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Message-ID: <43027asstr$1056226202@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: kellis <kellis@dhp.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Ex-Girl Next Door {Kellis} (mf oral anal)
Date: Sat, 21 Jun 2003 16:10:02 -0400
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Ex-Girl Next Door

a Short Story
Copyright (c) 2003, Kellis



Motion attracted Joe's attention even through half-lidded eyes.
Across the road a figure emerged from the woods on the school
path: a girl in tube top, ragged shorts and sneakers.  He snapped
awake and recognized her: Sally Moore, who lived two houses
beyond his own.  Against the dark tree trunks, sunlight limned
several locks of tan hair that had straggled from her ponytail
clip.  That was unusual.  She must have bumped a low-hanging
limb.

As she proceeded along the road shoulder, he noticed a
peculiarity in her gait -- short steps with knees brushing.  He
studied her familiar face for signs of distress.  She was chewing
her lower lip as if worrying a problem.

Curiosity impelled him to call, "Hey, Sal!  Hurt your legs?"

She stopped suddenly as if startled.  Her head swung and spotted
him lounging in the shade on the edge of his porch.  She neither
waved nor smiled.  Her response was to alter course directly
toward him and stroll, normally now, across the road, driveway
and side yard.

She spun around and plopped her round bottom onto the porch floor
close beside him.  To his surprise a strong odor arrived with
her.  It was curiously attractive, reminding him of bacon frying,
though overlain with a repellent component that was almost
familiar.

"You been playing tennis?" he asked.

"What's the matter -- I stink?"

"You ...  I don't think I ever smelled anything like it."

"Yes, you have."  Leaning against him, she tilted her face up and
ordered, "Kiss me."

He had kissed her several times before, although not by
invitation.  She'd been the girl next door for all their 15
years.  They had begun to grapple as soon as they were left to
play alone, but because girls no longer wear skirts casually,
they became aware of the profound differences in their bodies
almost by chance -- while urinating together in the edge of the
woods at age seven.  Since that time each had permitted the other
to satisfy anatomical curiosity.  On the church hayride last
winter their hands had ventured far enough beneath heavy clothing
to accomplish mutual relief, but their friendship, though based
on fondness and tolerance closer than usual between teenagers,
was not romantic.

If she wanted kissing, however ...  His arm encircled her
shoulders and lips pressed to hers without hesitation.  Her
tongue darted into his mouth and withdrew.  When his followed,
she sucked it into her own mouth.

He broke from her, smacking his lips.  "What the hell!  You taste
like ..."

She giggled.  "I _thought_ you'd know it!  Feel inside my
shorts."

"In your shorts?"

"In front."  She pulled open the elastic waistband invitingly.

His hand slipped into the opening, palm against her soft warm
belly.  His fingers had last been here on that same hayride.

They had penetrated a different set of genitals two months later
on a spring hillside -- those of Betty Sawyer, where virgin
manhood had immediately followed fingers.  Plump Betty had
announced that she would teach him a thing or two and he had
studied her lessons diligently for the next several weeks, until
she found a new pupil.  Now his eyes widened.  Sally's trimmed
bush and everything below was greasy and far wetter than Betty's
had ever been!

"Don't girls wear panties even under shorts?"

She answered dryly, "Until somebody steals them."

"Somebody ... stole your panties?"

"Must have.  I looked around for them and they were gone."

Further questions arose in his mind, but the flesh yielding to
his fingers was more imperative.  Two slipped into her to the
knuckles.

"Two more," suggested the girl.

The flesh yielded further.

"Squeeze me."

He repeatedly compressed a lumpy clitoris between the palm
outside and the fingers within, which seemed to be stirring warm
soup.  She shivered.

Automobile tires hissed along the road.  She closed her legs
tightly over his hand and turned her knees toward him, body
rotating to conceal his arm.  When the car had passed, she looked
over her shoulder at the silent house.  "Who's here?"

Realizing that he had been holding his breath, he had to gasp.
"Nobody.  Mom's playing cards at her club."

Her hands closed on his forearm.  "Sort of roll your palm back
and forth," she directed, guiding his arm, "and squeeze harder."
She began to breath faster.

Curiosity overcame native caution.  "Sally, what's happened to
you?"

Gasps became whimpers.  Her head went down against his chest,
hair in his face.  "Oh god damn," she muttered, shuddering
powerfully.  Heaving a long sigh, she jerked his hand from her
shorts and raised a brightly flushed face.  At sight of his
disbelief her brown eyes danced.

He asked in awe, "Did you just _come_?"

