Cherry Pie: Born Again Virgins

"Seriously, Matt?" MargO's hands were on tiny, cocked Kitty hips. "You would have come up with something better than my sucking on your sister's luscious tits while you came inside Sweet Jen-Jen here?"

"She's got you there, bro. Kinda pervy, but hot. How about this: since there is no clear next questioner, and this conversation has turned Matt into a total bogart." Brittany paused for him to catch on, hand off the forgotten, smoking roach. "We break for munchies. Truth or Dare restarts when someone mentions explicit sex."

"That'll give us a good 90 seconds."

"I know. Seriously. Think about food. Don't we have chips?"

"We have cherry pie."

"No. Not pie. It's too close to sex."

"Stop. Talk about chips. Salsa. Guacamole."

"Guac? You have guac? Break out. Brittany's guacamole is better than sex."

"Watch it."

"Sorry."

"By the way, did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" MargO tilted her head, hard enough to show more smooth even-sheared stubble hinting at the scalp beneath as long hair swung away.

Brittany showed a wide crescent of delighted white teeth. "Are my nipples really all that luscious?"

"Watch it. That's the road to graphic."

"Sorry."

After that, and with the weed's help, chips and guac kept thoughts largely occupied until they returned to the living room. Matt knelt on the sheepskin rug to tend the fire.

"Drink boy."

"Yes, Mistress MargO."

"That sounds good. You can call me that again." The Kitty purred, curled on the couch next to his sister. "I'm still hungry, I want a piece of that pie now. Please."

"As you wish, mistress."

Tempting fate, girl." Brittany shook a finger at her.

"What? Nothing graphic. It's just pie."

"Yeah right. Just pie, Jen-Jen?"

Jenny had the recliner all the way back. Her words were low, not quite slurred. "Just pie. Sure. You keep believing that."

The other two girls laughed at her.

"I know the difference between graphic sex and food." MargO took the plate Matt brought. "This is cherry pie. Which is food."

The fire cracked as a tiny pocket of pitch exploded. She almost dropped the plate as she jumped. "And that's a fire. It's not graphic sex either. Graphic sex is what these two were doing in front of the fire when big-boobed bimbo here begged Matt to fuck her new cherry. And then encouraged him to pound her with that fine cock of his in a very unvirginal way."

She looked around, again flashing the buzzed scalp under a thin red stripe as her hair flared out. "Shucks. Was that graphic? My bad."

"And my turn." Matt pounced on his opportunity.

"It's my turn too." Brittany stopped him. Brother and sister paused, looking at each other in silence. "Tell you what. I have a dare I think you'll like. And that would make it your turn, once it's done. If you don't like my dare, I relinquish my turn to you. Fair?"

"Sounds good. But what..."

"Listen. I'm invoking the special magic pie double dare rule."

"I've never heard of..."

"...that I just made up." Brittany's open hand, palm out, ended any protest.

"Matt and MargO, I hereby double dare the two of you to take that slice of magic born again cherry pie upstairs to his room, close the door, and do whatever you want for the next 30 minutes. MargO, you're in charge."

Matt and MargO looked at one another. Not flirting, nervous. He raised one eyebrow. She lowered her eyes before she nodded.

"Are you sure?"

Her eyes came back up at his question. She bit her lip as she nodded again, holding her arms out to him. "Oh yeah."

She squealed, laughing when he scooped her up. Even holding her weight, he took two stairs at a time. He did not set her down until his foot had kicked his door closed.

He stepped back, repeated her earlier command. "Assume the position."@

"Which one? This one?" Naughty Kitty onesie spun away, bent at the middle. A bright red stripe in black hair covered both feet as her head met her shins. Arms wrapped behind her knees, cinching in the doubled over position. It gave Matt the sight of a faint but distinct crevice between twin puffy hills.

"This one?" On his bed. On her knees, hands on hips. The bright twinkle in MargO's eye was back, not nervous at all. She leaned forward, taking her weight on bending arms until one turned cheek touched his comforter. Two other rounded cheeks, raised high, wiggled a quick invitation before she clambered off the bed.

"Maybe this...Hmm. I know. Let me finish what I started. Assume the position yourself, handsome." She spun the old armless straight back chair from his desk. He sat, legs square, shoulders straight.

"First things first." She stepped over his lap and settled down, facing him. Neither onesie-clad foot reached the floor. Tiny hands turned his face up and she brought her lips to his. The kiss was prolonged, insistent, hungry. Where Jenny's lips and tongue had been full, pillowy, soft, like her breasts and body, MargO's were small but strong, filled with tensions barely held in check, almost vibrating with passion, desire.

