"Family love" - читать интересную книгу автора (Crane David)

CHAPTER FIVE

Debby Cartwright looked very much like a younger version of her beautiful mother – a trifle slimmer, a bit more willowy – and along with those looks, she had inherited her mother's passionate nature.

Debby was still a virgin.

But it was not a condition that she cherished, nor did she intend to remain cherry for much longer. It was just a case of being with the right boy at the right time. Debby was ready and willing to commence a long lifetime of fucking. But she wanted her first fuck to be memorable. She didn't want to lose her cherry in the back seat of a car. That seemed to be where most of the girls she knew, who had been fucked, had done it. None of the boys Debby dated had the maturity to take her to a motel – or to realize that was what she wanted. So, despite herself, she was still a maiden that day, as she walked over to the park.

She sat on the bank of the narrow stream, watching the water trickle past and thinking of jism trickling into her cunt. She felt quite frustrated and rather wistful. She had finger fucked herself twice that morning, before she got out of bed – she usually did it only once. Although coming had been as nice as it always was, the solitary act had left her with a sense of unfullfilment.

There was no one else around.

Debby had just decided that she would go over to her friend Sandy's house for some dirty talk. Sandy was her age, but had already bees fucked duos or four times and was tot loath to talk about it. Those conversations thrilled Debby. In fact, Debby had a vague idea that, if she played her cards right, she might be able to get Sandy to give her a handjob. If they both got all worked up and she suggested, say, that they masturbate together and then, after they had started, she suggested that it would feel better if they did it for each other – well, she had a pretty good idea that Sandy would not be shocked or angered at the idea.

Debby figured it would be fun.

It was awfully naughty, of course – but all the more thrilling because of that. The last time she had been at Sandy's, while that lewdlette described a recent fuck she'd had, Debby had noticed that Sandy was looking at her tits. That had given her the idea. That idea did not extend beyond handjobs, however. She didn't consider, say, sticking each other off, for she was heterosexual by nature and thought of Sandy as a substitute for a boy, rather than a lesbian lover. Now, thinking about it, Debby got hot as hell.

She was wearing blue jeans, very tight, and the crotch began to grow damp as her pussy melted. Her stiff nipples pushed out against her tee shirt. She was in a bit of a quandary. She would have liked to give herself a handjob, right there on the bank of the stream. On the other hand, she didn't want to do it for herself if there was a chance that she might get Sandy to do it for her. But if Sandy refused, Debby would have to wait until she got home to take care of her cunt, and the long delay would be awful.

Such are the problems of young girls.

Suddenly she heard footsteps.

A jogger came trotting along the bank of the strew, toward her. Debby glanced at him. He was about twenty years old and quite good looking – for a jogger – and he was wearing only a pair of running shorts. His lean torso glistened with sweat and his chest heaved as he gulped in air. But what Debby noticed most was the big lump in the front of his shorts.

He slowed as he neared the place where the girl was sitting. When he was almost up to her, he halted, panting and puffing. He sat down on the bank, close to her. He nodded, but paid her no further attention.

Debby kept sneaking a look at his crotch.

It sure looked as if he had a lot of meat in there and, already horny, Debby began to steam. She decided that she could not wait to get to Sandy's – that she would give herself a handjob as soon as the jogger jogged on and left her alone. She wished he would hurry up and get his breath back and leave, so that she could proceed with her solitary pleasures. On the other hand, she was enjoying the sight of his crotch. He had one knee lifted, resting his forehead against it. From where she sat, Debby could look down the leg hole of his shorts as it gaped out. But she couldn't really see anything, just dark shadow – but she knew what was lurking in there. She casually moved a bit nearer to the man, desperate to get at least a visual thrill out of that impressive hunk of meat.

Presently, he raised his head.

He had stopped panting. He smiled at Debby.

"Do you jog?" he asked.

"Nope," Debby said.

She had tried it once but didn't like the way her tits jiggled. Jiggling tits were to excite boys, not to make a girl into an athlete.

"You should. Everyone should," he said.

Oh God, she thought. One of those sanctimonious sods who try to make converts.

What an asshole! Imagine a guy with a prick like that, wasting his time running?

But he was grinning at her.

He had, in fact, noticed the way she had been staring at his crotch and he only jogged to get in shape for fucking.

He said, "There's only one thing better than running for your health."

"What's that?" she said, not really interested.

He pawed for a moment.

"Jerking off," he said.

Debby was stunned.

Had she heard him right? She couldn't have. No one would say a thing like that to a stranger.

"I beg your pardon?" she said.

She was blushing and he was still grinning at her in a speculative way.

"Jerking off," he repeated. "Oh, fucking is just as good, but I'm talking about the things a guy can do for his health alone – jogging and jerking off."

