It was a warm spring day. I pulled out my guitar, went out on the porch, and started playing.
I watched her walk by. She was Hispanic, five foot one, straight black hair, round face, brown skin, slight build, small breasts but larger hips, and she weigh no more than 90 pounds.
She didn't look at me, just walked by.
She passed by, again, 15 minutes later. She looked up briefly. I smiled. She smiled, turned her head away, and walked by.
Half an hour later, she walked by, again. She slowed.
"Hey," I said.
"Hey," she answered.
She looked up. I let our eyes meet. I let my eyes flow into hers. I watched her breathing, her chest moving in and out, her nose flare, her lips part.
"You like to sing?" I asked.
She blushed, looked down.
"Come on. I know a song you'll like."
I waved her into the yard. She hesitated.
"Come one," I said, waving again.
She looked up the street, then down. There wasn't anybody in sight. She looked, again, then lifted the latch and took a step into my yard.
"Be sure to close it behind you."
She turned and fumbled with the latch. It gave me time to watch her from behind. She was wearing a blue, pleated dress and a white shirt. It was a Catholic school uniform. When she turned to face me, I was looking at her shirt, how her straight, black hair made the shirt look so white; how the shirt had been pressed and starched, but now showed the wrinkles of one-day's wear. She looked down.
"Come on up here," I encouraged. "Sit here."
I pointed at the other end of the rocking bench where I was sitting. She came slowly up the steps, watching me watching her with each step. To get by me, her dress brushed against my knees. I breathed through my nose and smelled how clean she was, the soap smell mixed with her own odor, sweet mixed with a faint tang. I stopped the swing and she sat down. She hunched forward.
"Sit back, so I can rock," I said, starting the bench rocking with my foot.
She lifted herself on her hands and slid back into the bench. As she leaned back, I watched her dress climb her legs until her knees, then her lower thighs, showed from under her dress. I smiled, and knew she was watching me, as I stared at her exposed legs. She leaned back a little more and let her knees relax, her legs separating, not enough to be provocative, but enough to let me know she didn't feel like keeping them tightly together. I scanned her body as my eyes climbed to hers. She was waiting, with her eyes.
"You go to the Catholic high school?" I asked.
"Yeah," she said.
"You 16 or 17?"
"Really? You can vote?"
"Can you prove it? Got a license?"
Looking back at this moment, I know she knew what I was talking about, but at the time, she just seemed willing to prove to me she could vote. She pulled out a small wallet and showed me her license. It didn't look like a fake. I nodded, turned to my guitar, and played a chord.
"You know this song?"
I started humming "La Bamba", then began playing the chords. She watched my fingers dance over the frets. I started singing, "Para bailar la bamba..."
"Come on, sing with me," I smiled.
"Para bailar la bamba, se necessita una poca de gracia," we sang together.
She pressed her knees together, then opened them. I looked down, my attention caught by the movement, and I stared as she kept time to the music with her knees. I knew she was watching me as I watched her legs.
"This one knows what's going on," I thought, as she bounced her knees open and closed.
I stopped playing.
"You want to play?" I asked.
"I don't know how," she said, looking innocent.
I grinned. She grinned back, like the cat that swallowed the canary.
"I'll teach you. Come here," I said, lifting the guitar and patting my lap. "Sit here."
I should have known, when she didn't hesitate. She slid off the bench, walked over, and turned her back to me. I curled my arm around her waist and lifted her onto my lap.
"Yes," she said, quietly.
I put the guitar around in front of her.
"You strum and I'll finger," I said.
She put her right arm around the guitar while I held the neck with my left hand.
"Go ahead. Strum to the beat of the song and I'll play the chords."
She moved her hand over the strings and heard the notes of a chord. She turned her head and smiled at me with delight.
"Keep strumming," I said, "and I'll finger."
I couldn't keep from letting a wicked smile filled my face. I was sure she didn't get the joke. But when she turned bright red, then sat back and widened her legs across my lap, I wasn't so sure. She started to strum, and I let my right hand come to rest just below her dress on her bare knee. She kept on strumming without a pause.
"Sing," I said.
She started to sing, so quiet I could hardly hear her.
"A little louder!"
