Old Darrell Dobson plucked away at his autoharp, mumbling along with it horrendously out of tune, yelping during key changes. Roosters crowing every which way in the farm town were a perfect accompaniment for this sunrise field recording by a folk music enthusiast out of the city. Peter Bascom, retired professor held a fresh cup of joe in one hand and a microphone in the other, trailing the aged farmhand close. He looked like he was about to say something.
“This is a fine morning for us folk,” he drawled, a drop making its lurid way into a spitoon by his foot. Another one missed and landed on the porch. This is so real, Bascom thought, down home country goodness. The mic made its way closer to Darrell’s ragged, timeworn face. There was such simple beauty in his voice, that spoke of all sorts of hardships and lived-in moments.
“How’s that?” asked Bascom, trying not to impede the slow flow of his surroundings. He could smell bacon and grits coming from inside, heralding a fine start to a rustic day.
“Well, y’see it’s not overcast a’tall and that sun up yonder is fixin’ to be mighty big and bright today, and well..” He looked over at the hillside and seemed to dwell on some mystically wise notion. “On hot days like this, all the pretty little schoolgirls line up at the bus stop wearin’ next to nothin’, and by gum if their bitties-n-titties ain’t about to pop right on out!”
The retired professor lost the gleam in his eye and stopped the tape until Darrell started playing music again.
“Moderation is the key here at Cherry Cove,” Carmen gabbed before popping a bubble of that strange, sticky stuff. She threw another stick in her mouth. Abbey was taking some mental notes as Sandy tried to see herself in her nails, getting bored fast. Homeroom sucked.
“Why do you keep calling it Cherry Cove?” Sandy asked, almost mortified of a snide response. Trouble with Carmen was basically worse than trouble with the principal. She bit her insufferably wet tongue, and tried to finish the stupid pop quiz.
Carmen thought about it for a moment. Why did she call it Cherry Cove? She must have had cherries on the brain or something. “Oh!” It came to her in a stuttering rush, the likes of which made her relinquish a daub of fruity drool. “It’s ‘cuz I got this cherry gum!”
She laughed chirpily and so the other girls did too. Abbey tugged at her own wad of gum self-consciously. She knew that foggy and forgetful feeling all too well. There were so many different kinds of weird Kelly Green brand chewing gums, and all of them were delicious in new and exciting ways.
Not to mention the.. health and beauty benefits of continued chewing. Avocado flavor strengthened her fingernails and healed her new piercings pretty fast, and it went well with other gums. But whenever she combined it with Cactus Candy Crush, as she was wont to do during these pop quizzes, it made her all soppy and sweaty. Abbey blew a stupid big bubble.
It was all so.. annoying. So why did she simply steel herself for the beads of sweat, in content anticipation? Those pop quizzes were just the pits! Abbey chomped down and siphoned more use out of the pulpy, chewy wad. She gazed lazily at the deafeningly blank answers on her quiz sheet, overheated gooeyness pre-empting applicable thought.
“Just let it go, feel the holy spirit in you,” implored Carmen, perking back up. It was a good thing she remembered to close her legs. Who knew how long she had been seated all splayed out in the third row of the social studies class? “Satan wants us to fail. He wants us not to chew any Kelly Green gum at all, but we know better. The key is, like totally mastur—er—moderation. That’s the gate to the kingdom of heaven,” she assured the girls, unsticking a deflated bubble from her chin. She adjusted a sparkly pendant nestled in her caramel cleavage.
Those things were really what made Carmen’s word something for Sandy to respect and pay attention to. Sandy knew her own body was nothing to sneeze at, but here it was only the third day of classes at Forward Mothers Prepatory High and Carmen looked more everyday like she had her glittery, coquettish eyes on the prize.
“If you’re up to three packs of gum a day like me,” she slurped, relishing the juices from the newest flavor as they slid down her throat, “you’ll..” She paused before finally giving up the idea of having clean, dry panties. “You’ll start to get these.”
Carmen unzipped her cream colored pullover and let her fresh double-Ds breathe and bounce into prominence underneath a snug, low-cut satin halter. A trickle of glistening sweat glazed the tiny goosebumps budding on her full jugs. She cupped one for emphasis.
Sandy squirmed in her desk. “It seems like all I do is chew chew chew,” she bemoaned, “and my titties aren’t anywhere near as.. glamorous as yours.” She sank into her seat, carelessly letting her blonde curls fall over her face. She tried to remember why this all mattered so much in the first place.
“Oh, your tits are bound to come in,” Carmen assured her, her fingers lithely tickling Sandy’s already substantial nipples, which rested freely beneath a ribbed white cotton v-neck, a pair of 36C love cups given to her by her new fake sister back “home” on her nightstand, freshly outgrown. “Once I found out I was really sixteen and not eighteen like on my old ID that I can’t find anymore,” she smacked, “they just couldn’t stop growing.”
