he protested holding his cheek. 'Fool,' she retorted, 'I'm looking for the real thing, but I've got SWINE FLU, and that's why I can't do it with anyone this week. See?' She scurried off into the house and wondered if she'd made a mistake in passing up the advances of the cabbie.
That afternoon, finally, after all that running around, she located herself in her bedroom with the door shut. She'd showered, she'd taken the phone off the hook — there was no way in the world, she'd calculated, that she could possibly be interrupted. And with that thought in mind, she slipped a diligent digit into her pie. 'Ahhhh, yes,' she moaned, feeling the chills spread up and down her thighs. 'Oooooh, nooooo!' She was so happy to be fucking herself with her fingers that she couldn't believe how lucky she was. 'At last,' she said with her eyes closed, 'I'm going to be able to give myself the good little poking that I deserve.' And off she went, into fantasy land, rubbing her twat hole as hard as she could while her mind helped to conjure up images that would give her even more sexual stimulation.
First she flagged down the image of a big black stud. He had a pole on him big enough to go fishing with. And as for his natural strength, he could have been a road runner or a pole vaulter. He was easily the strongest man she'd ever fantasized fucking — that day, any how. His meat was big, and she climbed up onto his mid-section, spread her legs and squatted. She took the entire head of his big thick joint into her sweetly spread twat lips. 'Nooooww,' she moaned like a big cow, 'that's nize! Really nize!' She rolled her hips on the black man's meaty joint, and she enjoyed the thrill of a poker puncturing her tube with lusty zestful strokes. 'Mmmm,' she hummed at him, hanging her titties over his sweaty black face, 'give me more, honey. Give me more of that black fuck rod!'
A moment later the juices in her pussy were so full and so hot that she thought she was boiling over. The insides of her cunt started belching out ecstatic cries for more meat. She thought she heard her twat slopping at the empty afternoon air: 'Fuck! Fuuuuuckk! Fuuuuuccckkkkk!' She rolled up and down with her fingers. Her clit was stiff, her lips tight, her insides mellow with hot ooze. 'Jesus fucking Christ on a fucking damn bicycle!' she hollered. 'Fuuuuucccckkkk!'
She reached under her buns and stuffed a good hot finger into her anus. She located the tip of the digit in her bowels. She spread her anus open, pulled her cheeks wide, buried her finger in her soft rump flesh. 'I love it,' she moaned softly. 'I really do fucking love it.' She discovered that if she turned her body sideways and showed herself to the mirror, she could watch her finger go sliding in her anus. She did that, and then she applied a second finger to her pussy, filled her delicious little cave with her finger while she pumped her bunghole at the same time. She had a finger in either pelvic hole, and there was to be no stopping her. 'Mmm,' she juiced and hummed at the same time, 'I love a little twat work out.'
She popped her two fingers out of her belly holes. She stood up and looked at her bedraggled figure in the mirror. 'I like me a lot,' she said. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against the image of her lips in the mirror. She went sliding her body up and down against the cold glass. It didn't bother her that the glass was cold. It was her body she was interested in, and so, while she pumped her titties up and down against the mirror she also used her finger from the other side of her body, to enter her ass hole and to sexually stimulate her there. She rubbed and tugged on her sphincter until more and more of her body was hot and juicy and ready for the actual orgasm she had been looking for. 'Mmmm,' she hummed, pulling away from the mirror, 'this is good for a little while, but now I need something in the front hole, something to finish me off…'
Sharon Pettibone went off to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator while she kept a finger up her pussy. She didn't want to cool off. She kept stroking her clit while she inspected the contents of the frig. She wanted to be sure that that clit meat of hers stayed hard. She looked in particular at the vegetable tray. She located a big carrot, the kind of monster vegetable that she figured would give her the real-life feel of a cock muscle. She stroked it and then removed it from the bin. She shut the refrigerator door and panted for a moment while she stood, legs spread, feet planted, in front of the closed appliance. 'Jesus fucking God Almighty,' Sharon cried, 'I don't know fucking what to do! Jesus fucking Christ!'
She stood there in front of the white fridge with her finger pushed up her twat. Juice leaked down the inside of one leg. She attacked herself from the rear with the carrot. She had intended to clean it, but she was now so carried away with her emotions that the only thing she could think about doing was shoving it. She pushed. She jammed it in. She crammed as much of that carrot up her tight little sphincter tube as she possibly could. She worked it up and down, in and out, and she gave herself a better cleaning than roto rooter could ever think about. She tugged on her sphincter with the point of the carrot and prayed to God that someday she would have a real man with a big cock who would shove it up her ass-hole and into her twat and even into her ear if he wanted. She wanted to get laid with a real penis, with something that would make her feel good, with something that would give her the orgasm that her teenage flesh craved for. She wanted it bad.
