fascinated, as her own fingers began plucking at the buttons on the front of her bathrobe, opening the garment all the way down. Her skin was still pink next to the white of her panties. Her hands traveled almost greedily up and down her body now, over the mounds of her titties, down to her throbbing pubic mound, across the smoothness of her taut little belly.
Laura Cutter was looking at herself in a very different way than she had ever looked before. Instead of noticing her muscles, she noticed the attractive slenderness of her limbs and how her waist nipped in above her hips, which looked more fully rounded than she had ever seen them. Her hands seemed to be seeking knowledge of every inch of her new womanly shape, of her proportionately lovely flesh. She ran her fingers tantalizingly over the area up between her thighs, arching her long limbs up and spreading them open to the delicious, forbidden delights which her caresses were instilling within her body. Her mouth was parted, and her brain was whirling with the heat of her growing lust. She flailed her head from side to side on the pillow, her long, blond pig-tails whipping around like soft whips. She had kicked the covers completely off of her eagerly trembling body as her hands continued their mad pace up and down, down and around, teasing her now-fevered flesh into even more intense arousal, her brain alive with lewd thoughts previously unknown to her, of Pete DePow's long lust-hardened prick fucking in and out of her wetly throbbing cunt.
Laura arched her back, working her arms out of the sleeves of her robe. She found herself needing a feeling of great freedom. She wanted to touch the rigid nipples without the encumbrance of clothing under her arms and bunching up her sides. She pulled the robe away from her body and tossed it to the floor beside the bed, and her hands hungrily engulfed the soft warmth of her new alabaster mounds. Slowly, rhythmically, she began to roll the nipples back and forth, squeezing them and then releasing them, squeezing, then releasing.
The entire time he was thinking that she ought not to do this, that it was going to make it harder to give this sort thing up and return to being herself again. She was masturbating, and that, she knew, was naughty anyway. It was naughty and evil and perverted and… and… it felt so good!
Her right hand left her nakedly quivering tit and moved slowly down over her stomach to the elastic waistband of her panties. In spite of her self-recrimination, her shame at what she was doing, she wasn't able to stop herself. There was only her urgency now, her frantic need for release from the overbuilding whirlpools of passions inside her shamelessly aroused body.
What was she doing to herself? She was drawing her panties down now, drawing them sensuously over her satin pubic mound while her other hand continued to stroke the nipple of one titty. She raised up on the bed, pulling the thin wisp of a garment down to her ankles, her eyes tightly shut, and then pulling them off completely so that she was completely nakedly exposed, and although there was certainly no one else in the room, she had this magnificent feeling of being looked at by hundreds of pairs of gray-green eyes!
Again she lay back, one hand on her tit, the other stroking first one thigh, then the other, carefully avoiding for the moment the moist inferno of lust between her legs. Then when she could stand the pressure no longer, her eager hand shot to the hotly pulsating folds of her pussy and pressed against the wet sensitive flesh there as she once again brought her legs up off the bed and splayed them wide apart. Her tight little cuntal hole was opened wide now as she gently eased her outstretched finger into her wetly clasping pussy.
She could not help herself. She imagined it was Pete DePow's hand, his finger, touching her there, stroking her down there. She imagined it was he who was now caressing her hair-fuzzed cuntal lips until they seemed to be swollen with blood the way his long blood-thickened cock had been swollen, until her clitoris was as hard as his lust-rigid cock had been hard. She found her sensitive nerve bud with the tip of her searching finger and began to tease it back and forth, running the nail round the quivering tip until the delight caused her to jackknife her legs back up against her chest, mashing what little mound there was of her tits flat. Her asscheeks, white moons of the softest, most flawless young flesh imaginable, jerked and twisted in complete wantonness under her fingering, and the resulting erotic sensations caused the sweat to bead and shine on her lust-grimacing face, matting her blond wisps of hair, ever escaping her braids, to her forehead and neck.
Oh, God, she thought to herself, hoping her parents could not read the swear word in her mind, but she sure wished Pete were here! All that sounded out into the room was a groaning through the daze of passion which controlled her brain, but her thoughts were beginning to be of how stupid she had been to run away! Wouldn't it be wonderful, she thought, if it was Pete playing with her pussy. How she wished it was he who was going to put his lovely lust-hard prick into her ravished cunt and fuck her, fuck her hard, real hard until he came inside of her instead of all over her skin, where she couldn't feel filled with the warmth of it but only covered with its cold stickiness.
Faster and faster and faster, Laura's little finger fucked into her moistly clasping cunt, deliberately teasing her clitoris and her cuntal hole until her orgasm was only moments away. Her hips thrashed and pounded the bed beneath her as her other hand squeezed and kneaded her nakedly quivering tits and nipples, causing wave after wave of pain-pleasure to ripple outward from her sensitive flesh. There was no guilt, no shame for her in that frozen period of time. There was only the wonderful, rapturous feelings of impending climax which were filling her very soul.
'Laura!' she heard vaguely as if from a great distance. 'Laura!' she heard a more demanding tone and started up from her position, the waves of pleasure rolling back like waves rolling back into the sea. She made a rapid dive for her underpants and then for her closet, grabbing the first things that came to hand. It was a dress with rosebuds on it, that she absolutely hated. It was bad enough that it was a dress, but the rosebuds finished it, in her eyes. She went to throw it back inside. Her mother liked that dress. It would divert her mother's attention if she wore it.
There was nothing showing on the little girl from which to divert her mother's attention, but she was so accustomed to having her mother discover the least guilty secret she might harbor that she thought in terms of hiding everything, even the invisible, even her growing up. Although so far, she had done a better job of hiding her growing up from herself than from her mother, but she didn't know.
CHAPTER TWO
If her mother noticed the dress, she didn't make any indication. She was too much in a hurry, had been interrupted in whatever she had been doing, also.
'Telephone,' she told Laura briefly as soon as her young daughter appeared. Then the mother returned to the kitchen.
Laura was a little out of breath, whether from the frustrated and unfinished love-making or from the strain of hiding her guilt from whoever, specifically her mother, might see, it would be hard to say. Nevertheless, her breathing was a little hard, raspy. She paused a few moments before taking the receiver from the telephone bench where her mother had placed it to await her coming. She sat down, took one deep breath, and tried to speak in as normal a tone of voice as she could muster.
'Hello!'
'I feel terrible and have to apologize,' a voice thinly said after a pause. It was Pete DePow. Of all the nerve! Yet, she couldn't be too angry. She couldn't shake the memory that upstairs just now, on the bed, she had just about willed him to be with her. Who knows? Maybe that's why he was calling. Maybe he knew she wasn't really mad, at least not any more.
'I guess we might as well forget it,' she said sternly. Gosh, she didn't know what to say! She couldn't admit to him that she… well… that she liked him! And on the other hand, she hadn't really had the time to think it all out, but she had a sneaking suspicion that it would be better if she made herself get over all this and went back to concentrating on baseball and hockey.
'I don't know if I can forget it, Laura. I… you're pretty special, you know. I decided, though, that I just won't stay alone with you any more. Will that be all right? You do still want to join the club, don't you? You wouldn't let a little… slip like that get in the way, would you?'
It wouldn't hurt to be forgiving, would it? Laura asked herself. And as long as he promised not to trust himself alone with her, she should be all right, shouldn't she? A nasty little devil in the back of her mind hinted to her that she didn't want to be that all right, but she thrust the naughty thought away.
'I suppose,' she mumbled. She didn't have time to say what it was she supposed before Pete's voice came
