The Parade 5

"Hey Jane," Dexter said coolly, moving past the slender girl. As he walked, his flaccid cock bobbed subtly. Though the blood flow to his member was evidently minimal, that didn't stop the aches Jane felt deep in her uterus from just the sight of it. She knew Dexter wouldn't be looking, but if he had cautioned a glance, he might have caught a shimmer on her pussy lips that peaked out from beneath a light red bush.

Dexter stopped short just past her and turned around, a thought suddenly coming to mind. His eyes met hers and Jane had to quickly adjust her gaze from his lower third. "Are you going to the parade right now?"

They were almost alone on the community's pristine walkway, identical white houses conforming beside them in endless rows. In the near-distance she could see Mr. Dolby standing on his front porch, waving at the occasional neighbors passing by, basking in the sun in complete natural glory. His dick—she knew from Sunday sermons when it swung freely as he spoke—was nowhere near as large as Dexter's; plus, it was beginning to wrinkle with age.

God, the way he half-smiled as he asked, his wavy voluminous brown hair, parted off-center, his exposed pectorals and clichéd six-pack abs. If only he'd ogle her exposed body the way she did his.

I mean, Jane wasn't a vain girl, but she wasn't delusional either. She had a great set of tits hanging like ripe fruit from a thin tree. Not too thin, mind you; she knew anorexia was unattractive. Plus, she loved food too much—pastries especially—to go that route. No, her cute slimness came from a natural metabolism for which she was ever grateful, and ever aware of its fleeting nature.

So if they hung so full and round, why couldn't she could get one of these guys to look at her breasts rather than her eyes?

"I was thinking about it," Jane said finally, "but I don't know if I'll end up going. I don't really have anyone to go with."

Not that she needed anyone, but she was hoping Dexter would pick up the signal.

He smiled wider and her soul ached. She took a step closer to the naked boy, her heavy breasts almost brushing against him, and swore she could smell the pheromones coming off his mildly hairy chest. She wondered why no one else seemed to sense it, this sexual palpicity in the air here. It must be wrong to feel this way, but it felt so painfully good.

"You could come with me," he said, clearly nervous but managing to keep his voice in check.

Jane just smiled and said "awesome."

"Awesome."

They stood that way, staring at each other—at their eyes, though Jane wished she could move hers down. In that brief shadowy touch of two people nearly connected, but ever far apart, she could feel the ghost of his penis, just inches (if even) from her vagina. What would he think—this nonchalant nudist; this seductive swain; this pornographic perfection—if Jane told him how much she thought about his dick shoved roughly in her cunt. What would any of them think?

Finally, wordlessly, Dexter turned away, back towards Mr. Dolby who had settled into his flower beds, dirtying his bare legs. Jane stepped up beside him and fell in line with his long gait.

Dexter cleared his throat. "I hear," he started, darting his eyes to the side where Jane walked. Yes, he seemed to pay little attention to her tits or her ass, but he was still just as nervous as she. He began again. "I hear they're going to have burlesque performers in the parade."

Oh, thought Jane. Somehow this had turned sexual, though in a... less desirable way. "Burlesque?" Jane said, interest piqued. "That should be interesting."

"Yeah," Dexter looked more squarely at her, seemingly at ease by Jane's apparent interest. "It should be... sexy."

Was that just in her mind, or had Jane truly seen a slight twitch from his lower half out of the corner of her eye. She tried to take a glance at his dick covertly, but she couldn't tell if it was any harder than before.

The pair turned a corner and suddenly could see a large gathering at White Rabbit Gated Community's main thoroughfare. From their current location, several blocks away, the two couldn't see a single thing beyond the bare backs and butts of crowded men and women, though they could certainly hear the cacophony from beyond.

Jane eyed the crowd in front of them. They were all so close, asses to asses, dicks against thighs, sometimes pubic hair against pubic hair. Yet they all remained completely unfazed, unaroused, unhornied. Jane, however... Jane dripped.

"You ok?" Dexter asked as they slowly got closer to the parade.