She let them lazily slide back and forth, reveling in the idea that she had had knockers on Tuesday and udders today. At least that’s what Father Paul had told her while he was titty-fucking her for being late. She chipped some paint off her nail. He also called them “swangers”.
“But they’re so.. heavy!” Sandy marveled. “Aren’t you starting to have back prob—hey, wait a second!” She cleared a drop of drool from her lower lip and struggled so desperately to remember why she felt the need to ask why every new girl in town having to adopt a younger age. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to know what the whole deal was. But the more she thought about it, the more she felt self-conscious and catty too. The last thing she wanted to do was be rude to her classmates. Besides, she couldn’t be sure if this girl really was sixteen.
Carmen took out a boob and let it fall in front of the girls like a sandbag. Then she pulled out a well-slathered bunch of gum and coiled it around her finger like string. “What am I waiting for?” The younger, greener Abbey’s eyes couldn’t help but get mentally derailed and idly trace the creamy contours of the girl’s tit. A big triple-pounder of backwoods sustenance, it was subtly veiny and looked angry with milk. She could have sworn she saw a little bit dribble out of its big brown nipple, reacting to the pheromone-fresh air. Sandy thought she could smell it. “Sweetheart,” Carmen chided, “what was it you wanted to say to me?”
Sandy sputtered, her slick sticky pussy now practically dousing her panties. She rubbed her hands over her thick young thighs and their warmth flowed through her in a delectably strange wave. Flashes of memory sped through her softening mind. Racing to the vegan lunch cart on her bike. Jumping over subway gates. Deftly maneuvering basement parties unnoticed if she wanted to avoid that creepy bass player that hit on her at the roller derby. Doing all the things a seasoned twenty-year-old city kid would do.
She couldn’t imagine doing any of those things now. She was getting too slow, too thick out here in church country. Frankly, she was grateful that her body took up more room in the world. She would be just that much more beauty and booty perfuming the air, making other brains and bodies slack with desire. She wasn’t really worried about it if that was all it took to be a successful seventeen-year-old, and it did seem a lot more luxurious and comfortable to sit on laps and train to breed than it ever did to be forced to eat only a bowl of rice most of the week, but.. but..
“I just,” Sandy couldn’t disguise her look of dumbfounded frustration any longer. It rippled across her cute little brow and plumped up a sour lip. “I just was wondering if I could touch it.” Carmen shot her a quizzical look. Abbey almost squealed. “Your boobie,” Sandy demurred.
Carmen gave pause for a moment. “Honey, you can do more than touch it,” she purred, and presented her breast to Sandy’s face, centimeters away from her lips. “Go ahead,” she said, sticking her gum underneath her desk, “you know you want to. You probably have already tried it with other girls.” She gave in to a kiss from Abbey, who couldn’t resist herself and hopped up onto her desk. Sandy huddled closer around the steaming, connected girl mass and remembered that she in fact had done this before. It was a false memory. It was so easy.
As she tentatively but soon expertly suckled the kinda cherry, kinda lettucey cream of her new classmate’s proud, jiggly pillow, she half-recalled a hazy homecoming game from one or two autumns ago. Something about pre-game cheerleader initiation rites. Lots of swaying tits and big fake rubber dicks. Wondering if her sister would take away chatroom priveleges if she spent too much time in the bleachers, exploring her lush new high school career. It was innocent enough, she still held onto her virginity. Somehow.
But that was like so two years ago! She was a seasoned pro at this milk stuff now, certainly no puny Freshman, and had soon gulped down a pint of Carmen, keeping careful to not let any dribble down her chin. But when it did, as always it had to, she reached under her tank top and rubbed the stuff on her boobies. Every little bit helps, she reminded herself, and without fail the three girls became so wrapped up in this hot soup that they barely noticed Mr. Jenks come in, or how hunky he was.
He gazed over at them, grinning ear to ear. Days like this one just made him lighten up about the fact that he was once an accredited, well-respected junior college professor, and that here he was, in charge of making sure the girls were always chomping gum and inspecting proper and improper neckline droops. If it was all just a silly game, then why was it getting harder and harder to think of acceptable rules, especially the harder he got?
He lingered long over at their corner of the room. He recognized two of them as new girls, and was simply astounded at how well they were coming along. That chick with the big hips is gonna be in the family way by Sunday, he thought to himself. Most of the class was already showing off little first-trimester tummies. His cock sprang up inside his jockeys as he surveyed the class. It took him five extra minutes to do a roll call.
Kyle hammered away at the planks of wood that littered the living room floor. He and Laurel, a fellow student at Drexel, had been refurbishing the old homestead on the border of Cherub Cove and the real world since early in the afternoon. It was a very timely, cost effective way to help their chapter of Habitat For Humanity around the vaction. “Christmas in April my left nut,” thought Laurel, sweeping away scraps of debris.
