My Formative Sexual Years Ch. 02

"No Sammi darling," you whispered. "You are not a girl, not a child with these." You said, running your fingers over my breasts, immediately making my nipples, which had been dormant since I came down from my orgasm, leap to attention. You saw that and smiled. "See Sammi," you said taking one between your thumb and forefinger and squeezing. "Even your nipples are those of a woman."

I gasped, somewhat due to the effect your words were having on me, but largely because of how hard you were pinching my nipple. I could see in your eyes that you liked doing tha; there was a sort of gleam in them as you pinched me, harder and harder.

"Oooo, Stephen, phew" I moaned, nevertheless not struggling to get free.

"You have wonderful nipples Sammi, doesn't she Clive?"

"Oh yes Stephen, I adore her nipples," Clive said from behind, reaching round and pinching the other one.

The pain was intense, but somehow also mesmeric. It hurt me, a lot, but also thrilled me.

"But it's not just your breasts Sammi, not just your womanly tits, not just your nipples. Oh no it's much more. Isn't it Clive, much, much more?"

"Yes Stephen," Clive said, clearly very much following your lead.

Staring me straight in the eye you said quietly.

"Yes much more. It's your legs as well, Sammi."

You dropped both of your hands onto my knees, just above the long white socks, which had stayed completely in place. Almost as if rehearsed, Clive's fingers replaced your's on the nipple they had vacated. He pinched that one as well. Perhaps not quite as hard as you had been doing, but he pulled on them as well stretching them away from the areolas. It hurt, it brought a gasp to my lips and a tear to my eye.

You were staring at my legs, which due to the softness and height of the sofa were higher at the knees than at the top. You had your hands on my knees as you whispered as though talking to yourself.

"Such lovely legs, such pretty legs, such womanly legs."

As you were muttering that, so you slid your hands slowly upwards along the tops of my legs. Taking my skirt with them, your hands went further and further. They went as far as they could go. They went right to the top, right to where they join. Yes, you slid your hands up my legs until the sides of them were pressed against the fabric of my thong, and through that the lips of my pussy.

But you didn't just slide your hands up my skirt and along my legs. No, not just that. As well as pushing my gingham check, school skirt up and slipping your hands right up to my crotch, you also slid your hands between them. And as you did that you edged your knee between my knees, pushing mine open a little.

"Oh Sammi," you groaned staring at the top of my now uncovered thighs and my thong. "Such lovely thighs, such sexy thighs."

In the position you had taken with your knee and hands your next move was made easy.

You pulled on the inside of my thighs, indicating very clearly what you wanted me to do. But at first I didn't realise what it was.

"Open your legs for me Sammi," you said quietly yet firmly.

I didn't know why you wanted me to do that and I wasn't that sure I wanted to, but there was absolutely no way I could have refused. Your manner, approach and attitude had taken me over. I was helpless; you had total control of me; not just of my body, but of my mind as well.

Looking me right in the eyes you went on.

"Open your legs slowly, right now and open them very wide"

I could hear Clive breathing deeply behind me as he, now rather cruelly I thought, pinched and pulled my nipples harder.

I did as you instructed.

I couldn't break my gaze from yours. I stared deep into your eyes as I slowly and, I thought, lewdly parted my legs. As they reached as far apart as I could get them, you rolled my skirt up and tucked the hem into the waistband, bunching it round my hips, but above the pouch of my thong.

"Lean back, lean back on Clive," you said as you pushed on my chest and he pulled on my shoulders.

You ran your fingers up the front of my thong. Through the material, they touched my parted lips, the folds of my pussy and my clit. That made me shudder and I jerked a little as I felt your fingers on both hands slip into the thin slither of satin covered elastic that acted as a waist band.

I was laying well back now, almost supine, my neck and shoulder blades squashed against my uncle. Clive had pulled my blazer and blouse half way down my arms so they were acting as a restrainer, like they were tying my arms to my body. You had one of your knees pressing against the inside of my leg forcing my thighs open and keeping them apart. My skirt was bunched round my hips, your hands were holding my thong.

I had no idea what was going on, why you were doing this, what you were going to do and what I was supposed to do. I was scared, yet at the same time excited, frightened yet thrilled. I had never heard of anything like this, had never read about this sort of scene, this type of sexual activity. Two mature men totally and utterly dominating and controlling a young teenage girl of eighteen: where would it lead, how would we end up?

