If you haven't already guessed it, the guys in my town are plain people. I don't mean stupid. But here's Debbie, living in a shack down by the river with a tarpaper roof, and the town knows what she does. In fact, we call her "the quean of Frog Hollow," and has been since before I was born. Did you know that "quean" is an old word for a whore?
I know my dad has gone to her. Not just once, either. And he's got my mom; but some guy isn't getting enough, or what he wants, and he takes off like a mongrel dog into the high reeds and down the path, stinking of mud, heading for the river. He stands peeking through the reeds at the shack till he can see if anyone's there ahead of him. Believe me, Deb doesn't do appointments. Sure, she'll leave a light on over her door, just a bare bulb, if she's alone. Except when she forgets. Which is why everyone is peepin' out of the reeds.
So guys will be saying "fuck this and fuck that," but then blush when the cute girl in drug store smiles at them.
So now, Ernie says, gazing down: "I can't take her cherry."
Where did he get that? I mean, we didn't invite Janey to afternoon tea. But he takes his boner and walks away, across the room. Likely Ernie never had real sex, except talking about it, and he's scared what he heard about busting a cheery.
Debbie was looking at us. With one finger, she was absent mindedly torturing Janey's clit, barely looking, taking lube from the pussy and rubbing round and round the clit, which, I swear, was looking as sensitive as three inches down inside my prick...
And I'm wondering how much Janey can take. As I said, this is a wild girl, wired with explosives, and now her hips are jerking like mad, her nipples have crinkled into little towers, and her head is whipping back and forth on the table. Most of all, her chest is heaving, her big tits jacking up and down, and she's crying. I mean, truthfully, rough and tough Janey is weeping with the torture of not coming.
There's a half cup of corn oil running down her pussy. I never saw such inflamed flesh as between that girl's thighs.
My prick was straight as a bat, actually arched back toward my belly, well above my navel. It was rock-hard and drops of fluid were overflowing it. I stepped up to Janey's pussy and, as I did, she raised her head, looked at me, and, I thought she might have smiled...
I wondered, as I approached, how to get my stiffo lowered down to her cunt.
Suddenly, Deb said, "Hold it, cowboy. You want to make a baby?" And as she spoke, a condom appeared in her hands. She raised it a bit, as though to eye level, and smiled at me. I nodded dumbly.
