Ebooka przeczytasz w aplikacjach Legimi na:
Odsłuch ebooka (TTS) dostępny w abonamencie „ebooki+audiobooki bez limitu” w aplikacji Legimi na:
The Loves And Lays Of Lusty Louise: Volume Two
Copyright © 2016 Alicia Stranger
Search For “Darque Taboo Press” to find more forbidden and taboo erotica
Click here to sign up for our email list and get three FREE totally taboo and forbidden erotic e-books.
More Books By Alicia Stranger
All Rights Reserved: No part of this publication may be reproduced or retransmitted, electronic or mechanical, without the written permission of the publisher; with the exception of brief quotes used in connection with reviews written for inclusion in a magazine or newspaper.
Disclaimer: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic, adult language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable which might include: multiple sexual practices, heavy and strong BDSM themes and elements, erotic elements and fetish play. This e-book is for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/Fetish titles without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither the publisher nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury, or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles. All characters depicted are at least eighteen years of age or older.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, businesses, and incidents are from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual places, people, or events is purely coincidental. Any trademarks mentioned herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks used are specifically in a descriptive capacity.
Louise sighed as she brought her reminiscences to a close.
"You know, Bill," she reflected, "I'm beginning to see things in a different perspective now. Outwardly I've been liberated and eager to keep up with other girls my age. But those years of brainwashing by Mom were bound to have some effect. I see now that I'm not as free of hangups as I had supposed. I was actually offended by your act of frottage! You've taught me how to really let myself go, to tap the animal hunger within me. And I know this is going to make life a hell of a lot more exciting-for both of us!
"But, now that you've heard the story of my life, tell me about yourself," said Louise. "I'm sure your history is far more interesting than mine. How ever did you become a frotteur?"
"It's a long story," Bill replied. "But since you're so curious, I'll tell it to you."
* * *
To begin with, I'm about ten years older than you are. Born and raised in the suburbs-Newton, to be exact. My parents were fairly well off.
My home life? Pretty dull compared to yours. I have several brothers and sisters, and we grew up doing the typical things kids do, nothing extraordinary.
We didn't see much of our folks. Mother was very active in civic affairs, and was constantly rushing off to some meeting or other. Dad was a pilot for a major airline, so naturally he wasn't at home very much either. He'd send us postcards from Rangoon or Vienna telling us to brush our teeth and stay out of mischief. All the kids on the block used to envy me. After all, it was real prestige to have a father who flew airplanes for a living. And there was another reason for their envy. My dad was never around to give me a thrashing if I got into trouble!
So I guess I grew up just a little bolder and more adventurous than most children, I got used to not having to worry about consequences.
From the start I attended public schools. Mother wanted to send me off to one of those exclusive boys' academies, but Dad wouldn't hear of it.
"Absolutely not!" he'd say. "Those places are hotbeds of homosexuality. I don't want any child of mine growing up to be a mincing queer. Not on your life!"
That was Dad for you, a really masculine, virile type of guy. That was another thing I liked about him. I'll bet he had those stewardesses hanging over his cock from here to Nairobi!
I started to get interested in sex the way all young boys do-by learning to jerk off! The older kids used to hold clinics in the schoolyard. For a quarter they'd teach the youngsters all the proper techniques. They'd also explain the facts of life to any of us who weren't in the know. I learned those lessons well. By the time I reached the seventh grade, I was holding clinics of my own!
That became a pretty good source of extra income. Mother made me account for every cent of the allowance she gave me, but I could do as I pleased with my other earnings. No one would be any the wiser.
I'd spend it all on men's magazines, of course. Why waste it on candy or comic books? That stuff was for toddlers. It was more fun to gaze at a huge glossy photo in full color of a nude, spread-eagled chick while you beat your meat. A couple of times I got carried away and came all over the magazine. But that was okay, too. I could always scrape up enough money to buy another.
Often the kids would hold masturbation contests. Marbles and baseball cards were all right, but nothing beat a good old-fashioned circle jerk. The contestants formed a ring and whipped out their cocks when the referee gave the signal. Usually the kids who weren't participating would be placing bets furiously, wagering anything of value they had, even their lunch money. At the count of three we all began to jerk off like crazy. Whoever ejaculated first was the winner, and the rest of us would have to pitch in and do his homework the rest of the week, Sometimes to vary the action we beat each other off, drawing the names by lot The winner was the kid who produced the quickest orgasm with his partner. That took plenty of skill, because you had to calculate his reactions carefully. In a way it was a weird trip, holding the cock of a friend, but it was all in fun and we didn't see anything abnormal about it.
We used to invite the girls over to watch these events, but they always refused, calling us "nasty,"
"horrible," or "perverted." We'd split our sides with laughter. We knew they were just jealous because they had no cocks of their own to play with.
One time a bunch of us really showed those girls where to get off. We were sick of their snooty attitude, so we decided to do something about it. Our chance came at the Sunday School picnic. This was held annually at a wooded grove on the outskirts of town.