When she pulled back her eyes glowed, focused and greedy. "I have a couple secrets I need to share. Ready for the first one?"

She did not wait for an answer. One hand teased, slowly bringing the long zipper down, opening Kitty from neck to navel. Matt watched in silence as more and more skin was exposed, at the growing hints of rounding flesh showed on either side of her chest. Her eyes were on his as her hands pulled the plush fabric wider.

Matt gasped; his hips thrust up into the little tease on his lap. She giggled at his response to what she revealed. A polished gold bar pierced each nipple, accenting the crowning point of each petite little mound. Then she cried out, tiny fists clasping at his hair as his lips, tongue, teeth seized one pierced nubbin. Her lower body ground back and forth on his in a rapid fire humping motion, accompanied by a groaning whine. He grasped the other diminutive breast, pinching, pulling, rolling that nipple between thumbs and fingers, .

"Oh fuck, yes. Fuck fuck fuck yes." Her words spat out in the same rapid pace as her hips ground on him, both frenetic, frenzied, frantic.

His mouth left her nipple, returned for a second quick slurping suck, then pulled back. He stared at her, lips parted, panting. His larger, stronger fingers slipped under the split zipper above hers, exposing her more of her collar bone and shoulders. "Are you ready for your pie, little girl? If we go on like this much longer, I don't know if I can be gentle."

She smiled, shook her head. "No."

"No?"

"No. Don't be gentle." Again, his hips moved.

"And no cherry pie for me."

"Wait. Don't you want to pop your...I thought that was the dare."

"That is the dare. And my second secret." The confidence on her face evaporated, eyes dropping. She nodded to the door with her head. "I don't want the girls to know, but I don't need any pie."

She paused, studying him. Realization hit. "You're still a virgin? For real?"

She nodded again, agreeing. "But, I don't want to be one. Not anymore. I want you, Matteo. I want you inside me, to make me a woman. Tonight."

"Okay, but we can slow down. I can..."

"No!" Her face was set hard, determined. "Fuck me, Matt. I saw what you did with Jen-Jen. I almost came watching; I am fucking soaked. I have never been this ready in my life. Don't slow down. Fuck me. Please."

She slipped off his lap, stood facing him. The onesie slipped off one shoulder, then the other, dropped to the floor like the bikini-hiding robe earlier. MargO, though, was entirely naked underneath. Naked except for two nipple rings and a tiny, trimmed patch of dark between her legs.

She took his hands, pulled him to his feet, then grabbed his shirt hem, started to ease it up. Getting the hint, Matt helped, tugging it up and off. MargO took a moment to drink in his chest before she dropped to a squat, began to peel his boxers down.

He sprang loose, swinging rigid in front of her face as she encouraged him to lift one foot, then the other, free of his underwear. A sharp little tongue flicked over his tip. "I'm a virgin, Matt. That doesn't mean I'm innocent."

Flick. "Or inexperienced." Her mouth was around him, sucking hard, then gone with a loud pop and a smile. "Sit back down."

She spun her back to him, giving him another flash of now-naked puffed mounds split by the darkness of a narrow cleft.

He groaned when her sat on him, naked back arched against him. "Remember your lap dance?"

She wriggled down onto him then hoisted her hips up. His cock sprang free and she caught it between her thighs as they dropped back down. A small hand made sure it stayed snugged to her. Matt felt slickness slide along the top of his shaft. Her head turned, close against him. He felt her breath on his neck. "It's okay to touch me this time."

His hands grabbed her chest and she answered by grinding down on him, holding him tight between her thighs, pressing close with small fingers to keep him centered on her spreading wetness. Her scent reached him carrying more musk and spice than before, the product of the evening's prolonged teasing arousals. She whined, high and sharp, when his fingers caught a pierced nipple and rolled.

"Naughty pierced Kitty." He growled it.

She laughed, close to his ear. "You approve?"

He pulled her tighter to his chest, deepening her arch. "I approve whole heartedly. She's a very sexy Kitty."

Fingers stroked along the sensitive ridge defining his bulbous head. "I can tell."

They guided the bulb down, her hips coming up. He felt her soft flesh give, opening to him. "Are you going to fuck your little girl now?"

"Is that what my little girl wants?" Matt could feel tensions building as she moved on him, teasing herself with him.