She only giggled at him, then rose to her feet, threw open the
screen door and darted into the house.  She paused to look back
through the screen, grinning at his open mouth, and confided,
"I'm thirsty."

He jumped up to follow her.  They had visited each other's homes
many times, though not so often in recent years.  She proceeded
directly down the hall to the kitchen.  When he caught up with
her, she had opened the refrigerator and removed a cola can.  She
popped the tab and stared at him while taking a deep draft.

"Ah-h-h!" she breathed, extending the can to him.

"Thanks," he said ironically.  Aware that his throat was dry, he
took an equal swig.

Her lip curled.  "I'm thirstier than you."  Snatching the can
away, she drained it, set it on the sink and raised her chin.
"Let's go to your room."  She darted past him down the hall and
up the stairs, taking two at the time.

"Coming makes you thirsty?" he asked, right behind her.

"Yeah: coming and coming and coming!"

"What do you mean?"

She didn't explain.  Pausing beside the typically unmade bed, she
kicked off her sneakers, stepped out of her shorts and tore the
tube top over her head to flutter to the floor.  She stood before
him, clothed only in a gold bracelet and her ponytail clip.  He
took in the conical, thrusting breasts, not so round as plump
Betty's, and the untrimmed pubic bush, matted with too-abundant
moisture, but his enthrallment was incomplete.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"You mean you can't tell?"

"I, uh ..."

"Didn't you learn _anything_ from Betty Sawyer?"

"Huh?  Who told you about Betty?"

"Who do you think?  Take off your clothes, Joe.  At least drop
your shorts."

Light from the window behind her glittered in her inner thighs.
"Your legs are wet," he noted.

"So what?"

"So take a shower."

Her hands rested on forward-thrusting hips.  "If I do that, I'll
be out of the mood."

"I don't have any rubbers."

"You don't need any."  Her expression became incredulous.  "Joe,
are you _afraid_ to fuck me?"

In fact he was.  The color slides of chancroid-encrusted and
gonorrhea-dripping penises in hygiene class had impressed him
deeply.  But the naked female before him was more compelling --
even if that _was_ jism running down her leg!  His hesitation
ended.  In seconds his shirt, shorts, underpants and sneakers had
joined hers on the floor.

To his amazement she dropped to her knees, caught his rising
manhood in one hand and popped it into her mouth, sucking
vigorously.  Betty had done this a few times, though never all
the way.  Somehow the sight of _this_ face, almost familiar as a
sister's might have been, with his organ half-buried in the mouth
and brown eyes turned up under raised brows, was especially
arousing.  Feeling rose quickly.

"I'm gonna come," he warned hoarsely.

Her response was to redouble her efforts, which became unbearable
to him after his first powerful squirt.  He jerked away from her,
so that the second squirt painted her cheek.  He stood foolishly,
taking deep breaths, semen dripping to the floor from a twitching
organ.

She sat back on her haunches, spat a gob onto the hardwood floor
and leered at him, a white string dangling from her chin.  "That
get you started, Joey-boy?"

"God, Sally!"  He shivered involuntarily but released his last
breath in a sigh.  "I thought you wanted to fuck."

"I want you to last till I make it too.  Come on."  She rose to
her feet but fell backward immediately onto his bed, drawing up
her knees to expose glistening wet vulva visibly reddened even
through thick surrounding hair.

Contact between penis and mouth had ended after his first squirt,
leaving him curiously unsatisfied despite the copious subsequent
discharge.  He stumbled forward.  Betty had demanded his tongue on
every encounter, but now his gorge rose at the thought of
thrusting it into this sodden gash.  He was relieved that Sally
raised no objection to the penile substitute, which slid into her
so effortlessly that he could not resist a gasp of surprise.

Her eyes twinkled, suggesting that she understood his reaction.
Suddenly the vaginal walls gripped him fiercely.  He gasped
again.

She barked a laugh.  "Tight enough?  Now fuck me!"

He began with strong, deep thrusts.  Rolling hips quickly matched
his rhythm.  But almost immediately his body surprised him:
sexual pleasure peaked again.

"Hey, I'm coming!" he declared, dribbling additional fluid into
the squishy receptacle.

"God, you are!" she exclaimed, eyes enlarged.

"You can feel it?"  He had wanted to ask Betty that question but
never had.

"Sure."

In all that mess? he did not add.

She snarled, "I just hope you're not finished!"