With four or five of the more devilish fellows, I climbed up into a big leafy maple tree and perched on a branch, waiting for the opportunity that was sure to come. After a while three of the seventh-grade girls came ambling over, carrying a blanket and a picnic basket. They were Sally, Joyce, and Olive, three of the most stuck-up girls in the class.
"Don't make a sound!" I whispered. "They can't see us up here!"
Unaware of our presence, the girls spread their blanket in the shade of the maple. Then they began to empty the basket. They had brought sandwiches, shiny Macintosh apples, a big chocolate cake, and a thermos jug full of milk, which they poured into paper cups.
"Milk at a picnic!" I said to myself. "Ugh! What a bunch of assholes!"
I gave the prearranged signal. Each of us solemnly pulled out his prick. The three girls were chattering aimlessly below us, without the slightest inkling of what lurked overhead, "One, two, three!" I counted softly. "Jerk!"
We all began to stroke and pull our adolescent penises like young demons. Each of us was straining not to make a sound. We didn't dare allow a gasp or grunt to escape our lips. If we tipped the girls off, all our efforts would be in vain.
I had my peter in my fist and was beating it up and down for all I was worth. We'll show those little bitches now, I thought. Any minute now...
Between mouthfuls of lunch the girls were gabbling like three geese. I think they were discussing some movie actor in that star-struck, idealized way junior high school kids have. I know this, they hadn't been alerted to the frenzied action going on above their heads. I doubt if they'd have stuck around if they'd known what was coming.
The boy on my right, Felix, came first. He was a swarthy young lad with a thick, wicked-looking cock, and he was pumping it like mad. His eyes were practically bulging out of his head. Suddenly a gigantic gob of sperm came shooting out of his flaring, purple cockhead. It sailed into space in a high arc before the force of gravity caused it to plummet to the earth below, somewhere in the midst of the picnicking girls.
Where did it land? With bated breath we all paused in our feverish jerkings to peer down through the leaves. Apparently it had fallen unnoticed. The girls were talking and laughing as if nothing had happened. Olive, a prissy, nasal-voiced redhead, was raising a cup of milk to her lips. I spied something floating in it. It had to be Felix's come! Olive took a big gulp."
"Goodness!" she exclaimed. "I didn't know we'd brought buttermilk along. It tastes good, though."
"But this isn't buttermilk," said Sally. "As far as I know, it's just regular homogenized milk."
"Well, this batch must have had a lot of cream in it," Olive replied in that know-it-all voice of hers. "It's good, anyway. I'll have some more!"
When we heard that, we were beside ourselves. "Sure thing, baby," muttered Felix under his breath. "More coming right up!"
All of us resumed masturbating. Each wanted to be the first to drop his load on this happy gathering.
Finally I felt that familiar, warm, tickling sensation in the head of my cock, the sure harbinger of an orgasm. In an instant I had popped my rocks, sperm was shooting out of my prick like water from a garden hose. Sally must have heard something rustling in the leaves, because at that moment she looked up, just in time to catch the full force of my ejaculation square in the face!
"Sally!" shrieked Olive. "What on earth is happening?"
Now the other boys were also coming, one right after the other. A thick clump of sperm fell onto Olive's head with an audible plop, making a gummy mess of the beautiful head of hair she was so proud of. More joyjuice rained down on the horrified Joyce, blotching the expensive cashmere sweater she was wearing. Sally opened her mouth to scream, but instantly regretted her action when a blob of my come trickled off the end of her nose and dropped right onto her tongue.
The merry crew in the tree roared with laughter as sperm poured down upon the girls unmercifully, like some sort of glutinous hailstorm, me three were trapped in the crossfire. They never had a chance. There was no escape. They could only ride it out, hoping the young balls of their tormentors would soon be drained of seminal fluid. Joyce and Olive were doing their best to dodge the sticky emissions, but Sally was all but insensible with disgust and indignation. She was vomiting heartily on the blanket, letting the sperm fall where it may over her prostrate form.
"You monsters!" wailed Olive. "Stop this at once! Get down from there! I'll tell your mothers on you!"
"Go ahead!" we taunted her. "We dare you!" We all knew she was chicken.
Finally all three of them just lay there and began to sob.
"We're sorry," sniffed Joyce. "We didn't mean to make fun of you. Please come down."
Well, we'd had our fun, and I was willing to let bygones by bygones. That was a lesson they'd never forget. But Felix had other ideas. He had been the first to come, and a few minutes' pause was all he needed to spring back into action. His cock was hard again! Oh, the recuperative powers of youth.
"Watch this!" he growled. 'I'm not through with them yet!"
I think there may have been just a wee bit of the sadist in Felix. The rest of us zipped up our trousers and lowered ourselves calmly to the ground. Not him! He leaped out of the tree with his cock stuck out insolently in the morning sun.
"Oooo!" gasped Olive. I could tell she had never seen a boy's equipment before, especially in an aroused state. "It's so big and hard and hairy! What are you going to do?" She was both frightened and fascinated.