought of. Eventually the car left the drive, I
waved dutifully from the window until they disappeared from view.

I spent the early part of the afternoon with Hafsa sitting quietly on the
sofa watching TV, mumbling in response to my attempts at conversation. His
English wasn't too bad but his shyness was nearly terminal. I made us
drinks and snacks, the evening arrived and I was getting nowhere. I had
given the whole thing up as a bad job, thinking I could never break down
this wall of boy shyness. My thoughts returned to my lust-crazed Artemka
and I realised just how lucky I had been to discover him.

It started to get a little bit dark and mutual boredom seemed to dictate an
early turn in. I tidied up and reminded Hafsa where the bathroom and his
bedroom were. He nodded and politely thanked me, asking to finish watching
the TV show that still had a few more minutes to run. I had no problem with
that and said it was OK; I had given up on the boy, it was now a genuine
baby-sitting chore for me.

I showered and, as usual, sat around my room wearing a towel until I was
dry. I changed into my mid-thigh length pale blue nightshirt and
panties. Simply by chance the panties were Claire's tanga panties from our
nighttime orgy. I didn't have any motive or reason to wear them; they were
simply close to the top and matching my nightshirt.

It was only about 9.15pm but it was already dark. I started to get into the
house's bedtime routine. I walked down the hall and turned the thermostat
down a few degrees, I clicked the double lock down on the back door and
switched the porch lamp on for my parents' return. I did the tour,
switching off the kitchen appliances and closing blinds. I left the lounge
until last, so that Hafsa's programme would have finished before I shut the
TV off.

The TV show was winding up when I went into the lounge. I asked him if it
had been good; just a throwaway comment. Hafsa blushed, his eyes dropped to
the floor and he mumbled his reply. I thought surely he must have seen a
girl in a nightshirt before; it was hardly a negligee after all. My
nightshirt was basically a very long pale blue T-shirt, he must have seen
similar or more revealing clothing before surely. I figured it might be a
religious thing and decided not to push it.

I reached up to close the vent windows. The one on the left sticks a bit so
you have to pull it quite hard. I was struggling to pull and close the
latch when I caught the reflection of Hafsa sat on the sofa behind me. He
was definitely trying to look up under the hem of my nightshirt, no doubt
about it. My predator instinct came rushing back, maybe there was life in
this shy little boy yet - a challenge to be met, could my sexual desires
overcome shyness and religious inhibitions?

I lingered a little while, reaching up to the window catch, trying to allow
the boy the best possible eyeful without giving the game away. I strung it
out for as long as I could, when I turned back he was sat quietly watching
the TV closing credits. I switched off the TV and reached behind to unplug
the set, this unnatural position allowed me to give him another chance to
look up my nightshirt. It only took a slight glance out of the corner of my
eye to check that he was indeed trying to stare past the rising hem. Once
again, by the time I turned back, he was standing quietly up, his eyes
lowered to the floor as he started to walk out to his room.

Just as he was closing his room door, I mentioned that I would visit him in
about five minutes to 'do the heating'. I had no idea what I was going to
do with heating but more to the point, neither did he. He simply accepted
that I needed to come back to do something in to the heating. All the time
I spoke he was looking down at the floor but, now I was looking for it, it
was obvious that his eyes were straining to check out my body. Under those
long, lowered eyelashes his eyes were raised. He seemed to be checking out
my legs up to the hemline, and then looking quickly up to where my breasts
were pressing against the soft cotton.

I didn't say anything; I simply let him close the door. I didn't actually
return to my room, I switched off the hall lights and stood quietly outside
the door. I had hoped to hear some sounds, maybe desperate masturbation
that I could walk in on. There was nothing. A few sounds of undressing, his
sandals dropping to the floor and the swish of clothes sliding over each
other, then the bed creaking slightly as he got in. How boring was that? I
could tell it was going to be a real challenge.

If my Artemka had been in there, we would have been rutting like rabbits by
now. Hell, if the truth were known, we would have been at each other from
the second my parents had left two hours ago. But all I had was a sexually
repressed 14-year-old religious boy who was too shy to say boo to a goose.

