Wydawca: Palimpsest Publishing Kategoria: Obyczajowe i romanse Język: angielski Rok wydania: 2017

Her Youthful Body: Taboo Barely Legal Erotica ebook

Candace Spencer  

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Opis ebooka Her Youthful Body: Taboo Barely Legal Erotica - Candace Spencer

Warning: Very taboo. Not for the faint of heart. May include BDSM, incest, and other taboo and forbidden elements. This is a vintage **full length** (100+ Pages), post-censorship erotic novel.*************From inside, Mike looked out at the young girl. Slender, blonde, no more than eighteen or eighteen, a virgin beauty.Sueanne could see the husky, thirty-five year old man through the glazed window. A square-jawed, moderately handsome fellow, he had a warm smile like her father's. She felt warmer and safe even before she climbed with frozen knees and hands across the drifted mound of snow and let his strong hands close around her forearms and lift her through the window. She stood, dripping, in front of the fireplace, letting the warmth seep painfully into her frozen limbs as the dark-haired man pulled down the window."It's a real bastard out there," he said. Sueanne knew that he was looking her over, that he was pleased at what he saw. "Take off your coat and get warmed up," he said in a firm paternal manner, "there's hot coffee on the burner."She dropped her soaking coat on the floor beside the fire and rubbed her limbs furiously, trying to regain the circulation. She saw his eyes follow her hands as she rubbed her ankles, her calves, her thighs."Been out there long?""About an hour," she said, her teeth still shaking."Car break down?""No," she said. "I was on a date and the boy I was with-" She hesitated, feeling silly and girlish for not being able to handle a mere teenage boy, for having to get out of the car and take the chance of freezing to death in a blizzard. 

Opinie o ebooku Her Youthful Body: Taboo Barely Legal Erotica - Candace Spencer

Fragment ebooka Her Youthful Body: Taboo Barely Legal Erotica - Candace Spencer

Her Youthful Body

Candace Spencer

Copyright © 2017

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 1

Sueanne hung onto the edge of the dashboard as Billy took a turn, so quickly that the hind wheels of the car seemed to fly in the opposite direction, off the road entirely.

"Please, Billy," she begged again, "slow down. I want to get home in one piece."

Billy grinned across the dark seat at her. "You'll get home eventually," he promised. But she knew that she wouldn't be in one piece if Billy had his way. She knew that Billy's sole purpose in taking her to a football game eighteen miles from home and spending eleven dollars feeding them both afterward, was to impress her. His reason for the wild 'and crazy driving was to assure her of his bravery, his maleness. And that his goal for this evening was the thin membrane, her cherry, that had stayed for eighteen years untouched between her thighs.

"Slow down," she pleaded again. They were on the old country back road and there were no streetlights, only the white glint of the moon through the falling snow and the streamers of light across the ice-packed road. "Slow down, please!"

Billy hit the brake with his scuffed cowboy boot and the car shimmied to a stop, spraying snow up all around them.

"How's this?" He reached over to the dashboard and turned the heating knob to "high." "This slow enough for you?"

She breathed with relief that the car was stopped but her eyes widened with nervousness as Billy's grinning face came toward her and his chilly lips covered her mouth, forcing his hot tongue into her mouth. Oh, she'd been tongue-kissed before, a couple of times, but she had never liked it. And it was always followed by the boy's grimy hands grabbing for her pert, young breasts and rubbing at the V between her thighs.

"Stop, Billy."

She tried to push away but he held on tight, spearing her clenched teeth with his tongue. She felt his calloused hand pushing under her coat, finding her breast and squeezing it roughly. She continued to push at his shoulders as he rubbed the palm of his hand over her breast as though he were polishing a car.

She was eighteen miles from home in a blizzard, on a country road she had only passed through during daylight hours. She tried to look around for lights, a farm house, anything, but the only light was the silver streamer of the moon.

"Come on, baby," he was moaning and his rough hand left her breast to push up under the wool, pleated skirt she wore, rubbing along her slender, nearly hairless thighs probing at the plump and padded area between her legs.

"Stop it," she cried, "Stop it or I'll get out of this car!"

Billy laughed deep in his throat. "You're not going to get out of the car, honey. You'd freeze to death in that blizzard. 3ust relax, baby, let me warm you up. I got a bet riding on your cherry."

