[The continuing adventures of Chris Mattson, RN at an all-girls cheerleading camp high up in the mountains out west. Only Chris is a male. Let the fun continue.]
I was out for a long time. I don’t remember any visitors that night, but I do have a vague recollection of a soft, warm body or two cuddling next to mine in my bed. Come to think of it, I don’t remember getting out of the canoe and into the bed. I was, however, rousted out of bed every 6 hours for Diane’s ‘therapy’.
It seems that Diane’s nipples re-inverted about every six hours, and she needed to have sexual stimulation reapplied to them or, more specifically, to her cunt. Somehow the other girls, with a lot of helpful input from Diane, decided that the best stimulation would be in the form of a hard fuck. Now, normally I wouldn’t mind the horrible chore of having to boff a beautiful woman four times a day, but there was a small, or rather a large problem. My pecker was raw. Rubbed raw.
It hadn’t been noticeable when Diane and I had been fucking for 12 to 18 hours straight, but apparently, her cunt juice acted like a skin softener and moisturizer. Maybe that’s why that part of a woman is always so soft and tender? Ever hear of chapped cunt lips? Or a crunchy one? Neither have I. But after having been marinated in that delectable sauce for that long and having been that active, the outer layer of skin of my prick had been debrided and that left the subcutaneous nerve endings and blood vessels nearly exposed. Kind of like jacking off with sandpaper, or so I would imagine. I was never stupid enough to do that. So when they woke me up and began licking and sucking on my cock to get it ready for her therapy session, I screamed in pain and fainted dead away.
My prick, however, single-minded as it is, performed great, but it did it without my participation. Diane had to do all the work that first time, not that she minded. The rest of the staff thought I was sleeping and they were kidding Diane that she had worn me out.
Mock congratulations were offered and there was much more kidding as they declared her the unofficial best fuck in camp. Some asked her what it was like to screw a sleeping man, some commented - jokingly - that she must be a lousy lay to have me fall asleep while she was in the saddle. It wasn’t until she had slipped off my member that they saw the blood. At first they thought it was hers, and checked her out thoroughly. But there was no injury they could see and were about ready to dismiss it when the staffer, Julie, I think, who was cleaning me up, started yelling. A few of the exposed surface vessels had burst. Nothing serious, but you would have thought it was the end of the world. Some of the girls started crying, one started screaming hysterically. Only Julie and Janet kept their heads. Julie kept cleaning me up and discovered the minor, but messy, nature of the injury and stopped the bleeding, while Janet cleared the room, swearing the weeping and wailing women to secrecy and silence.
There was as much chance of that happening as having an annual snow sculpture contest in Malibu Beach, CA. Within seconds it seemed the entire camp was gathered around the dispensary, holding vigil. I heard later it was quite lovely. Someone got the candles from the dining hall. A guitar strummed softly. A quiet All-American girl hoe down. Soft singing muffled the occasional sobs of the heart broken. Very touching.
All sarcasm aside, I was deeply moved when I heard about it. However, during the event the only thing I remember is having a dream about falling bombs, wild birds whooping and an incredible sucking vagina on my penis. Pretty much my usual dream stuff.
Janet wrapped my stiff swollen cock in an oil-rich lotion to help replace the lipids leeched out by the extended marinating. She and Julie, and eventually some of the rest of the staff, took turns swabbing and soaking my penis in the healing fluid. In order to expose as much of the roughened skin to the balm as possible, they felt I needed to be fully erect. So they gently stroked the shaft with their soft fingertips, gently luring it to its full swollen length. What my amateur nurses didn’t, and couldn’t, know was that those were the very exact motions I used as an adolescent to train my cock to hold off for two hours before spewing my wad, and to come back to attention almost immediately. And in my exhausted state, I must have reverted to that age, because every two hours I blasted off. Like clockwork. Like Old Faithful. It got to be a contest to see which of the girls could catch my jism in her mouth. I love a girl who really gets into her work.
And every six hours, Diane came in for her therapy. The second time, at twelve hours, there was almost a mutiny. But Janet sided with her and Diane agreed to hump me only until her nipples popped back out. Which was, for her, too soon. She didn’t get to get off, but then, neither did I. After she had reluctantly un-impaled herself from my rampant member, several pairs of hands and eyes and at least one tongue scrutinized me with extreme care. There was no visible set back to the healing process and peace was soon reestablished in the camp.