They were just about the only students staying on campus during spring break, so putting beds and bureaus together for a little hospitalized old lady seemed like the thing to do, to do their part. Now, the sun was going down on the ailing house at the base of the mountain and the bunk bed they were building was just about finished.
“You want a beer?” Kyle asked. It was the first word either of them had said for hours. He was a silent, square-jawed, fratty type of guy. Which was convenient, because that meant he wasn’t Laurel’s type at all. The only time he had really said anything beyond relaying instructions was when he intimated crucial details about birthday keggers he threw for his, undoubtedly also blonde, buddies back home, wherever that was.
No, I don’t want a fucking beer, you stupid jock! she thought, then rescinded. After all, he couldn’t be that lame of a guy if he was giving up his vacation to help the less fortunate.
“Yeah, sure, I guess,” she said, and as he ripped the cap off with his teeth, she dug in inquisitively. “Why are you working here today? I never saw you at any Habitat meetings.” In fact, she barely saw anybody at the meetings. Rich, the pimply and bespectacled charter president, was so enthused at a one-time draw of four people that he saw fit to order an extra-large pizza. Laurel shuddered at the memory, and at the other campus co-eds’ lack of empathy.
Kyle wiped his sweaty forehead on his sleeve and handed her the beer. “Well, I..” he paused, as if shifting the forthcoming sentence around in his brain. “I was asked to help you out here and make sure you didn’t get into any trouble. Old lady McKinnon is a very prominent host house for the contractor I work for.” Although she certainly had no idea what context he meant to fit “host house” into, she didn’t exactly feel any more comfortable by her co-volunteer’s answer, which provided only more questions.
“So you think I’m just some chick, huh? I can’t take care of myself, is that it?” She didn’t know why, but she was just put off by jocks. If she saw a guy with muscles in a California tee who smelled like deodorizing cologne, she immediately felt aggravated and defensive. Even if he was helpful, there was just something off about him. “Or do you just—”
“No, Laurel.. it’s Laurel, right? Laurel, while I do admit it it’s not my preference to be here, I am loyal to my boss and I’m not here to hurt you. Also, and I’m not supposed to tell you this, but.. Well, Rich is getting canned and they’re looking for someone capable to replace him.” The implications of this did not go unnoticed.
Laurel blushed. “I’m sorry, Kyle. I barely even know you and I’m losing my temper over nothing!” Kyle just stood and looked at her, almost done with his beer already.
“Well, if you want to get out of here any early at all, maybe you should get that box of decorations over there and start hanging them on the tree.” It was a massive spruce, and it sure looked lonely. But—but she wasn’t in the mood to be bossed around like this!
“Sure, leave the interior design to the woman, right?” She huffed and puffed but still found herself making her way to the cardboard box of holiday trinkets. Silver garland lay twisted and unraveling out into the open. Birds were chirping and everything was green and the sun was so hot, streaming in like jacuzzi jets. “I can use a hammer.”
She really couldn’t, though. Any kind of work she had done on the bunk bed was useless and soon fixed by this guy. The only things she had really been successful at were holding planks as he nailed them together, or giving him more nails. It was no use to try to argue any further with this guy. It was Christmas in April, after all. Besides, he was nice enough not to argue with her about her hammer ability.
She sighed, resigned herself to her fate, and stepped up on a stool to make the tree look nice. Holding the box, she fished out a shiny star and stretched her arms up high, trying to reach the top of the tree.
“Why are we building a bunk bed, anyway?” Laurel felt strange. Not only did it seem like Kyle was staring at her, it also, from the back of her head, felt like he was sizing her up. She didn’t even consider that it was another assumption, but instead heard a click and shot backwards.
“You’re.. taking a picture of my butt!” she accused, and pulled her tank top down. She went to get her sweatshirt and bag and head back to the dorm and away from this idiot.
“No!” Kyle called after her. “No, I’m just calling the chimney sweep. I was told to—”
“Chimney sweep? What kind of idiot do you think I am?”
“The.. sweetest little idiot in the world?” he chirped, holding out a handful of nails flecked with chips of white paint. His hand was massive and craggy and.. sort of reassuring? She laughed softly and tried to open a second beer with her own teeth. Kyle grabbed it without hesitation and clobbered it with his jaw. It seemed unusually hot outside for April Fool’s Day.
Joey left Philly right after sundown to assess all the damage this odd little country town was doing to his girlfriend. And to hopefully stop and reverse a lot of it. He had raced in his car onto the freeway as soon as he got off work, not even bothering to stop at his apartment to fetch his mp3 player.
Some local college station playing some spastic hardcore music drifted in and out of the sedan’s speakers in bleak crescendos. But the farther he rolled away from the city, the more a crusty wave of crushing static overpowered his eardrums. It was actually a nice noise hat complemented a heated frustration raging in his guts. He was trying hard, but just couldn’t shake the image fighting for space in his brain.