Sueanne prayed that her father would suddenly arrive, like a magical fairy prince, beside the car and sweep her to the Safety of her own home. She could feel a warmth growing between her legs in response to Billy's massaging fingers and she didn't want to feel that way, not toward Billy. It was the same warmth she felt when her father took her camping and let her sleep inside the fluffy confines of his sleeping bag with him. The same warmth that she felt when her father drank too much one night as the two of them sat by the fireplace and she listened to him talk about her mother, how he loved her, how he missed her,' and how much Sueanne, their only child, looked like her. He kissed her that night in a manner unlike any kiss they had exchanged before. Her father's bro3d, hot tongue had probed her lips and his huge hand had pressed her slender hips close to the throbbing lump that was his maleness-but 'then, he' had suddenly gotten up and staggered into his own bedroom, locking the door between them. And she knew from the look in his eyes the next morning that he didn't remember that tender moment of the previous and drunken night.

She knew that Billy could feel the seeping warmth between her legs and that he thought that her excitement was due to his hot, rough hands.

"Yeah, baby," he was saying in her ear, "that's it. Open up, open up for me. I'm gonna put my cock inside you. You'll love it."

She heard the unzipping of his fly. It sounded like the gunshot that begins a track race, in the silent stillness of the car, she couldn't help but look and saw the boy's stiff prick, jutting from his wool pants. It seemed to be jerking and moving like a tiny animal. Sueanne had the urge to touch it. She had never touched a cock-she had only seen them in photographs. But she knew that any movement toward Billy's cock would be construed as consent for him to stick it inside her and she was frightened of that.

Sueanne had pressed her own fingers inside her tiny cunt-hole, many times, feeling the satin smoothness, the simmering Warmth. If she pressed deeply enough, she could touch the pliable membrane that protected her from womanhood. But the thought of something that wasn't part of her-the jerking, wobbling cock that jutted out of Billy's pants, for instance-plunging into her cunt, she wasn't ready for that. It filled her with fear and she closed her eyes, wishing for her Daddy's safe and loving arms.

She had read that in some Indian tribes, it was the custom for the father to deflower his daughter-and for the sons to be taught the art of making love by the gentle but firm hands of their mother. She wouldn't be so afraid, she thought, if it were her father's prick jutting out at her. She would trust him not to hurt her, she would believe him when he said that it would give her pleasure.

But she didn't believe Billy. She didn't believe him at all as his rough fingers pushed aside the wet crotch of her panties and drove into the slippery, hot tissue of her slit.

"No," she cried and grabbed his wrist, pushing him away. "Get away from me."

"No way out, honey," Billy grinned, regaining his composure and coming at her again, his cock bobbing wildly and his finger glistening with her juices, "You're gonna get laid. I'm gonna get myself a cherry."

With a tremendous surge of strength, Sueanne pushed hard against him, knocking him against the window and stunning him. She threw open the car door on her side and stepped out into the calf-deep snow. She tried to run but the wet and slippery snow held her boots tightly and she had to struggle to place one foot in front of the other, the thick snow crunching loudly with her every step.

There were no lights in sight. Not even the flicker of a camper's kerosene lamp or the rising blue-gray smoke of a chimney. Sueanne headed into the thick woods, not caring where she was going, so long as it was away from the bobbing cock and rough, hot hands of Billy. Her feet seemed to move in slow motion but she was well hidden in the thicket when Billy came to, rubbing the knot on his head. He stepped out of the car and looked around at the woods.

"Hey, Sueanne," he called, "where are you?"

She stood absolutely still, feeling the sting of the pine needles against her face. She hardly breathed for fear that he would find her and ravage her body with his rough, uncaring hands.

"Listen," he called, his voice echoing loudly against the night sky, his vision blocked by the streams of wet snowflakes that fell around him, "Listen, Sueanne, you'll freeze to death out here. Come on, get in the car."

"Car, car, car, car ..." It echoed into faintness and then there was silence.

"I'm going, Sueanne," Billy called, "I'm leaving. You better come out."

He got into the old Chevy and the sound of the metal door resounded through the hillside. The motor gunned, again and again. It seemed an eternity to Sueanne before Billy released the emergency brake and stepped on the accelerator, spinning his tires through the snow until he gained traction on the road.

When the motor was out of hearing, Sueanne began to move again, her body stiffened by the cold. She could hear the quiet hooting of an owl and the occasional movement of small animals through the brush. She walked down the hill to the edge of the road, following the shoulder sloped with snow, looking for a sign of human life: the bulky outline of a house against the sky, a chimney smoking, a light, anything. But everywhere was darkness.

