Fallon hits the high notes —group sex.
Tell me about any girl who hasn't caught out a guy perving on her butt under a short dress as she is going up the stairs. I knew some prick's eyes were ogling me before I turned.
Still, I hadn't chosen the most private spot to check out the clear, damp patch on the back of my shortish yellow dress. Well, I had hurriedly chosen a light sheer fabric to wear in my rush out the door and even worse, I hadn't got to change my cum saturated skimpy coral pink panties after nearly being caught by my own mother on the stairs at home screwing both the security installation upgrade guys.
But hey, a girl can't ignore a boner directly in front of her.
I was checking out the soaked patch on my dress with my fingers as Georges, my aging but talented music teacher, looked up the stairs. I could feel the spreading wetness.
The old sod Georges could see the damp, clammy patch just as clearly as I could feel it, and his eyes had the perfect angle for an indecent leisurely stare up my flouncy short yellow dress to my soaked knickers.
Well, nothing for it.
It looked like I was screwing my first-ever older guy today.
Geez, just how many cocks could a girl really enjoy in a day?
Well, technically in an afternoon.
I really shouldn't have lost control with Jarryn in his car behind my place after school. I mean, he got my arse following his first feel-up and only after fifteen minutes together. I really was trashy, but hey, I was one satisfied happy slut as I made my way inside our kitchen after Jarryn had my arse.
From there, it was all a sexual rollercoaster. The two security installation guys in our house were not planned. But hey, who plans sex, except for the pill? But that's intelligent girl planning.
Geez, a girl should be able to wander around her house naked but should check the calendar for house callers, I suppose.
No, it wouldn't have happened, and the young guy was so cute. It had to be his first fuck and the other guy in his twenties. Yeah, Ben, he knew how to work arse; very nice, thankyou: but here was Georges moving up the stairs with a spring in his over fifty years gait.
What the fuck was I going to do with him?
I enjoyed three good roots this afternoon.
Yeah, Georges was getting what?
Fuck that wet patch; how far will I go with Georges?
Give his old cock a tug? Suck his randy pecker off? Screw the dude till he pants.
Really, give him something to remember for the next few years. Let him work his meat into my tight back crack. Well, I thought I had it covered. After all, in these situations, the tart is in control.
The first thing was to slow the randy old bugger down. I actually needed a break from sex.
Did I just think that? Or was it better to get this over with?
"Ms Fallon, it's nice to see you could finally make piano practice," said the bastard with a puffing blackmailing grin.
I knew what he had in mind. Since the first day, I came to practice here. Well, I hadn't wanted to screw him six months ago and still didn't, but he was only a phone call away from revealing my true nature to my mother.
"Shall we practice first, or would you prefer to select a new instrument from the storeroom."
He wasn't being subtle; the filthy old leering letch. I saw him staring at my tits, mentally undressing me.
"The storeroom; let's check out your favourite instrument;" I was in charge here.
Georges just smirked.
The perv had some indecent idea circling in his mind.
If he thought I was an anal virgin, he was in for a downer.
We were in the expansive storage area of the converted warehouse, and there were plenty of instruments to choose from. However, I knew I had to deal with the one in his pants.
The truth is you never really know another person's sexual predilections until they are underway. Boy, was I about to find out that Georges was a kinky old bastard.
Still, as a sylph, he had no idea, no inkling at all; of the pussy and starfish magic I was capable of dispensing.
Seduction is an infinite shapeshifter.
"Well, Ms Fallon bend over; you have been a bad, bad girl, missing all your recent practices, and now I know you have been whoring. I will treat a whore exactly as a whore should be treated."
I was intrigued as he made me bend over a small, mostly cleared table with loose sheet music.
While he was easing down my pink knickers, which was actually a good thing, they were cum soaked. I was fixed on one piece of the sheet music. It was Britten's — A Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra.
Looked like I was getting a flute or clarinet, but whether the old prick was going to enjoy pussy or add to my over-creamed arse, I didn't actually know or care.
I didn't expect a thrill from an old guy.
