You get a sense of foreboding and taboo even just approaching the blue mosaic entrance to the boys' lockers. Even though no one else will be in there, it feels somehow immoral. Summer steps past the threshold without a moment's hesitation, but you stop short.
Summer obviously isn't in a mood to wait any longer. "Don't be a pussy," she scolds. "What would the perverts in your dumbass cartoons do, huh? The only difference between locker rooms is that one has pink tile and the other one has blue tile. Come on."
It's hard to argue. You follow Summer through.
What she said seems true enough. It's a normal locker room: rows of lockers, with showers at one end, and offices for the male gym coaches. Summer takes a seat on one of the pinewood benches, and you gently set her bag at her feet. You're very close to her now, and you can smell the tang of her sweat, undergirded by the earthy tones of grass and dirt, and only faintly but distinctly made cleaner by the vestiges of her scented lotions. It's a complex and, if your being honest, intoxicating bouquet; distinctly Summer's. It turns you on. Maybe just thinking about what's to come, or knowing that she's all worked up right now, is responsible for the redirection of your blood flow to parts further south. But you think this smell alone is enough to set something off inside you. It has before, although you never really let it take hold the way you are now. You feel a little weak in your extremities.
But you aren't sure what to do. You don't have the easy rhythms with Summer that you've developed over years with Amber. Do you reach out, touch her, kiss her? Do you wait obediently for instruction? Summer isn't helping you out. She's just sitting there in her uniform, looking sternly back at you. Only after some long moments does she begin, finally, to get undressed. She moves slowly and makes awkward struggles against the clasps. It's sexy, anyway. Seeing her unwrap herself... and as she gets down to her skivvies, you can smell more strongly her perfumed lotions, and her sweat, too. The beads of perspiration run down her chest and torso in huge, thick channels, disappearing into her cleavage, pooling a bit in her navel, stippling her thighs. She's dirty and grimy with it. You lick your lips.
This is where you expect her to pin you down. But she just stands there.
You say, uncertainly: "Summer?"
She points. The command she pairs with the gesture lags by several seconds. "Sit!" She says. Her voice is harsh but has a catch to it at the same time.
You take a seat on the bench. She swoops in beside you, sitting on your right.
She draws some deep breaths, leans in, parts your bangs from your face to see you better. "Are you ready, to get, fucked?" She asks with stilted cadence, and putting way too much force behind the word "fucked." It sounds like a failed take in a low-budget porno.
"I'm ready," you tell her.
She blinks. She seems a little surprised. "Oh. Good. Well. You're about to get FUCKED."
"Fuck me," you tell her. It's a phrase you've practiced enough to capture the right balance between rasp and mewl.
She shrinks back from you just a bit. But then catches herself doing it, and lunges forward more insistently. She's shadowing you now, getting you half-supine. She wraps a hand around your throat, but puts absolutely no pressure on it. "You... want... this. You want this," she says, although it's more like she's trying to convince herself.
"Give it to me," you say, encouragingly.
"Oh, I'll give it. To you."
You purse your lips and close your eyes. Nothing comes. You feel her hand leave your neck.
When you sit up straight and open your eyes again, you find her hiding her face in both hands. "Are you okay?" You ask.
"Ivegoddaheadche" She says, voice nasal and muffled and stressed.
"Sorry. Do you still... want to..."
"Leabmealonde" she shouts. "Ivegoddaheadache. Imfind."
Your eyes search around. The truth is becoming clear in your mind. Summer Denali is a virgin. You expected that a girl like her, so popular, so athletic, so... slutty looking... would have tons more experience. And as forward as she was over texts with you, as forceful as she was even in person with you a couple days ago... you never expected this. But faced with the prospect of having to actually, for real, do the deed with you -- Summer has completely lost out to performance anxiety.
[ ] Sho ga nai. Show her how you like to be dominated.
[ ] This is your chance to take the lead, Wes! Don't waste it!
[x] Let's try something easy and gentle.
You pull Summer's hands away from her face. She makes it easy for you -- doesn't fight. Her face is beet red and her eyes are welling up.
"I... I..." she stutters. "I haven't."
"I didn't know," You say.
She rests her weight on one palm, leaning away from you. "Oh gosh. My heart is beating so fast. I didn't think it would be this-- this hard." She brings herself to look you in the eye. "I thought a girl like you would be a virgin too. I mean -- no offense, but you're not exactly popular."
"How is that my fault?"
"It's whatever," Summer says. "I don't care. You're still -- you're still cute. I like you. Even if you're weird." She curls and uncurls her toes on the tiled floor. "I always figured if we got together, we'd learn together, you know? But you're so far ahead of me. I tried to keep up..." She smiles through the sadness: "I guess I'm a real disappointment, huh?"
You kiss her.
