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Introduction:

A young man engages in sex with 31 different women before falling into the dark, gay underworld.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR


Sunday night at Jack in the Box, I am munching a half pounder with tomato and cheese, with a side dish of salty fries. A watered down cup of icy coke. Ten minutes before ten. Almost closing time for the dining room. The drive thru was an all-niter, to cover the binge eaters and coffee drinkers. I was fueling up before hitting one of our local lounges. When yet another surprise befell me.

The young cashier who served this crap up, tall, very tall, gangly, cute as a button, was at my table, pretending to clean. Smiling, giving me the ‘interested eye’ thing. Awkward and silly, coming from a teenager, to a guy ten years older. Oh well. You know me. Girls, girls, girls. Can’t live without them.

Especially this month.

Her name was Taylor, according to her tag.

Of course it was.

You couldn’t call your kid Lady Gaga, and Britney was so yesterday. Taylor would be the ‘go to’ name for the next five years. This kid lucked out when her parents pulled her name out of their asses a decade and a half ago. Unless they were old school and were in love with the onetime Mrs. Richard Burton.

Anyway, guess what?

Taylor was another Facebook freak, as well as Instagram and Twitter.

Guess what else?

I was the topic of choice in our burgh. Amongst the fairer sex, on the invisible wire, the good old web. The topic of me was spreading out to friends in other parts of the state, even other states. Interesting.

Guess what else?

Young Taylor wants to hook up!

Tonight!

To be part of history.

Facebook history or something.

What grade are you in Taylor?

Grade eleven.

Probably an A student. The apple of your parent’s eyes.

You are on the basketball team and the debating team, and you spend one night a week volunteering. You hold down this minimum wage job at the greasy burger joint to gain work experience, and mingle with the minimum wagers. I would add, you probably go to church, but fuck, does anybody bother with church anymore?

Are you sure you want to do this?

Step into a world you know nothing about?

You are awfully young.

So sweet.

Sugar, syrupy sweet.

Sugary, lick-able, edible sweet.

Oh yes, I do, she says.

Besides, I am not a virgin. Don’t worry about me.

Oh right. Not a virgin.

Which scrawny, tiny cocked wimp have you fucked?

Joey football?

Jimmy basketball?

The artsy, pimple faced, computer punk next door?

Taylor, you are the rebel. You go girl.

Immediately, my mind begins to formulate. Grade eleven. Do the math. Seventeen years old. Tops.

Let’s make it official.

Taylor, are you sixteen, or seventeen?

Sixteen, she says. She skipped a year in school, she was a gifted student.

Oh, good for you.

At sixteen she was legal. In our fine state.

She also skipped ahead six inches in height, because she was as tall as me.

Good for me.

Well Taylor, you will be getting another gift tonight.

By the way, what does your daddy do? Is he a cop, or a lawyer, or an Army Ranger?

No, why?

Oh, no reason. Doesn’t matter.

Back to my formulating. Sixteen. Okay. There was going to be a bottom age and a top age to these thirty-one specimens. Sixteen would extend the age way down. I didn’t have a problem with sixteen. I could be a gentle teacher. One of the good guys. Or not. I was thinking more of the top end of my scale. Cindy, the married babe, was thirty-two. I could go as high as thirty-five. Push it right up to forty.

Yikes, forty?

Could I do an old bag? A grandma?

Did forty year old bags remotely think of sex?

Old bags, my friend, are what beer goggles are made for. As well as pimple faced chicks, chicks with big ugly noses, chicks with eyes too close together and chicks with fat rolls around their waists. Mostly, the beer goggles were made for old chicks. That is why the beer stores and the liquor stores were always busy with middle aged customers.

Sixteen to forty. I could foresee an erection problem at the top end. Let’s wait and see where it goes.

Young Facebook Taylor wants to join the train. It is a free country, why the hell not. She is legal in this state, and what did the old studs used to say? Old enough to bleed, old enough to breed. I chuckled. Let’s put this slogan on some tee shirts and pass them around. Give one to Michelle Obama, and Jane Fonda.
This fuck record thing could get crazy, if it was flying across the internet.