Debby looked away, then looked back at him, not sure what she should do or how she should act. He was, after all, a total stranger and had no business to talk like that to her. But still, since he was a stranger whom she would no doubt never see again, Debby felt no need to act insulted or modest.

She managed to smile.

"Why is jerking off good for you?" she asked.

He moved a bit closer.

"Why, it's the same as running. It gets the old heart ticking away, it gets the blood pounding, it gets a fellow's lungs heaving – just the same, especially when you start to come and the old prick is thundering away."

He made a fist and began to beat it up and down in front of his crotch while his face assumed the expression of a demented Chinaman.

Debby had to laugh.

"Does it work for girls, too?" she asked.

"Sure," he said.

"I must be awfully healthy, then," she said, amazing herself at her own boldness.

"Oh? Masturbate plenty, do you?"

"At least once a day," she admitted.

"That's not so much. I pull my pork three times a day. Even if I don't feel like it. I run six miles and jack off three times, that's my standard daily routine."

Debby was laughing again. She was wondering if he were pulling her leg about pulling his prick?

Now he looked more seriously at bet. He said, "In fact, you've interrupting my workout. I usually stop for a handjob at this point. I come in the water. But I can't very well do that with you here."

Debby had a vision of this fit fellow standing there on the bank, puling his prick furiously and shooting a thick spurt into the water.

"Isn't it sort of like polluting?" she asked.

"Naw. The fish gobble cum up. They love it."

"I don't blame them," she said – and once more she was amazed at her own daring.

"Oh? You swallow cum, too?" he asked. "Well, I never have – but I wouldn't mind." He squinted. He said, "Listen, you don't seem to be a prude. Would you fund if I jerked off?"

"Go ahead," she said, thrilled by at thought that she was going to watch him do it.

He hesitated for a moment, giving her a questioning look. Debby was afraid he might change his mind. She desperately wanted to see it.

"I'll tell you what," she said. "I'll give myself a handjob while you whack off – that way you won't be embarrassed."

"Why, that's very thoughtful of you," he said.

"To tell you the truth, I was just going to do it, anyhow, so you interrupted me as much as I did you."

"I can see that you and I think alike," the jogger said – and he pulled down his shorts!

His cock was coiled in his crotch in a thick, sinewy wad. His balls were bloated, all set to do their part in making him healthy. Debby gazed at his crotch, fascinated, and as she looked, his prick began to uncoil and rise up of its own accord. It jutted out towards the stream.

He still hadn't touched it.

He nodded to Debby.

She understood. She opened her jeans and slipped her hand down, cupping her hot cunt. Then he nodded again, approvingly, and folded his fist around the root of his prick. He gave the big rod a long, slow pull.

Debby felt faint with lust.

"Would you…" she stammered, then faltered, blushing furiously and looking away. "What?" be asked.

She summoned all her courage.

"Would you like me to do that for you?" she asked.

"Yeah!" he exclaimed, with enthusiasm. "I'd rather fuck you, but we can't very well fuck here in the park – and a handjob is always nice."

Debby was losing all her inhibitions now.

She said, "If I jerk you off, will you fingerfuck me afterwards and make me come, too?"

"I sure will," he agreed.

Debby had made herself a deal. This, she knew, was going to be better than doing it with Sandy.

She moved over beside him.

Debby had never actually played with a prick before. She had felt them fleetingly, usually pretending it was an accident, in the midst of petting sessions. Once she had rubbed one through the boy's jeans and caused him to come in his pants – the memory of that delighted hey – but she had never felt a hard, naked cock. For a girl with such a lusty and passionate nature, and such a determination to have plenty of sex in the future, Debby was surprisingly naive and inexperienced. She had done plenty of French kissing, and she had allowed three or four boys to feel her up. But only once had she let a lucky fellow push a finger up her cunt – and that had been in one of those damned back seats. She'd been so afraid that she might get carried away and lose her cherry in an awkward, fumbling fashion, that she had made him stop after one single insertion. That fear of a clumsy defloweration was also the reason why she was not experienced in dealing with naked cocks. It was always those confining back seats. Debby knew that once she started playing with a hard-on she was liable to get carried away and want to go all the way. So, as much as her palms burned and her fingers itched, she resisted the impulse to play with pricks.

This was a different case.

There was no danger that they would get carried away and commence to fuck right there in the public park. So she felt that she was safe enough and could give that big prick a handjob without worry.

The jogger sat with his feet hanging down towards the stream and his weight supported on his hands, behind his back. His torso was arched so that his cock jutted out and up. It was hard as a stone and the knob was flaring.