I couldn't believe it. I felt the pressure round my hips as you pulled on the waist-band of my panties, but had no idea what you were doing. I couldn't work out, laying there almost flat on the sofa, what was happening. I think it was probably the sound that registered first as I felt the pressure increase. Yes the odd noise, which momentarily I couldn't place, together with the panties pulling on my waist and hips and then the release of the pressure told me what was happening. You had ripped my panties, torn them so that the waist band spilt on both hips.

"Lift your arse up," you growled, a little roughly I thought, nevertheless feeling my heart pound at your gruff tone and what you had just done registered with me.

It hurt as you pulled the torn material out from between my legs a little. Partially releasing it from my bum cheeks and around my thighs and pussy you left it dangling from between my thighs in the most sordid fashion.

"Lift you arse up and show me your cunt," you ordered, your authoritarian tone and crude words sending such oddly powerful sensations through me.

I arched my back.

"Further, get your lovely arse up higher, I want to see your cunt," you grunted.

"Come on Sam, do as he says," Clive joined in. "Show him that lovely, wet juicy cunt of yours.

Why, I have no idea? But suddenly I wanted to show you it, I still couldn't hardly frame the 'c' word in my mind.

I pulled one foot up onto the sofa so that I lifted my bottom right off the cushions. With my legs spread, my arms sort of tied behind me and my back arched I knew that you would now have a good view of it.

"Mmmmm, Sammi, Sammi, Sammi," you said softly, again as if almost to yourself. "What a nice pussy, what a lovely fanny, what a ripe cunt you have."

Although I never used the 'c' word and whenever I heard boys referring to someone, usually a girl, as one, I didn't like it, when you used it, it seemed to be different. It had a buzz to it, a vibrancy, a resonance and a stronger meaning.

"It really is a ripe one isn't it Clive? You must have liked sucking and licking that."

"Sammi has a lovely cunt," Clive advised, not telling Stephen that we hadn't had oral.

I was embarrassed. I was also incredibly turned on. My position was unreal. Half undressed, my arms restrained by my own clothing, my school uniform, I was lying nearly flat on a sofa with my legs spread wide. I had my skirt bunched round my waist, the remnants of my thong was dangling from between my thighs, my uncle, my lover who had taken my virginity, was mauling my breasts and leaning forward and sucking and chewing my nipples, which still stung from the acute earlier pinching, and you, a stranger until just an hour ago was staring at my naked pussy.

"Tell me what I am looking at Sammi," I just about heard you saying, my ears being partially covered by Clive's body as he leaned over my face to get his mouth to my boobs.

"What do you mean, I don't understand."

"Tell me what this is?" You said sharply as I felt a terrible stinging on my pussy as you smacked it or maybe flicked it with a finger.

"My pussy."

"No not that." That awful pain again,

"Oh God," I moaned, "what do want."

"I want to hear you say it, tell me what it is."

Even like that, even in that predicament, my background, my upbringing prevented from saying what you so obviously, now, wanted me to say. Despite the situation and all the conflicting new sensations roaring through my young body, I couldn't help thinking how incongruous things were. I was a eighteen year-old kid who had been fucking her thirty-five year old uncle in his car and in fields for a few weeks and was now with him and an even older man as good as naked as one sucked my tits and the other looked at my pussy, yet I couldn't say the 'c' word to them. Fucking double standards of the middle classes.

You hit my lips again sending a strong ripple of pain through me. My body jerked, I gasped and I felt a weird shudder go through me.

"Say it Sammi, tell me what I am looking at and what I am spanking and will spank harder and harder until you do as you are fuckingwell told."

Your tone was as fiercesome as the agony it implied.

Clive snarled in my ear as he pulled the blazer tighter round my arms pinning them behind me, causing me to arch my back even more giving emphasis to my small tits. "Do as he says, tell him what he wants to hear.

"No, no I can't," I, for some reason chose to say.

The blazer was pulled tighter pinning my arms more securely behind me. Clive grabbed my blonde hair and tugged it as if about to tear it out from my head. It hurt and I screamed.

"Say it, why not?" You asked.

"Because it's bad, it's a filthy word."