He resumed thrusting confidently, having heard from Betty that
boys, unlike men, tended to stay erect after orgasm.  Apparently
it was true, at least when milked by a fist-like grip.  But he 
was cooler after two discharges.  Despite the girl's energy and 
enthusiasm, his mind wandered, as it had before, to the source 
of Betty's knowledge. How many _men_ had she fucked -- or was 
she just guessing from the jokes about old guys who couldn't 
keep it up?  Maybe Sally had heard Betty say.  And Sally 
herself -- she liked to play softball.  Who'd she been with 
this afternoon, an entire team?  He was determined to ask.

The girl's hips rolled vigorously enough to lift him on each
upstroke.  Her gasps had become whimpers.  He felt her nails on
his back and heels kicking his buttocks as if to drive him deeper
on the downstrokes.  Amazement grew on him.  This was Sally, his
pal, who could outrun and outclimb him, who had refused to
wrestle with him for two years -- explaining only "You know why"
-- and who fought like a man, knocking down a larger boy only
last fall when he groped her breasts in tag football!  This was a
no-nonsense girl who had now brought that same attitude to
fucking.  He had to chuckle.  She was direct as always in
pursuing what she wanted.  But what had made her want _this_?

He pounded her on and on, breathing faster, sweat gathering on
his back and between their tightly clasped chests.  Her eyes were
clenched shut, head thrown back, mouth open wide to gasp for
breath.  Periodically her arms and legs tightened about him and
her whimpers became moans.  Betty had done as much on a few
occasions, declaring that she was coming.  Sally said nothing
coherent, but the increase in vaginal moisture at such moments
suggested the same conclusion.  Eventually his marveling rose to
a crescendo.  Body rigid upon her, groaning involuntarily, he
ejaculated weakly for the third time.

He flopped on his back beside her.  Both lay gasping limply.  Her
hand crept over his hip and held his manhood in a loose,
motionless grip.

When breathing permitted, he asked, "Don't you have enough yet?"

She countered with a question of her own.  "What was so funny?"

"Huh?"

"You giggled when I started to come."

"I did?  I did not!"

"Yes, you did.  Did you think I was funny?"

Slowly he smiled.  "You remember whacking Tom because he grabbed
your tit in football?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"And outrunning me when I wanted to wrastle?"

She lay silent.  He continued, "You're the girl who wouldn't even
_talk_ about fucking!"

"I will now," she averred.

"That's what's funny, Sal.  What happened to you?"

For a moment she was again silent, asking at last, "So what's
funny about it?"

"Don't you see?  After all that ... backing away, you sucked me
off and then _dared_ me to fuck you."

"I let you feel me up on the hayride."

"Yeah.  And you jacked me off.  _That_ surprised me too!"

When she didn't respond, he asked, "Didn't you come too?"

"I thought so then."

"Huh?"

"That was _nothing_, Joe, just nothing."

He turned his head to stare at her.  She was looking up at the
ceiling.  He sniffed. "So you've learned a few things this
spring."  Suddenly the connection clicked.  "It was that cousin
who stayed with your folks, wasn't it?  Is she still here?"

"No.  She went back home."

"I saw her at your Halloween party.  She was a fox. Why didn't
she come to the Christmas party with you?"

"She was too big by then."

"Huh?  Nobody gets fat that fast."

Sally giggled.  "Oh yes, they do!"

Another connection formed.  "You mean ... she was _pregnant_?"

"I'll say!  She dropped an eight-pound boy in May."

"_Dropped_?"

"That's how her dad put it."

"But she was about your age."

"A year older."

"How'd she get pregnant?"

"How do you think?"

"I mean, do they know who's the father?"

"No, they don't, and neither does Marcie."

"But, but --  Why not?"

The girl returned his stare, lip curling in amusement at his
expression.  "Because she likes to gangbang."

"To ... to ...  You don't mean lots of guys at once!"

She giggled.  "Wish I had a mirror.  You look like a frog
catching a fly."

He snapped his mouth shut, then opened it to ask incredulously,
"She really _likes_ it?"

"Of course."

His eyes widened further.  She giggled again but suddenly
sobered.  "She was right too."

"Right?  You mean ..."

"Gangbanging is fun."

"Fun."

"The most fun of all."

He took a breath and nodded slowly.  "And that's what you've been
doing this afternoon.  Who with?"

She only smiled.

"My god, Sal, they'll run you down all over the school."

She sniffed.  "I wasn't with schoolboys."

"What?"  He took a deep breath.  "Sally, you're only 15!"

"They didn't know that."

"What'd you tell them?  Who were they?"

"Men.  Grown men."

"Who?"