Over the next three or four minutes I summarised my options, I simply
didn't seem to have a lot of options. Hafsa was due to leave the next
morning; there was simply no time for any gradual slow plan. All I had to
work on was his voyeuristic habit. I figured a loud shower was unlikely to
have him standing on the planter like Tun had. Hafsa was shorter so, even
if he had, he wouldn't have been able to see through the over- door window
- yes, its true, I had given it serious consideration!

I pulled my nightdress clean over my head and threw it in a bundle on the
floor. My hands slid down my body, smoothing over my breasts, running over
my stomach and over the front of the smooth taught tanga panties. Yes, I
was in the mood.

I tapped gently on the door, waited a second and walked in. To say that
Hafsa did a double take would be an understatement. His jaw dropped open
and his eyes positively shot out on stalks. He stared for a full two
seconds before remembering to drop his eyes to the floor. I sauntered over
to the radiator and fiddled with the control. Hafsa's eyes burned into my
back as he drank in whatever he could see from under those downcast lashes.

I tried to sit beside him on the bed but he scurried away into the far
corner of the bed. I considered jumping on him but wondered if I would be
faced with a real biting, scratching, kicking fight. I smiled as if it was
perfectly natural to be half-naked in a stranger's room and walked out.

A mixture of frustration and bewilderment overcame me in the hall as I
shrugged my nightshirt back on. I had thought that boys were always willing
to touch and be touched, OK maybe a little reluctant at first, but this was
something else.

By the time I got back to my room, my phone was ringing. It was Marc; he
was hesitating and beating around the bush a lot. It was funny to hear him
so nervous. Claire was 'on the rag', I hated that phrase, and he wondered
if I wanted to go out some time - just as friends of course.

Marc must have thought that I was born yesterday. Claire's period wouldn't
stop them going out and certainly wouldn't be a reason to invite me
along. No, there was only one thing that Claire's period could interfere
with and that I could help Marc with.

Serious feelings ran through my mind; this wasn't some orgy, some mutually
agreed foursome. This was cheating on my best friend. You could almost hear
Marc gasp as I suggested that he make his way over right now. All that was
needed was some rapid instructions to knock on my bedroom window and not
try the door.

Sure enough only fifteen minutes later Marc was climbing in my bedroom
window. He was slightly out of breath and looked like he had run all the
way, maybe he had. "Jesus, Suze" he said by way of greeting "I always had
you figured for the quiet one," then almost as an afterthought he added, "I
mean you have invited me over to errrr ..."

I interrupted his embarrassment "Yeah, but you have to be gone by midnight
cos that's when my folks are back". He smiled and replied, "That's fine by
me, I had to climb out of my window to get out, my rents think I'm fast
asleep." It wasn't much by way of small talk and it wasn't really getting
me what was long overdue.

For the second time in an hour I pulled my nightdress over my head and
stood in front of Marc wearing just the light blue clingy panties. "Jesus,
Suze" Marc repeated.

At least he didn't need any guidance about what to do. There was no
hesitation, no need for more talk, his lips lowered to my waiting
nipples. His tongue moved swiftly around my breast, the probing tip pushing
under each swelling globe, licking all the way round where my breasts met
my ribcage before circling up to flick past my hardening nipples. A
tingling, small electric sparks flew from my nipples, sending tremors
rippling back through my whole breast. His lips closed around my nipple. A
gentle kiss at first and then the lips met hard, gripping, dragging and
tweaking my nipple out. The shuddering wave rushed back through my breast
rushing to follow the stretching flesh. Marc released his hold and the
nipple snapped back into place, bouncing off the incoming wave and sending
a myriad of small trembles back towards my heaving breast.

Marc's mouth kissed and licked its way from one breast to the other,
whatever treatment one got was soon enjoyed by its neighbour. Knowing what
was to come added anticipation to the repeat performance on the second
breast. My tits swelled and nipples stood out as firm hardened buds. Never
before had my breasts had such prolonged attention, the pressure in each
orb built and strained with nowhere to go, my breasts threatened to explode
in this boys' face. There was no rush; nothing was hurried, his tongue
traced a long and leisurely path back and forth across my chest. His hands
held me gently across the back, simply holding me in place as I trembled
under his oral touch. Marc opened his mouth wide and placed it wide over my
nipple, engulfing a huge amount of my firm and swollen breast. A gentle
suction added to a rapid flicking of his tongue over my nipples. The
crashing electric tide rushed in small tingles to my nipples before
cascading back inside me and snaking down towards my hips.

