No Controlling Legal Authority Ch. 20

"Pinch them a little," she encouraged him when his imagination failed him.

"Yes, do that," she whispered as his fingers dug into her exquisitely sensitive nipples.

She closed her eyes and let his trembling fingers worship her flesh and warmed to his touch. She felt the pull of his fingers in her loins, and her pussy throbbed with desire. She remained passive and endured the lesson for as long as her growing passion permitted, but her needs quickly surpassed his capabilities.

"Pull them," she urged him, and her voice sounded strained to him.

He pulled her nipples, but, of course, his tugs were tentative and feeble.

"Harder, pull them harder," she commanded, but he thought her teeth were clenched in pain, and so, he barely increased the pressure at all.

"It's OK, Caleb, do it. You won't hurt me, I promise. I want to feel it," she demanded, and he detected a sense of urgency.

He dutifully increased the pressure of his fingers on the girl's tense nipples and stretched her tough little pears upward with a steady pressure. She arched into the pull, following his hands with her titties, and he lifted her toward the stars.

"Oh, God, yes," she panted when she had risen on tiptoes, and he continued to exert pressure on her nipples. "Like that, yes, hard," she cried excitedly.

He mashed her nipples and worried that he might do her harm, but she allayed his fears with blandishments and encouragements and sought to teach him the wide breadth of passion's broad boundary.

"Twist them hard while you're pulling them," she insisted, and he complied, rotating his hands like he was wringing out a rag, until she groaned with pleasure.

"Oh, yes," she exhorted as her passion rose. "Do it." Her hands fluttered over his like birds robbing a nest, pecking his fingers and pinching her flesh where it peeked through his fingers, abetting his intuition with her knowledge, and carnal fires flamed in her belly.

"Use your fingernails on me," she cried, nearly begging in her urgency, and he dug into her flesh from top and bottom, and the pain blended with her passion and flowed with a steady current into her loins.

"Oh, God, yes, yes, yes," she chanted as the quickly learning youth tugged and twisted and raked her titties with his claws. She danced for him in the throes of her exquisite torment, crossing and uncrossing her knees, hopping from foot to foot, as the agonizingly sweet pressure on her bosoms refracted through the glittering prism of her passion and swept through her loins in a rainbow of sexual sensations. She endured for as long as she could, delaying her departure to extend her delight, but quickly her passion ascended, and she required more of him.

She covered his hands with her own and gently pulled them away. Her white flesh was streaked with the marks of his fingers, and he looked dismayed at the sight of what he had done, but she just smiled at him and said, wickedly, "They like to be sucked, too."

He looked at her blankly and gulped, and she pressed on, "You'd like to suck my titties, wouldn't you, Caleb?"

When still he couldn't answer, she teased him mercilessly by wiggling her fingers through his hair to the back of his head and pulling his face against her chest. She wagged her shoulders, dragging her nipples across his pursed lips, while pressing his face into her bosom, and he nearly bolted, because it almost reminded him of the revolting hugs he got from all the old ladies after Sunday services.

The boy sat rigidly, and he passively allowed her to brush his mouth with her breasts. His lips burned and his mouth watered to the power of her suggestion. He felt saliva pooling in his cheeks and gulped again.

"Girls like having their breasts sucked and licked," she said, coaching him soothingly, but then, she jarred him by taking a step back and asking him directly, "You know why, don't you, Caleb?" He was dumbfounded. He looked at her imploringly, searching her face for a hint of the answer and dreaded appearing foolish in her eyes. He didn't know this would be a question and answer session, and he felt like an unprepared schoolboy at a pop-quiz.

"Because it makes our pussies wet, that's why," she said, answering her own question.

He gulped again and the mention of her pussy drew his eyes to her loins.

She watched his gaze fall and stood still for his inspection.

"You can't see the wetness, Caleb; you have to feel me with your fingers to tell if I'm wet," she advised him patiently.

He jerked his head away, embarrassed that she had caught him looking at her again, and shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

"I'm already wet a little, Caleb. You made my pussy wet when you were playing with my titties, but I'll get a lot wetter if you suck on them, too."

He looked at her blankly, and she could easily read the anguish of ignorance in his face.

"Girls need to get wet first."

He blinked uncomprehendingly.

"On the inside, inside their pussies; they need to be wet."