Later, when I heard that Janet had been willing to sacrifice the possible well-being of my precious penis for the benefit of a couple of inverted nipples, I nearly got angry. But only nearly, because at the time she told me, she was performing an incredible sexual act on me, and anger would not have been appropriate or appreciated. By the time I got back around to thinking of it again and bringing it up, she pulled that frustrating female thing of looking at me with that look that says, “We already discussed that. Don’t drag up old issues.” Some day I’m going to figure out how they do that.
Except for the visits by Diane and the constant stroking by the endless volunteers at my bedside, I was left in peace for the next 36 hours. Which left me fairly horny. I mean, all that fore play and only one fuck every six hours. I had been used to a lot more and was ready and raring to go. The first ones to help me out of my pent up state were the two campers who just happened to be stroking my prick when I finally felt strong enough to fuck somebody. Or some thing. I really didn’t care in the state I was in.
I leaned over to kiss one of them, pulling her on top of me. She saw the gleam in my eye and squealed. A recent alumnus of the speed stripping class, she was nude and settled on my prick before her partner knew what was going on. The partner tried to push the first camper off her perch, kind of a Queen of the Mountain game, until I slipped a finger up inside her shorts. She kind of froze in her tracks and got a glazed look in her eyes. She was slower getting naked, being one of the younger campers, but soon her smooth naked pussy lips were being caressed by my lips, my tongue skewering her and giving her a song to sing.
The song was soon heard all over the camp and a cheer went up. It was a cheerleader camp, after all. That night and the two nights thereafter the visitors came in as before. Although they did seem more eager, if that were possible.
But there was still the problem of Diane and her nipples. No matter what they tried, they couldn’t get them to stay out. I had had a lot of time to think about it and thought I had a solution. I talked to the arts and crafts instructor, and described to her the design of what I had in mind. She fired up her furnace and soon I had a pair of odd shaped pieces of jewelry. Her workmanship had been outstanding and when I asked her how much it would cost, she said “Two hours,” with a wicked twinkle. I gave a big tip on top of the payment. She deserved it.
When Diane came in for her ‘therapy’, Janet was there, as always. I think she was getting jealous of the regularity with which I was fucking Diane.
“I think I have a way to keep your nipples out, Diane,” I said. I showed her the jewelry. They looked like two small wide funnels with no drain spouts. Just a 3/8” hole in the center with two small notches 180 degrees opposed to each other. I fit them up to her tits, and they fit exactly over her areolas, leaving the tiny buds of her nipples exposed.
She looked at me curiously.
“How’s that supposed to keep them up?”
With a wicked grin, I held up the second half of the puzzle. Even Janet gasped as she saw what I had in my hand. Two barbell piercing studs. But both of them agreed it would work. And I could smell the scent of cunt juice filling the office. Someone was excited about piercing Diane’s nipples and it wasn’t just me!
Of course, before we could pierce them, we had to capture them out in the open, so I gallantly volunteered to go in after them. I took a circuitous route, probing with my prick as far up her cunt as I could shove it, trying to flush them out. The attempt was laborious, requiring several advances and retreats, but it was not in vain. The two future shish-kabobs poked up nicely and Janet was able to grab a hold of them and gently pull them out. First she threaded the stiffened nipple through the center hole of the small funnel, and pressed it firmly, cupping the tip of Diane’s tit in the concave ring. Then she deftly pierced each one and inserted the stud, sterilizing and cleaning thoroughly as she went along. When she was finished, it looked as if Diane was wearing tiny metal pasties.
We waited for an hour and the cure seemed to have worked. The studs rested in the notches of the internal rim and held the nipples proudly out. The only side effect we could determine was that Diane seemed hornier than normal. She drooled from both mouths, upper and lower, had a glazed look in her eye, and had a mini-orgasm with every fourth or fifth step. I silently took a bet with myself that Diane would soon take up jogging, which she did that next summer. Became world class, too, but had a hell of a time getting through the metal detectors in the airports on the way to the international meets.
With the problem of Diane solved and camp routine back to normal, it was suddenly the last week of the training for the campers. Sandi, the administrator’s assistant, came up to me after dinner on the first night of the last week. A big grin split her face. With the makeup and clothes she was now wearing, she was getting to be one of the hottest women in camp. She had really come out of her shell. The smile just added to her natural appeal.