'Jesus fucking Christ,' she moaned, falling to the floor in a heap. She curled up in a fetal ball. She pulled her legs up close to her chest and slapped her thigh with one hand. 'Cum on,' she grunted, 'cum on, cum on, cum on…' She moaned and groaned while she groveled there on the linoleum. She could smell the fresh wax that her mother, Mrs. Pettibone, had applied the other day. It was an erotic, fresh smell, like deodorant and sweet. Suddenly desperate, Sharon went along the floor, on her hands and knees, licking the shiny surface of the kitchen linoleum. She had the carrot shoved up her asshole and her tongue spread out in front of her. She looked like a big ant-eater, only her long silky blonde hair and her sweet hanging boobs, these things gave away the fact that she was merely a depraved human teenager. She rubbed her face against the floor while the carrot bounced up and down in her rear, a vegetative tail. 'Mmmm,' she hummed having licked her fill, 'I sure do wish that Daddy were home to give me some advice on this. I wonder if I'm sick to get off this way.' But she loved the taste of the fresh floor wax, the feel of the smooth surface of it against her lips. She went sprawling out on the floor, rubbing her titties against it, sliding her feet apart and her loins wide and she reached back and started poking in and out of her butt with the carrot. 'Oh, Jesus, fuck, shit, piss, cunt, ass, Christ, oh, fuck, shit, oh…' and she moaned on and on as she swam around on the slick floor of her mother's kitchen like a child who hasn't yet been taught to walk.
A few minutes later, still not satisfied, Sharon Pettibone climbed into the shower. She turned the steam on full and enjoyed a good hot rain on her body. She scrubbed at the scuff marks on her belly, places where dirt from the floor had pressed up against her chest and stomach and legs. She used a big thick bar of soap to go scrubbing between her thighs. She soaped herself until her entire skin was smooth and slippery, oily with the sudsy stuff. Then she slipped a finger into her pussy and another into her asshole and she gyrated. She rolled her hips up and down, she pushed her mound around in a steady circle motion, and finally she began to scream and cry out so loud that neighboring housewives could hear the precious moans of the child lover, and they wondered to themselves if the young girl was being attacked or something. They didn't know what to do.
But Sharon just continued rolling around on her two fingers, pressing her clitoris and wondering when the final cuming would be. She wondered when she would become orgasmic and when she could stop fingering herself. She ended up sitting down in the tub with her two long legs spread and raised so that her heels were up on the sides of the tub. She had her loins open, her clitoris throbbing, her pussy leaking and ready for action. She had her titties erect and ready for all sorts of fantasies. She had her twat so wide open that an elephant trunk could have gone snorting up her snatch without even knowing it. She let her eyes open wide and she jammed a hot finger all the way into the back of her beaver cave. She filled her body with digit and rubbed herself harder and harder. 'Ooooh, fuck,' she grunted. 'Oh, Jesus, fuck, shit… piss, cunt, ass-hole…' She was on her way to ecstasy. She knew that orgasm was only a stroke or two away, that a stab or two more would put her pussy up into the land of bliss and heaven, that her sexual fantasy of total oneness with the sensual world would be finally fulfilled.
'Ahhh, fuck, yes,' she moaned, sliding down flat in the shower-tub. The water continued to rain on her as she finished fingering her clit into erection. She pulled her hand out and took some shampoo from a tube. It was green ooze which she applied to her belly and spread around. She made herself as slippery as possible with that stuff, and then she applied some more of it to her asshole. She used one finger in her anus and the other in her twat. She poked both holes simultaneously. She pretended two big hot cock meats were sliding against her body, one from the front, the other from the back. Then, boom! It hit her. She was on her way. She was going to cum. She was getting so hot that she couldn't stand it any more. She could feel the big hot and cold chills starting up inside her body, getting ready to take her away on a magic carpet ride taking her up to the land of Godly ecstasy. She was going to float with it, going to enjoy her slick flesh covered with goose bumps. She was going to cum and cum. And cum!
The next thing Sharon Pettibone knew she was recovering. She didn't know exactly what she was recovering from, but she had a carrot in her hand and she was turning off the shower nozzles. She tossed the orange vegetable into the trash can under the bathroom sink and grabbed a towel. She was only halfway dried when she heard the