He stared at her and wrung his hands uncertainly.

"The wetness makes us slippery, so it doesn't hurt when you put your fingers and things inside us."

He blinked again, but the cloud of his confusion seemed to be lifting.

"Lots of things make me get wet, Caleb," she continued, instructing the boy like she had all the experience in the world. "Kissing, playing with my breasts like you did, licking and sucking, touching me all over; all kinds of things make me wet and some things make me get really wet."

His face brightened, and she could tell he was beginning to get the idea. He was a willing and eager pupil, she'd give him that, and she adored him all the more for his aptitude.

"You promised you wouldn't hurt me, if I let you put your fingers inside me, remember?"

"Yes," he said, nodding affirmatively.

"You do still want to put your fingers inside me, don't you?"

"Yes, yes," he answered quickly; his fingers were plucking nervously at the seams of his jeans. He sort of bounced excitedly on the bale as he gave his assurance, and she smiled with satisfaction at his eagerness.

"Then, you'll have to get me really wet, first, won't you?"

"Yes, yes," he gasped as though those were the only words he knew, and she could tell he was more than ready to proceed to the next lesson.

"It's easy, Caleb, and fun; you'll like it too, I promise," she said in her most sultry voice.

She stepped closer to him and her legs brushed against his knees. Her breasts were at his eye level and were pointing expectantly at his face. She leaned toward him, moving slowly to give him time to adjust to her advance.

He wet his lips expectantly, and she caught the star-lit glimmer of his pink tongue. She shivered in excited anticipation of the caress of that tongue. Her voice, soothing and distant, floated to him like that of a coach admonishing a batter to keep his eye on the ball.

"All you have to do is open your mouth and let me put my breast in; I'll tell you exactly what to do."

Obediently, he obliged and opened his mouth. She leaned closer and brushed his wet lip with her nipple. His heart thumped; her touch was electric and it jolted him. She moved, and her nipple swung in a circle, brushing his lips as it moved. His lips burned, and he was surprised at the amount of sensation he felt there. She drifted off, slightly, and he followed. His mouth opened further, and he sought her. Her fingers raked through his hair, directing him, positioning his face to receive her, and they touched again. Her breast centered and pressed slowly, insistently into the moist enclosure of his virgin mouth.

His head was spinning again. The taste of her was extraordinary. He was astonished to discover that his exploration of her breasts with his fingers was wholly inadequate to prepare him for the experience of feeling her on his lips and tongue. Her texture was indescribable; sweet, rubbery, soft, hard, smooth, wrinkled, and he thrilled to the discovery that her taut flesh could actually throb as it lay on his tongue.

"Lick my nipple with your tongue," she said, and he circled the tip with the end of his tongue.

"That's it, yes," she breathed excitedly, and her fingers twisted in his hair.

He opened his mouth as wide as he could, nearly taking in the entirety of her breast and lapped the underside from her chest out to the tip of her nipple.

"Oh, yes, that's good," she moaned. "Now, close your lips and suck me like a baby."

He complied, sucking her enthusiastically, and in sucking her, he stroked her tense nipple with the flat of his tongue and heard her gasp with pleasure.

"Play with my other one, too," she implored him, and her hand groped for his to direct him to her needs.

He obeyed, and, remembering his lessons, he pinched her nipple and pulled it toward him.

"Oh, yes," she mouthed to encourage him, and she instantly felt his quick response in the congested flesh of her nipples.

"Use your teeth," she suggested feverishly. "Scrape my nipples with your teeth when you suck me."

He closed his teeth on the throbbing point of her breast and raked her. Then, lifting his mouth, he quickly switched breasts and repeated the caress.

"Ohhhhh," she sighed, and she grasped his head between her hands and swiveled his mouth back and forth from one breast to the other, plunging them into the sweet purgatory of that sucking well.

"Oh, damn, that feels good," she squealed, and she placed one foot on the bench beside his leg so she could bring her breasts closer to the inferno of his lips.

"Caleb, Caleb," she gasped as he sucked her, and for the first time in his life, he heard a woman whisper his name in the exquisite throes of her pleasure, and the wonder of it shook his heart.

"The tips," she moaned. "Use your teeth on the tips."