It was a webcam shot of his girlfriend in her own office nook in her new foster house. That aspect of the jpeg was okay by him. That part of the picture was normal. In fact, he had been more than ecstatic that she had gone down to Cherub Cove to pursue her journalism dreams. In past weeks, he was so supportive that he let it slide when she quizzically missed their online chat dates.
The night before was one of the first times in a little over a week that he was able to catch her and talk to her for more than a few minutes. He almost wished he hadn’t. He recognized her office in the video chat well enough, but he had no clue who this.. overdeveloped farm girl was, barely sitting still in the frame.
The near-cartoonish buck teeth aside, the healthy country boobs Carmen now sported screamed out to him even as her face wouldn’t. There was enough new and different stuff bouncing around in her chest. The answers of an active, strangely-paced lifestyle were scrawled across her jugs. Secrets that yearned to bust free of a skintight and sheer leotard. He had briefly considered not even IMing her.
But he did. He had to. Every time a new frame appeared, jogging blockily from her lagging webcam, his heart sunk two more inches. A bit of spinach stuck in her teeth. How she must have been wearing something like.. baby oil on those mesmerizing and massive new titties. How her lips got puffier and how they seemed to dumben the rest of her perfect face. With each new thing he noticed about Carmen, his heart sunk lower and lower.
Eventually his ailing heart was at crotch level. His despair and inadequacy to stop his fiancee’s transformation were getting Joey so distraught that the only thing he had left in him to do was get hard. As much as what she was typing to him about cute young priests and “holy keg nights” was worrying him, he had to admit her fresh tan suited her sultry and blossoming body.
Just these phone quality shots of the precocious-looking sexbomb could steer him away from addressing the awfully frequent-sounding baby showers she said she attended. Even now on the highway the next day, these framegrabs haunted him. He turned the static pounding on the FM way up, and tried, really tried to ignore the angry boner broiling and threatening his jeans. She was only about two hours away. He had to get her out of that horrible place.
Sandy and Carmen were both being held after school by Coach Jessup for talking during trampoline time in gym class. Well, to be fair, Sandy got detention mostly for doing such a poor job with the pole climb activity.
It took almost five spankings, unfortunately in front of about twenty other students, for her to realize that she only had to sort of work the pole and not just climb it. Like a stripper or something. She put up quite a fuss and actually found the nerve to ask if it was really appropriate for the curriculum. Strangely enough, she didn’t think to ask what dating tips had to do with social studies, or why there was a makeup class. She also made the mistake of talking about college courses she took.
The giggles of her classmates still stung her, but they were quite far away now, and soothingly so. The physical discomfort of a swatted ass was a distant memory as the soupy wet heat of the school sauna eased her mind. Coach Jessup certainly was nice enough to let the two girls relax in there without their confining leotards after a half hour of toe touches, so there were no complaints there. Some genuine concern was still hanging around, like a faint babbling brook in the distance, though, and she felt comfortable enough to address it with Carmen.
Very comfortable, in fact. She scooted her naked, dripping rump closer to what was now her new role model. She half-consciously began to stroke the girl’s nipples. They were big and brown and Carmen’s light latina complexion reminded Sandy of the piece of caramel cream gum she had been relishing for quite a while. The wad had just started to deteriorate and the saucy, gelatinous spit it gave her coated her gums. When she opened her mouth to speak, her lips audibly smacked open. She had to swallow a bunch of candied saliva to get a single word out.
“When I came to this town,” she managed, still idly tracing her companion’s areola, “I thought I would only be here for a night or two. Now, I barely remember why. And I could have sworn I was older than seventeen. I—I’m twenty. I’m almost sure of it.” Carmen’s dubious gaze infected Sandy with a wave of embarassment. “But then, why would I be so bad at easy high school shit?”
She suddenly remembered in brief, profound flashes that she had to repeat ninth grade, much to the chagrin of her sister Myra and her husband Clyde. That could definitely account for her feeling older. Still, why did she have those hazy memories of college, of bikes and.. Grant? Why could she so clearly see this middle-aged man and who was he? Why did his blurry image give her warm and pleasant feelings? She sunk lower onto the hot bench and comfortably nestled herself into Carmen’s welcoming, pheromone-infested armpit.
Bikes. She scolded herself for letting her mind drift their way. They just brought frustration and an itchy ass. “Oh, I don’t know, Carmen, I just feel so strange. I know it sounds mental, but sometimes I just get so fixated on escape. And whenever I think about it, or even worse, if I try it, I just get so.. well, horny.. and... hungry.” Just like now, she thought and shuddered, her hand growing a mind of its own and snaking playfully across her soaking snatch.
Carmen understood that ignoring her past life was going to be impossible for Sandy. She thought about her own boyfriend and was thanking God they were still together and that she didn’t have to invent a new history and dupe herself to cope with all her foreign and sedentary sexiness. It was beautiful luck to have Father Paul around to help her deal with being away from him She felt most confident about her life at Cherub Cove when she was being plugged at the reverend’s rectory bedroom.