“So. Is the mighty Mr. Mattson ready for tonight?,” she asked seductively.
The way she said it, I understood she was referring to my prick as the ‘mighty Mr. Mattson’. But I hadn’t heard a word about anything special going on. I grinned back. “I’m always ready, Sandi, especially for you.”
She blushed. Bright red. She still wasn’t used to her new erotic persona. It made her even more appealing. “N-N-No-o. N-N-Not me tonight,” she sighed, disappointedly. “You haven’t heard?”
I shook my head in the negative.
“The next three nights are for the ‘new girls’.”
I furrowed my brow. I had not heard the helicopter bringing in any new girls. “New girls?” I asked.
Sandi blushed even deeper. She reached up and pulled my head down so she could whisper in my ear. I could also see right down her blouse at a set of cute firm mounds of flesh and was going to reach up and touch the erect nipple of one of them, but that thought actually left my head as she whispered, “Yeah, ‘new girls’. Virgins. Tonight the visitors will all be virgins. New girls.”
I nearly came right then. Three nights of virgin territory. A pederast’s wet-dream come true. I noticed Sandi looking at me with a funny look and this time it was my turn to blush. I didn’t need to, but I followed her gaze down and I saw my cock, which had sprung up iron hard at the thought of all those cherries. It had found its way out over the top of my shorts, and spurted a great big glob of sperm onto the bare flesh just above Sandi’s tits.
“Why, Thank you, Mr. Mattson!” she teased me, wiping the creamy white fluid off her chest with her fingers and then licking them clean. “I’d say he was ready, wouldn’t you, Janet?”
I whirled around. I had not heard Janet walk up behind me. She looked down and saw my exposure and watched Sandi finish her special dessert. Gently, she took the exposed part of my cock in her hands and covered it up with them. She had to move her hands up and down constantly to keep the whole thing covered completely and conscientiously did her best to protect the campers from seeing my exposure. “I asked you to keep this under cover, Mr. Mattson,” she said sternly. Her looks and touch belied the tone of her voice. Her eyes were dancing in the evening light, laughing at my obvious excitement of the coming - or cumming - events of the next three evenings. She was excited, too.
We separated when I could finally fit back into my shorts. It took a while, because the fact that it was Janet who was holding my prick in her tiny soft hands was as arousing to me as the thought of all the cherry picking. More, in fact. She didn’t seem to be in any rush, either, and kept up a patter of small talk about this and that for quite a while. To this day, the only things I can remember from that conversation are the feel of her hands and the clear blue color of her eyes as they gazed up into mine. For me, right then, nothing else existed. She still teases me about it. But I still react the same way whenever she holds me like that gently stroking my cock with her two tiny soft hands. It is absolutely Pavlovian.
Back in the dispensary that evening, time seemed to dragged by. I did the inventory in the clinic, bandaged a few knees, wrapped a sprained ankle, and dried more than a few tears from the ‘regulars’. A normal evening. I tried to focus on each camper and task at hand, but my mind was elsewhere. I was torn between the thoughts of virgin twat and those beautiful clear blue eyes. Both of those thoughts kept my cock hard and stiff, and elicited more than a few knowing giggles from my dispensary patients. Apparently, everyone in camp had known but me. Figured.
The first timid knock came at the door after an eternity of waiting.
“Come in,” I said softly. I caught a brief silhouette against the hall light as a pair of figures slipped into my room.
“Hello, sailor,” came a familiar voice, a bit huskier than normal. The Skipper sounded as if she was already excited about this. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who liked young girls...
“Hello, Skipper. You’re early tonight.” The other figure giggled.
I felt her move close to my ear. “I just figured you might like a witness that the girls were all here voluntarily, you know?.”
I grinned and whispered back, “Thanks. And this just wouldn’t happen to excite you, too, no?” A quick jab in my ribs confirmed my suspicions.
She led the shy girl forward a little. “This is Kim, Mr. Mattson. This is her first time.” With that she turned on a small light above my bed and melted into the deep shadows. I tried, but I couldn’t see her face. Damn!
Kim stood shyly by herself at the edge of the pool of light in a light blue baby-doll nightgown. She was wearing the top only, no bottoms, I noticed right away. She shifted uneasily from one foot to another, and there was a gleam in her eye.