She wiggled back into my lap, spreading her legs open wider.
"Careful!" I yelped as she squirmed on top of my now engorged hard on.
She smiled and sang louder. My fingers moved and touched the soft smooth skin of her inner thigh. She kept on singing. I changed the chords as she strummed. Without any objection from her, my hand slid slowly up her thigh. I could feel my hand getting warmer, hotter. I knew I was getting close when the back of my hand brushed her other thigh. Still, she kept singing. I felt the soft cotton of her underwear and closed my eyes. My fingers brushed at the indentation that was her slit.
"Ohhhh...," she gasped.
"Keep singing," I whispered into her ear, "or I stop fingering."
She pressed her ear against my lips and started singing again. I pressed my fingers, following her slit, to where I imagined her clit to be. I pressed in. She gasped, again.
"Keep singing," I whispered.
As she sang, I pressed into her crotch, into her clit. She bit her lip, and went on singing. I scraped my fingernails against her underwear, just over her clit, each finger finding and flicking her pleasure button. She exhaled hard, jerking with each finger's vibration. She kept singing. I felt her panties get damp. I slipped my fingers under the elastic band, pressed them forward until they became slippery as they slid into her slit. I lifted my index finger up over her clit, so slick and enlarged, poking out from under its hood.
"Madre..." she exhaled.
I rubbed my finger back and forth rapidly, feeling the little flap of skin, feeling her twitch with each pass. Her breathing quickened, then she gasped as her body tensed.
"Si...si...si..." she uttered.
I stopped, slid my hand out from under her dress, lifted my arm around her, and put my fingers to my nose. She was still panting when I bent my head forward and licked my fingers clean. She turned her head and implored me with her eyes. I knew I had stopped before giving her what she wanted. Her eyes begged me to continue.
"Let's go inside," I said, swinging the guitar away and giving her a little bump to help her off my lap. She seemed to be in a daze and wasn't moving, so I stood up. She swayed as she landed on her feet, the pleats of her dress swinging down, returning to cover her upper legs. She kept her eyes looking at the floor, acting like she had done something wrong, like I was going to get mad at her or hurt her.
"Come on," I said, offering my hand. "Don't be afraid."
She didn't look up, but took my hand. I swung the door open, led her in, and closed the door behind us.
Once inside, she turned to face me. She lifted my hand to her lips and kissed my fingers, then looked into my eyes. I saw the fear, and the longing. I smiled and reached down, lifted her. I slipped one arm around her back, the other reaching below her butt, pulling her up. As I lifted her to my height, I worked my hand under her dress, to her butt. She wrapped her legs around my waist and leaned into me. She closed her eyes. I pulled her into me, kissing her softly. Her mouth opened. Her tongue explored my tongue. She clamped her legs around my waist and I let my freed hand crawl to the top of her panties, then slip down the soft skin of her butt, down between, to the crack, then underneath. She rocked her pelvis backwards to help me reach forward until I felt her sopping slit. She rocked forward, then back, sliding my fingers against her. I pressed two fingers inside her. She gasped. I pressed another finger forward, until I found her clit. She bounced and sputtered, pulling her mouth off mine. I fingered her fast and hard, inside and out, curling my fingers to press the walls of her cunt, vibrated her love button. She jerked and rocked, then threw her head into my shoulder. I felt her cramp up, then a warm stream of fluid rolled over my fingers. I smiled as I thought to myself, "She's done this before..."
I let her enjoy her climax, barely touching her clit from time to time, until she took a deep breath and sighed. "Te amo," she whispered, relaxing in my arms like a sack of rice. I caught her as she let her legs fall. I swung her into carrying position, one arm around her back, the other around her legs at the knees.
"Let's get you out of these wet clothes," I said, and carried her into my bedroom.
She wasn't in the mood to argue, so I lay her down on my bed and reached up under her dress. I wrapped my fingers around the elastic of her panties and pulled them off. Without a word, she let me continue to undress her, while she stayed with a silly, helpless, orgasm grin on her face.