You hold the back of her head and pull her close, your mouth on hers, in the middle of this boys-only locker room. Her lips are incredibly soft from the constant application of gloss. Her tongue is hot, and tastes like a stick of cinnamon chewing gum. Mixed with that is the salty taste of sweat from the extreme edges of her mouth. She isn't sure what to do, but she tries her best to kiss you back. She wags her tongue around, a bit too eagerly, and mates it with yours. You've been secretly worried that she would be repulsed by actual physical contact with you -- that she'd think your breath was gross or that you stank or that your skin was too pale and sickly or that you were too scrawny. But she warms to your kiss. Her breath hitches and she lets a little moan escape. Her skin is feverish, getting hotter.
She hugs your insubstantial body closer to her. Summer is so paradoxically soft and firm, her skin so taut but with such unending give to it, that it makes you want to swoon. You let your hands roam and explore her mostly naked body. You squeeze her randomly. Her back, her sides, down by her butt. You don't find anywhere to lay your hand without excess skin to half-envelop your digits. She isn't fat, but she's no skeleton, either. She's like an enormous person-sized pillow, all for you.
"Hold on, hold on," she repeats. She pushes you lightly back. "I'm actually really gross right now. I should shower first."
"No," you moan desperately, and dive back in for a kiss. She can't resist returning it. You make out with her, jabbing your tongue into her mouth, as you fight your blouse up and off your body. You stop kissing only long enough to pull the top over your head and chuck it -- Summer helps -- then it's back to enjoying the warmth of her inexperienced mouth. She undoes the clasps on your skirt, and you shimmy from them. Blindly you snake a palm down her slick belly, and find the crotch of her panties. She wore tiger print today -- silk. They're ruined. They're completely inundated with sweat and arousal, sticky, sodden, and you can smell them from here.
Summer returns your gesture, gets her hand cupped over the crotch of your plain white briefs. Kissing, wagging your tongues together, you tickle one another through your underwear. All this gentle foreplay carries the low-level but constant thrill of danger -- the danger of being caught out. Two girls caught doing it in the boys' locker room... would be infinite gossip fodder for everyone at school. You'd never hear the end of it. And you don't care.
"Are you really -- okay -- with me being all -- sweaty and gross?" Summer huffs between kisses.
"Yes," you pant back. "I love it." You punctuate that by slipping your hand past the waistband of her panties. Your heart overflows with excitement at touching, directly, skin-to-skin, the squishiness of Summer's vulva, that's been marinating all day in her sweat and cream.
"Freak," she murmurs lovingly. "Pervert."
"We can go slow," you whisper. You feel up and grope the inwardly-turned folds of her cunt, no shame, and writhe against her, against her curious fingers that are still too timid to push past your panties. You press against her invitingly smooth, soft body. You put a cheek to hers and continue: "Slow is fine, but I need it now... no shower. No waiting."
Your arousal has made you bold. Summer accepts it. She nods.
You kiss her up and down her face. She turns this way and that to let you. "Do you want me to eat you?" You ask.
She nods again, her blonde bangs swaying.
You undo the hooks of her bra and toss it aside. Summer's tits are wet, each one individually almost as big as your head, each one adorned with enormous, dark pink aereolae and fat, hard nipples. You've only ever fooled around with Amber. You've never played with a chest like this before. So you can't believe how spongy and springy her breasts are. You're transfixed by them. And so, as if by instinct, you trail kisses down her tensing neck, past the hollow of it where her sweat is extra concentrated. Across the expanse of her bust and over her heavy, perky, hot and heaving breasts. You lick up all the sourness of her perspiration and the last oily residue of her lotion, not caring about drinking it down, and you latch your lips to her nipple like you're nursing on her. You paw at the tit you aren't sucking, while still tickling her down there with your other hand, too. She opens up to your violation, gasping with a deep and sexy voice, spreading her legs, leaning back on the bench. You follow her. Down, down, down, until she's on her back and you're over top of her.
She chews her knuckles to keep from crying out. You suck her nipple, that throbs and pulses against your lapping tongue, and with that you start to finger her. Your index finger slides in easily, your middle finger with small effort, and then with some forcing, your ring finger. Using all three fingers, you masturbate her. The heel of your palm mashes down against her clit. You play with her unbelievably hot interior and explore its interesting textures, creases, and crevices. You wonder what it would be like to have a cock to fuck her with. It would probably feel really, really good.
"Wes... Wes, I'm gonna..."
You grin at her from across the top of her boobs. You said you'd eat her out, and god, do you want to. So you slide a bit further down, running your face across her sun-kissed, slippery, dirty body. Her thighs are even softer than her tits, and from up close you can see how tight her panties fit -- how they bite into her skin and leave cruel, deep indentations. Her legs are close enough together that, when you put your lips and nose against the crotch of her panties, her inner thighs press against the sides of your face. It contorts your features and makes you feel like such a slut.
Out of consideration, Summer tries to widen her stance. But you stop her, one arm looping around either of her of her legs, pressing them even tighter to you. You want her to smother you a bit. You adore this feeling, the feeling of this womanly body trapping you. Oppressing you. And here, at the seat of her womanhood, her unique Summer scent is most concentrated. The dirty parts of her: the grime and funk of playing sports all day in the sun. The feminine parts of her: her soaps and perfumes, her skin care products, her naturally neutral, light and airy body odor. And her sex. The smell of her pussy leaking like a busted faucet, directly into her underwear -- the smell of a cunt absolutely fucking screaming some relief. That smell is the strongest of all.