“Hello, Kim. Why don’t you come over here and sit down next to me.” I held out my hand to her and she took it. She followed my soft tugs and sat gingerly down next to me, her bare tush right on the edge of the mattress. Kim was one of the older girls. She must have been 16 or 17 years old. I moved my arm and put it around her back. She was trembling. I pulled her gently to my side, and buried my face in her soft hair.
“Kim, are you sure you want this?” I asked her.
“Uh-huh,” came the quiet reply.
“Well, if you want to stop at any time, all you have to do is say so, OK?”
She nodded. I grinned.
“And you need to tell me things out loud, how you’re feeling, if you like something or don’t like something, or if I’m too heavy, or if it hurts you, right? Don’t worry about not using the right words. Between the Skipper and I, we are pretty good at translating screams and grunts and moans. Besides, it turns me on when I can hear my lover’s excitement. If I can’t hear what you’re thinking or feeling, how will I know what you like? So tell me, OK? Now, do you under....”
My question was stopped as she launched herself into my arms, wrapping hers around my neck and shoving her untalented, but enthusiastic young tongue all the way down my throat. I took that to mean she understood.
With Kim in my arms, I began to explore the quivering, eager young body plastered to my chest. She had smooth skin, but then, they all had smooth skin. Her medium-length hair that smelled so good was up off her neck in a braid. I freed my mouth from hers and kissed the exposed areas of her neck. I felt her shiver and her arms tightened around my neck.
As I ventured further, I encountered a shoulder strap with a bow on the top of each shoulder. The satiny feel of her nightgown ended with a fancy ruffle just above her firm ass as my hands continued down her back. I got her to relax her strangle hold on my neck and laid her softly back on the bed beside me. This allowed me to explore her frontal areas. She was a vision! I took a moment to drink in her youthful beauty.
The nightgown was fastened by a single bow in front of her smallish tits. Her dark pink nipples were clearly visible through the material, and it was obvious she was excited. Or very cold in the middle of July. She caught at my hand as I tugged at the bow, indicating a slight hesitation on her part.
“Should I stop?” I asked softly.
“No. Please don’t stop. I, uh, I’m just a little scared.”
I held her hand to the tiny bow and she held it lightly between her fingers. She looked at me with her big brown eyes. I could see the indecision and the lust. I blew gently across those turgid nipples poking though the thin fabric. First one, then the other received my airy attentions. That was all it took. Together, we pulled the end of the bow, and she pushed up her swelling tits in invitation.
As I pulled the inadequate covering away from her chest with a firm tug, I leaned down and kissed her deeply. I cupped and squeezed her firm rubbery tits until I felt her relax even more. She began moaning into my mouth. I rearranged myself along side of her on the bed. She gave a small catch of her breath as she felt my heavy swollen cock flop down across her leg.
“I-Is that your thing?”
“Your thing. You know, your penis?”
“Yes, and that’s my cock, my pecker, my prick, my John Henry, the Mighty Mr. Mattson, among other names. No one calls it a penis but my doctor.”
“Oh.” She giggled at the variety of names, especially the last one.
I held still. Well, kind of. I had her tit in my hand and I kept kneading it gently, but firmly. Her little tits were firm and hard, and very sensitive, it seemed. I felt it swelling up in my hand as her arousal grew. I waited for her to make the next move.
It took a minute or three, but gradually the burning spot of contact on her thigh captured her curiosity and her hand slipped shyly down and touched my now hardened prick. She had her eyes tightly closed as she gently explored it and, as she tried to reach her hand around it, I felt her catch her breath again.
“Does it really fit in me?”
“Perfectly, Kim. It will fit perfectly.”
I lowered my lips to her chest and sucked in the lonesome nipple that was poking up at me, pleading for attention. A long slow shudder passed through her body and she grasped me a bit tighter and began stroking up and down. A natural rhythm. I sucked and she stroked. The excitement in her body grew. I felt her nipples harden even more, one against my palm, the other in my mouth.
I switched teats. This brought another groan, especially as the air chilled her moistened flesh. My hand, now freed from its tit duty, ventured down her flat stomach. I trailed my fingers across the smooth surface, tracing erotic patterns in the tiny hairs, dipping occasionally into the depression of her navel. She was humming unconsciously, and it was a tune I loved to hear.