She took a long breath.  "I don't know.  It doesn't matter.  I
made sure they didn't follow me.  I'll never see the same ones
again."

"How many were they?"

She studied him contemplatively, still holding his penis.
"Five."

"_Five_ men?"

"Not enough."

He chuckled disbelievingly.  "And I make six."

Her hand moved gently.  "And you were the best.  Marcie was right
about that too. The last is best."

"Marcie got you started at this?"

"Yeah.  It's not as easy as you might think.  Finding the men is
the tough part, unless you know just where to look."  She smiled.
"Marcie told me where to look."

"What's hard about that?" he demanded.  "Any boy will fuck you!"

"_Boys_!" she repeated with a sneer.  "The trouble with boys is
how they brag."

"Brag?  I don't brag."

"Why do you think I'm lying here beside you?"

"You mean because I don't brag?"

She grinned.  "That's one reason."

"But not the only one.  Your five men weren't enough, you said."

"Last week it was seven.  That was better."

"But still not enough, huh?  How many do you want, Sal?"

"Marcie did two dozen guys the time she thinks she got pregnant."

"Two ...  Holy shit!"

"She said that was like going to heaven."

"She was shitting you!"

The girl slowly shook her head.  "I don't think so.  She knew too
much about fucking.  She showed me how to do three or four at
once, not just one after the other."

He raised up on an elbow, staring in stupefaction.  "_Showed_
you?  You went out with her?"

"No.  She said men were scared of big bellies.  We played with
bananas."  The girl grinned at him.  "I lost my cherry to a
banana."

"How long before the hayride?"

She chuckled fondly.  "I felt you stop when your fingers went in.
We're you disappointed, Joe?"

"So you lost it playing queer games with Marcie!"

"To an unpeeled banana.  I wished it was you and your dick, but
Marcie and a banana was what I had."

"You could've had my dick anytime in the last two years!"

"I know it.  I was afraid of it until Marcie came along."

"And now look at you!"

She released him and cupped her conical breasts in both hands.
"Don't you like what you see, Joe?"

"I wonder!"  Suddenly he rolled forward, up onto his knees, and
spun around, forcing first her legs apart then, bending close,
her vaginal lips.  "What does it look like after seven men stick
in it?

She tensed and rose slightly on her elbows.  "Well?"

"Well what?"

"So how does it look?"

Skin of groin and mound appeared inflamed.  The crimson interior
glistened with moisture.  But in fact her opening seemed smaller
than that of Betty, who had also permitted a close inspection.
The odor of semen was strong.

"Red," was all he said.

Her hands raised her hips off the bed.  "Look lower."

"Huh?"

"They did my asshole too."

His thumbs pried buttocks apart.  Again the skin was inflamed,
puckering as it receded.  Without pausing to consider its
advisability, he put a thumb into the wet vagina, then into the
rectum.  It passed easily.

"What are you doing?"

"They fucked you here?"

"The longest one."

Her hand had nearly re-erected him.  His thumb work in her
finished the task.  He waddled forward, sliding his thighs under
her buttocks, and forcefully presented his organ to the tiny
hole.  It failed to penetrate.

"You've dried off," she told him.  "Put it in my pussy first."

Her prescription proved effective.  Two prior strokes in the
sodden vagina popped him immediately through the ring-like
entrance below.

"God!" he exclaimed, pulling her hips strongly toward him for
maximum penetration.

"You like being in my guts?" she asked solemnly.

"How do _you_ like it?"

"It's okay.  What I really like is another one in my pussy."

"At the same time?"

"Or even two more.  That's what I did this afternoon: a fat old
bear in my ass on the edge of the sleeper and two loaders
standing in front."

"Come on, Sally!  They'd get in each other's way."

"The middle one leaned back on the windscreen.  Of course only
the bottom one got _all_ the way in.  That was a _huge_ one!"

"Bigger than mine?"

"Lots longer.  But all three of them jizzed.  The young guy did
it twice."  She grinned at him.  "You're the only one who's made
it three times.  Want to try for four?"

He began to move gently.  Her hips responded and a hand came up
to finger the clitoris.  She asked curiously, "How'd you do that
second one so fast?"

"I think it was because I pulled out of your mouth before the
second squirt.  It sort of left me hanging."

"You came all over my face anyway."

"I'm sorry."

"No, you aren't.  But I'd rather have it _in_ me."

"In your _mouth_?"

"Why not?  Wherever you get it, as Marcie said, it's the purest
part of a man."