"And just what the fuck are you then?" You said. "A fucking nun? Look at you? A kid that fucks her uncle, a eighteen year old laying here with her tits and cunt out. You're fucking filthy, you're a filthy slut that's what you are."

I whimpered as the, probable, home truths, hit home.

Clive joined in. "So stop being so fucking stupid and say it."

I can't explain the emotions I felt. I could not put into words the release, I suppose, I experienced, the surge of something, the rush of both a mental and physical stimulation I got as I heard myself saying.

"My cunt."

"Louder."

I repeated it louder.

"My cunt."

Again.

"My cunt"

"Keep saying it tell me what you want me to do." You said manipulating me as I had never been manipulated before.

"Look at my cunt, stare at my cunt."

"More."

"I want you to look at my cunt, I want you to stare at my cunt."

"Isn't that good Sammi? You asked sliding your hand up my legs and running your fingers all the way round my lips or, as I, at that moment, thought of them, "my cunt lips."

At last the extremes of that wonderful orgasm subsided. I was left with a marvellous glow inside me, well all over me really. It felt terrific.

As I came out of the fog that always envelops me when I climax and I opened my eyes, I was shocked, I suppose. Momentarily in the awesome throes of the sensations and emotional turmoil of cumming I had forgotten my surroundings.

I was laid back into the corner of the sofa, my head resting on the top of the back of it; I was stretched out. My breasts were completely bare, the blouse was undone all the way, but I was still wearing that and the blazer. I still had the striped school tie on, but that was well loosened at the neck and had fallen to one side between my body and arm. My skirt was bunched up round my hips, my panties ripped, but in place, just about. My legs had fallen open and I wondered just how much you and Clive had looked up my skirt.

Clive was kneeling beside me on the sofa, you were sitting on the arm. Both of you had your arms round me and were holding and consoling me as if protecting me. That made me feel good and eanted.

"Was that good Sammi?" Clive asked.

"Yes," I murmured avoiding eye contact with either of you due to feeling a little embarrassed. I went to sit up, but Clive held me.

"What are doing?"

"Getting up and getting dressed, Clive." I replied honestly, looking at you and back to Clive trying to say how embarrassed I was in front of a stranger.

"What's the matter, didn't you enjoy," Clive asked running the back of his fingernails across my still swollen nipples.

"You know I did," I mumbled.

"Then what's the problem?"

"Is it me Sammi?" You asked reaching out, taking my chin between you thumb and forefinger and turning my face so that I had to look at you.

"No, well maybe."

"Sammi," Clive said sharply. "Stephen is a friend of mine."

"I know."

"Sammi," you said softly. " I do understand. You don't know me and I am older than Clive."

"It's not age."

"Is it that you find me repulsive?" You asked letting your fingers slip down from my chin, and neck to my shoiulders.

"No, no, not at all," I answered truthfully for I found you both physically and personality-wise attractive."

"What is it then?" Clive asked.

"Oh Clive," I started before starting to sob.

You put your arms round me.

"Come on baby, come on tell uncle Stephen."

Sobbing I explained that I didn't understand what was happening, how Clive could talk about our lovemaking, tell you about my breasts and bring you to my home with the obvious intent of letting you have sex with me.

"I feel abused and demeaned, as if you both think I am a slut," I said leaning forward, crying and holding my head in my hands as my long, natural, blonde hair tumbled forward.

You both acted surprised and hurt, but understanding. Clive even apologised saying how it had been presumptuous of him.

"But darling," he said stroking my hair away from my eyes, "I so wanted Stephen to see how wonderful you are, I forgot everything else. I am sorry."

I reached and held his hand.

"Thank you Clive, that's good, I appreciate that."

"And Stephen," he said, rather falteringly, I thought.

"What, how er, what do you mean?" I asked, probably knowing deep down, but not being willing to accept that Clive, my uncle and lover wanted me to let him and another man, a stranger, fuck me. Yes he wanted to let you have me, he was 'giving' me to you.

That realisation thundered into my mind. I was being given away, used, treated like a slave in olden times. I was horrified and my immediate reactroon was to object. But that was followed an enormous blast of sexual arousal at the idea. Why, what that was and how it was happening, I had no idea. But the idea of being treated like a piece of shit appealed to me. God, I thought, as your hands attended to my opened thighs and pussy and as Clive fondled my breasts and nipples, what is happening to me?