She felt a little twinge of guilt, remembering that Joey was actually coming to visit later on that night. Oh well, she reasoned, what he won’t know won’t hurt him. Besides, it wasn’t cheating to get fucked in the butt. It was just an innocent, flirty reminder that she was maintaining her fidelity and love: just a hint of what it would feel like really.
Even if he had snuck it in her pussy once or twice. Even if she had gotten pregnant with his child the last time he did. That was a big blessing that made her really proud, but it made her feel guilty anyhow as she had Joey visit three times now and still hadn’t told him. Now she was getting hot, and, seeking to do something about it, glanced at her project pupil who was rapt, staring at her hardening puffy nipples.
She eased the bubbling blonde’s head gently down, but didn’t even have to present her massive mam to her mouth. Sandy adorably attacked it all on her own, letting the sweet buttery liquid gush and cascade down her throat, sating her stomach and sending a spreading glow throughout her pelvis. She suddenly couldn’t think of anything else but milk and tits and fresh marigolds. There was certainly not a micron of room in that dribbling brain of hers for any worry whatsoever. She simply found a comfortable drinking position and let Carmen’s sugary voice melt her in the soup of the sauna.
“I used to have these weird stories in my brain too,” she cooed, petting Sandy’s lustrous and thick hair as she was getting dutifully milked. Her boob was so big and fat she could barely see the girl’s soft suckling face but knew she had her attention. She wasn’t sure just when her chest would peter out and stop growing, but she was delighted at how huge the things were getting.
Sandy’s unfortunately weren’t expanding in tandem with her hips and ass and in health class they said that happens when schoolgirls fight the family way, when they can’t let go of a nagging past. “It’s just so much easier to concentrate on the present and the future and girl, let me tell you..” Her spongy nipple stiffened in the air, Sandy obviously pulling away for a brief second in careful consideration. “I see a lot of milk and happy people in your future!”
The slippery girl’s brain and crotch creamed in approval of the enticing idea of more milk. “And when you can prove to the parish and the principal that you’re comfortable and willing, I don’t see why you wouldn’t start to make your own milk.” Sandy squirmed, her head now subconsciously fidgeting in Carmen’s lap. She felt like a stupid kid, gracious for the sustenance that was now moving from her tummy to her pitiful C-cups. She drooled just a tiny bit and licked her lips. They were glossy and sticky with caramel. Milk. Every time she heard or thought of that word, her mind melted into miracle goo.
Carmen pushed an oversized breast down so she could get a good look of her disciple’s face. She understood the dim, agape look and knew the second phase of Sandy’s “welcoming” could begin. After coaxing her head down to her other milk jug, she wiped a layer of fog off the concealed camera when the girl was preoccupied with her enticing meal.
This was to send a signal to Coach Jessup that Sandy was almost ready for emergency treatment. In the P.E. office, he could plainly see the hot scene going on in the sauna. To a new member of the faculty, it would look a little unbelievable. However, he had been in Cherub Cove for ten years. In fact, he had been rather instrumental in building the place from the bottom up, when it had just been a tiny cluster of gullible families. Now it was one of the fastest-growing townships in Pennsylvania, in more ways than one.
The two juniors were stroking each other’s sweaty cunts. His fat cock sprang forth, tenting his already tight gym shorts. He didn’t want to risk cumming early, so he didn’t bother to touch it. It was hard to resist, as the sloppy scene on the security monitor was so sexy it almost felt like it was fucking him. That’s one thing that astounded him after all this time. The women they got to repeat high school and train for motherhood just got hotter and hotter. He was happy to do his part.
Ten minutes later, the fast friends were holding hands and chatting, still squirming and sexed-up. They had made out and fondled one another until their limbs were like noodles, heavy with steamy exhaustion. Carmen had dared to inquire about Sandy’s past and to her gleeful surprise, found she needed no coaching and showed no lapses toward her past. A sauna was surely the perfect venue for welcoming. Sandy opened up about staying behind for another freshman year.
She didn’t need to be steered toward the topic of oral, spinning a yarn about going down on her brother-in-law after he found her fourth quarter report card and how thick his rod felt getting doused in her happy throat. Carmen saw in the girl’s eyes that she believed what she said, and the level of detail was startling. If she had been with her during D period biology class when they were going over ideal and preferred sucking techniques, she would know that she was just conflating that information with a made-up memory. Still, the expertise shown was stunning. She was getting juicy again in anticipation of watching this eager beaver in action. There was just one more thing.
“Sandy,” Carmen started authoritatively, “what colleges are you looking at?” She smirked at her question, knowing full well that the girl was guilty in taking too much pride in her matriculating past earlier in the afternoon. She, in fact, wouldn’t shut up about how she was on the dean’s list and how demeaning it was to work a pole for a credit, even if it was easy. Sandy now, however, looked befuddled and even a little pouty. She burped and the hot scent of milk-breath permeated the sauna.
