Inside Information Pt. 02

I had read about finding a woman's G spot, and what better time to try and find it than right then. I bent one finger up until it was against the roof of her tight pussy, and then I dragged it back. I felt it instantly. The texture was not as smooth as the rest of her slick pussy. Even if I hadn't felt the subtle change in texture, the way Claire's hips suddenly bucked against my hand proved I'd found it.

"That's my spot, baby," I told her before curling my finger again.

Claire almost leapt off the seat that time. She was biting my shirt to keep from screaming, and her left hand had tightened around my wrist, this time to keep my hand firmly in place.

I did it again, and again. The last time I kept my finger on it, and I made rapid little circles with my fingertip. Claire was going crazy. She was openly hunching her hips. Her right hand shot out to grip the seat rest, but she found Monica's hand instead.

Amazingly, Monica didn't pull her hand away. Claire slipped her hand into Monica's. They interlaced their fingers and squeezed their hands together. I almost came right there.

I quickened my finger, rubbing it back and forth on her G spot until my entire hand was instantly drenched in a flood of sweet pussy juice. Claire's vise-like grip tightened around Monica's hand, and in that way, Monica felt Claire's second orgasm tear through her. Claire held her breath as her whole body stayed rigid for almost a full minute.

Finally Claire started breathing again, and I could feel her coming down. She was kissing my neck and sighing contentedly and I could feel her trembling.

"That was amazing, honey," she breathed.

"Watching you was amazing," I told her. I noticed Monica was still holding Claire's hand and staring at my hand covering her cousin's drooling pussy, and I whispered to Claire, "We're not done yet, baby."

"Ohhh, God," she moaned excitedly.

I reluctantly withdrew my fingers from her snug warmth. I wanted to try something different, something that Claire and I hadn't done before, and I knew tonight would be the night to try it.

Claire's legs were still spread wantonly. Using only the tips of my fingers, I ran them around Claire's puffy pussy lips several times, getting my fingers slippery wet. I kept an eye on Monica; she was still watching my hand with rapt attention. After a couple minutes of that, I briefly rested my hand on Claire's dripping mound before I slid my hand down further. My hand was beneath Claire, and I was cupping her ass. I was careful not to block Monica's view of her cousin's pussy.

Claire tensed, but I murmured reassuringly in her ear. "Relax, baby. I promise you'll like this. I'll be very gentle."

I tipped Claire's head to the side and I kissed her, hard and deep, driving my tongue into her opened mouth again and again until Claire was positively mewling in my mouth. My hand continued traveling underneath Claire. The back of her dress was soaked, and so was her rosebud. With my middle finger, I traced light circles around her puckered hole.

Claire grunted huskily. "Yes, do it."

Gently, I pushed against her anus and my finger, already slick with her juices, slid easily into her ass. Oh, dear God, she was so tight back there. Tenderly, lovingly, I moved my finger deeper into her, past the first knuckle, past the second, to the third. My middle finger was now buried all the way up her hot ass.

My cock was twitching with excitement. "How does that feel, baby?"

"Ohhh, God," she moaned.

"Wouldn't it be better with my fingers buried in your pussy at the same time?"

"Oh-yes!"

"Do you want me to finger fuck you, baby?"

"Yes, yes, oh-god yes! Make me cum."

The whole time I was talking to Claire, I was sliding my finger in and out of her ass, building up a delicious tempo. I watched Claire's pussy open and close reflexively as she tightened and relaxed her sphincter muscles around my finger. If I thought I wouldn't get arrested, I'd have dropped my pants and fucked her right there. I was so tempted, but I had an other idea.

Without removing my finger from Claire's ass, I turned sideways in my seat, which made Claire sit up straight to keep from falling over. Our sudden movement brought Monica out of her trance. When that happened, she started to pull her hand out of Claire's, but I reached across Claire and grabbed Monica's wrist with my left hand to keep her from moving away.

This was make or break time. I smiled and stared into Monica's frightened eyes, willing her to relax. The lust in her face was plain to see. She shyly returned my smile.

I licked my suddenly dry lips and said. "Please, help me make Claire cum." While I spoke, I moved Monica's hand, pulling it closer to me, closer to Claire's spread legs. I never broke eye contact with Monica, and the fear quickly left her eyes.

Monica didn't resist when I placed her hand on Claire's leg. Claire, meanwhile, was bouncing up and down on my finger. She had her head thrown back and her eyes closed. I moved Monica's hand up Claire's leg. The contact made Claire moan. Then I placed Monica's hand over Claire's sopping pussy. The heat emanating from Claire was amazing. It was Monica's turn to moan now.