"Yes, Daddy." She moaned, almost too soft to hear. "Your big cock makes me feel so funny down there."

Matt paused. Only for a moment, but she felt it. She licked up, under his ear.

"Daddy." He felt fingers encouraging the middle his shaft to sink deeper into her as hungry lips opened around him. "Please, Daddy. Don't stop."

He chuckled. "Yeah? You want your Daddy to pop your cherry. Is that it?" To the best of Matt's knowledge there was no father in the girl's life. There was a Ms. O, but never a Mr. O.

"Uh huh. I...I've always felt safe in Daddy's lap. I've missed it. Please. Please, Daddy. Make me yours. Make me a woman tonight. Fuck your naughty pierced little Kitty."

Fingertips spread slickness over his underside from low on his shaft near the root, dragged up toward the tip. After a teasing swirl along the ridge, the fingers found more thick wetness, his, and continued their task.

Then she was up, off his lap and the chair. Tiny hands reached out to him, took his and pulled. Once standing she guided him to his own bed, pushed him back on it. Matt reclined, except for a single central part angling upward, and watched the little cutie clamber up next to him, her small, full lips open, her eyes bright. He only spoke when she lifted one knee, began to straddle his middle.

"Wait!"

"What?" The confidence vanished from her face in an instant. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Oh no, sweet Maggie." She smiled at that. His hand stroked along her side, over smooth, tight skin. "You're perfect. I just forgot something."

Matt rolled to his side, pulled open his night stand drawer and pulled out the second condom.

She blushed, biting her lip. "Silly me. I guess I got excited."

Matt's eyes followed a small hand that trailed down between her pert little breasts, over her smooth, flat belly. It slipped between her legs, curving back and up in a way suggesting fingers were disappearing inside. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes fluttered.

She continued in a hoarse whisper. "Really excited."

When he started to tear open the foil package, tiny fingers snatched it from him. "Can I?"

Matt groaned when she slipped the inner rolled object between her lips, dropped her mouth over him. His back tensed in its own arch, trying to push more of his hardness into her warmth. Small hands braced on his hips, keeping him at the distance we wanted. For the second time, he felt that warmth, dimmed through latex, as the condom rolled down over his engulfed shaft.

Most of the way down, she stopped. He felt the impact of the back of her mouth. Lips pushed the still-rolled part down around him until she choked. He heard it, felt her gag and the soft spray of wetness as her coughed.

MargO pulled back, gasping.

She drew in a deep, we breath, wiped her mouth with the back of one forearm. Tears did not fall, but he could see them gathers around both eyes. A sheepish grin became a nervous chewing of her swollen, puffy lower lip.

Her hand wrapped as far as it could around him, rolling down the remaining latex.

"I practiced, Daddy. I really did. I tried to get ready but I didn't know it would be this big."

"You did fine, little girl. How did you practice?"

"I practiced on a banana." Fingers stroked along his rigid length.

"To put a condom on with your mouth?"

"Yes, Daddy." Fingers squeezed, deep around his root, forcing a groan from him. She crawled closer, lifted one knee to again straddle him. "And other things."

He watched her gather spit at her mouth, transfer it to his encased, swollen head. She brought her hips down to him, guided him up, along her opening. "I practiced...uhh. I practiced putting things inside me."

His head slipped in, immediately squeezed tight. Her face pulled in, nervous, worried. "But nothing this big, Daddy."

Her hips dropped, forcing him in another inch, her walls reluctantly wider. They rose up, dropped again. "Agh! Daaaddy! It's really big."

Matt watched the tiny shudders that each movement brought to her pierced nipples, shimmying above him. She rose up, dropped again. harder. "Ahhhh!"

Almost a scream. A barrier was crossed, overcome, and she eased down, taking him reluctantly inside her. Her head hung back, mouth open. Matt grabbed her hips and tugged her down on him to complete his entrance. Her head rolled forward to look down at him.

"Oh. My. God. Daddy. You're inside me. All the way."

Matt growled. "Yes, baby. I am. Now show Daddy what a naughty little Kitty you are."

She grinned at the suggestion. A sudden determination wiping the smile from her face. It was his turn to cry out when she pulled up, back off of him, leaving him unexpectedly abandoned when the squeezing walls no longer surrounded, milking at him.

She scrambled around beside him until on all fours, facing away. Between parted thighs he saw the tiny crevice open now, shining wet, a bud in bloom.

