Better Not Pout

©December 2001 by Bob Peale

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Author's Note:

This story was originally distributed as 7 chapters.

It may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached, as long as no charge is made for it and it isn't changed in any way. If it is archived or displayed, it is done so with the understanding that the author will have unrestricted access to the archive or posting.

Please address all feedback, inquiries, marriage proposals, etc. to the author at mischief1@bigfoot.com.

Disclaimer: This story is a work fiction. None of the characters or events herein are based on real people, either living or dead. It was produced for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or if reading stories of a sexual nature upsets you, do not read any further! By reading further, you certify that you have accessed/requested access to this material willfully, and that you are an adult 21 years of age or older. You also certify that you are NOT a city, county, state, or federal law enforcement officer, official of the United States Postal Service, acting in the capacity of a representative of a telecommunications firm, and that, to your knowledge, this material does not offend the standards in your area, nor is it in violation of any of local, state, or federal law. No animals were harmed in the manufacture of this product.

*******

When Stacy first graduated from college she wasn’t overly concerned about finding a job. She’d been able to put quite a bit of money away senior year, due mostly to the fact that her senior thesis had all but extinguished her social life. She wasn’t exactly a hermit - she was active in her sorority, and Brad’s fraternity had parties more regularly than most professors held class. But she didn’t do a lot of other things - unless you counted sex.

Like many of her classmates at the small Midwestern college she’d attended, she arrived on campus a virgin. She had a boyfriend; she and Brad had gone to the same high school, had been friends since the sixth grade, and sophomore year of college, soon after Rush, their friendship finally blossomed into a romantic relationship. But they had both agreed that there was no hurry to have intercourse.

In fact, she and Brad could have been the poster children for the wholesome college couple. Brad was 6’ tall with broad shoulders and powerful legs. He had never pursued organized sports but was very active and lifted regularly. Stacy had bouncy brown curls and wide set blue eyes, stood just under 5’5”, and waged a constant battle through diet and exercise to keep her waist and thighs from swelling.

Brad turned 21 at the end of junior year. After a lavish dinner (or at least what passed for lavish in their small college town), they returned to his apartment to finish the celebration with a $9 bottle of champagne (Brad’s first legal purchase).

They shared such a good mood that even his roommates, ensconced on the couch and engrossed in the meaningless action/adventure movie playing way too loud to be comfortable, couldn’t put a damper on the evening.

Safely in Brad’s room, he opened the bottle and filled two plastic beer cups while Stacy fished around in her purse. She retrieved two brightly wrapped boxes and turned back to him.

“You can open this one now,” she said, holding out the larger of the two, “but you’ll have to wait to open the other.”

He shrugged and accepted the gift, tearing off the paper like a little boy. Inside was a beautiful watch - all stainless steel with impressive looking dials and gauges. He fingered it lovingly, lifting it up and marveling at the solid feel in his hand.

“Oh my God Stacy, it’s great!” he exclaimed.

Stacy smiled. “You’re an adult now, and its time you started looking like one,” she said with mock seriousness.

They both burst out laughing. Gradually they settled down enough to sip their champagne. This was the first time either had had any that didn’t come from a cardboard box or a bottle with a plastic cork. They oohed and ahhed, swearing never to go back to the “cheap stuff” again.

As usual, the alcohol worked on their libido, and it wasn’t long before they were peeling off each other’s clothes. Once they were naked Stacy dropped to her knees and took him in her mouth, using her tongue to make him thicken. He rocked smoothly back on his heels - he loved the way she gave head. Sometimes she would drag it out for hours, bringing him to the brink then letting him calm down a little, so that when he finally came she nearly drowned.

She reached up and gave his balls a firm squeeze, making his legs buckle. Chuckling, she guided him onto his bed, scrambling to keep at least part of him in her mouth. Once he was flat on his back she went wild, sucking and pumping, sliding her dampening pussy along the lower part of his leg. Brad, realizing that he was not in control of the situation, lay back, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the ride.

He felt his balls tighten and let out a breathy gasp to signal to Stacy that he was close. She released his cock and retreated to his balls, licking and nuzzling them while she waited for him to settle down. His hips humped the air forcefully, precum spilling out of his slit and trailing down his shaft. As it got near his balls she licked it off, making him moan, taking care to stroke him just enough to keep him hard.

Slowly, he felt her begin to nibble and suck up from his balls, along his shaft and over his cock head. He was more turned on then he’d remembered being in recent history. He felt like he was floating, the perfect end to his 21st birthday.

When she removed her mouth he felt an incredible sense of loss. He opened his eyes just in time to she her straddle him. He registered what was about to happen seconds before he felt the shockingly warm moistness of what had to be her pussy slide over the head of his cock.

“Stacy,” he sputtered, “what are you doing?”

In response she gyrated purposefully, almost as if she was trying to build up speed. Brad trembled, caught somewhere between the fantasies he’d fostered for so long and the reality of what was actually happening. She looked down at him and smiled.

“Happy Birthday, Sweetheart,” she cooed softly, and then jammed herself down on his cock as hard as she could.