How many more ladies were going to offer themselves up?

What about the other thing?

The danger factor. The wounded guys, the wronged guys, Face-booking and planning a little retribution. It’s a fucked up world out there, for sure. Let’s think about it for a second. Cindy the librarian’s husband. The rock and roller, Wayne or Duane or whatever his name is. Wanna-be boyfriends and former lovers of the sisters or the bodywork girls, or how about Teenybopper Taylor’s old man? Even Danny, my bro, was holding the revenge card close to his vest.
Interesting.

I would have to stay sharp as I spread my sperm through our town.

Tonight, it would be the privacy and safety of my condo. Taylor is all giggly and wiggly and tingling. Excited. This is going to be more than a trip to the mall for new panties, honey doll. Kids. Bulletproof. Not a care in the world.

She pulls out her cell phone and calls her mom, telling her she is going to so and so’s place. She calls so and so and tells her to cover in case her mom calls. She will call back and share the biggest story of her young life, when she is done.

At this point, I have to address the knock-up factor. I am a young stud in the prime of my breeding life. Pounding away, dumping fifteen loads into fifteen incubators. Make it fourteen incubators. I think I can safely say, Susie the bleeder can be excused from the fifteen.

The consequences of this?

Young stud, remember?

Who cares?

Like the dudes on Jerry Springer say, not my problem. Their problem. Simple, maybe cruel, but hell, this is how young guys think.

Animal, remember?

Ladies, ladies. Here is a very, very simple lesson to live by. If you don’t want to take a chance getting knocked up, don’t put a cock in your pussy.
How fucking simple.

Any woman above borderline retarded, can comprehend this. So control yourselves, bitches.

Well then, what about disease?

What about it?

Again, young stud. Prime health, none of the bugs would stick. If they did, hell, drugs were containing the fag disease, what was the big deal with a little herpes?

Condoms?

Hated them. Didn’t fit properly. I know I don’t have the biggest cock in the world, but fitting a condom over my nine inches has never worked. Something about the girth of the beast. I could get the condom on, but as soon as I swelled up, it was rip city. Damn the torpedoes and fuck with my bare cock.

We are now at my place. A touch awkward. This scrawny kid looks scrawnier in my condo. The condo of Charlene’s magical pussy, and the other ladies who came before. The raggedy girl’s blood.

Blood.

I think there will be blood tonight.

I am for the moment, flummoxed.

Where to start?

I don’t want to feed her booze. She’s an underage drinker, she can’t vote or drive, she can’t sign up to defend her country, but she can legally fuck anybody on the planet. She is standing in my kitchen, cute and pretty, blushing and tingling, a deer in the headlights. Taylor knows she shouldn’t be here, but in one hour’s time, will she be a hero amongst her peers.

I decide to slip her one beer. I wasn’t having her heading home piss drunk, her mouth working faster than her brain. One beer, to settle the giggles and wiggles.

Not the tingling. I liked the tingling.

Into the living room, I joined her on the couch. I put a music channel on the TV.

I was feeling old.

But I wasn’t.

Twenty-six is not old.

Taylor, she was just so young.

She was going to be a beautiful, beautiful woman one day.

With an incredible body.

One day.

She handled the first beer, no problem. Asked for a second. Okay, two beers, no more. I went to the kitchen to grab the next one. Chugged mine back, grabbed two out of the fridge. Taylor was close behind me when I turned around.

She had her cell phone in her hand.

She wanted a picture of me. Of us. Together.

A selfie.

No problem. When we are finished, we will do the photo shoot.

Fucking Facebook crowd.

I took her cell phone and put in on the counter. Handed her the beer. She stepped in close to me. She was as tall as I. Her mouth was already open. We kissed. Kissed again. She tasted sweet. She tasted like more. She was a good kisser. Very interesting. She poked her tongue out. Probing. She pulled her tongue in and stepped back. Took a swig of her beer. Reached down with the bottle and brushed my crotch. My crotch was already growing.

