Melanie

Melanie looks at the blank screen. The submission guidelines stated 750 words minimum. She waits for inspiration. Write what you know, she had been told on her writing course at college. Melanie sits deep in thought, ponders what she knows. At the tender age of eighteen, she doesn't know a great deal. She still lives at home with her mum in the bungalow where she was born. She'd had a few boyfriends, even one girlfriend for a few brief months but life experiences; not so much really. She wants to be a writer and had decided that writing short stories for magazines and on-line sites would be good practice. She sits, thinking, hoping, even willing inspiration to appear, as if by magic. Nothing comes.

She opens her web browser and checks her Facebook page for anything new. Maybe there's something on there she could write about. She opens the fan page for her favorite band. The lead guitarist has posted some news and a few new pictures. One of them shows him posing with several girls before a concert last weekend. One of the girls is around the same height as Melanie. She likes the way he fits his arm around the girl's shoulder. It looks in the picture as if his right hand is on her right breast. She guesses it isn't actually touching but it certainly looks as if it is. Melanie wants to feel his hand on her breast. Both breasts. Hers are adequate, better than the girl in the picture. She looks about an A or maybe a B cup. Melanie had just bought her first C cup a few weeks ago. She hopes they will stop growing now she is older.

She feels her left breast with her left hand. Her right hand is clicking on the pictures; she keeps returning to the one with the hand on the breast. He is here, in the room, squeezing gently, rolling her nipple between his fingers. He is speaking sweet words of love and devotion, telling her how beautiful she is. Melanie feels herself moisten between her legs. When she gets aroused she gets very wet. Right now, it is just dampness more than anything else. She blows the picture up. He is close to her now, life sized. His smile brightens the room. He is talking again, telling her what to do, telling her to take off her panties. He wants to see her slit, her almost hairless slit. He wants to see her breasts too, he loves breasts. Melanie stands and quickly gets naked. She sits down again on her T shirt on the swivel chair at her desk. She adjusts the webcam so that the small screen open in the top corner of her computer shows her body from the neck to the knees. It isn't connected to a site; it is just showing him what he wants.

Her right hand slips between her legs, she spreads them as far as she is able on the chair, her knees at the edges of the screen. Her young pussy gapes open, glistening now with her slick juice. Her fingers slip in and around her pussy, sliding over the erect nub of flesh. He speaks again, telling her to put her fingers inside. She obliges; first one, then two, now three. She pumps slowly, his face close enough that he can smell her pussy. His grin and his voice tell her she is doing it right. Her fingers pump more quickly now, her left hand rubs in tight circles over her clit. The juice spreads under her hand. She presses harder, her hands work faster, the thrusts deeper. Her knees up are high now, her legs wide spread before his lustful gaze.

He encourages her, tells her to keep going, come for me, he rasps, fuck me, take my cock in your tight pussy. Make me come with you. Can you feel my cock filling your little virgin cunt? Can you feel me coming? I will fill you with so much cum you will be wet for a week. He roars as he comes deep inside her. Melanie roars back, her orgasm ripping through her tight body. She shudders as clear liquid spreads across her hands, dripping and dribbling with each spasm as she comes, again, and again. She stops shaking. She looks down at her T-shirt; it is soaked with her squirts of pussy juice. She wipes her pussy dry with the sleeves of the T-shirt. She smiles as he tells her that he had the best fuck of his life with her. She tells him she will do anything for him. She closes her browser only to be confronted by the blinking cursor in the top left corner of the word document on her screen. She has written nothing.