"Marcie."  He shook his head.  "It's because of her that I'm
kneeling here with my dick up your ass, isn't it?"

"Are you complaining?"

"No.  Except I wish she hadn't made such a good job of it."

"What do you mean?"

"Teaching you to love a lot of guys instead of just one."

She giggled.  "Did you want to keep me to yourself, Joe?  That's
sweet.  I didn't think guys still believed in that."

"You didn't?"

"No.  Everything you see on TV has girls swapping all around.
I'm sure that's fun, at least till you get in a gangbang."

"_I_ don't think a gangbang would be more fun!"

She nodded slowly.  "Yeah, and that explains it."

"Explains what?"

"Why it's hard to find guys that play good together."

He sneered.  "You mean you found a bunch of faggots?"

She grunted.  "They didn't fuck each other, if that's what you
mean."

His thrusting ceased.  "You know, you've got a point.  Where
_did_ you find five -- or seven -- guys who'd do you all
together?  Hmm.  'On the edge of the sleeper and leaning on the
windscreen.'  Were you fucking in a ten-wheeler?"

She smiled slowly.  "One of them had more wheels than ten."

Another connection fell into place.  "You were at the truck
stop!"

Her response was to roll her hips.  "Fuck me."

On the reverse of her path through the woods one fork led to the
high school and another through the dilapidated chain-link fence
behind _Long Miles Truckstop_ on the interstate ramp.  "That's
it!" he declared.  "That's where you found your playful guys.
They don't know you and they don't know each other.  But they
must've asked your age. What did you tell them?"

"I'm like, 'Old enough.'"  Abruptly she backed away, breaking
their contact, and stood up off the bed.  "I suppose you're going
to tell everybody all about it."

He shook his head.  "I don't tell things."

"Betty would be tickled to hear it."

"Betty has other boyfriends.  Maybe _you_ ought to tell her."

The girl shook her head.  "There's only one truck stop around
here."  She caught his arm and tugged him off the bed.  "Take a
shower with me."  She grinned.  "I'll wash your dick for you."

"You really _can't_ get enough, can you!"

"Quit complaining."  She passed him with a sniff and went down
the hall to the main upstairs bath.

He followed slowly.  Finding her rubbing herself only with soapy
hands, he took a washcloth from the linen closet and joined her
under the water.  When he began to scrub her, she laughed and
said into his ear.  "You can't wash off their hands, Joe."

"Or their tongues or their dicks," he agreed.  "But I can their
greasy jizz."

"Too late for that."

He hesitated but went on to do a thorough job, including soapy
fingers in both lower openings.  As offered, she washed his
genitals and stooping, took the flaccid manhood briefly into her
mouth.

"Why'd you do that?" he asked as they dried off.

"Suck you?  You have a nice dick, Joe."  She grinned.  "I always
thought it would be mine."

"I guess I did too.  Now you think it's not enough."

"Yeah.  Marcie talked about that.  It's too bad we couldn't be
together and still do gangbangs."

"She's got a kid to look after, hasn't she?"

"I don't mean me and Marcie.  I mean me and _you_!"

He rejected that idea immediately.  "Sorry."

"I said it: too bad."

As they strolled up the hall to his room, he asked, "What did you
mean about it being too late to wash off the jizz?"

She looked away.  "I've missed two periods."

"My god, Sally!"

She shrugged, turning into his room and bending for her scattered
clothing.

"What are you going to do?"

She grinned at him as the tube top settled over her head.  "I'm
going to live with Marcie."

He shook his head and grinned in return.  "Br'er Rabbit, huh?"

"She has _two_ truck stops.  I'll be back in a year.  Betty
Sawyer will take good care of you."

He sighed deeply.  "I wish you wouldn't go."

"I can't stay in this town, Joe."

"Can't you get an abortion?"

Arms encircled her belly.  "No!" she declared defiantly.  "I'm
like Marcie in that too.  This baby is going to be _mine_."

He sighed again.  "So that's the end for us."

She sniffed.  "It never started, Joe."

"It did too start!  Remember when we discovered the difference?"

She smiled reminiscently.  "Peeing in the woods.  Your dick
impressed me a lot.  It still does, Joe."

"Well, can't we ... figure out how ..."

She shook her head.  "I like all the dicks now."

"And you're about to have another guy's kid -- one you don't even
know!"

She turned and descended the stairs, pausing on the porch.  "At
least we did finally get laid."

At least that.  He sat numbly on the porch and watched her skip
away along the roadside.


END

Contact kellis@dhp.com
Stories gratis at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/kellis/www

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