"Mmm…Mmm…Mmm… Don't you dare halt …Mmm…Yeah…Mmm;" and I realised how quickly a girl changes her mind when the frickin touch from the outset is delectably raunchy, unexpectedly dirty and new.
I was humming nicely.
Georges was a seasoned prick or playing out a complete grubby fantasy here: on me.
It was a maraca handle riming my arse, then inserted in my puckered, happy tush. There was a slight rattle as filthy Georges wriggled it around, teasing my overly sensitive rim.
Boy, it was a simple instrument, but man, oh man, was the old bastard playing with it well.
The randy sod knew what a pair was for; my pair of fem holes to be filled equally, so the second maraca handle was toying around the opening of my wet slit; about a minute later.
My booty jiggled with delight. My twin cavities of happiness were both pleasured, pleasured really nicely; steady hands eased the percussion pieces slightly deeper by the passing moments.
I could feel my tight arse expanding to one of the handles and knew as he eased the other into my pussy; I wanted it to really fill me out.
I couldn't believe how intent the smutty maestro was; he was fine-tuning me for a decent fucking. I was amazed at just how easily my pussy and arse were enjoying the pleasure chase again.
Christ, I had been double dicked less than an hour ago.
The maraca in my butt hole was tight but starting to gape my arse, ready for his cock. He had removed the other instrument handle from my coochie and had his fingers working up a nice squelch.
I was so wet.
It was like the natural state of my pussy.
The old sod drummed my buttocks.
Thawck! Thawck! Thawck!
A fast, stinging tempo.
"Oi! But its nice! Ooh Raah! Ooh!"
The maraca popped out of my arse. Georges' hard dick was popped in. Pleasurably comfortable. I wasn't thinking about his age. I felt cock; cock is good: cock up the butt is sensational; any cock you get in there.
My tushy needed a too-regular cock feed.
My starfish took him so easily. My back door of happiness was too frickin relaxed. It was like an open day, and my arse just kept accepting invitations.
Still, I was young, and it was holding its glorious tightness. I knew how to keep it in shape. It was one of my pleasure dispensers, and I always got the maximum enjoyment out of it.
"Oh yeah…deeper…deeper;" okay; I was too trashy, but it was actually good cock. I was tightly filled and really enjoying mature cock.
Georges didn't lose the rhythm of his constricting pounding, and I didn't blink as Fabian's cock was pushed into my gob across the table.
I knew Georges' son was here sometimes, but for how long had the dirty sod been watching!
Long enough to get a decent hard-on.
God, I love cock. One cock. Two cocks.
Where should a girl stop?
Fabian tasted great. I mean, it was a hard fleshy sweet treat cock. I was in lollypop suck mode.
Yum, cock. Yum cock.
Mmm, great. Two holes were filled again, and this was becoming regular. I could get very used to this. My mouth puckered around Fabian's head in a perpetually repeated litany of pleasure.
I had a thought: What was that trinity nonsense from religious services at school; the father; the son; yeah, I had them both in my body; the spirit; yeah, the third one: my pussy needed action; to experience the whole caboodle.
The ribald prick Georges turned me over and put my legs up over his shoulders. I thought he wanted some pussy; no, he was really enjoying my arsehole and dug straight back in: enjoying the cavernous angle.
Fabian was pushing deep into my mouth, but I was taking him all, gag-free.
He was testing the frickin limits of my tonsils, but hey, I was more than up to this. I loved cock.
Then I nearly frickin choked on his pecker as three fingers went indecently quickly into my pussy. But they were so sure and knew precisely how to super arouse a girl.
Someone with insider G-spot knowledge.
"Fugh! Ooh yeah!" I spluttered between gulping cock.
Fuck, it was sensationally intensely pleasurable.
Fabian's cock was unexpectedly released from my mouth as I moaned and writhed, out of control.
Someone had 'dibs' on my super, private girly spot.
God, it was Georges' niece, Gabriella.
Just what the fuck did this extended family get up to?
"Ugh! Ugh!" I moaned.
Yeah, sometimes you get it all. I was having a day of it.
Gabby knew it was about the pleasure expression and the pleasure shared; she kept hitting my G-spot and took in my look of initial surprise as the incredible blissful intensity in my face was mirrored in her own — as the bodily delight spiked everywhere in my cunt.