She hung there, suspended, for a moment before her hymen finally yielded. The act of losing their virginity was painful for both of them, but in varying degrees. She felt a surge of unbearable pain, not so much sharp as hot and dull, well up in her groin. She throbbed some, and felt a small rush of liquid that she suspected was blood but was too afraid to verify. For his part, Brad’s cock ached from this unaccustomed use. I felt like it had been bent and twisted like a wire toy, even though he’d used a hand (both his and hers) many a time.

The room was eerily silent, save for their shallow breathing and the muted reverberations of the television spilling in from the livingroom beyond, the enormity of their action weighing heavy on both of them. In an instant all strength ebbed out of Stacy and she fell on top of Brad, her nipples digging into his chest.

He was growing concerned, was about to ask if she was okay, when she slowly raised her hips, gripping his cock tightly with her pussy as she did. She pumped up and down on his cock slowly while he lay there, too amazed to do anything else.

For Stacy, the initial pain and discomfort was replaced by a tingle that could best be described as a deep itch. The more she slid up and down his shaft, the deeper she felt the itch. Legs tense, she increased her pace, moving faster, feeling the heat grow from the friction between her legs. Under her, Brad writhed as she slammed against him harder. She grabbed hold of his shoulders to brace herself and really let loose, pounding and moaning, easily loud enough for Brad’s roommates to hear.

She’d had orgasms before, intense ones from Brad rubbing her clit while they kissed, but she could already tell the one building in her currently was going to be different. For starters, every movement, every touch, aroused her more. In the past Brad had made her ready to scream when he rubbed her, but now every contact caused a small explosion to race through her, each as intense as any climax she’d had previously.

She leaned over and smothered his mouth with hers, her voice echoing deep in his throat as she tried to swallow his face. Their tongues mashed together clumsily, neither one able to concentrate very much as their pelvises crashed together.

Suddenly Brad groaned in her mouth and she felt a warm rush deep in her – Brad was coming. She fucked him harder, making him shiver as her pussy gripped his over sensitive cock, while he unloaded into her. It may have been that he reached a nerve inside her; or maybe it was the thought of her boyfriend, her lover, coming inside her; or quite possibly, it was a combination of the two - she would probably never know – but something seized her body, twisted it into a knot, and sent a bolt of electric fire racing through her, beginning at the tips of her acorn sized nipples and collecting in the pit of her groin with such force that she actually fell off Brad’s semi-hard cock and sprawled drunkenly on the floor, the evidence of their coupling oozing out.

When she could, she struggled shakily back up on the bed and snuggled close to Brad, kissing him softly. Then she reached over to his nightstand and handed him the other brightly wrapped box, and laid her head on his chest. Inside was a small plastic cherry. They both fell asleep soundly with a smile on their faces.

In the months that followed, it turned out to be Stacy that couldn’t get enough sex. It got so bad over summer break that she started sneaking out at night to meet up with Brad so that they could have sex before she went to sleep.

It didn’t really come as a surprise to anyone that Brad proposed to her over Christmas break senior year. They were married the week after graduation, which gave them 2 ½ months to move and get situated before Brad started worn in Kansas in August.

They both agreed that it made more sense for her to look for work after they got settled. They were surprised when November rolled around and she still didn’t have a job, but they stayed optimistic. By the time October of the following year came and she was STILL unemployed, they were legitimately panicked. Despite the fact that Brad was paid well, they’d had to borrow from both of their families to stay afloat. If she didn’t bring some money in soon, they would have to start selling wedding gifts just to make ends meet. In desperation, she asked one of her neighbors what she thought she should do.

"Simple," she said conspiratorially, as if it was the closest held secret in the realm. "Get a job during the holiday season. It's only a couple of nights a week for a few months, and you can usually make $10-$12 an hour. One or two times a year, that adds up."

Disheartened but realistic, Stacy watched the local paper until the ads started running for Christmas help. The thought of being on the other side of the counter scared the hell out of her, but she really didn’t see where she had any choice.

So, instead of pursuing a career in finance or consulting like she’d expected, one blustery Thursday morning Stacy found herself in the personnel department of a local department store filling out an application for seasonal work.

She handed the completed application to a woman behind the desk and took a seat in the waiting room. The place was pretty full; she wondered what her chances were; something told her that graduating from a good college wasn’t going to give her a competitive advantages.

After two hours on a hard uncomfortable chair her name was finally called. Inside, a sloppy, ill tempered man grunted at her from behind a cheap imitation wood desk. His hair was plastered greasily to a pale fleshy scalp, his eyes two dots of indistinguishable color set deep in the folds of his face. His face was speckled with the poor attempt at a goatee, the same dull brown color of his hair. His neck was squeezed into a yellowing dress shirt frayed at the collar, and a ratty sport coat was thrown over the back of one of the visitors’ chair that may have been blue or black, but had faded into a mottled dark gray. He didn't bother to stand, but gestured a meaty paw toward the other metal and fabric chair in front of him.

To Be Continued...