I pulled the boy's hands off his blushing staff and let my mouth sink onto the nearly ready tool. The crimson head was already pounding nervously, his piss-hole was wide open and dripping his juice.
John's cock was ready. It was so ready that I'd never be able to mount him. If I stopped and tied his hands, he'd go crazy with need. I did what had to be done. Slamming my head all the way down, I speared myself, mashing my nose into his sparse pubic bush, driving his medium-sized cock to the back of my mouth.
The padded head struck the roof as my tongue and lips caressed the rest of it. He squealed so loud [missing text].
CHAPTER FIVE
It took a few minutes to calm down and keep up appearances. He and Lucy had to get home and take care of some chores but they promised to come back in the afternoon and take up where we left off.
It's strange how fast a person changes when they start messing around with sex. The beautiful poems I'd enjoyed, the stories, the movie magazines, all seemed so useless and boring now. I had a habit and need, both of which demanded so much of my attention. I wished I could go back and start all over again. I hadn't realized how well off I was before all this happened.
Going inside, I lay down on the couch. Rubbing my tits absently I thought of Gary, back home, waiting for me, and couldn't make up my mind if I could continue seeing him. I still liked him but so much had happened so much I couldn't tell him about.
I slid a hand inside my pants while I thought about how useless I was right then and how hopeless my future would be. I had to snap out of it – I just had to!
Getting up, I wandered around the place, my cunt on fire and my belly aching with need. I wanted to find another way to help, or at least [missing text].
Running back to the barn I found a piece of rope, a saw-horse and an old bullwhip. I dusted the whip off and nailed the handle to the saw-horse, with the fancy knot, rounded into a knob on the end, sticking up securely.
I dragged the saw-horse and the piece of rope out to the swing. Looking it over I found that whoever had put the swing up had made it perfect for my use. A heavy piece of chain had been bolted around the branch with a big swivel on the end. The swing was tied to it by a piece of rope about three foot long. I didn't have any trouble trying another piece around the bottom of the tire and securing it to the swivel.
Tightening the rope until the tire was level, like a toilet seat ready for use, I knotted it tightly. Then I lined the saw-horse and whip handle up under it and went to the house for some Vaseline.
It took about fifteen minutes to get the whip greased and the swing adjusted so I wouldn't take more than seven or eight inches of the handle inside me. When I was ready, I pulled my pants and underwear off and climbed into the tire.
My ass hung with just the roundest, lushest part of the meaty cheeks below the tire. My legs felt cramped. They were forced up, resting against my chin, mashing my braless tits into my chest. Reaching below, I found the handle and guided it along the hair-fringed gully to its mark.
The leather strands felt rugged. The cold, cocklike thing bent with the effort. When I let go, it pushed forcefully against my muscular little opening. The slick cunt-ring relaxed and gave way. The handle shot inside me with one quick blow.
Because of the way I was sitting my womb was within three inches of my cunt-mouth. The big knob hammered against it and forced it back up an inch or two. The weight of my body forced the handle to remain bent, making it push around inside of my cunt at angles.
Shoving myself around, by hitting the tree with my hand, I found I was able to spin on the rough leather shaft. It was unbelievable. I swear I could feel every single strand of braided leather, not only on the knob, but also on the rest of the shaft. It burned, it rubbed, it pressed, it mashed, it pulled, it stroked and it pinched.
At first my hanging cuntlips were only moist. The whip caught and held them, releasing them only when they'd been pulled to their limits and wouldn't go further without being torn from my body. The delicious things that did to my clit were just super. It shot out of its tent and burned into the greasy leather.
The scenery whirled around me, making me dizzy. My knees trembled and pressed into my tits. The nipples stiffened and burned into my blouse. The tire pressed hard against my skin. Its rough, firm edges bit into me, adding just the right amount of pain to the situation.
There were no tiny tingles, no easy warming, no gentle fires to slowly build my need. The minute that big thing slammed against my womb and I started the first spin, I was consumed with fire. Every fiber, every cell, every nerve in my body was full of passion. I didn't feel or think of anything but the hot need for an orgasm that burned through me from tit to cunt.
As the burning, electrical fires built higher and higher, I pushed the swing out so it swayed as well as spun. The whip felt so wonderful, stroking in and out and whipping about inside me.
I laughed drunkenly. Because I was drunk – drunk on ninety-proof, home-brewed sex. The power in my cunt grew and I was caught in a crushing, vise-grip of heat. Would this be the time? Would this be what it took to give me the promised thrill, the shove over the edge of eternal bliss?
My mind filled with images of girls fingering themselves, of demanding cocks humping, full swaying tits and assholes dripping drops of sparkling cum. But most of all Lucy, getting her cookies off. The twisted, strained pleasure on her face, her glazed eyes and trembling ass, tormented me.
The glorious thrills of my earlier orgasms haunted me. My brother's cock, my sister-in-law's big jugs and cunt, the filthy cocks of the motorcycle gang, grabbed and tore at my mind.
Fantasies filled me. I saw myself as Sleeping Beauty, being awoken by her Prince Charming with a fuck instead of a kiss. I saw myself as a whore, lying on an army cot, with my legs stretched open, waiting for the first of the thousands of men lined up, their cocks hard and naked, waiting to fuck me.
I felt myself boiling and I was being lifted up, higher, higher, higher, higher. I passed the normal height and kept going. I wasn't walking or tiptoeing. There wasn't any struggle. I just shot smoothly up. I was hotter and my need more desperate than it had been at its worse during the orgy, and still I kept climbing.
The ball in my cunt pulled back and forth, making some of my cushions, pads, muscles and organs stretch while others tightened. One second it pounded my womb, the next, the back of my cunt. One minute it was tearing at my cuntlips, the next it was burning my womb again.
My stomach felt like I'd drunk scalding-hot water. My asshole was popping and farting. Piss still dribbled from my little pee-hole I could smell my piss. I could smell my sweat and the musty heat of my crotch. My skin tingled and my chest hurt. My heart pounded and hammered inside my chest. Worse, the demanding itch that the spinning, dancing leather cock made grew worse and worse.
'Please! Oh please! Dear God, don't torture me! Jesus, Mary, Joseph – Saint Christopher – anyone – please! Oh, ooooh! Please don't do this to me!' I screeched.
'All right for you, mother fuckers! Lucifer – Satan! Please do something! Help meeeee…' I whimpered.
Neither side paid a bit of attention to me. I was on my own. My body had gone haywire and nothing would help me. The heat, the thrills, the need, the pain, the fear, the longing, kept building inside, and then I fainted.
When I came to I was hanging limply in the swing, the whip handle still inside my cunt and the heat gone. I reached down with an effort and gingerly worked the piece of braided leather out of my hole. When I'd managed to get it out I struggled weakly up and out of the tire. I tried to stand and found that my legs wouldn't hold me.
Lowering myself onto the lawn I reached for my shorts and worked them over my legs and hips. Rubbing my cunt gingerly, I pulled myself back up and, bracing myself against the saw-horse for a few minutes, let the circulation return to normal in my legs before attempting to move.
I tried to swear off sex. When John and Lucy showed up that afternoon I made all kinds of excuses. My cunt had been so overheated it seemed to be short-circuited. It was dead. I told the teens I had a really weak stomach that afternoon and would throw up if I played around. I tried to get them to play cards with me but they refused. I knew by the way they looked at each other that I'd really started something. They would end up going to the