“I guess I never really thought about it,” she said, hopeful that the answer would suffice on its own. Though this doubtlessly turned Carmen on, her eyes lifted as if to goad more from her. Sandy struggled to think of a why. College was just the farthest thing from her brain. It was hard enough to even pass to the next grade in high school. But there had to be reason why. She slowly scanned her gauzy brain, but in the process couldn’t stop staring at Carmen’s swaying, moist boobies.
Carmen noticed and juggled her breasts jovially. “And what are these for?” she sing-songed, as if she was teaching addition and subtraction. Watching and listening from his office, Coach Jessup thought about what a great mom Carmen would make. And this other chick, too, but she still had to want it. He begged the image on the screen to answer correctly so he could rush in and finish the process. Sandy thought slowly and the answer dawned on her, hypnotized and made jelly by the beautiful picture of fertility in her hand.
“For feeding babies?” she answered reluctantly, hoping the obvious answer was actually obvious for a reason. Carmen squealed, content that the first step was done with and she had taken a girl under her wing successfully. She had attempted a full conversion before, but since she hadn’t needed one (folks just marvelled at how she picked up the Pilgrim’s Promise so quickly) the two girls she had tried this with before were still holding onto their stupid, interfering pasts and their cases got handed off to the principal or another student for a retry.
She tickled Sandy in her plush side and nodded that yes, she said the right thing. This made the new girl proud and she immediately forgot what they were even talking about, sucking greedily again from Carmen. She had drank enough to give her belly a slight bloat, and found that the stuff was now settling a little bit higher than her stomach, which was way too full. It was weird, but it felt almost like the milk was settling in—
Coach Jessup rapped annoyingly at the window and ripped the girls away from their flowery reverie. “You girls have been in there for over a half hour, I think it’s past time that you come on out. Report to the half-court line after you get your gym clothes back on.” He peered in and then disappeared. Sandy would have spent another several minutes in there if Carmen hadn’t pulled her out by the arm, a dopey smile plastered over her sweaty, flustered face as she flopped into the locker room.
She blew some matted hairs from her forehead and rushed to put her purple leotard on. It looked good enough on her, but she still felt inadequate. I couldn’t feed anything with these stupid things, she bemoaned, looking down at her perfectly sizable breasts. She still felt a weird heat in them, exacerbated by the clingy spandex. She tweaked a nipple as if that would explain the sensation. She slumped down on a bench and shut her eyes, enjoying her chest.
When she had opened them a minute or so later, she met eyes with her mentor and Coach Jessup. She looked so cute in her little pink one-piece.
“We’ve been waiting for ten minutes,” Carmen said, somewhere between annoyed and concerned. “Come on,” she asserted, and dragged her onto the gym floor by the wrist again. It felt good to just go along with whatever Carmen wanted. But right now it seemed like she wanted Sandy to take charge of herself. She couldn’t help but notice Coach was so obviously hard. Without fully comprehending why, she began to drool. Carmen was nice enough to dry the girl’s lips off with a kiss.
“Drink this,” she offered a white plastic bottle to Sandy labelled “Prepatory Energy Shake”. She hadn’t even looked at the label before she downed the whole thing in two gulps. Her stomach still felt full, but now her boobs were feeling.. hungry? How was that even possible? “How did that taste?” Carmen knew it was a chilled mixture of Farmer’s Cum and the coach’s semen, but didn’t want to let on in the slightest bit.
Sandy licked her gums and smiled a translucent, sticky smile. “It tastes.. pretty white!” The conspirators couldn’t help but laugh at the girl. Confusing colors for tastes—the most ready-for-it girl in all the land. The gym teacher nonchalantly pulled down his shorts and the suffering jock strap underneath. The musky scent of his cock flooded the air. He downed a bottle of his own, a pinkish liquid, and belched loudly upon finishing.
Carmen just had to ignore her own need this one time. It was a long and fat thing. Sandy couldn’t place what the smell reminded her of, it seemed so familiar, but she couldn’t employ logic enough to realize it was the great white-tasting white stuff.
Carmen took Sandy in her hand and guided her on her knees. She was now at face level with the big, brain-invading dick and the alluring smell was making both pairs of lips drool. This time, Carmen didn’t bother lapping some of them up with a kiss. A vial-size puddle of spittle splashed onto the polished wood floors. She hesitated to hold it even though that’s where her arm reflexively went. Carmen sighed and finished the gesture for her. Next thing she knew, Sandy was jerking off Coach Jessup. She sure was nervous, but when she thought about how similar it was to milking, she relaxed.
It was taking crazy effort for Coach not to explode prematurely, which said a lot for the girls, as he had done this procedure dozens and dozens of times before. Carmen saw the teacher’s waning willpower and kneeled down next to Sandy, whispering, “Don’t you want big milky titties like mine?” The pupil nodded furiously and lightly teased her fingers on the dick in front of her. “Then kiss it.”
