by D. L. Savage
And as she fucked him, Michael began to sense a second orgasm building within him.
As it grew in intensity, he reached down and touched his fingertips tenderly against his clit, feeling a flash of electric pleasure run right the way through him.
“Oh fuck!” he cried, as he began to toy with his clit, which was now incredibly hard and swollen, standing up from his clit hood in a hard little bean.
Michael worked it in tight circles, as Jennifer slammed her meaty dick deep into his hole, and with a final cry and shiver, Michael felt himself cumming for a second time, his new pussy spasming and clenching hard around Jennifer’s cock.
“Ungh,” Jennifer grunted, kissing Michael passionately, just before her cock twitched and pulsed, buried right up to the hilt in Michael’s pussy.
Then Michael felt the deliciously warm new sensation of cum, spraying deep within him, as Jennifer shot six hard, hot jets deep into his cunt. He felt each distinct squirt, and he shivered and moaned, his own orgasm still fluttering around his body.
“Oh baby,” he cooed in his new feminine voice once she’d finally finished cumming, and Jennifer kissed him hard in reply.
“Wow, that was … intense!” Jennifer said, still panting a little.
Michael smiled and laughed. “You’re telling me.”
He could feel his pussy, all gooey with Jennifer’s load and he turned onto his side and snuggled into her, enjoying the fact that now they were pretty much the same size. Wow. His skin felt so soft and silky brushing up against hers.
“So, I suppose we’ll eat those candies now?” he said, unable to hide the note of sadness in his voice.
“Well,” Jennifer replied, gazing over for a moment at the little alarm clock on the bedside table, “it is only Sunday morning. We could wait until this evening at least?”
And as she spoke, Michael could feel something warm nudging against his thigh. He looked down and realized it was her cock, once again beginning to swell.
“That’s what I was hoping you would say!” he grinned.
“But if we’re going to fool around anymore,” Jennifer continued, “we’ll have to think of a new name for you. Michael just doesn’t quite suit you now, if you know what I mean …”
“How about Candy?” he said, with a grin.
“Perfect,” Jennifer said, her hand slipping eagerly between Candy's legs.
And just like that, the couple began to enjoy each other all over again ...
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14
Heather’s Naughty Secret
Scott didn’t expect anything to have changed very much in his old home town, during his first term away at college. Returning home that Winter for Christmas break, he spent his first afternoon back in the small, sleepy, frosty town wandering around looking in the windows of the shops and scanning the strange-yet-familiar faces. It was as if the place was frozen in time. Scott felt so different now, so changed, so grown up, even though he was still only eighteen and had much of the world still to learn about.
But in those few months away, he’d put on some weight and some muscle, finally filling out and becoming a man. He’d started shaving too, and doing press ups in his room, and — on the few occasions that his geeky roommate, Seth, left him on his own —he’d got into the habit of taking off his shirt and looking at himself in the mirror that hung over the grimy sink in the corner of their dorm room. He’d looked at his broadening chest, a few dark hairs growing in the centre of it, his stomach flat and toned with just a hint of a six-pack and his pecs and biceps thickening up nicely.
And sometimes, his eyes too would stray down to the large, thick bulge in his own shorts. Because, that part of Scott’s body was also developing nicely — since he’d turned eighteen, it was as if his cock had gone into overdrive. Every day, it seemed to have grown another inch. In the locker rooms, after sport, the Scott could tell that the other boys were quietly envying his growing manhood; even flaccid, Scott’s cock was still incredibly thick and long, his balls hanging low and heavy beneath it and a dark thatch of pubic hair above.
Oh, but if only Scott had something to do with it, though! Because, even though Scott’s body was transforming into that of a handsome man, it seemed like none of the girls at Scott’s college had noticed yet.
Also, Scott never quite knew what to say. If you put him next to a pretty girl, he’d find himself blushing and stammering — all those pick-up lines and conversation-starters and ice-breakers that he’d memorized from clips on YouTube would all evaporate from his head, the moment he set eyes on one of the girls at his campus or in his class; who all looked so lovely and sexy and inviting, their bodies also filling out, becoming toned and shapely, their breasts and butts seeming to taunt Scott with their fullness. He’d often have to rush home from a stroll around the campus, suddenly too horny and turned on from all the sexy young girls in his eyesight to be able to concentrate on anything anymore. He’d have to rush into one of the stalls in the bathroom and lock himself in, fumbling his huge, thick, swollen cock from his pants, stroking it only a few times before it grew even more in his grip, stiffened, then jerked, spurting rope after rope of thick white cum into the toilet bowl and spattering against the cistern behind.
Oh, if only I’d had the nerve to ask out Shelly or Kelly or any of the hundreds of pretty girls I’ve been introduced to, Scott thought, as he strolled around the quiet sleepy town of his youth. Because then I might no longer be a virgin …
And just as he was thinking this, he turned the corner, and standing there, right next to Mr Phillip’s hardware store, smiling and talking to Mr Phillips was his daughter Heather.
Before Scott could look away or turn and pretend he was walking in some other direction, Heather’s eyes flitted away from her father and landed on Scott.