Chapter 4

Almost as if from afar, I heard Clive fumbling behind me. He pulled my face so that the rounded arm of the sofa was in the bend of my neck, my head sort of pointing slightly backwards. Although he was still squeezing my breasts and pinching my nipples hard, he had moved behind the back of the sofa and I couldn't see him as my head was jarred against the back of the settee. At the same time, you were holding my knees apart, but due to the angle of my head, I couldn't see you either.

So, I was lying, almost flat, on the sofa with my legs wantonly spread. My school skirt was bunched round my waist, the ripped remnants of my thong, hanging between my thighs. My arms were held tight in the blouse and blazer that Clive had pulled round them, but my school tie was dangling down between my small, immature breasts. Clive was messing with my breasts and you had your hands all over my thighs and pussy. Had I imagined such a scene, before it took place I would have been horrified, alarmed and very scared at the prospect of being like that with two men certainly old enough to be my father, and you, possibly, my grand-father. But I wasn't scared.

The restrictions were a turn on, but of a sort I had never experienced. As was the sheer sordidness, the wickedness, almost, in my mind of me being like that with the pair of you. The helplessness, the demeaning, abusive and degrading nature of being a eighteen year old school girl who was totally submitting herself to the whims and controls of two so much older men amazed and excited me. I wanted more and knew full well that more was sure to follow.

I was being finger fucked by a virtual stranger; someone, who just over an hour ago, I had never set eyes on. A man who was old enough to be my grandfather and to whom I had been introduced by my dad's brother, my uncle, my lover, the man who had taken my virginity. And as you finger fucked me so my uncle prised my mouth open with his fat cock that I had come to know so well in the past few weeks. I couldn't stop myself from opening my mouth and letting him push his cock past my lips and deep into my mouth.

I lay on the sofa, still with most of my school uniform on, though in total disarray, my breasts were bared, my nipples hard and aching, hurting a little from the pulling, pinching and chewing from Clive. My legs were held lewdly wide by your knee and arm, my pussy lips were gaping and you were finger fucking my cunt as Clive cock shagged my face.

How and why he had suddenly taken to oral I couldn't imagine, but guessed it was something to do with yours and his relationship. That had to be odd and totally impossible for a eighteen year old, inexperienced girl to comprehend.

I can't say that having my head bent so far backwards that the top of Clive's cock was against my lower teeth and lip was the most receptive of positions to be inducted into fellatio. I can't say I really worked out quite what was happening and certainly, I could do nothing other than lay there letting my mouth act as a surrogate cunt for my uncle to fuck.

It was a sordid scene, a lewd and lecherous, debauched scene, one where I was being totally demeaned and degraded; one where I was being treated like a whore, one where you was completely controlling me. And I was loving every second of it.

Of course I climaxed. How could any woman not cum in a situation like that? Your fingers were doing such amazing things to me that the discomfort of having my head almost upside down over the arm of the sofa was diminished. As was the gagging, choking sensation of my mouth being filled by Clive's cock.

"Cum on her tits," I heard you instruct Clive.

Almost immediately he took his cock out of my mouth; it was quite a relief actually. It also meant I could look up. I saw that you too had removed your trousers and pants and had undone your shirt. You were stroking yourself with the hand that wasn't fingering me. Our eyes met, you smiled, I smiled back; it just seemed to be the thing to do. You were kneeling between my legs, Clive was standing beside the sofa, both of you were masturbating; that looked wonderfully decadent and amazingly horny. Two grow men, experienced mature lovers sharing little me and wanking about me.

"Hold your tits, Sammi," you ordered.

"I can't, my arms are tied."

"Oh fuck yes of course, loosen them Clive."

I would have loved to have played with my boobs as you made me cum, but it was too late.

"I can't Steve, it's too late," Clive groaned. "I'm gonna cum."

I rolled my head back to look at him just as his cock erupted. A stream of spunk shot all over my face. I looked at you and saw that you were also starting and I watched a spurt shoot out of your cock and, as if in slow motion, loop through the air and land on my tummy. Then it seemed as if it was everywhere. Clive spurted all over and between my tits, you shot onto my thighs and into my little patch of blonde pubes, both of you splashed onto my waist and around my tummy button and Clive's last dribbles slid onto my forehead and eyes.