Monica didn't need any more coaching or encouragement from me, so I released her hand. She immediately went to work on her cousin's steaming pussy, deftly sliding her fingers in and out, in and out, again and again, over and over. I could feel Monica's finger moving in Claire's pussy rubbing against mine in her ass. It was an incredible sensation. We synchronized our movements and both began thrusting into Claire with a fury. Claire started huffing really loudly, and I was forced to cover her mouth with my own until she quieted down.

Monica brought her other hand into play. With her left hand she spread Claire's puffy lips, and with the fingers of her right she started frigging Claire's clit unbelievably fast. Claire's ass was a foot off the seat now, and her thighs were taught from the strain. My free hand groped Claire's breast through her dress. When I found her turgid nipple, I squeezed it between my thumb and forefinger and I pulled up, forcing her nipple to take the weight of her tit.

Claire gasped and went stiff again. She grabbed my head and forced my mouth to hers, where she kissed me with such a furious passion that she took my breath away. But Monica and I hadn't stopped stimulating Claire's pussy and asshole, and within seconds, another climax rippled through Claire's shuddering body. Claire's pussy contracted so forcibly that she squirted her pussy juices all over our hands and the seat.

I released Claire's nipple and withdrew my finger from her tight rosebud. Claire had collapsed in her seat with her head lolling contentedly to the side. But Monica wasn't done yet. Insatiability must run in their family.

The unmistakable sound of fingers slamming into a juicy pussy is hard to miss. Both Claire and I looked over at Monica at the same time. She had her legs spread wide and her skirt was yanked up to her waist. Her right hand was jammed down the front of her lacy panties and she was fingering herself uncontrollably.

Claire and I must've had the same thought at the same time, but she acted on it first. Tentatively, she reached over and pulled Monica's panties aside. Monica's pussy was absolutely hairless. It was the first bald pussy I'd ever seen, but not the last.

Claire laid her hand on Monica's upper thigh, but I wanted to see more. So I picked up Claire's hand and placed it over her cousin's hot pussy. She didn't withdraw her hand. Her cousin's touch made Monica frig herself faster.

"Finger her, baby," I encouraged Claire. "Do her the way you like it done." At first, Claire's movements were very hesitant and uncertain. But after a few seconds of swirling her fingers around Monica's hot, slick, puffy lips, Claire became much bolder. At one point, she actually pulled Monica's hand away and replaced her cousin's thrusting fingers with her own. Claire seemed to really enjoy fingering her cousin. I know I enjoyed watching her do it. Less than a minute later, Claire brought Monica to a roaring climax that made the other movie-goers turn their heads to see what the noise was all about.

It was one of the most incredible sights I'd ever seen. Unfortunately the movie ended soon after that. The girls hastily fixed their clothes and went to the ladies' room to wash up. Claire's dress was absolutely soaked. I gave her my coat to wear because it was long enough in back to cover up the spreading wet spot. I drove Claire and Monica home in strained silence. I think they were trying to make sense of everything that happened that night. It was new territory for all of us. I know I replayed that scene over and over again in my mind later that night as I furiously stroked my cock and brought my bursting balls the release they so badly needed. We never did get the chance to mess around with Monica again, but it wasn't from a lack of desire.

Claire and I shared so many erotic escapades. Like the time I tied her spread eagle to my bed and licked her pussy dry. With only my tongue and mouth, I made her cum twelve times in the space of three hours that night, and when she finally begged me to stop, I straddled her chest and fucked her tits until I exploded all over her face and neck. Then she licked my cock until I was hard again, and then I fucked her silly for another half hour, making her cum two more times before I finally untied her and she drifted off to sleep in my arms.

Of course Claire was no shrinking violet, there were many times when she teased me for hours on end, forcing me to service her and her friends before I was allowed any release. I loved it. There were many times that I never came at all because I was so engrossed in pleasing Claire. Making her climax was amazing, and I never got tired of servicing her, or her friends.

There were also many times when it was just Claire and I alone together in my house, making slow passionate love until the first blush of Dawn's amber light painted the walls of my bedroom. Then we'd sleep until late afternoon and do it all over again.

Sex was like an addiction to us, and dangerous excitement was our drug of choice. It seemed the more risky and adventurous we got, the more risky and adventurous we had to be. By the time we graduated from high school, there wasn't a janitor's closet, coat room or teachers' lounge that we hadn't had sex in. During school assemblies was our favorite time for mischief. We even enticed our hot, forty-one year old English teacher into an amazing three-way on Parent/Teacher Conferences Night.