My left tit started to receive this mind blowing action, sending a second
lightning bolt down my body. Marc's hand moved, his fingers slid stroking
down my back and over my hip, following the ridge of the bone around the
front until it lead naturally to my mound. His fingertips brushing lightly
over the front of my panties with a single passing touch of my clit. My
body trembled, the built up pressure building deep inside me boiling and
gushing towards Marc's touch. I stumbled forward as my stomach and thighs
spasmed in unison, my breath reduced to single gasp and my hands clamping
to the back of Marc's head.

Marc pushed his head against my hands; he had been stooped over at my
breasts for maybe ten minutes. He kissed me full on the lips; his voice was
trembling as he uttered "Oh God, Suze". Even as he spoke his fingers were
pushing their way in through the elastic leg holes of my panties and had
slid through my pubes until pushing against my erect clit.

His kisses left my mouth as quickly as they had arrived. His lips making
their way slowly down my body, past my still heaving bosom and across my
taught flat stomach. The path was so slow, not a hurried rush to get to the
goal, but a snaked path of tongue, lips and gentle kisses. Eventually,
after an eternity, his lips worked over the smooth fabric of my panties.
The gentle pressure of his lips, even through the cotton, against my clit,
sent another series of trembles to wrack my body. He pulled my tangas off
simply by pulling on each side. Even as they slid down my thighs, his
tongue slid along my crack, snaking in and out, probing deep. The dam
broke, a hot river of ooze gushed down to meet his thrusting tongue, my
body shuddering with the torrent.

He was on his knees, to be stark naked in front of a fully clothed boy was
a complete reversal of most of my sexual encounters to date. This boy knew
what he was doing and I was happy to let him show me.

After a mind-blowing eternity, Marc slowly straightened up. As his tongue
retraced its old path up my stomach, his hand went to work on my dripping
pussy. I felt the first finger intrude inside me; there was no resistance
at all, a smooth sliding. Marc skilfully introduced a second and then a
third finger to his expert seduction; as one finger slid slickly out of me,
another finger joined the first on the return. I pressed down, meeting
every slow finger push with a determination to have them inside me as far
as they could.

He had worked his way up my body, pausing only to devour my heaving
breasts, until he was kissing me once more. I tasted my own juices on his
lips. As we battled, sucking each other lips and tongues, Marc's fingers
continued their slow paced frigging. Marc was doing some sort of jig; in
fact, he was using his feet to ease off his training shoes. Next he was
balancing on one foot momentarily to pull off a sock with his free hand.

As soon as I realised what he was doing, I started to pull his black hoodie
up his body. He broke our kiss only long enough to have the hoodie past his
nose, even before I had pulled it over the one free arm; his lips were back
at work on mine. His hoodie swung down on the arm that hadn't relinquished
its hold on my mound. The hand simply never stopped working; never stopped
sending wave after wave of crashing mini-orgasms wracking through my
bucking and writhing hips.

I had his jeans open and halfway down his thighs. He was wearing some grey
briefs with his straining shaft positively throbbing through the taut
material. My hand grasped his straining shaft. Marc's penis felt huge, it
was so hard - an iron bar with a large domed top, a large dark spot marking
the slit under the light grey cotton. Marc half chuckled in my ear "I heard
you weren't into boxers".

I pulled the briefs down his thigh, lifting them off his hardened tool. His
penis was huge, there was no skin covering the swollen end. Light was
actually reflecting off the purple-blue bulb and a steady stream of oily
precum was oozing from the small slit at the top. Even as I grabbed my
prize Marc's free hand was pulling his jeans and underwear down to his
feet, where they were kicked off to land somewhere.

Our kiss had been continuous, but now something stepped up a notch. Marc
started pushing his tongue into my mouth, sucking my breath from me. His
hand left my mound abruptly. His arms wrapped around me and squeezed me
tight, pinning his rod between us. As the length of his shaft crushed
against my clit, a fresh shudder shot through me. The feelings of the boy's
sex so close to my own and his sudden, almost desperate, need to have me
doubled the overwhelming sensations that already dominated my body.