“Hey, Scott!” she chirped, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for the two of them to be friends.
You see, they did used to be friends — before Scott’s family had moved to a bigger house at the other side of town, he’d lived right next door to Mr Phillips and Heather. In fact, he and Heather were the same age and, at least in their early years, had kind of grown up together. In that innocence of childhood, they’d always seemed to find themselves rolling around on the lawn in the Summer, kicking leaves in the Autumn, pelting each other with snowballs in the Winter …
And then, Scott’s family had moved over to the other side of town when he’d been about eleven or twelve and he’d not really caught up with Heather much after that, save for a few glimpses around town.
But today, here she was, standing there smiling at him, and just as much as Scott had developed into a man, Heather had developed into a young woman. Her long, blonde hair glinted and shone, framing her petite features, her eyes so large, rimmed by incredibly long lashes, that they seemed almost cartoonish.
Scott’s gaze flickered down Heather’s body for just the briefest of seconds and he felt his heart quicken, an electric shiver running through him as he noted, with a mixture of surprise, excitement and embarrassment, that Heather’s body was now that of a woman.
Sure, she was still just as small and slight as Scott remembered, but the points of her delicate breasts strained against her homely woolen sweater and her hips and thighs showed beneath her tight blue jeans.
“Whatsamatter, Scott?” the gruff voice of Mr Phillips cut in, sending an immediate hot blush to Scott’s cheeks. “Cat got your tongue?”
Mr Phillips wiggled his thick eyebrows at Scott, obviously enjoying this awkward scene.
“Daddy, don’t be rude!” Heather chided him. “Don’t listen to him, Scott,” she continued, turning her big bluey green eyes once more on Scott, quickly taking him in the way he had her. “How’s college?”
“Oh …” Scott croaked, feeling his throat seizing up. “It’s … fine.”
He sounded so pathetic, so reedy and nervous and stupid, that he felt himself screwing his fists up into balls and stuffi
ng them in his pockets, wishing he knew the right thing to say, but feeling how impossible and embarrassing the situation was, especially with Mr Phillips right there, grinning and watching, wiggling his stupid thick eyebrows.
“Hey, let me know if you wanna hangout,” Heather offered, so confidently and casually it almost floored Scott completely. “You remember where I live, right?”
“Sh-sure,” Scott just about stammered, his face now blazing with heat and his heart absolutely hammering in his chest.
“You’re looking good Scott,” Heather smiled, before turning and pushing past her father into the cool darkness of the hardware store.
For a brief half-second, Scott and Mr Phillips just stared at each other. It was the older man who broke the silence, the grin fading from his face, his eyebrows now forming a stern, knotted brow.
“Don’t even think about it,” he murmured quietly, beneath his breath, not needing to elaborate any further.
“Y-yes, Mr Phillips,” Scott said, nodding solemnly, before turning and heading home, a cold sweat cooling on his burning skin.
It was just a week before Christmas, and that evening in Scott’s house the mood was light and cheery. Everyone was in the festive spirit … well, everyone except Scott.
“What’s the matter, dear?” Scott’s mother asked him.
“Nothing,” Scott mumbled.
He was slumped on the couch, watching a seasonal special on TV, and he blushed little just remembering the awkward exchange between him and Heather and Heather’s dad.
“He’s moody ‘cause he’s still a virgin,” Scott’s younger sister, Clare piped up from the dinner table.
“Shut up!” Scott cried, feeling another intense pang of embarrassment.
Clare always seemed to know exactly what to do or say to piss Scott off the most; it was as if she could look into his mind and find the most embarrassing, annoying thing to say at any given moment.
Sometimes, Scott hated her with a passion. She was only a year and a half younger than him, but had never seemed to go through that awkward, fumbling, gangling stage of puberty that he still seemed to be stuck in. Maybe it was just easier for girls in general, Scott wondered, as he remembered how painlessly Clare had made the transition into womanhood. One minute she was a happy, gleeful little girl, the next she was leaving tampons lying around in the bathroom, and talking to boys on the house phone at all hours, and asking their mom to go shopping for thong underwear.
For a moment, Scott wondered weather Heather wore thongs too. Did Heather have a boyfriend? Was Heather a virgin like him? She seemed so easy, so confident back there in town, but she also seemed kind of pure and nice and sweet … like him. It was as if they were made for each other!
If only he wasn’t such a stuttering mess, whenever he tried to speak — to her or pretty much anyone.
As Scott sat there, slumped on the couch, flicking through the hundreds of channels on TV, blaring out adverts and jingles and Christmas specials, Heather’s words once again rang out in his mind:
“You remember where I live, right?”
He sure did. He remembered everything about Heather’s house — it had stood at the bottom of his garden, just past the rickety wooden fence, ever since his childhood.
Just then, Scott stood up.
“I’m going out,” he announced to the room.
“It’s late, honey,” Scott’s mother said.
“Mom, it’s nine o’ clock,” Scott said, a little annoyed that she still treated him like a child, even though he’d been off fending for himself for a whole term at college already.
“Where are you going?” she continued.
“Just out, alright?” he snapped back, perhaps a little too harshly. “Just for a walk, I won’t be late,” he continued, feeling bad. He headed over to her and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “Love you, Mom.”