Suddenly she realized that he was looking closely at her. She could physically feel the blush on her face, the flush to her breasts, the swelling of her labia. What did Dexter see? Did he see any of that, or did he just see a sunburnt ginger?

"Yeah," she lied, turning back to the crowd as a cover for once again checking out Dexter's cock. That was a mistake; she suddenly felt herself become even more wet, and that deep ache returned though this time it smacked more of desire than anticipatory pain.

They eventually reached the procession and Dexter took her hand, making her jump. She looked slightly up at him with wide eyes and he looked back sheepishly.

"I'll get us to the front," he said.

Towed behind the lean man, she brushed past naked body after naked body: Tits, ass, pussy, and most notably dick rubbing against her. She shuddered as they finally made it to the very front of their naked neighbored crowd.

Already, naked trumpeters and baton twirlers marched the ebony streets with exaggerated pomp.

Dexter pulled her in front of him—as he was the taller of the two—and put his arms around her in the tight space. The way he looked when she glanced back at him told her that he was just trying to fit into a tight space, but the voice in Jane's head whispered that this was not just an embrace of convenience; this was intimate.

Not to mention, his dick was pressed right between her pale asscrack and his arms rested over her nipples.

And finally, finally, Jane had absolute confirmation that she wasn't the only horny one in this entire fucking crazy world. Dexter's dick grew—not a crazy amount; it was already enormous when it was flaccid—to be fully erect. Jane couldn't help herself and rubbed back against it, pressing it into her crack, rubbing her asshole against it and trying, trying so desperately despite the acrobatic impossibility of it, to grind her pussy against the shaft.

Dexter grunted, then excitedly pointed. "Look, the burlesque show!"

Jane wilted slightly. Dexter hadn't been stiff from her hot body, but rather from the burlesque that now ran through the streets. Ahead, in the midst of the parade, women (and the occasional man) sauntered and bounced, big, round boobs jiggling and blood-filled, veiny cocks swinging, wearing nothing—nothing but socks or gloves. Some, the most brazen of the performers, wore a belt or even a shirt. Several of Jane and Dexter's community neighbors averted their eyes and blushed at the lack of propriety on display.

Though Jane felt a sting of dismay, there was still a pinch of victory. Dexter was aroused, and that meant horniness was not just a construct of Jane's own dysfunctional mind.

Jane just smiled and watched the show while savoring the feel of Dexter's hard dick pressed against her. Oh, if only, if only. If only this world wasn't built against her, if only she wasn't built against this world.

She looked back at the owner of the penis that drove her crazy and froze. Upon her turned gaze, Dexter's eyes flicked back up to the parade. And though the burlesquers had some time ago moved on, his cock remained firm as ever.

If only...

"Dexter," Jane said quietly.

"Hmm?" he answered, still watching the last few showcasings of the festivities.

"You're hard. How often do you get hard?"

He looked at her, and his gaze was somehow harder than the cock that Jane now lightly rested her hand on. "The burlesque dancers," he explained simply, but Jane swore she could hear the metallic hollow ring resonating in the timbre of his voice.

They both turned back and Jane was disappointed to find that his member had started to go down in size. Maybe she'd ruined something good. Maybe she was trying too hard to reach something greater than she could ever have. Maybe she would only ever be satisfied if she could just be content.

Dexter moved closer to her, his breath tickling her ear. "Have..." he stopped and breathed again. That hot air—that divine sensation of one's innermost life leaving them to find momentary shelter on someone else's skin, then abandoning that secondhand comfort, dispersing to the four winds of the earth. It drove her simply mad.

Dexter redrew that breath and began again. "Have you ever been aroused by Mrs. Thomas in the mornings when she first steps outside her front door and stretches her naked body to the neighborhood?"

Jane spun around and searched those deep, life filled eyes. In them she saw the same questions and the same conundrums and the same... horniness. "How often do you get hard?" She asked again.

"Every fucking day," Dexter replied. "I walk through these streets and I see tits and ass and dick everywhere I look. And then, I see you and—oh my God. Please tell me I'm not insane."