Very, very interesting, little Taylor girl.

You have been practicing your night moves, or watching videos, haven’t you?

We finished our beers in the kitchen. Charlene’s kitchen.

She asked, which way to the boardroom.

Boardroom, she called it.

Drunk already?

Watching too much Apprentice, little girl?

Or was this a term from the new generation?

Yes, it might be. ‘Cool’ and ‘hip’ and ‘rad’ and ‘hookup’ were once popular words.

We walked to the boardroom, hand in hand. I don’t think I would be firing her tonight. The idiot Donald Trump sure wouldn’t.

At the end of the bed, Taylor stopped. Kicked her runners off. Slowly unzipped her jeans, wiggle her ass once and sent them tumbling to the floor. The longest, skinniest legs I ever saw. A slight flair at the hips, where the future Taylor ass would be stopping guys in their tracks. A glowing pink pair of panties hugged her crotch. Looking unsure, she pulled her Jack in the Box work shirt over her head. Dropped it on the floor. Leaving a small white bra, covering next to nothing. She lifted a foot to me. I went to her. Pulled off one sock. Then the other.

Your turn, she says to me.

I took a deep breath.

I was tingling.

Me.

No turning back.



CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE


My shirt comes off. I hear a slight gasp. I am not one of her usual boys. I am a man. Heavily muscled, fully developed. Powerful. My shoes and jeans come off. The bulge in my underwear is in clear view. This is also nothing she has experienced before. Taylor stares, as if reaffirming her mission statement. She swallows a few times. It is time. I slide my underwear down. Kick them away.

There it is baby.

I feel the wind go out of her.

She may have giggled at pictures on the internet of guys and cocks. Here, in front of her, was the real thing. A man cock.

I stand close to her. Too close. We embrace. She wants to kiss. Or run far away. I hold her. Trembling. Fuck, it’s me trembling. I kiss her. Hard. She is right there with me. We are tonguing. My hands are on her ass. I could hold her entire ass in one hand. I do. Because I can. Her skin is warm. Smooth. I look at her thin shoulders and arms. Satin smooth. Perfect. God’s finest work. Well, maybe after me.

She breaks the kissing and slides slowly to her knees. This, I’ve got to see. Her long fine hair is trailing down her naked back.

Take off your bra please, I say.

She does, reaching behind to unsnap. I know she has nothing for tits, but I want her to feel beautiful anyway. Me, being me, classy and considerate and all. One day, her tits will sprout and the men of the world will be in awe.

Her long fingers are on my cock. Squeezing the meat.
I hear gasping.

Fuck, it is me again.

First trembling, now gasping.

What is next? Moaning?

Yes it was.

I moaned aloud.

Because the head of my cock was in her sugar mouth.
Her second hand wrapped around the python. Her pink baby lips spread wide and moved over my thick head. She took some shaft. An inch or two. She pulled back, then attacked a little harder, gaining confidence. The biggest cock of her life was in her mouth. Yes it was. Sixteen years old. A true YouTube, Facebook moment.

I thought about asking if she wanted her picture phone.
I let her suck away, amateurishly, but with enthusiasm. The sounds of her sucking and slurping, and the occasional girly gag, were music to my ears. She took a break and I helped her stand. I let her kiss me on the mouth, letting her cock tongue touch mine.

I guided Taylor closer to the bed. Sat her down, laid her back. Climbed over her crotch. Inhaled. Baby crotch. Sweet crotch. The pink satin panties slid off her hips. To the floor. I kissed her thighs, moving up. Her skin was remarkable. Perfect, to the nth degree. A weird thought ran through my mind. Scalpel. Sharp, surgical scalpel. To peel and preserve this perfection, before she grew old and sloppy and saggy and dead. Preserve it forever as a testament to female beauty. Optimistically, she wasn’t going to grow old and sloppy. This chick had twenty more good years ahead of her. I hope she owned it, as she got older.