Mike Blocker paced the wooden floor of his hunting cabin, hidden in a stand of pines and accessible only by a foot-path that led half a mile from the main road into the woods. He didn't expect to be trapped like this and he was certain that his wife was worried sick, back in town. He'd come out to the cabin for some late hunting. "It's going to snow," his wife warned him, "there's going to be a blizzard this weekend." But he was fed up with family, his two young bawling sons, his wailing infant daughter and his wife who'd taken recently to nagging him about "moving up the ladder"-getting promoted, making more money. He needed a weekend, alone, at the cabin.

It was unlucky from the start. He barely made it to the cabin, his car limping along with a boiling radiator. He'd hailed a State Trooper who arranged to have the car towed back to town for repair. Mike figured he would hitch back to town himself at the end of the weekend. But as the snow piled up around the cabin and he huddled by the stone fireplace, he wondered if he'd be able to get out by Sunday night. No snow ploughs were going to come up his footpath. Well, perhaps his wife would get uptight about the storm and send the State Troopers looking for him. He sure as hell wasn't going to get any hunting done. He couldn't even wedge the cabin door open. It was blocked by snowdrifts four feet high.

Mike could hear something moving in the snow outside. He hoped to hell it wasn't a black bear, looking for the comfort of a fireplace. He reached over to seize his shotgun in his fist and waited.

Bears would break windows, he had heard, and climb into a little log cabin like this one, looking for warmth, looking for food. And Mike knew that he would make a fine dinner for a hungry bear. He held his breath and listened to the crunching sound. One footstep, then another. It was coming closer.

Sueanne saw the slight indentation of the footpath from the shoulder of the road and began to follow it. There must, she reasoned, be something at the top of the path. Maybe a deserted campsite, a cabin, something. She knew how to build a fire and she thought she could survive the blizzard if she could only find some kind of shelter.

When the outline of the cabin appeared, her heart jumped joyously. She saw the flicker of firelight through the windows and speeded up her difficult steps through the thickening snow, drifting as the night breeze picked up speed.

Maybe someone else who's stranded, she first thought, but as she neared the cabin, she wondered if she was about to meet a recluse, some kind of weirdo. Maybe the old, fierce man that the kids called the Guru of the Mountain. He was known to pile buckshot into kid's asses and send them screaming from the mountain. But Sueanne had no choice and she approached the heavy wooden door, pushing her way through the drift of snow, banging with her fist on the wood, her cold, stiff fingers feeling as though they were going to splinter.

"Who is it?"

Mike was relieved but he tucked the shotgun under his arm as he approached the door. No bear was going to knock politely, it had to be a human. Maybe it was the State Police, sent by his worried wife to look for him.

"I'm lost," a girl's voice came through the door, "I'm freezing."

He pushed against the door but it wouldn't open, frozen solidly into the snow drift.

"The door's blocked," he said, "come to the window."

From inside, Mike looked out at the young girl. Slender, blonde, no more than eighteen or eighteen, a virgin beauty.

Sueanne could see the husky, thirty-five year old man through the glazed window. A square-jawed, moderately handsome fellow, he had a warm smile like her father's. She felt warmer and safe even before she climbed with frozen knees and hands across the drifted mound of snow and let his strong hands close around her forearms and lift her through the window. She stood, dripping, in front of the fireplace, letting the warmth seep painfully into her frozen limbs as the dark-haired man pulled down the window.

"It's a real bastard out there," he said. Sueanne knew that he was looking her over, that he was pleased at what he saw. "Take off your coat and get warmed up," he said in a firm paternal manner, "there's hot coffee on the burner."

She dropped her soaking coat on the floor beside the fire and rubbed her limbs furiously, trying to regain the circulation. She saw his eyes follow her hands as she rubbed her ankles, her calves, her thighs.

"Been out there long?"

"About an hour," she said, her teeth still shaking.

"Car break down?"

"No," she said. "I was on a date and the boy I was with-" She hesitated, feeling silly and girlish for not being able to handle a mere teenage boy, for having to get out of the car and take the chance of freezing to death in a blizzard.

"He was giving you a rough time?" The big man grinned. "You picked a hell of night to get out and walk."

She smiled and agreed. She liked the man's grin, his easy, rambling way of moving and talking. She wasn't at all frightened when he ambled over to her and sat down on the floor beside her.

"Here," he said, "let me see if I can get that circulation going for you. I used to be on the Squaw Valley rescue squad. Many's the time I've saved somebody from freezing in a blizzard."

He put his big, warm hands on the back of her neck and massaged until her skin tingled, the circulation rushing back into the flesh. She felt his fingers pressing into her shoulders, down the soft flesh of her upper arms, her fingers caught in the big palms of his hands as he squeezed and manipulated her flesh into a normal warmth.