* * *

I have always been grateful to Claire for teaching me there was life without Missy and for teaching me how to make love to a woman. But one thing I learned for myself was that you don't ditch your dreams just because they didn't come true right away. Claire saved me. She made Missy's leaving bearable, and for that I will always love her. But no matter how deeply I cared for Claire and still do, my heart has always belonged to Missy.

Every time I went down on Claire, or she devoured my cock, or we fucked with wild abandon, there was always a little part of me that yearned desperately for Missy . . .

I never gave up loving Missy. The taste of her sweet lips against mine when we shared that incredibly passionate kiss was forever seared into my memory. Above all else, that single kiss proved Missy had feelings for me. I don't care what else Missy said or did; there was no way she could kiss me like that if she didn't care for me. Whether she knew it or not; whether she admitted it or not, that one perfect kiss told me that Missy O'Bannon cared very deeply for me, and I was never going to let that go. That fact was the spark that kept my fiery passion for her burning for all these years.

Claire and I stayed together all the way through high school and after graduation until the following autumn when Claire left town for her Ivy League college. She offered to stay and go to college with me, but there was no way I could allow her to throw away her life for me. No matter how much I cared for Claire, and no matter how much I wanted her to remain with me, she was too smart and too talented to pass up such a great education at such a prestigious school. I always look back fondly on those sex-filled fifteen months with Claire. She meant a lot to me then, and she still does. We parted as lovers, and we remain friends to this day.

When Claire went away to college, there was absolutely no reason for me to stick around town. Everyone I loved had left. My father got a big promotion and was gone more than ever. I tried a semester at the local community college, but with Claire not with me to keep my mind occupied and focused, my thoughts always turned to Missy. Where was she? Did she ever think about me? Did she miss me? Would I ever see her again? Does she know I still love her? Does she care?

Everything about this town and my life reminded me of Missy. So, when that first semester ended, I sold back my books, joined the Navy and caught the first ship out of town.

* * *

Mrs. O and I kept in touch for those first two years. We exchanged Christmas cards, birthday cards, and she even sent me a very elegant graduation card telling me how proud she was of me. In it, Mrs. O enclosed Missy's senior portrait.

I almost didn't recognize her. Missy's beautiful face was buried beneath a mask of bleak seriousness. Her soft lips were pressed into a hard, unforgiving line, and her brown eyes were narrowed and lackluster. She had died her luxurious auburn hair black and cut it into a short, unflattering bob cut that made her look like a stranger to me. Or maybe that was all wishful thinking on my part.

Even though that picture doesn't show Missy's natural beauty, I've carried it in my wallet ever since; in fact, I'm looking at it now as I type this.

I'd written countless letters to Missy, pouring out my soul to her and begging her to write me back. Missy never once replied.

About a year after I joined the Navy, I received a letter from Mrs. O. I didn't know it then, but it was the last letter I would ever receive from her. Inside the envelope was another envelope, and it had a yellow Post-It note stuck to the front of it. Mrs. O had written, "I found this when I was cleaning out Missy's old room. I thought you should have it."

The second envelope was made from heavy weight, crème colored paper, and it had my address back home printed on it in formal green ink. The names on the return address label were unfamiliar: a Mr. & Mrs. Robert Hampton, with a Los Angeles address. I opened the second envelope and found a wedding announcement. When I read the first three lines, my heart turned to ice, and I couldn't read any more.

"Mr. & Mrs. Thomas O'Bannon are pleased to announce the uniting in Holy Matrimony of their daughter, Melissa Rochelle O'Bannon . . . "

Inside the invitation was a folded square of notebook paper. I recognized the distinctive handwriting. It was a note from Missy. It consisted of exactly fifty-four words, and it was dated two years to the day when Missy told me our kiss meant nothing to her. I've read that letter so many times that I easily memorized it.

Dear Kevin,

I have never forgiven myself for treating you like I did. I wish I were as strong as you, then I could have told you the truth in the first place. Maybe things would have turned out differently. You have always been in my heart, and you always will.

Love,

Missy Hampton

I wrote Missy several lengthy, heartfelt letters, telling her that I forgave her, telling her that I never stopped loving her, but every letter came back to me stamped, Moved; No Forwarding Address.

Even the letters I wrote to Mrs. O were sent back, and someone had written on the outside of the envelopes; "No such person at this address."

So there I was, seven months in to an eight-month cruise around the Western Pacific Ocean, with no way to contact Missy or her mother. The frustration nearly killed me. When that West Pac tour was up, I was transferred to Naples, Italy for two years.

By the time I left the Navy and finally moved back home, more than six years had past. I ran in to Claire once, among other people, but I never saw Missy O'Bannon again . . .