He half-pushed, half-lifted me back onto my bed. As my buttocks met the
quilt, his shaft pressed up between my thighs and slid effortlessly an inch
into my squelching hole. "God, Suze" was all he could say again. He pushed
in fast and hard; a single thrust pressing deeper and deeper into me. I
could feel the end of his boyhood stretching me, pushing the slippery walls
of my tubes apart as well as pushing the end to its limits. The shuddering
sides of my own sex were gripping him.

He started to thrust in and out, slowly and deliberately. Pausing at the
end of each thrust to push that extra inch. He whispered, no, he gasped,
into my ear "I can cum in you, Suze, can't I? You're on the pill huh" I
didn't really take in the question, I didn't really take in the answer, I
simply gasped and nodded. "Kewl," was his only reply.

The pace quickened immediately. His hips rammed against mine. He forced his
straining pole deep inside me, slipping and sliding its slick moist route
back and forth. Our pubes entwined to be torn apart a second later as he
retreated to smash his powerful hard rod inside me.

I had my hands against his back, pulling him close. His thrusting was
relentless, powerful, slamming his tool hard inside me. This was a
violation, a forceful taking of my sex, and it was great. He didn't slacken
off his pace as he pulled my arms down then slid his palms along until he
pinned my hands wide apart on the bed.

This was the ultimate moment.  I was helpless and overwhelmed. My orgasm
ripped through me. A hot metal load fired from high up behind my ribs and
rushed down towards my mound, pausing momentarily behind some flimsy dam
before the pressure spurted out, a series of tremors that gulped out
deluging my whole body with shattering spasms. My hips bucked and writhed
against his pounding groin. Despite the boy's desperate thrusting, my back
arched and my head was thrown back involuntarily. My scalp pushed back into
the mattress and my mouth opened wide gasping for just one decent lungful
of red hot air.

As my tube twitched and gripped his slipping tool, I felt his orgasm pushed
to breaking by my own. Marc stopped thrusting at the moment that he came;
he pushed in hard and stayed there, stretching me, forcing the very end of
my tube hard against the end of his cock. Something deep inside me dipped
and bent as if to drink his very juices.  His seed gushed into me, spilling
out and filling me with a hot gooey mass. It wasn't so much like jets; I
figured there was no space left at the end for any jets to fly through.
Instead they simply squelched their way out, the hot level abruptly rising
with every one of the boy's spurts. As his outpourings subsided, he started
moving slowly in and out once more. His semen adding to my own juices,
smearing over his length as it eased through my sex.

It wasn't long before his shaft lost just some of its hardness and sort of
fell out of my hole. He rolled off me and lay on his back beside me. Two
smooth skinned, naked and exhausted teenagers, catching their breath, spent
of all energy.

I lay there collecting my thoughts. Something that Marc had said suddenly
dawned on me. "What did you mean?" I asked, "... you heard I wasn't into
boxers."

Marc smiled "Well, after me and Art went back to his room that night, he
sorta said something. He wasn't too clear, you know, with his English, but
it seemed something he wouldn't make up." I shouldn't have been surprised
that two boys would have compared notes and Artemka had seen the extent of
my fetish first hand and at close quarters. Just as I thought I could make
some excuse about Artemka not understanding something, Marc continued with
a final blow "Then Claire said you were wearing her pants and then the
girls in school talking about your eBay sales. I thought I would dig my
pants out of the drawer for you." All I could do was smile. I mean, what
could I say without looking like a right pervert.

I let the subject drop and after a few minutes everything calmed. Marc was
the first to stir, pulling his jeans on and groping around for his hoodie.
I lay on the bed and pulled on my panties, the material brushing my abused
clit sending a small aftershock through me. Marc saw this and asked, "Fuck,
Suze, please, that was epic, can I stay over? We just got to do that again"
Tempting though it was and, believe me, it really was; I was coming to my
senses. Whatever the time was my parents were sure to be home soon.

Marc finished dressing in less than a minute; I was actually urging him out
through the window. I was now really worried about the time. Marc turned
"We can do this again Suze huh, I mean like Claire won't know or anything."
I didn't lie when I replied, perhaps too enthusiastically, "Sure".

Marc landed effortlessly and jogged off into the distance, my night of
unbridled lust over. I tidied up and found Marc had left his briefs on the
floor. I wasn't sure if this was by mistake or as some sort of a momento,
either way it could have got me in a lot of trouble. I tucked them into my
vanity case, separating them from the laundry prizes.

To be continued ...