Debby leaned close, observing her first prick with interest. Fascinating things – dicks – she thought. They look so lovely, so useful, so tasty! In fact, if the jogger had suggested it, Debby would have been more than willing to give him a blow job instead of a handjob, for she just knew that giving head was a thing that she would enjoy immensely. But he hadn't asked her to blow him and she was a bit too shy to suggest it or to just go ahead and start gobbling on that cock.

She reached out and touched the head of his prick with her fingertips, tentatively. That big wedge of purple meat expanded at the touch. Debby drew her hand back and looked at it, as if amazed at what it had just been in contact with. Then, smiling, he wrapped her fist around the root of that cock and began to pump it up and down with gusto.

"Is that the right way?" she asked.

The jogger nodded, his face contorted. His legs began to move, rising alternately, just as if he were running in place. He thrust up fucking through her fist.

"Don't you want to fingerfuck me while I jerk you off?" she asked, quite impatient to get her end of the reciprocal arrangement and thinking it would be nice if they could manage to come at the same time.

"Later," he gasped. "Do me first – pull that load of hot spunk out of my prick!"

Ohhh! the naughty nymphette thought. She did indeed want to milk his cock, to see all that lovely cum pour out on, her hand. It gave her a sense of power, to have him so much in her control. It was just as if his cock was a rudder by which she could steer his passion, reins by which to guide his lust, a lever directing the cockpit of his needs. Although she had never jerked a guy off before, she knew that she was doing it right, that she had a natural talent for whacking pricks – just as, in time, she fully expected to have an inborn talent at fucking and sucking.

She leaned close, staring at his cock as she stroked it up and down. The head flared as her hand dragged the stalk back. It was an angry red now, flushed and flaring frantically as his climax approached. Debby was greatly tempted to lean down and give that succulent knob at least a lick, perhaps a suck, but she resisted the impulse. Like her first fuck, she wanted her first blow job to be in the comfort of a bed.

"Here it comes!" he cried.

Debby squealed with joy and pumped her hand down and the head of his prick blossomed with a creamy flower of jism. The hot, thick stuff poured out, some of it shooting away and some of it trickling down over her fingers.

He gasped and dropped onto his back.

Debby followed him down, her hand continuing to pump up and down on his cock, milking all of the juice out of his balls in a series of spurts and jets. There was a lot of it. She was surprised at how much spunk a man's balls held – and a girl's hand could summon.

At last his cock and balls were emptied.

She pulled away until it began to soften and shrink, then released the rod and leaned back.

"Was it nice?" she asked.

He grunted an affirmative.

"Do me now?" she asked.

He didn't respond.

"Come on – my pussy is burning," she urged him. "I want to get fingerfucked!"

His arm came up.

Debby's leg's parted, expecting that hand to descend onto her crotch. But he looked at his wristwatch.

He said, "I still have three more miles to run – I don't have time for any fingerfucking now."

"But – you promised!" she cried.

"Yeah – but I lied," he said.

And the scoundrel jumped to his feet, gave her a smug look, touched his toes a couple of times and then ran off along the river bank – without even saying thank you or goodbye to the deceived girl.

Debby stared after him, a conflict of emotions and sensations filling her body and her mind. She was disappointed, embarrassed, angry and mortified. She didn't regret having jerked him off, because she had enjoyed doing it, but she felt an utter fool at not getting the promised return of the favor.

And her cunt was volcanic with need.

Tears of remorse burned in her eyes and she gave a little sob of frustration. Damn the jogging bastard! Maybe he was just teasing her, though, she thought hopefully. Maybe he was going to come back and fulfill his end of the bargain. She waited, her pussy bubbling.

But the jogger was gone.

Once again, Debby was presented with a problem. Her pussy was crying – and screaming – for attention, but, having expected to be done by the jogger, she didn't really want to rub herself off.

Again she thought of Sandy.

Now, she had a story to tell her girl friend. She would describe how she had jerked the jogger off and how he had left her frustrated. Then she could hint, subtly, that she so much wanted someone – someone, not just a man – to give her a handjob. She thought there was a good chance that Sandy might take the hint – and willingly. She certainly hoped so. She wanted to fingerfuck each other tot frazzle and maybe even do a little titty sucking, too.

She jumped up, pussy steaming, and walked quickly away from the strew. Her cunt squished between her legs with every rapid stride.

What if Sandy weren't at home?

It was a terrible thought. If she got all the way to Sandy's and the girl was out – out fucking, probably, the lucky bitch – then she would have to wait until she got pack to her own home before she could relieve herself.

But Debby had to go past her own house to walk to Sandy's, and it occurred to her that the smartest thing to do would be to telephone first. If Sandy was home she could hint, over the phone, that she had a juicy tale to tell and then hurry on over. And if Sandy wasn't home, she would be in a position to fingerfuck herself immediately – not what she wanted to do, but it was better than nothing.

So it was that Debby returned home – just as her mother told her father about Raymond.