Taylor wasn’t an older girl, able to spew scent and wet on first male contact. I gently spread her legs, breathing on her, the deliberate approach with no shock, until my tongue touched her. Soft, downy fine hair, only a hint of moisture. This would have to change if she was going to make it onto my scorecard. I wasn’t sure of anything with this girl, but I would try. I sure as hell would. I glanced at my watch. It was only ten past ten. If this didn’t work, there were plenty of fish out there, circling in my fuck barrel.

I did the best eating of my career on this girl. Forty minutes later, there was wetness, some trembling in her long legs, and an audible moan slipping out of her mouth. I was going to grease her up good anyway, to be sure. I was determined not to be the guy who turned Taylor into a useless nun. Or a stinking Lesbo.

Who knows?

If I make a good investment here, maybe down the road, say in two years, or five years, or ten years, a ripe Taylor might avail herself to me, for old time’s sake. Anything was possible in my fuck world.

As I was finding out this month, everything was possible in my fuck world. Every idiot guy in Taylor’s grade eleven class, in the twelfth grade and every level of college and university, wished they were me right now. Most breathing males wished they were me right now. My legend was growing with every fuck. Every day.

Fifteen more minutes and I could swear I was drinking Pepsi Cola. The sugary sweet liquid I was sucking up was much more than my saliva. Taylor was actively moving her ass, raising it, sliding it, moaning along with my work. I was a god with my tongue.

Time for the big move.

I climbed up further on her. Gently spread her legs. I needed to touch her legs and ass and thighs and calves and belly and shoulders. The young skin was a brutal aphrodisiac. My stiff cock, stiff from eating and drinking from Taylor’s sugar pot, was already dripping copiously.

On the shelf behind the headboard I grabbed my lube tube. Hoped there was enough left. Uncapped, filled my fingers. Taylor watched through scared, excited eyes. The Facebook kid was about to get her wish. I slid my hand between her gorgeous thighs, the cool grease meshing with her warm, wet pussy. My fingers searched, found the mark, and began a slow penetration. Tight. Another Meena.

Taylor took my finger. Then fingers. The liquid warmed to match her body temperature. It was wet and slippery down there. I wanted to get back to eating, but I needed the fuck. For the scorecard. My watch showed thirty-eight minutes past eleven.

Where did the time go?

This was going to be it for tonight.

The record would stay or fall, with sixteen year old Taylor.

It would stay.

Failure was not an option.

Done with the grease.

We were ready.

I was ready.

Taylor?

Let's hope so.

I dropped my crotch over hers. My stiff cock at her door. Finding the wet, slippery heat. Pressing. Resistance. Continuing to press. Taylor wiggled underneath me.

This was no high school boy, was it honey?

Taylor was suddenly starring in her own porno movie, with the monster man. No turning back. The nasty ‘first true fuck of my life and I don’t think I want to do it’ situation, is here. Similar to getting on the giant roller coaster, having it pull away from the dock, climb six hundred feet in the air, hesitate, and then plunge straight down. No way off the ride. No way to stop the ride.

I grabbed her ass and lifted her legs. Forcing her flatter onto her back. Breaking the internal resistance, I felt my bell slip. Stop, then slip. Taylor gasped. Her face went red. Pain shot across the beautiful visage. She bit it back. She wanted this.

Why? To prove what? To who? To her buddies? To her Facebook followers?

I eased into her, hoping the hot jelly would perform its duty. It did. Kudos to the petroleum industry and all those geeks in the laboratories. I pushed another inch of cock into her. Then another. She groaned. Grunted. Sobbed. I slid in another inch. Then another. She looked full. My cock was filling her torso, seemingly up to her neck and face. I stopped and let her breathe. Her flat chest was heaving. She took cleansing breaths. She moved underneath me. Grunted again. Took an inch on her own. Then another. Then another. A vise was gripping my cock. A red hot, burning vise. Hotter and tighter than the librarian’s ass.

