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FALL, 1967 Sexually, I was a late bloomer. Not that I had no sexual feelings: I had been masturbating (to a dry orgasm for the first few years) since the age of 5. My practical experience with girls was, however, almost nonexistent. But from the first time Annabelle Lee sneaked away from the church picnic with me and kissed me under the big tree at City Park, flicking her slick tongue in to mine and running a knowing finger along the stiffening bulge in my crotch, I was in love with her and hooked on sexual pleasure. I was a virgin at the time, and as far as I know she was too, though her experience with foreplay was far greater than mine. I was barely seventeen; she was an older woman: seventeen and a half. It wasn't long before she was letting me touch her tiny breasts and granting me enticing glimpses up her miniskirts. The evening we parked in a darkened neighborhood and she let my hands run up her bare thighs to her damp cotton panties was also the first day I witnessed a female orgasm. I was thrilled to place my palm over her crotch and feel the soft female nothingness there where I was accustomed to feeling my own prominent male plumbing. Pressing inward, I felt her vaginal slit and heard her gasp of pleasure. As our mouths licked at each other, I let my fingers do by instinct what they had never done by practice. Writhing on the end of my finger, legs spread wide, gasping and stiffening as her panties slid around her slippery cuntlips, she was an object of such passion and beauty that I almost came in my own jeans. In fact, I did just that when, grateful for the pleasure I had almost unwittingly given her, she stroked my cock gently for about three seconds. My gasps of ecstasy, the dark stain down my juicy leg and the musky aroma which filled the car left no doubt what had happened. We were a contented couple for at least five minutes, at which time we started in again. We remained virgins, though, technically, for a good three months more, jacking each other off, fingering each other to orgasm, or rubbing our shower clothed crotches together until we came, panting and moaning and filling our underwear with sexjuice. Annabelle was not that sexy to look at at first glance. She looked about 11 or 12 with tiny tits, pigtailed red hair, and skinny legs. There was hardly any hair on her cunt. But she longed to spread those legs, and have those tits sucked, and have that cunt licked and fingered. When she took my hand and called me “Daddy,” I wanted to hold her in a most unfatherly way. About the same time I met Annabelle at church, I met Belinda Carr at school. She too was petite, just a little taller and fuller-figured than Annabelle. We both sang in a group of select singers who specialized in madrigals. We dressed in Scottish attire, the boys wearing kilts and sportcoats, the girls wearing short peasant dresses with low ruffled necklines. Belinda didn't have much in the way of cleavage, but she wasn't embarrassed at showing off what she did have, as were some of the better-endowed girls. When babe Belinda had to lean forward for some reason, there was none of this business of demurely shielding her bosom from view by a strategically placed hand; she just let her blouse fall away and let her breasts, such as they were, hang as they would. The braless look was not in fashion asian yet, and wouldn't have been allowed at our school anyhow. But since her tits weren't all that big, her bra did fall away from time to time, revealing the edges of tight brown nipples. And to school she usually wore form-fitting slacks which showed off a nice round ass and a amateur sweet, sexy plump, indented pubis. Belinda's face was not beautiful, and as far as I was concerned, that was her saving grace. Had she been a knockout, I would have been too shy to talk to her. Bethany crawled back onto the bed again, her breasts hanging ponderously and caressing Tegan’s belly and chest as she slid over her. As he admires his now very pretty face in the mirror, the sound of an early 2000's cellphone goes off, and Joey quickly moves to his bedroom and removes his candybar style cell from his backpack to check the caller ID. "Not that I can see. “No, sir. Becca is back at the house when I get back and I offer to make dinner and babe drinks. “Aaaahhhh…. My pussy grew hotter around my probing fingers. I slipped my hand under Audrey's amateur belly and worked it through her jungle of hair to her clit. They took cover behind smashed cars, but not without a few receiving shallow wounds. I imagined putting my hands on it and squeezing the soft, warm, smooth flesh. After it passes I drop to my knees. However, Aela and I would warm her up. I shuddered at her, my cock thrusting into her hot sheath. I don’t understand his suicidal bravado as he releases his rampant erection from his pants. “Now listen, man,” the guy said. My asian hand massaged her breast and I nudged her arm again. "She is as beautiful as her mother." Maddie smiled, probably at the recognition that she owned the room instead of me. “No Su, that’s all. Molly sat up told me to lay on my back, Jodie wasted no time in straddling my cock and impaled herself, Molly knelt over my head and spread her pussy lips my shower tongue carried on from where l left off, she was sliding herself back and forth, juicy Jodie let out a cry and slammed herself down, l erupted like a volcano shooting my hot liquid laver of spunk high inside her as gush after gush filled her Jodie wriggled and trembled on my cock, Molly riding my tongue had increased her speed, she slid back and forth making little whimpering noises which got louder sexy the faster she rode my tongue, Jodie now full of spunk rolled off of my cock, reached out to pick up her drink and took a large gulp, my mother-in-law Molly grasped my cock with her lips to begin licking and slurping at my shaft which was covered in spunk and her sister’s juices.