"Now I think I remember someone telling me to assume a position where my head was down." For the second time her cheek hit the bed, harder than before. "And my ass was up."

Matt was certain no one had actually told her to assume that position. He also hadn't thought her ass could have been more up than it was when her head went down. Not while kneeling. He was wrong. Compact, caramel buttocks thrust upward, in a wanton invitation. It was his turn to scramble, to his own knees, behind her.

One hand stroked slow pumps over his shaft, wrapped courtesy of her lips, fingers and tongue, slippery courtesy of her juices. His other hand reached out to the source of those juices.

"Daddy?" She drew the word out in a whine. "What are you doing back there? It makes me feel funny."

She pushed back against the touch, and he let her slick along the top of his hand. Holding a two-finger gun between her thighs, he let her ride the barrel, only betraying the pistol's stiffness when fingertips found a small swollen bud and could not resist a quick almost vibrating massage flicking over the spot.

"Ahh! Daaaddy!" Her hips stayed straining back to him, denying any motion toward escaping what her voice seemed to be protesting. When he held his hand in place, continuing the rapid oscillating rhythm, almost percussive, she found and moved over his fingers like a bear using a rough-barked trunk for deeply needed relief.

MargO rolled forward enough for his fingers to slip down, between open lips. He stroked inward. Hips pushed back. The lean little back arched with her groan when the pistol's barrel slid in. Two fingers, two knuckles deep. Forward and back.

"Good little Kitty. Just like that. Show Daddy how you like those fingers."

"Yes, Daddy." He held as still as he could, watching the small round cheeks pull off his hand, feeling her swollen walls easing out his fingers. When she pushed back again he could not help shoving deeper, burying both digits into her deep, feeling her clench tight.

"Oh fuck!" A low growl of controlled, surprised tension.

"Fuck? Is that what you want?"

"Oh!" She squealed when he lifted her knees and feet up from the bed, with a hand wrapping around one hip and while the other grasped her between her thighs, two fingers still inside. It took inches and an instant to center her little frame on his position.

Fingers slipped from inside, curling up to flit over a swollen bud again before pulling away. He grabbed a flaring curve with slick fingers, pulled her back enough that he could drag his own swollen nob up between her thighs. He felt heat first through the thin latex, then pressure as lips half surrounded him, opening with reluctance.

MargO shuddered under the last flicks over her tender bud; she cried out, head rising off her arms when a thicker barrel pushed hard against her.

"You didn't answer me." He slapped one round cheek. Not too hard, but a red handprint was blooming.

She grinned through tight lips. "Sorry, Daddy. I was very naughty." Her hips leaned into him, pushing him nearly into her.

"What was the question again?"

"I think you're already answering it." He shimmied his head with a forward nudge, relenting lips now closing around his ridge to nurse close around his shaft.

"Oh fuck, Daddy. That feels really big this way."

"You said it again, little girl. Fuck." Dragging the head inside her, up and down, his knuckles tight against her, slick now too. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes, Daddy. Please."

"Say it." His free hand, the slapping hand, stroked down her spine, toward her head shoved down again onto her crossed arms and the bed.

"I want you to fuck me."

"Good girl. Right now?" He pushed the head down and out of her as he leaned it in, dragged it up against the surprised petaled bud. Then up and back inside, the head and no more.

A deeper shudder accompanied her moan. "Yes. Now. Please."

"Good girl." He stroked fingers through her hair. "Last question. How?"

"What?!" She whined.

His response was low, calm, the opposite of her now frantic voice. "How do you want to be fucked, little girl?"

"Please. Fuck me. Fuck me with my ass in the air." She started to babble. "Don't be gentle, Daddy. I want you to be..."

"Show me."

"Wha...what?" Panicked, high.

Slow, and deliberate. "Show me how you want to be fucked."

"I...I want you to..."

Slap. He had released her hair and sat back up on his knees. "Show me. Now."

He moved inside her again. "Here's the cock. Push back and show me. Fuck your little pussy and show me how you like it."

She pushed. Back and up. His fist on his shaft stopped her from impaling fully herself on him. "Uhh!"

He held still as she retreated, slipped his hand off with only his bulb inside, giving her access to his entire length. "Push."

She did. "Aaarrggr!" Her voice went high before trailing into a guttural growl as she pushed him deep, forcing herself open. They held there for a long second before she eased away and surprised him, shoving harder, with an extra writhe of her little hips.

The growl continued, higher, and he saw a small fist twist a spiral into tightly gripped blanket.