Why did the librarian need my cock in her ass, and my tongue in her ass?

What the fuck was wrong with her?

All educated and classy, but nothing more than a gutter pig.

Why did I put my tongue in her ass?

What did that make me?

Never mind.

I lay down over Taylor. Put my weight on my elbows and arms. Let her push the final distance. Unreal. I felt my groin press against hers. I was in. All the way in. My entire cock was buried in this sixteen year old pussy, and she was still alive. Taylor looked up at me. Tears in her eyes. Pain in her face. Mega accomplishment in her soul.

Good for you, I said.

You are amazing.

You are a beautiful woman.

Woman.

I laid it on pretty thick.

Taylor wept, tears running down her face. Relief. She did it! Proud. A true woman. Because I said she was. Me, the king of cock, said she was a true woman.

I lowered down and kissed her. She kissed back. Hard. Pushing the pain and discomfort back to me. I let her rip, she sucked at my tongue, bit at my lips. Get it out girl, get it out. I pushed up. Looked down at Taylor. A terrified but proud ‘woman’. Sixteen years young. My full erection buried in her tight young pussy. Throbbing in there. Being constricted in there.

I wonder.

How in the fuck is this happening?

I mean, physiologically?

She is so thin and narrow.

Where the hell is my cock?

Rearranging her kidneys or spleen?

I pull back, maybe two inches. A look of surprise crosses the young face. I carefully push back in. She looks ready to barf and explode at the same time. I pull back out again. I hear the crackle of the jelly. Push back in. The look of wonderment and incredulity paints the young face. I pull out four inches. Push back in. Being super careful. With the white gloves on. Trying to bring this girl along, do my duty and prepare her for what was coming in her life.

I pulled out halfway. To my shock, she pushed against me, gasping as she did. I pulled back again. She pushed hard, gasping, sucking for air, groaning through her vocal cords.

Wow. Sixteen, and a pusher.

I began to ride her. Pumping my ass, pushing into her. Making a brand new, great big hole in her. The two beers, and the lube, and the hour of tongue lubrication, it was all coming together. I would be gentle, to the end.

She was tight, wrenching my shaft, nearly crushing my knob. The heat inside her was incredible. With the friction, it had to be. My cock was on fire. I ramped up the ride a little more. She went with me, out of survival. Together we built a nice rhythm, me pulling back, Taylor pushing forward. The grip on my cock meant I wasn’t going to last long. The grip, plus the fact she was sixteen, plus the fact she was gorgeous, plus the fact I was her first man, plus the fact she was tall and long and thin and narrow and sweet.

Where exactly in her body, was the bell of my cock?

I was toast.

I felt the twitch in my balls. Big time.

I held Taylor’s face. Told her I was about to cum.
She looked terrified.

What about a condom, she blurted?

Are you kidding me?

Silly girl.

Way too late.

Let this be a valuable lesson.

A life lesson, right Dr. Phil?

One. Get the condom on immediately.

Two. Don’t get into situations you may not be able to handle.

Three. Stay away from cocks as big as mine.

I was trying to keep my promise. I needed to be gentle, to the end. I would lay here and let her tight pussy squeeze the juice out of me.

When the second twitch hit my balls, I knew I had to leave her with a little bit of a memory. As in, what happens when you decide to fuck a real man?

I grabbed her sweet, near non-existent ass, pushed her back, and started to thrust. I pulled six inches out, and pushed in deep. Again. Again. Taylor looked confused. In danger. Terrified. Life threatened.

Here goes.

I pulled back, then slammed her home. Our groins collided. Her mouth flew open. She yelped. Surprised. Pained. Her face turned purple. I pulled back again. She came with me, her ass lifting off the bed.

Once more, then I would leave her alone. I was going to make a big impression on her memory board. I didn’t want her to think all guys will be gentle and sweet and nice to her. I would not allow such a disservice. A little pain now, to save a lot of pain later.