I followed my fingertips with my tongue and began to bathe her tummy with my saliva. The cooling of the moisture brought goose bumps to her skin, roughening the texture.
My free hand again ventured lower, this time to her secret places. Her humming went up a note or two in pitch and urgency and her breathing was a bit ragged now. Her stoking hand became irregular in its up and down motion and finally she abandoned altogether her grip on my prick for one on the mattress as my fingertips brushed across her clit. She stiffened and cried out as a small taste of the orgasmic events to come coursed through her slender frame.
“Oh! Thank you, Mr. Mattson,” she sighed.
I looked up at her now open eyes, tiny tears leaking from the corners of them. “Are you finished? Should I stop?” I asked her.
“Huh? You mean I can I have more than one? Oh, I didn’t know. It felt so good. I don’t want you to stop. Yes, please go....OH! OH! OH!”
My finger on her clit rudely interrupted her, this time with a bit more pressure. I grinned to myself at her innocence. And got back to work. I figured it would take about one more new experience for her innocent pussy, and she would not refuse me her virginity, no matter how big she thought my pecker was. I knew just what that experience should be. I lowered my face to her smooth hairless pussy lips and breathed deep. She smelled fresh and young, but with a distinctive fragrance of musk. I love that ‘ready to fuck’ scent a young girl gives off.
Her eyes were closed tight again after her last mini-climax, and she was not aware of my intentions until she felt my tongue begin to wiggle its way past her cunt lips and up into her pussy. At first her hands flailed vainly as if to push my head away and she protested quietly, saying that she was dirty down there, etc. Then the feelings from her awakening cunt shorted out all reason. Her knees automatically snapped up to her tits, opening herself up to my tongue, my fingers and, eventually, my cock.
Her cunt was mine.
I built up her tension level by eating her delicious cunt for quite a while, never quite letting her go over that edge she teetered on. By the time I was done with her pussy, she was delirious with passion, far past any point of return. Her writhing young body was wound like a spring, waiting for that big event that it knew was coming, even if she didn’t. Each near-climax pushed her a little higher and left her wanting, and taking, just a little more. She was throwing her head back and forth on my pillow, gripping the sheets with her hands. Her hair had become unbraided from her orgasmic thrashing and it fell softly around her shoulders. She looked beautiful. Delicious. Fuckable. I judged she was ready.
I knelt up between her legs. She sensed my movement and opened her eyes. She had a look of desperation in them.
“Please. Please, do me. Please. Don’t tease me any more. Do me. Now! Please? Fuck me, Mr. Mattson.”
What can I say? When they ask me so nice, I can’t say ‘No”, can I?
I did her.
The fat tip of my cock lodged up against her tight, wet pussy lips. I let it rest there impatiently while the lubrication leaking from her pussy coated it. A gentle nudge opened the sealed portal and the head of my cock forged into the tight canal. Her eyes opened wide as she felt her vaginal tissues staining to adapt to the monster invading her pussy. But she did not tell me to stop. I honestly doubt if I could have at that point.
Another small nudge pushed me in far enough to allow the lips of her cunt to close around the rim of my cockhead. Again I stopped for a moment to let her adjust. It also allowed the barrier membrane a little further up her canal to begin to tear loose a bit because of the stretching. Another gentle nudge forward, and the tip of my cock was resting against her now dangerously thin hymen. I waited patiently for her to get comfortable, and as I waited I felt the membrane give way, not with a rip, but with a contented sigh. She arched her back with a small gasp and then slowly but determinedly slid herself down on my cock, easily accepting about three-quarters of it inside her. She had felt no pain. She was now a woman. And she wanted to fuck.
I placed my hand down between us and grabbed onto the base of my cock. I didn’t want to go too deep into her this first time. I liked using my hand that way, especially with first-timers. With my hand right there, I could also use my thumb to rub her clitoris, keeping her in a mindless fucking state for the duration of our coupling.
When she realized I was deep into her, she went wild. I never moved from my knees, never had to jerk or thrust. Some of her moves were a bit unexpected and unusual as this was her first experience, but it was my opinion that Kim was a natural born wild woman. Most of the time, the only parts of her anatomy not in motion were her neck and shoulders and they were the only things touching the bed. Everything else was a tornado of action, whipping her cunt up and down on my cock. She started screaming as she hit the big one, but she didn’t stop moving. My thumb wouldn’t let her. I kept up a constant circling motion right on her sensitive nubbin. Her wild actions increased, if anything, and she went over the top again, this time fainting dead away with a sharp piercing scream. Her body refused to obey her mind, however, and her cunt muscles kept a firm, almost painful grip on my cock.