It was hard for her to shake all the sex from her mind, especially after the infinitely relaxing sauna time. Sandy hesitated and remembered that none of this was what she really wanted. Her body screamed for all of it, yeah, but she was a woman of the 21st century, not some victim of the patriar—patri—“I’m sorry, I just—”
Carmen was losing patience. She was getting pretty horny herself, so it was a bit difficult for her to multitask. “Don’t you want to kiss it?” She rubbed Sandy’s shoulders like she was about to jump off the bench and get to finally see some gametime.
“No,” she answered, hardly defiant in its girlish blurt. Carmen and the coach looked at each other, dumbfounded. But she wasn’t about to give up. She briefly glanced at the clock. Joey’s going to be here in two hours, I have to make this quick, she thought, then pulled down the straps of her leotard, letting her jugs bounce into prominence. Though she had been with them for quite a while in the sauna, Sandy was still mesmerized by them. They just made her happy. She watched them as they made their way to Coach’s cock. He was.. titty-fucking her! She had only heard about this in class. Seeing it done a foot from her face was a different story altogether.
“No? Okay,” Carmen teased, “more for me,” and she smacked her lips and descended toward his big red package.
“No!” Sandy cried out. Carmen turned around to face the girl, nestling the cock professionally on her cheek. “I mean, yes! Yes, oh yes, I do want to kiss it!” She helped her tutor stuff her pillows back underneath the spandex and got down on all fours, which Carmen hadn’t specifically asked for, but proved to be more than convenient. Sandy gave a soft tugjob for a little bit before feeling a warm, hard sensation in her pussy. Then a hand guiding that warm hardness into her. It was a foot-long Banger, and the fake dick was now pulsating and grinding in her. Her boobs felt like they were on fire. She hoped the weird starving feeling in them would end soon.
She finally took Coach Jessup in her mouth and being filled two ways was such crazy heaven for the girl. Truthfully, she had never done anything like this in all her life, but she moved like a total pro, swaying to and fro with her satisfaction. Really she had just been an attentive learner in biology class, but in her mind she was a seasoned slut, and let the cockhead melt in her mouth like candy, tonguing it and getting sloppy with it when, after she dug the vibrator further up her cunt, Coach lost it and sprayed a quart of sauce in her mouth. Now she knew what that taste was.
“Hold it all in, swallow that shit,” Carmen guided, rubbing her student’s boobs as Sandy fought to keep every ounce from getting loose. He just kept cumming. She couldn’t believe it, and hadn’t known that a man could keep going like that. It wasn’t such a difficult thing with a great friend to help you through it. She just kept gulping and swallowing as Carmen patted her on the back and said the most kind, reassuring things.
“This is your cumming of age gift,” Coach intoned lazily as he arched his back and sprayed even more jizz down her throat. It was, at last, too much and Sandy had to relinquish her tight seal. That hot fun sticky white stuff went everywhere. All over her face and in her hair. She licked her lips and tried to speak but the inside of her mouth was covered in spunk. She didn’t think semen was stickier and thicker than peanut butter, but then again she didn’t think it could taste as great as it did either.
Before she could even catch her breath, she could feel the big lug still cumming, this time on her tits, staining her cute leotard surely. Though she was nearly too horny to register it, she could feel her boobs burning and pulsating in their hot, soaked and stretchy cloth. She was sure it was just the bit of cum in her eye that made it look like they were getting.. bigger right in front of her, but when she wiped it away there they were. Growing by the second like in a monster movie.
She looked up in glee and rapture at Carmen, and opened her mouth.
“No! No, baby, you won’t be able to speak for a few hours. Just let your throat marinate in it. By the time you go to bed tonight, you’ll have a new mouth and a new voice. A sexier you all around!” She reached around Sandy from the back and cupped and jiggled her still-enlarging bust with both hands. She felt the slightest envy when she realized the girl was close to outgrowing her.
If only someone could mentor me and make me forget about Joey, she thought glumly. But no, my new family had to settle for a more traditional fertility adjustment. She looked down in feigned happiness at Sandy, who was now clinging to Coach’s shin and oblivious. Carmen cursed the clock. At this rate, I’m not going to get to pray with Father Paul before he gets here.
Carmen stood up and, pulling her gym uniform from her plush and steaming buttcrack, left Coach to teach Sandy how to blow a cum bubble. She laughed as she heard his frustration in the distance. She grabbed a fresh towel from the locker room, and, brushing an errant dab of Coach’s cum from her eyebrow, strolled into the parking lot, strangely proud and intensely horny. She didn’t know if it was her budding pregnancy or what, but she made a mental note to pick up some thick, juicy pickles on the way back home.
Laurel had just finished her eighth or ninth beer when she realized it had gotten dark outside. “Time really flies when you’re getting shitfaced!” she slurred, hoping to lighten the load of labor she and Kyle were saddled with. He just shot her a frustrated look when he met eyes with her.
