Do whatever you want with this story, only keep my name attached, please. Please report any and all orgasms arrived at through reading and masturbating to these words. I love knowing that I am deliberately manipulating your mind into an erotic state. This story is to be considered “Fiction” although it has its basis in “Fact”. This is not to be considered a true tale of underage sex, statutory rape, or molestation, as these events happened more than a quarter century ago. Some of the principal parties are no longer living. The only reason I’m telling you that it has its basis in truth, is it might make it all the more sexy for you, and maybe make your orgasms better/stronger/faster. Thank you, and enjoy.
I took Ronnie's jeans off him, washed them on the rock, and then laid them in the sun, on a nearby rock to dry. The rock was hot to the touch in the morning sun. I figured those jeans would be dry in about an hour, which gave me an hour with a naked, beautiful Ronnie to play with me, or more appropriately, for me to play with him.
Ronnie laid out on the backside of the big rock, his belly towards the rock. Away from any prying eyes, unless you consider chipmunks to be voyeurs. His sandy hair and eyes just peaking out over the top. I came up behind him, and just started rubbing his back and ass, with my hand, getting myself more and more excited as I went on. Finally, I got down on my knees between his outspread legs, and began to play with his ass -- so nice and clean, now -- I thought he was clean enough, I might try to lick his ass... it looked so inviting to me. I had never heard of anyone doing that before, but it looked like a sexy thing to do... and so I did... I could hear low groans from Ronnie, and he was wiggling his ass all over the place -- I thought at first because he was trying to get me to stop, but he moved his hand down, and pushed his cock down between his legs now as well.. I then realized his cock was hardening against the rock, and was stuck between "a rock and a hard place" -- and that wouldn't do at all. No, not at all... So he freed it in the only direction left to go -- down.
This gave me more toys to play with, as he lay basically spread eagle on the rock. I would lick his ass, and then follow that line all the way down the little "seam" to the sack that contained his balls, and follow that seam right to his cock, then lick my way right to the sensitive spot, and end at the head, which I would pop into my mouth for a few short moments, swirling my tongue around.
As his balls got more and more warm and relaxed, they distended, and were no longer just stuck in the little sack any longer... they were stretching the sack as they went where they pleased. I wondered how it would feel to put one or both of them in my mouth, and swirl my tongue around them, like a jaw-breaker candy (only I wouldn't bite -- that's for sure)
My pretty Ronnie moaned like a hungry bull as I took his balls, one at a time, into my mouth. He instinctively tried to pull them up, but my lips wouldn't let them go. I sucked on them instead. He flopped around like a fish now, but he never told me to stop. Finally, he rolled over onto his back, and once again, I put his cock into my mouth. This time, I was determined to get the whole thing into my mouth and throat. Although it gagged me a little, I pushed it in past that part of me, and down it went, almost to my vocal chords. I evacuated all the air I could from my mouth and throat, and sucked him in even tighter. His head was thrown back in ecstasy. Yeah, my pretty baby was in heaven right now. I thought I'd try to leave him there for as long as possible. So I worked on him very slowly this time. He moaned and groaned quite a lot, here in the forest, where there was no one to hear us.. I'd bring the head of his cock up into my mouth, and work on his sensitive spots for a while, and then, when I thought he might be in danger of climaxing, I'd shove him back down my throat, and let him just enjoy the sight of his cock completely in someone's mouth. While I was doing all of this, I wondered, just briefly, if he thought it was particularly sexy that it was his underage, second cousin with his cock down her throat, instead of one of the girls that were closer to his age that followed him around when he was back in Quakertown, where he lived.
When I brought him up into my mouth this next time, however, he grabbed my head by the hair, with a hand on each side of my head. He started rapidly thrusting just into my mouth a short way each time. I could tell he needed to cum, and cum badly. I took a finger, and lubricating it with the wetness in my own vagina, I shoved it up his ass, with no warning or playing. It worked. He came in my mouth immediately, and I gulped it all down once more. Again, the taste of summertime, but this time, not so salty -- I guess because he was extra-clean -- this time there was a certain sweetness to it. Fascinating the slight differences in taste. I was becoming a "cum connoisseur," and I giggled to myself.
I left him there to "repose and recharge," and I went to check on his jeans. YUP, they were dry, but a little stiff. As per the antique laundry techniques, now long since forgotten, when something that's supposed to be soft got stiff, you pound it on a clean, dry rock, with a clean, dry stone or board, so I found a clean board hanging from a tree, that my grandmother must have hung there for this purpose, and I pounded his jeans nice and soft on the clean side of the big rock. Ronnie came around from the other side, and I said, "stand there, pretty boy, and let me dress you." He did precisely that. He lifted one foot, and I slipped one leg of the jeans over it, and then the same with the other. I slowly brought them up while touching his thighs with my other hand.... so smooth, so sleek... I stopped when I got to his ass, and rubbed my hands all over his cheeks, then coming around the front, to feel his cock, which was once again at attention. [Gotta love older men], I thought. Finally bringing his jeans up over all of that, and coming around to the front, held his cock up to his navel as I buttoned his jeans, then zipped them. Then I stuffed his erect cock into his jeans to the right side, creating quite a bulge, and asked, "Is that comfy enough?" -- Ronnie just nodded his head, his eyes as big as silver dollars...