She slowly came back around and hugged me tight around my neck, her lithe body wracked with sobs.
“That was wonderful. I didn’t think I could get it all in me,” she sobbed into my ear. “I feel so good. God, is my boyfriend going to be surprised when I get him into the back seat next Saturday night.”
I hated to tell her she hadn’t taken in the whole thing. I had never met a girl or a woman who could on their first time. I’m just too big. But when I told her I didn’t go all the way in, she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seemed more determined to take it all the next time. Whenever that would be.
She left with a wet kiss and a sexy, “Thank you, Mr. Mattson.” I was already looking forward to her next visit. The last three inches always surprised them, and I loved the look on their faces as they stuffed themselves like gluttons at a buffet. Pure ecstasy.
The light flicked out, and I was lost it the sudden darkness.
“God, sailor, I wish you had been my first. I think you may have spoiled her for life.” The Skipper slipped down onto the bed beside me, finding her way in the dark by soft gentle touches.
“Would you rather I didn’t do a good job?”
“Oh, no! But she is going to compare the next couple of lovers she has to you, and, unless their name happens to be Clark Kent, they won’t be equipped like you. I just hope her boyfriend doesn’t disappoint her too much. You’re almost too good, sailor.”
“Hey, I’m just an average guy doing the best I can.”
A tinkling laugh and sharp jab in the stomach registered her disbelief of that statement. “You’re far from average, sailor,” she said softly, almost to herself. Then, with a short shake of her head, as if dragging herself back to reality from a very pleasant place, she got up off the bed and headed for the bathroom. She brought back a wet rag and a towel to dry with.
“Here. Clean up. It’s nicer for the new girls if you’re clean for them. They’re nervous enough without having you smell like the previous girl.”
I grinned. “Yeah. We’ll just have till next time to really pervert them, huh?” Her soft laughter filled my heart again, and a silent bond built between us. We would always share a passion for the young ones. Together.
I began to clean up, getting ready for the next one. I sensed her waiting, tapping her foot unconsciously as she stood there in the dark. “What’s the hurry, Skipper? Is there a rush? Just how many new girls are there?”
“If you do them all like Kim, you’ll almost make it. There are six new girls.”
“Oh, OK. That should be easy. Two tonight, two tomorrow and two the next night, right? We should be able to make them all enjoy the experience and have time to spare!”
“Wrong, sailor. That’s six tonight, six tomorrow night and six the next night. And I’m going to get mine each night, too, you little girl fucker, you. I’m so horny right now I can hardly keep from jumping on your fat cock.”
I shook my head in disbelief. Eighteen. Eighteen virgins. I didn’t think there were that many cherries over the age of 12 years old in the whole of California, much less just the LA area. It was even more mind boggling that they were all good looking ones, too. Well, there would be 18 fewer intact hymens by the time camp was over.
Grinning, I reached out and found the Skipper. Her tense body was covered in a light shirt. I ripped it off her smooth shoulder in a single jerk, tearing it right down the back. I proceeded to take just about every obscene liberty with her I could think of without penetration. Skipper just stood there and let me, teasingly helping me, taunting, encouraging me, urging me to violate her any way I wanted to. So I did. By the time I was done, we were both gasping for breath. Finally, I pulled her to me and I kissed her hard and viciously. I was getting sick and tired of this fucking cat and mouse game.
She melted into my arms, her resistance gone. I felt tears running down between us as she gave herself totally to me. She had always kept something back before. But now, she was all mine. I could have done anything to her at that moment, including turning on the light above my bed and establishing her identity. I knew it. She knew it. She knew I knew it.
But I didn’t do it. To this day I don’t know why. I gently sat her tight naked butt on my knee, pulled my fingers out of her cunt and asshole, brushed the hair away from her sweaty face with my lips and tenderly licked the tears trickling from her eyes.
“You better see who’s next, Skipper,” I told her. “You know I can’t fuck you if it gets too light in here.” She gave a small sob. “And Skipper, I need to fuck you. Bad!”