Her back seemed to press toward his massaging fingers as she felt the warmth returning to her backbone, her waist, her buttocks. His hands moved over her body without shame or embarrassment and pounded her slender body back to warmth and life.

As she felt his hands encircling her thighs, the warmth returned to her virgin crotch and she felt the wetness of her panties, cold against her warm flesh. She was hoping that his fingers would follow the natural curve of her thigh and press against her warm crotch, too, but the man stopped short at the fleshy upper part of her thighs and removed his hands.

"How are your feet?"

Without waiting for an answer, he pulled off her boots and took her socked feet in his hands, rubbing them briskly into warmth.

"What's your name?" Sueanne watched the man's broad back flexing its muscles under the thick, wool shirt. She wanted to see his back naked, wanted to see the muscles moving, stretching under the skin.

"Mike Blocker," he said easily, "I sell insurance over to Morristown."

"Oh," Sueanne let his hands move up her ankles, to her calves and knees-again. She was sitting so that she knew he could see the crotch of her panties and she wondered if the dampness showed.

"I'm from Rickberg," she said, her voice quivering with excitement as his hands moved further up her legs. "My name's Sueanne Rogers. My Daddy's a real estate broker."

Mike grimaced slightly. He had read in the newspapers about her Daddy, Rogers from Rickberg. He was not only a Real Estate Broker, he was also City Councilman and he had an eye on being Mayor.

Sueanne could see the big man trying to control his physical reactions as he continued to press his fingers into her warming flesh. His thumbs were working on the back sides of her thighs and he was facing her, his eyes glued to her pulsing crotch. She could feel the fleshy, warm lips of her little cunt, moving, opening, as the warm juice seeped into the cotton of her panties.

His hands moved to her groin, causing the pleasant ache to intensify. His thumbs moved along the crease at the edge of her panties and she knew that he must be feeling, as well as seeing, the dampness of her crotch. Sueanne looked at his face, lined, tense, trying to show no emotion. Like her father's when he was overjoyed about something but he didn't want to appear boyish and immature by looking jubilant. He always got that same, stern expression on his face-but his eyes, like Mike's eyes, glistened with, excitement. She tried to see her Daddy's face now, fantasizing that the man's healing hands were her Daddy's hands, that the tongue that darted out to lick his broad, dry lips, was her Daddy's tongue and that soon it would be pressed against her mouth, slip under her teeth and fill her mouth. It was her Daddy's finger now that slipped under the edge of her panties, rubbing tenderly against the swollen slit, parting the silky pubic hair, finding her stiff clit and moving it gently back and forth.

"Ohhhh," she moaned and touched the man's black hair.

She watched him smile and knew it wasn't her daddy. But she felt just as safe and loved as if it were. The man gently eased her onto her back on the floor beside the fire and continued stroking her hot, wet slit with one finger, under the edge of her panties. Sueanne felt his finger probing gently at her tiny cunt-hole and she spread her legs to give him room to press his finger into her, deep.

His face changed suddenly and he withdrew his finger. "You're a virgin, aren't you, kid?" She nodded and held onto his dark head. "Sorry, honey," he sighed and sat upright, pushing her hands away. "I'm no monster. I don't go around busting little girl's cherries."

Sueanne's clit was throbbing and swollen. She could feel it pressing into the pulsing lips of her cunt. Her cunt-hole dilated wildly at the loss of his probing finger.

"eighteen's not so young," she said, "I'm probably the only virgin left in my class at school."

But the man just continued to stare into the fire. It had been a long time, he was thinking, since he'd been truly sexually excited. Oh, he fucked his wife a couple of times a month and he jerked off sometimes in the men's room at the office, thinking of strange young women he'd seen on the street. But he didn't fuck around. He was a family man in a small town, deacon at the church, member of the volunteer fire department-he didn't fool around.

Once, he'd had the opportunity to represent his firm at a convention in Richmond and the entertainment chairman had supplied him with a dark-haired young girl, just as if she were dessert, expected to come after any good restaurant meal. He was excited by her youthfulness, her nearly hairless slender young body, but her eyes were tough and her cunt had obviously been ploughed a thousand times by a thousand salesmen's cocks and it was, for Mike, a wholly unsatisfactory experience.

Sueanne looked at the big man, sitting cross-legged before the fire. His cock was rigid, bulging against the trouser leg, his balls were full and pressing at the crotch-line of his hunting britches.