He let the slippery cone of her nipple slip through the vise of his teeth till only the hard, rubbery, tip was still caught in his grip. He closed his teeth, pressing her tender flesh and, in a flash of erotic inspiration, he began flicking his tongue back and forth across the swollen end that bulged between his teeth.

"Yes, yes, that's it, that's exactly it," she breathed in ecstasy, and to his amazement he felt her body begin to quiver.

Her fingers twisted his hair and pulled his mouth against her, and he nibbled and nipped her nipples and sensed a restless motion of her hips. She swayed in front of him, undulating her hips in the space over his lap and clasped his sucking lips to her bosom.

"Oh, Caleb, Caleb, that feels so good," she panted when he began alternating between chewing and pulling, pinching and sucking, switching from one to the other suddenly and unexpectedly so she couldn't tire.

"Don't stop, don't stop," she wailed softly when her gyrations inadvertently caused her nipple to slip from his lips.

He could feel her hands wandering across his shoulders, then his upper arms, then the back of his neck, as her rising passions inspired her to return his caresses. She kneaded his muscles with tugs and squeezes, some hard, others less so, and he came to understand that those touches were the guideposts of her pleasure. If he bit too hard, she squeezed him hard; if he sucked too gently she pulled him with her fingers, steadily increasing her pressure until he understood her needs and responded to her. He was caught up in the wonder of her body. It was as though they were performing a fantastic tango in which she led and he followed, and, as his understanding grew, they melded and flowed into one another, and she led him through the intricate twists and turns with increasingly subtle gestures, until, in his time, he learned to anticipate her moves before she made them, and she soared on the gossamer wings of her passion.

"Oh, God, you suck me so good," she groaned as she yielded herself to the boy's intuition. He chewed her nipples, and she mewed her pleasure to him in long sighs.

"Ooooooooo, Caleb, yes," she gasped as his teeth scraped her breast from base to tip. "That's makin' me sooooooo wet."

The mention of her moisture reminded him of his purpose, and he became acutely aware that her naked loins were grinding obscenely in front of his chest. She had bumped his arm repeatedly with her knee as she writhed, and once or twice, in delirium, he had inadvertently brushed the soft skin of her inner thigh with his hand.

"Don't stop," she complained immediately when he paused for breath and to collect his wits, and, when he resumed, she gurgled and said, "Give me your hand; I'll show you how wet I am."

He couldn't move, so she groped for him and plucked his hand off her breast.

"There," she gasped as she thrust his hand between her legs. "Feel me. See how wet I am. No, no, keep sucking; you don't have to look. Here, I'll help you."

She grabbed his hand with both of hers and held him tightly against her body inviting him to explore her wetness, but he knew nothing of the geography of vaginas, and his spirit, under the circumstances, intrigued though he certainly was, was not inclined to spontaneous adventure.

She moaned and rubbed herself against his inert, flexible fingers. The friction was tantalizing in its incompleteness, and her loins churned with desire. His fingers drug slackly against her swelling lips without intention or purpose, so she slipped her hand under his and positioned her fingers under his, thumb under thumb, index under index, ring under ring, and guided his hand with her own.

She circled his neck with her arm and breathed toward his ear, "Relax your fingers, Caleb, I'll show you."

He suckled her breasts and went as limp as he could, and he could feel the soft, moist hairs of her pussy brushing his palm. Her heat scalded him, but he yielded to her pressure and cupped her mons with his hand. Her gently sculpted mound filled his hand with a throbbing, downy soft presence that made him think, fleetingly, of squirmy ducklings. She pressed his hand hard into the center of her mons and held him there while she rubbed her pussy along his fingers. Her pussy lips, fattened with lust, splayed open, and she oiled his fingers with her essence.

"There, Caleb, do you feel it?" she gushed excitedly when she felt her lips separating for him.

He was all confusion and wonder, and the heat of his hand was nearly a match for the heat in her loins, so the transition from outside to not quite inside wasn't all that clear to him. He shut his eyes tightly and tried to imagine what he was supposed to feel, but he had no reference to guide him, so he shook his head in bewilderment and lapped her hot nipples.

Oh, God, he is too sweet, she thought as he allowed her to press his hand into her flesh, and she felt there the awkward fumbling of his untutored fingers. His inexperience was kindling for the flames in her loins. His virgin fingers upon her body were like steel striking flint, and wherever he touched her, erotic sparks showered onto the dry tinder of her lust.