Jane smiled and wrapped her arms around the naked boy. In this moment, she was sharply aware of her large breasts squeezing flat against Dexter's pecs and his regrowing dick brushing her pubes gently. "You're not the only one. And I'm not either."

The parade must have ended, as when Jane finally peeled herself away from Dexter, no one else remained on that lonely street. The only evidence of any partying left was a few scraps of confetti littering the asphalt. Jane held Dexter's hand lightly, not wanting to let him go. He, on the other hand, looked around himself uncomfortably, as if only now aware that he was publicly indecent.

Oh God, how Jane wanted him to lean towards her. Oh Christ, how she wanted him to brush her hair from her face and lightly trace his fingers down her ear. Oh Mary, mother of God, how she wanted him to kiss her deeply and passionately and endlessly.

He cleared his throat. "I should be getting home. I'll see you tomorrow."

He turned; he walked away. His body became nothing but darkness as he made his way sunward, the lonely summer twilight hours beginning to set in. Jane watched him go, watched truth fade away, watched desire burn and turn to ashes.

But maybe she expected too much to come to her simply because she wanted it. She had believed that she should be content with what she had, but then how was she supposed to get what she really wanted? Contentedness was for the content, and Jane was not content.

She ran.

Faster and faster her legs propelled her down Lupine street. Dexter didn't know what to do—he couldn't be blamed for walking away—just as she hadn't known a moment before. Her boobs bounced heavily against her skin as she ran and her calloused feet slapped dully on the pavement and still she ran. The sun sank lower and allowed her to see that wondrous buttocks she chased after, each stride accentuating the firmness therein. Her lungs burned and her heart ached, but still she ran. If you wanted something in this life, you had to reach out and grab it.

Jane reached out and, slowing herself severely so as not to topple the both of them, she grabbed Dexter's dick right at the base.

He stopped.

She stopped.

There they stood, both breathing heavily, skin pressed to skin, Jane's hand on his cock (which, she noted gladly, hadn't gone down an inch).

"I want you," Jane said simply. "I don't know why, and I don't know how exactly, but I desperately want—"

Dexter turned abruptly, breaking her hold on his penis, and kissed her deeply. Their lips overlapped and his tongue sought refuge from the storm of unknown insanity inside the shelter of her comforting, sane mouth. At first Jane's hands hung limply at her side, while Dexter dexterously pushed back a lock of her hair and gently caressed her right ear. Finally Jane regained at least some of her senses and threw her arms across Dexter's neck, letting her hands fly free, outstretched towards vast heaven beyond an infinitely vaster moment.

The two stepped into each other, legs overlapping legs, breasts brushing chest, and lips—somehow—engulfing each other even more. Were they moving through the street, stepping towards buildings? Or was that just the spin of Jane's head playing tricks on her.

No. Suddenly her back was against white aluminum siding and her right hand dropped down to rest on a green utilities' box. Ordinarily, the grime of such surfaces would have deterred any contact with them, but at this moment, this perfect moment, dirt and dust disappeared. Indeed, even as Dexter lifted her up (eliciting a squeal of delight and surprise from Jane) and onto the box.

At this crossroad of time and purpose nothing mattered but Dexter spreading her legs, opening her already wet vagina, and kneeling down to move his head between her thighs. Jane threw her own head back, looking heavenward and supplying to God as her mind slipped into orgasmic oblivion. She gripped Dexter's hair as his tongue rotated on her clitoric nub.

He slurped and sucked and sent soft shivers up her spine.

And of course that moment of the purest ecstasy, distilled in an almost palpable form, was the moment when Jane made eye contact with Mr. Dolby, walking down the road, heading home to prepare for tomorrow's Sunday service.

Panic collected and pooled inside Jane and for a moment even the sheer bliss of Dexter's tongue on her most intimate parts could not suppress it. However, she soon realized that Mr. Dolby didn't seem to care one communion cup about what they were doing. In fact, as he passed he tipped his hat to them and continued walking.

Dexter looked up at her, taking a deep breath, arousal covering his mouth and chin.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

Jane smiled and finally pulled all her attention back to the boy below, between, and betwixt her.