When she was naked, I stood up and stared at her. She looked older, now that I could see the dark nest of hair that was her bush. Her breasts were small, smaller than old-man tits. As I stared at that beautiful creature, she slowly lifted her arms above her head. She smiled and bent her legs at the knees, lifting, then spreading them, until the lips of her outer cunt pulled open, revealing a hot, wet, pink interior. I couldn't take my eyes off that juicy, slippery slit. My insides stirred and I followed instincts. My knees collapsed and my head fell between her legs. She slipped her fingers into my hair and bounced and pushed as I licked and sucked her.
"Su barba... su barba...," she gasped.
I shook my head into her cunt, like I did when I used to give my kids a raspberry on their stomach, but for this girl, my week-old growth scraped against her slippery folds.
"Espinosa..." she jerked, "espinosa!"
I slowed my attack and switched to licking her with my tongue. I lapped up her sweet love juices and let myself languish atop the hood of her clit.
"Si... si...," she gurgled, barely audible as her legs clamped around my head and enveloped my ears.
As slowly as I could, I let my tongue slide against her. I let each raspy node of my tongue stroke her clit.
"Madre...," she gasped.
Her thighs crushed my head and her fingers pulled my hair as she came again and again. She spurted more fluids. I don't care what anybody says, her gushers tasted like piss, and it was everything I could muster to keep from gagging. Did my cum taste this bad? Is that why so many women gagged on my cum?
When her contractions stopped, and she released my head from between her legs, my cock was rock hard and anxious. I looked up at her face. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was getting heavy. Shit! She was falling asleep on me!
I stood, quickly undid my pants and underwear. She rolled to her side, hiding her slit. I reached down and tugged at her butt.
"Qué?" she mumbled. When I tugged again, she said, "Qué quieres?"
"Como un perro," I barked.
My Spanish isn't any good, but I know a few words, including "like a dog."
"Como un perro," I repeated.
She understood because she pulled herself up to all fours, put her head down and her butt up.
"Te amo," I said, as I lanced my cock into her sopping cunt.
My dick is long, but not very thick, so I slid in easily. In fact, I don't think either of us was sure I was actually inside. I figured I was, because of the heat that engulfed my pole. I thrust hard, landing my balls against her clit. That got her attention. She pushed back and began to meet each thrust so that my nut sack gave her button a good slap. She was getting into it, but I wasn't getting enough traction.
"Maybe you've never done THIS before," I said, slipping my hand around her front and wiggling her clit with my fingers. She started to moan and buck, so I knew I was having the desired effect. I kept twiddling her, but pulled my dick out. She didn't seem to notice. I kept up with the finger on her clit and moved my other hand into her slit from behind. I moved the fingers up and down her slit. When they were plenty juicy, I slid my hand up to find her back door. Wet and slippery, my thumb hit its mark and popped in easily. A little TOO easily. I stuck my thumb in all the way up her ass.
"Si... si...," she gasped.
Fuck! Wasn't there anything this little whore hadn't done? I was tired of trying to find out. So I grabbed my dick with my hand and guided it to her asshole. As I made my initial push, she relaxed like a pro and pushed back, letting me slide in.
"Si...," she sighed.
"I'll 'si si' YOU!" I said as I pushed as hard and fast as I could until I sunk my full length in her ass.
"Aiyee!" she yelped. I felt her tighten around my cock. She held on so tight, I couldn't move it back.
I gave her clit a few more wiggles and she relaxed enough for me to pull out and then thrust in hard, again.
"Aiyee!" she yelped, again.
This went on for several thrusts. She never asked me to stop, never complained, and by the fourth or fifth thrust, her yelping had diminished and she was able to keep herself from tightening up. That's when I began thrusting in earnest.
I stopped stroking her and grabbed both her hips, plowing into her with the force of my forward and her backward movement. She positioned one of her hands between her legs and started servicing herself while I took care of my business.
She was good and tight, especially as she brought herself to a climax. I rolled into my orgasm with her and soon was filling her ass with spurts of my bursting seed. My orgasm was so intense, I collapsed on top of her. She collapsed under me. We both lay there, unable to move, until I fell asleep.
When I woke up, she was gone. My face smelled like piss, my hands smelled like cunt, and my dick smelled like asshole. I dragged myself to the shower to clean up. As the spray splashed away so many bodily fluids, I tried to remember if tomorrow was a school day or not.