"Please... lick me..." Summer begs.
You could honestly lie here all day and night, just inhaling the brain-melting scent of Summer's cunt through her underwear. You could die like this. But licking her out is going to be even better, you know. You tug her panties, pulling them partway down. They bunch up and twist and roll as they slide down her thighs. You get them off, but leave them dangling around of her ankles, as you dive back in.
Summer's entire body from head to toe is evenly colored, and her genitals are no different. Her pussy is as brown as the rest of her. You love it. The dewy, quivering lips, totally smooth and tucked in, glimmer under the lights. You can just barely spy her clit poking out through the meaty folds at the top of her labia. It's the perfect twat. It belongs in a museum.
Making an O with your lips, you encircle as much of that slit as is possible. You grunt, eyes rolling back, when your tongue makes contact. Her cunt's got all five flavors: the salt of her copious sweat, the sourness of her arousal, the bitterness of the day's grime, the sugary sweetness of her womanly body -- and the squishy, sticky, meaty texture of a cunt all primed and ready to cum. You breathe hard through your nostrils, knowing that your puffing breaths are blowing needles of air directly against her clitoris. You moan helplessly around her.
Summer sighs and coos and whines. She's being overwhelmed by these sensations. "It's so wet..." she says, half out of breath. "So hot... you're so good at this..."
Her voice cuts out with a hiccupy "ahh--" when your tongue presses past the entrance to her vagina. She's fucking tight, so tight, but her pussy spreads apart for you. You swab it. You lick her all up. But you need more, more, more... much more. Pulling off, your chin shiny with her fluids, you beg her in a hoarse voice: "stand up a minute-- get up--"
She does as asked. As she weakly stands, you draw beneath her. She seems to grasp what your want: she bends a little at the waist, bracing her weight against the benchtop with both palms. You pry her fleshy ass apart. Even the insides of her ass cheeks are tanned, and the pucker hidden there is the exact same honey-golden color as all the rest of her. You bury your face in it. You hug her around her belly to prevent her getting away and drown yourself in her sweaty butt. Like a fucking dog, you nod your head up and down, with your tongue wagging out, to totally and completely stain yourself with her. To totally and completely eat every square millimeter of her tender cunt and ass. To totally and completely wallow in her smell and taste.
"Fffff--" she hisses, unable to even get the word "fuck" out. She bucks against you. You hold her tighter. She's leaking so much now -- a steady stream of her juice that flows to the back of your throat and into your hungry tummy. It's warm and thick, it coats your esophagus and cloys. You nearly gag. Summer begins to sway, unable to keep her balance for long. You try to make her cum before then, but you don't succeed. She slips, one arm suddenly going out from under her, and she falls, and slides, and ends up lying on the tile floor like a ragdoll.
You get on top of her again, facing the opposite direction. Swinging your legs to straddle her, you enter into a 69 position.
"Yes, god yes," she groans, grabbing your butt with both hands and pulling you into her face. Like you with her, Summer must adore your scent -- she imitates your nodding method of smearing cunt juice all over herself. Your pheromones are in perfect harmony.
You lie fully atop her, weight pressing down. You can feel her nipples, so hard against your belly, and her navel, so yielding against your chest. Down here, in among her discarded clothes, smacks of being in the middle of a baseball park. If you close your eyes, you can imagine that you're 69ing with her right in the middle of center field. A puddle forms beneath her as you eat her.
And Summer, however unused she is to sex, picks up fast. Even through the barrier of your panties, her probing tongue and desperate sucking, inhaling nips and kisses bring you to the edge.
"I'm gonna cum," you warn her, between loving kisses to her slit.
"Do it..."
"You want me to cum on your face?" you grunt.
"Yeah... I'm gonna cum too, babe -- let's cum on each other's faces... oh, fuck... fuck, babe, fuck..."
You let go of the last bit of tension in your body. No need to hold back. Your muscles relax, your pussy flutters. You cum. You fucking cum in your underwear, and all over Summer. In exchange for cumming on her, you get your reward: Summer's pussy lips clench and flex against your insistent tongue, then go all loose when she hits the peak.
Summer is no squirter. She gushes. When she gets her nut, it's just a weak but voluminous drool of girlcum that flows in steady pulses from her deepest parts. Like lapping waves on a beach: ebbing and flowing with a regular, consistent, agonizingly blissful rhythm. Between each pulse of cum she blows, her whole pussy quivers like gelatin. It's such a pleasing pattern. Drool, quiver, drool, quiver: she shamelessly creams your face. On the floor, here at school, in a boys' locker: you ejaculate together, the first of what you hope will be many hot and nasty orgasms you wring from each other.
GIRLS FUCKED: 2/8