"Like this, you sweet boy," she said heatedly, and she lifted his middle finger with her own and, guiding him between her pouting, slippery lips, she brought him to the bright dawn of a new day. Every day, from this day forward, she thought as she held his virgin finger to her opening, every thing that he does, every girl that he touches, every experience that he has, will be measured against this moment. For all time, for the remainder of his days, every feeling, every sensation, every thought, every sound of this moment will be etched in his memory like an epitaph chiseled in stone, and he will not draw another breath without the remembrance of me and of this day.

He felt her and sensed her depths opening before him, and he gazed in awed wonder at her face. His jaw dropped and her nipple slipped from his lip, but she let it pass. She lowered her hips slightly to widen the gap between her legs, and licked her fevered lips with delicious expectation.

"See, Caleb? You see how easy it goes in me when I'm really wet," she said softly, and, as the honeyed words spilled from her lips, she slipped their fingers into the flooded, wildly churning void of her passion.

"Oh," he gasped in wonder as a multitude of mysteries revealed themselves in that single, penetrating instant.

She was small and tight down there, as was appropriate for her youth, and one finger fitted her snugly. Two fingers filled her, and her delicate tissues swelled to surround and envelop their layered fingers.

"Mmmmmm," she moaned with pleasure, and she gently withdrew her finger to let the boy explore her on his own.

"Do you like that, Caleb?" she asked huskily, when she felt her muscles contracting around his finger.

He nodded and gulped, and didn't dare move his finger for fear of harming her.

"I like it, too," she said in a low, confessional tone. "I love to feel fingers in my pussy like that. I love it so much, sometimes I even fingerfuck myself."

She was playing with his head again, and it worked. Her choice of words shocked him, and he jerked like she had poured ice water down his back. She smiled dreamily and wiggled her hips suggestively, but his shallowly penetrating finger remained maddeningly fixed inside her like a gyroscope, neither advancing, nor retreating nor drifting side to side.

"Am I shocking you? Do you think I'm bad just because I fingerfuck myself?" she asked smiling innocently, and she lifted his chin so she could look into his eyes.

He blinked at her helplessly, and she loved him all the more.

"I bet you jack off, too, don't you?" she teased him with mock sternness. "That's probably why that finger of yours is so short; it's shrinking from all the jacking off you've been doing."

He glanced away, unable to meet her gaze, because, of course, she was right on the money, and she grinned knowingly.

"Deeper, I want it in me deeper," she said, returning her hand to his and advancing his finger slightly, while a look of deepening consternation flickered on his face.

"Look at me," she said, and he obediently lifted his eyes to hers. "You jack off every day, don't you, Caleb."

He blushed, and she pressed on.

"I bet you even come up here to do it, don't you."

His blush deepened; his eyes widened in amazement at the canniness of her intuition.

"That's why you built this little bunk up here, isn't it, Caleb? So you would have a nice quiet place where you could jack off without anybody catching you."

He sputtered in embarrassment, because she was right, and in amazement, for the more she talked, the tighter she squeezed him.

"I'm right, aren't I?" she asked him pointedly, and he couldn't bring himself to lie.

"Yes," he whispered.

"Do you bring pictures of naked women up here to look at while you do it?"

"Sometimes."

"So, you lay up here in the dark all by yourself and look at pictures and jerk off, is that what you do?"

He couldn't deny it, but he couldn't admit it either, so he let his embarrassed silence speak for him.

"Don't you think the real thing would be better?"

"Yes," he conceded sheepishly.

"Do you like me, Caleb? Don't you think I'm pretty?"

"Oh, God, yes," he gulped emphatically. He had never been more certain of anything in his life than he was at that moment of his love for her and of her beauty.

"Then, why don't you move your finger inside me, instead of just holding it in there like you're afraid to touch me?

"Cause, I'm afraid I'll hurt you or something," he answered reminding her of the promise she had extracted from him.

"Oh, Lord, you are a sweet boy, Caleb Montcastle," she chided him gently. "But, you aren't going to hurt me with your finger. My pussy's so wet you could fingerfuck me with three fingers and it wouldn't hurt me. Can't you feel that?"

"But, it's so small."

"I stretch; try me."

"Are you sure?" he questioned doubtfully. His finger remained poised indecisively at her threshold exactly where she had abandoned him.