I pulled back, pushed her gazelle legs up and apart, lifted her off the bed, then drove her hard. She yelped and cried and gasped at the same time. This was good. This was the way. I felt my balls empty, sending the seed through my cock. She yelped again, not sure what was flooding into her. My cock bloomed, spreading her further. I bucked hard a few times, I couldn’t help it. When I was done, I looked down on her. Tears. Lots of them. A game fight for a smile. Panting. Biting at her lip. But tears.

I brushed her hair and face with my hand.

You did awesome babe. You did.

You are beautiful.

The words the ladies need to hear. At any age.

She did find a smile through the tears. I tried to pull out. Nope. I was going to have to wait. We were fused together. I touched her skin. Looked at her baby tits. Dropped my head. Gave her the ‘you are beautiful’ line again. Looked at her tits again. Her not quite growing tits.

Why not? It was the month of records, the month of firsts. I dropped my head down and licked over her nubs. She gasped again. I licked her ribs and belly button. Stopped myself. Because my cock would be stirring any second. I pulled back, grimaced, and tugged myself out of her. Another second of licking her perfect skin would have been trouble. For her.

I helped Taylor into the shower. Showered with her. She hugged me. Cried some more. Smiled. I rubbed soap all over her back and chest. On her ass. Suds in each hand. One hand on each ass cheek. I knelt down in the hot stream of water, washing her thighs and calves. I washed her feet, one a time. The cute little toenail polish, it matched the panties she was wearing. I felt as Jesus did. Performing miracles all over, yet humble enough to wash feet.

Did the big guy have chicks such as Taylor to wash up, back in the Testament days?

Fuck, I hope so dude.

The whole time we spent in the shower, my cock was in semi erect status. She actually reached for it.

Grasped it. Wondered at it. She stepped in close. Let go of my cock. Ran her fingers over my chest and arms. The hot water felt good. On both of us. She pulled my head close, began to kiss me. I kissed her back. She let me go.

She said, thank you.

I told her back, no babe, thank you.

She blushed. Smiled.

She was sore inside. Sore down there.

But she survived.

She attempted it. She accomplished it.

Chock up a big win for the Facebook generation.

Chock up a big win for the teenage girls of the world.

I helped her dress, which was a near orgasm inspiring exercise in itself. Walked with her, arm in arm, out to my car. Drove her home. Before I let her go, she pulled out her cell phone, leaned into me and snapped a pic. Good for her I thought. I dropped her three houses away, watching her limp home. Up the front sidewalk. Slipping in through the front door, slipping away from the night.

Taylor wouldn’t be walking straight for the next week. She would be the new queen of her peer group. As if she wasn’t already.

I pulled my scorecard from the dashboard junk holder.
Hole number sixteen.

Check.

Taylor.

I thought about the marks I would be issuing. I thought about the other teeny-boppers who might follow Taylor. I shook my head. This was good advertising. For my business. My fuck business.

Hole number sixteen.

The sixteen year old, Taylor. How appropriate. I am giving her a nine point five for looks. Because in two years’ time, she will be a ten.

The sack adventure?

For sure a nine as well. Call me crazy. The skin, the sugar sweet pussy. I spent nearly an hour on her pussy.

What did Enrique say? ‘Oh yes I like it!’

I sure did.

Click.

The number counter turned over.



[to be continued...............................]

Visit Ronan Jackson Jefferson on Facebook.

8 FIVE STAR Reviews from BARNES & NOBLE readers.
6 comments

Anonymous readerReport

2014-10-05 01:21:11
Your not kidding! Smoking hot!!

Anonymous readerReport

2014-07-30 16:24:07
hot stuff.

Anonymous readerReport

2014-04-30 02:59:03
warning: the guy posting below is really a fag, not interested in women!!!

Anonymous readerReport

2014-04-29 23:49:02
Beautiful. What an experience. For them both! To be young again......

Anonymous readerReport

2014-04-29 23:11:13
K'm funfun

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