“Love you, Mom,” Scott’s sister echoed sarcastically as he left the room, but Scott didn’t hear; he was too busy thinking about Heather.
It was as if Scott’s body was working on autopilot. His feet seemed to magically take him in the direction of Heather’s house, without any effort of his own, leaving his mind free to think all sorts of nice things about her. As he started to recognize his old neighborhood — all those streets he’d played on as a kid, before his dad had got that better job and they’d moved to their current house at the other side of town — he felt his pulse quicken in his veins and a tight ball of excitement coiling in his stomach.
Soon he was standing outside Heather’s house and it looked just as he remembered it: the bright red door, the slatted wooden roof, the large oak tree standing proudly in the back garden.
There were lights on downstairs in the living room and as Scott began to head up the path, planning to ring the doorbell, he caught a quick glimpse of Mr Phillips, the huge hulking scary mass of him lifting himself up from the couch, and turning to face the window, and so just like that, Scott found himself ducking out of sight and quickly scurrying round the side of the house and down the path that led to the back garden.
What the hell am I doing? Scott wondered to himself, his heart now absolutely pounding as he made his way into the dark garden.
Luckily he was hidden in the shadows there, even if someone was to peer out, and as he caught his breath he looked up at the back of the house just as an upstairs light flickered on …
Could it be?
Yes! It was the room that Scott remembered as Heather’s bedroom!
He headed down the garden, right to the back, hoping to get a view into her room, but of course it wasn’t possible — Scott should have known that already. He’d need to be up much higher. Oh, if only his family still lived in their old house, just over the fence there, where he could have gone into his old room and looked straight across at her.
Just then Scott’s eye rested on the large oak tree. There was one low branch, within climbing height, and then another. As he looked up it, he realized that if he was careful, there were enough branches and notches and knobbles on the old oak tree for him to be able to lift himself right up into it, and level with Heather’s bedroom.
So, with a hammering heart and the breath shivering in his lungs, Scott darted out into the garden, made straight for the tree, and began to climb up it. The branches were cold and wet and slippery, and the frost from the grass caused his sneakers to slip on the footholds he’d picked out, and for a moment Scott thought he might come crashing back down, right on his back.
But with a bit more scurrying and heaving, soon he was up safe in the tree’s branches, breathing in the strange earthy scent of the leaves, and peering out right into Heather’s bedroom - which was lit up as brightly as a Christmas tree.
She’d not drawn her blinds and Scott could see right the way in: her bed, her posters on the wall, her desk and books and chair and closet, in fact everything but her.
Where was she?
Just then, she stepped into view, framed perfectly by the bedroom window. Her hair was wet from a shower or bath and she was wearing nothing more than a flimsy white bathrobe, under which Scott could just about make out the delicate peaks of her small breasts. He could even see the points of her nipples beneath the flimsy fabric.
She turned, so her back was to the window, then shook off the robe.
Scott’s stomach lurched.
He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
Heather’s beautiful, lightly tanned body looked so perfect and inviting. Her hips curved gently and her small bottom was so delicious and pert. Her back was slender and her lovely long hair fell between her prominent shoulder blades.
Then, with her back still to the window, her hands started to slowly slide up her body, as if she was caressing herself. And, slowly but surely, Scott realized that she had begun gently playing with her own young body, exploring it, her left hand now moving upwards, perhaps to toy with her nipple, while her right hand had moved down — to that secret place between her legs.
As Scott watched, he felt an almost painful sexual urge. His huge cock was now swollen and desperate to be free of his jeans and as he watched Heather’s hand move between her legs, as she parted her delicate thighs slightly, still facing away from him, Scott held on firmly to the branch above him with his left hand, while with his right he desperately fumbled with his belt and zipper.
Finally he managed to free his cock. It sprang from his jeans, so big and hot and thick, the cold night air feeling strange against it, as Scott gripped his meaty pole and began firmly pumping it with his hand.
It had never felt this big and engorged with blood before. It felt as big as a baseball bat, and when Scott glanced down at it for a second he took himself with surprise. It was bigger than he’d ever seen it before, the helmet so huge and red it seemed almost as big as a rosy red apple.
He groaned involuntarily, feeling his balls so swollen and tight and his cock so thick and hot and meaty in his fist as he pumped it, watching Heather too enjoy her young, lithe body with her own fingers.
Then she turned round slightly, so she was in profile, and for the first time Scott caught a glimpse of her nipple. It was small and a dark burgundy, the teat standing hard and proud. She was obviously incredibly turned on, and yes, he saw that sure enough she was fondling her breast with one hand while toying with her pussy with the other.
Finally she turned towards him, facing the window, parting her thighs a little more, and Scott felt his cock swell even further in his hand as he saw that her pussy wasn’t even slightly shaved. It was such a beautiful sight: Heather was so small and delicate, her small breasts with their rock hard little nipples and there between her parted thighs, Scott saw that there was a patch of dark black hair. This took Scott by surprise - he’d assumed her pubic hair would be blonde like her head. But he enjoyed knowing this delicious new secret about her.