Then, the pure, lustful gaze belonged to her as she repeated the perfect and essential touch, which was the foundation of my stunning orgasm. It was ritually constructed, built from the recurring variations of touch inside my pussy, the need for touch, the need for the explosive internal detonation of orgasm, rising, rising, the delicious moment just before its peaks.
"Ooh yeah! Ugh-aah!"
It's stunning, and then the reiterated spasms of expanding joy; life is good; life is good; life is tops in a new orgasm.
I knew already Gabby, and I would have it off again somewhere.
Time to relax and savour the sweetest of ignited sensations another girl gave.
No.
Georges had his filthy way with me and creamed out my arse. It was good because my pussy was still tingling with Gabby's soft post orgasmic touch.
Fabian, the young letch, returned for his head job. I was dutiful and sucked with conviction and took his spunk all over my face and long hair. Still, it was Gabby's fingertips meanderingly around my clit that kept me really pleasurably involved in the whole group scene.
Well, I now knew I looked both my best and my worst.
I was cum filled and jizzed covered, yet I had the flush that defines a woman and makes her look beautiful, especially all sperm smeared.
Gabby went with me to the ladies restroom. She gently helped clean the cum from my face.
God, she had soft, sensuous hands.
She lifted off my yellow dress and unclipped my bra, and douched my arse and pussy for me with gentle handfuls of warm water. It was cleansing but erotically charged.
An alchemy of sexual energy coiled between us.
She took her comb from a small bag she had with her and brushed out my long hair. She rolled deodorant under my arms and sprayed a fine mist from a peachy-scented fem spray over my pussy.
God, it was like I was being primed for more sex.
She knew I wanted her there, and then, my eyes said it all.
I wanted her breasts. I desired to eat her pussy.
But Gabby told me: "Another time, sweetie, you have music practice."
Georges took me through an extended practice, which was very professional.
The sexual encounter was compartmentalised. He phoned home saying I was doing extra tuition.
Yeah, tuition in sex.
Strange though, I was so relaxed; I had the mood and cadence of the complex pieces on the piano, sounding so sweet.
There I was on the piano stool, in my yellow dress, no undies, sexually satisfied. My life was seemingly wholly tuned.
Georges was satisfied, too, with my musical progress. He said I had talent and meant it.
Musical talent.
And I was to be on time for extended lessons starting next week.
I knew he wanted my arse again, but I was coming for Gabby's pussy.
Gabby surprised me and took me aside as I was about to leave for my taxi home and escorted me to the ladies.
She held up my clean, pink, flimsy knickers in front of her face, and yes, she then watched as I put them on.
Yeah, I made a show of it for her.
Anticipation is all. Gabby and I had some catching up to do next week in the studio.
I was then bounding down the stairs to the street. Life was good. It was full of future promise, held in one name: Gabby…Gabby …Gabby…filling my head.
I was at the taxi stand; there was no taxi; I was idling time mentally stripping Gabby.
God, who should cruise past; Jarryn and his car full of mates; cruising for what; extra pussy; the cheating bastard.
He did the obligatory doughnut, circled back, and stopped on the rank.
Jarryn leaned over his passenger and through the window and said to me:
"Fallon, come cruising."
What sort of girl did he think I was, a gangbang under-the-bridge slut?
He repeated it, as I hadn't responded: "Fallon…orrrhh Fallon… come cruisin."
I was thinking: whether that was with my pussy or my head, I don't know.
The back door was thrown open.
There were three other guys in the car.
Would I get in the back seat between two of Jarryn's mates?
The pricks had made a space for me between them.
I will…I won't… screw you Jarryn.
I'm not that slutty …four guys…four guys!
Oh, for god's sake, girl… have a limit.
Then: What are limits for?
Jarryn was revving; here were revved-up boys looking for slutty girls; girls' plural.
There was only me; could I handle this?
Then I thought:
Life needs one memorable universal big bang.
A stellar performance.
And I clambered, squeezed between two sort of known guys on the back seat.
Jarryn revved off for the hot spot under the bridge.