"I'm perfect," she replied, and then reached down to move Dexter's face back up to hers.

Once again, lips met lips and Jane tasted her own sour juices. Dexter moved forward, setting himself against her body as she wrapped her bare legs around him. His stiff penis brushed against her vagina and she gasped, breaking the kiss. Dexter looked at her uncertainly.

She wrapped her arms around him and brought her mouth close to his ear. "I want you inside of me," she whispered.

Dexter delayed no longer. Jane yelped and bit his ear lightly as he eased himself inside her. Her grip strengthened as pain blossomed in her core. But with flowers of pain came a jungle of bliss, unimaginable in scope.

Dexter pushed deeper inside her, reaching further toward that insatiable itch, pushing her further against the green box and her pleasure limits, pulling audible manifestations of pleasure from her throat. In other words: He fucked her deep; he fucked her hard; he fucked her until each thrust was met with a moan.

Jane looked down into his eyes. Dexter didn't see—he instead concentrated on her pussy lips pulling lightly at his dick each time he pulled out, as if reticent to release his member from its new orgasmic chamber—but in a soft moment between hard thrusts and ecstatic moans, she smiled. The broken mess of a world that had been shattering in slow motion ever since Jane had first begun to form memories had for once stopped—even regressed, back into a shape that made some sense.

And then Dexter found something more, some spot that his dick had somehow not yet touched. Jane threw back her head and screamed in pleasure. Dexter picked up his pace, his soft grunts kept under his breath. As the intensity picked up, so did the street traffic; it seemed to her that some sudden social rain had touched down in White Rabbit Gated Community and with it brought a flash flood of people down Lupine Street.

Mr. Dolby walked by again, wrinkled dick flopping slightly. Again, he just nodded at the fucking pair.

Mrs. Thomas, great set of boobies on her, followed quickly by. She didn't even acknowledge the two as she continued after Mr. Dolby, evidently trying to catch his attention for a question about tomorrow's after-service meet and greet.

Then there was Mr. and Mrs. Grey along with Wilma Grey, one of Jane's best friend from school. Surely, she thought, Wilma would notice the rough sexual intercourse going on beside the street. However, she just smiled and waved, before moving on with her parents.

Suddenly aware of so many eyes privy to a private moment, Jane's stomach tied itself in knots. And somehow those knots seemed to create more pressure on Dexter's cock in her pussy, as he grunted faster and louder, clearly at the edge of cumming. In fact, Jane too was nearing the release of an orgasm, and it seemed to stem from those same knots that the traffic tied.

Faster, faster, wordlessly they fucked, a sharp slapping accompanying each moan and grunt and thrust, until finally—

Dexter pulled his cock from her and immediately sprayed white sticky cum on her stomach and pubic hair. Jane had been so close, and now that empty void seemed to suck away everything else; all that remained was her need for pleasure, her need for completion.

Immediately, Jane reached down with one hand and began rubbing her clit vigorously. Wonderfully, she found that the climactic explosion had not been altogether lost, though she did miss the wholeness that a dick inside her brought.

With her other hand, Jane scooped up most of the cum off her body and brought it to her lips, dripping it on her tits on the journey. With her mouth alluringly agape, holding eye contact with Dexter—letting out a slight moan—she stuck the gooey wad in her mouth and swallowed.

And that was it. The bitter taste of semen was all she needed to push her to her limit. She froze, jerked slightly—one more time, one more one more time—and was done.

She sat there, cum charting a path from her vagina to her tits—even a little dribbling off her lip—and sighed, looking at Dexter who did the same. She smiled and he smiled. They both sat there for eternity, and when she finally climbed off that green box, he walked her home.

At the doorstep of Number 15 Timmothy Street, Dexter held her hand. She looked at him and leaned up to give him a quick kiss on the lips.

"Thank you," she said quietly, pulling back from her amorous peck. "Thank you for proving me not insane."

His hand held to hers as long as it could as she walked to her door and went inside. When she let go, it fell back limply into place. He stood stunned, beaming, confused.

Finally, he turned away, back down the street, smiling all the way.

"You too," he replied.