"You'd better get back to the men, and back to work, there, Mister!" I said, thinking of how my Dad, and my Uncle would treat Ronnie, thinking he was slacking off for 2 hours out of the morning. They sure won't be kind to him, and the longer he stayed with me, the worse it would be. At least I had an armful of clean clothes, and a clean body to show for my time. He had nothing, really except a lame excuse about needing to use the toilet, and not feeling really all that well.
"Don't worry, Baby. I suddenly feel much recovered. These waters up here have amazing healing powers, you know. At least that's the old Indian legend." Your Grandfather will believe it, even if no one else will.
Ronnie returned to work, and I gathered my laundry, hung up the "fabric softening board," and returned to the house, to help my Grandmother with Lunch. The guys were working on the roof, so we were doing lunch outside today. Probably dinner, too.
Lunch, then, was simple enough.. just burgers, pickles, and chips. My grandmother make burgers with eggs, breadcrumbs and onions mixed in the meat -- in the end, they were like "meatloaf burgers" -- they were delicious and juicy.
I put everything out on 2 picnic tables, and everyone served themselves, for the most part. I got mine and Ronnie's, though, and I sat by him, on the end of the bench, so I could get him anything he needed. Great big jars of ice-tea were on the table, and they were heavy, and difficult to pour, and I got Ronnie's every time he needed a refill.
As was typical in my family, no one noticed me at all. No one except perhaps my Grandmother, and if she did, she never mentioned it to me. She probably thought it was fine, having married in her mid-teens herself. Yes, my family had a long history of marrying, and breeding, early. It would not have been a big surprise if I did end up marrying Ronnie, I figured. After that lunch, my subconscious began developing a plan to do precisely that.
Dinner was outdoors as well, and was more-or-less a repeat of lunch. The guys broke tradition, and did a little more work after dinner, until 7. 7 was as late as my Grandfather would ever let anyone work. It's some kind of tradition in the Pennsylvania Dutch culture, or something. We all went inside the house then, and because there were parts of the roof open, they lit a fire in the glass-front wood-stove. This stove was in the corner of the living room, against the outside wall of the cabin, centrally located along that wall. The two sofas were at right angles to it, so that everyone was nice and warm. There were rocking chairs, and recliners facing the stove creating a "hypotenuse" of sorts. Everyone sat around that night... too tired and sore to even make it to bed, chatting and joking, and laughing with each other. Ronnie and I had a sofa to ourselves. It was the sofa we usually slept on -- I sat as far back on it as possible, cross-legged as I usually sat, and still do today. Ronnie sat right tight up against me, and we had a blanket over us, as did my Mother, and my Grandparents. Ronnie was drinking bottled beer that night, and every time he got close to empty, I would jump up and get him a new one, and ask if anyone else needed one. My uncle would often need one as well, so my lavishing attention upon my Ronnie didn't seem terribly unusual to anyone, I suppose, and if it did, everyone was too tired to care.
Snuggled up to my Ronnie, with the blanket covering me, and part of Ronnie, it didn't take Ronnie long to figure out a way to get his hand into my pants right there, with everyone right there crowded around us. Most everyone was either drinking, talking, or sleeping, and didn't take any notice to my heavy breathing, or the flushed look of my face. Ronnie kept sipping on his beer, and, for the most part, appeared engaged in the conversation with my Dad and Grandfather, but a devilish glance towards me from time to time showed me where his attention really lay.
My parents and grandparents both went to upstairs to bed, and the lamps were snuffed for the night. Ronnie and I sat in the same position, him fingering me, and me enjoying every minute of it, until we heard the heavy breathing of my brother, Jim, and my uncle, indicating deep sleep.
Ronnie basically attacked me at that point, albeit silently, and I loved every minute of it. He had all of my clothes off, and in a pile on the floor. Kissing my neck, and working his way down, sucking my nipples, making them hard and sensitive. Rolling them around in his mouth. Sucking them hard, pulling them back, almost into his throat.. oh god... I held his head firmly, keeping him at my breast, until I'd had enough, and then feeling him move to the other nipple. Oh god... This boy must have been breast-fed until he was 16.
He moved down my abdomen, playing with my navel, and going lower, in a straight line, to my delta. I wasn't, and still am not an extremely hairy person. This was the late 1970's, and "shaving" or even "trimming" wasn't known to most of us -- perhaps only underwear models, so I had nothing to feel embarrassed about -- at least not in those days. Just feeling his nose brush through my pubic hair sent waves of chills through me, and my hands flew to his head like magnets to an iron ball.