“What?” she asked, defensively. “Is it a crime to drink a little? We’ve worked hard.” She figured that sounded right, even though the reality of virtual inactivity crept breezily into her mind. She ran her fingers along the rim of the can, amused at the buxom, tramped-up beer maid on the logo. Preppy Beer. What a stupid name. Typical of this jackass to have a case of something called Preppy Beer.
“Can I have another one of—”
“I’ve worked hard, Lauren.”
“Whatever.” He scratched the back of his head. Sweat shone on his muscles and he looked truly beat. “If you even bothered to pry your head away from that sunroof for two seconds, you might notice that the bed is completely done.” She sat up and immediately felt woozy. She looked at the bed, beautifully made even, and then back at the co-ed. She was impressed. All that brawny manual labor while she just plopped herself in the corner and drank like a little bitch.
Still, she couldn’t resist opening up the cooler and grabbing another beer. Hell, if I’m going to be treated like some party girl, I may as well enjoy myself. She opened it with a lighter and walked up to Kyle, even though what she really wanted to do was sit back down and look at the stars some more. She couldn’t help but notice a strong scent of a masculine breed of hard work overtake her nostrils. She wanted desperately to make it all up to him somehow.
“Ish there anything I cuh do for you?” she inquired, with a bit of a come-on in her voice. She was barely aware of how fliratious she was looking. And until she said more than a few words, she was unaware of just how sloshed she got. Preppy Beer is powerful stuff, she thought sarcastically, and laughed under her breath.
It seemed like nothing she did made Kyle any less miffed. “Yeah, actually, there is,” he said, indignant. “You can put that lonely star on the top of the tree, which, well.. you probably don’t remember, but you couldn’t even manage to do that.” Laurel looked like she was about to cry. She only wanted to be a good worker.
How was she helping the unfortunate by getting piss drunk off local beer? What had prevented her from putting the ornament on the tree in the first place? She remembered she had it in her hand. Oh. That’s when he was taking snapshots of my ass with his camera phone. She was about to bring that up in her defense but then she figured it would only make him madder at her.
“Oh!” she chirped, pretending to be surprised. “Yeah, sure thing!” She stepped up the ladder but still couldn’t reach the top of the tree. Frustrated and unwilling to ask for assistance, she just stood on the top rung and looked dejected. Kyle was watching her the entire time and climbed up a step below her to help her. He wasn’t about to be liable for a drunken fall.
“Here we go,” he grunted, and hoisted her up by her waist. It took her a try or two, but she inevitably made it and now the tree was complete. She was proud she could be of some assistance, and that pride swiftly morphed into some strange species of attraction when he brought her body down, and she, without much thought about it, ground her butt in his face.
Kyle was having none of it, though, and hurried down the ladder as he exploded with full-on anger now. “What the fuck do you think this is?” He looked at her as if she had let his housecat roam off. “I’m not attracted to you, you fucking idiot!” A part of Laurel wanted to retort, but she knew she deserved it. She tended to get affectionate when she drank.
“You’re.. you’re not?” she asked, knowing the answer but not wanting to accept it. She pulled her shirt down as it was riding up. It was a nice little trim stomach, she knew it was. She felt something like hurt in not being able to do it for the guy. “I—I’m really shorry, I juss thought—”
“Yeah, well, you thought wrong, Lolo.” Lolo. That was a cute little nickname. Lolo. Perfect for a slutty little moron party girl like herself. “The concept may be a bit foreign to you, but I have a girlfriend.” Now she was getting really upset. She tried to imagine what type of girl a sweet and handy guy like Kyle would end up with. Every new image fluttering in her mind made her feel more inferior than the last.
She panted and took a big swig of her beer. She let out a sigh after she gulped it down. It really was some good beer. She usually didn’t drink quite this much, but she was feeling festive and besides, this stuff was different. She had heard of cream ale before, but this was basically a beer-flavored milkshake. Good stuff. Weird stuff, but good stuff.
She made a mental note to remember Preppy Beer. She hadn’t seen it in any package stores in Philadelphia, but was sure it must have been on tap somewhere in some dive bar in the city. She hiccuped and just stared at Kyle, saying nothing. She forgot what they were talking about but remembered at least that it was something bad.
“Great! All you can do is just stand there like a retard and drink! If you don’t think Rich will find out about your dicking around, you’re sorely mistaken.” Now she was really drunk. What was he talking about.. sore dicks for?
“Welp, how do you ‘spect me t-act when you talk about shtuff like-at?” she asked, barely getting the words out, punctuating the end of the sentence by poking his chest, lingering on it when she noticed how well-defined it was. She laughed and hiccuped in an obnoxious machine-gun rhythm.
“Pfff-what?” He was incredulous now and not even trying to pull himself together. “What are you talking about? I—” He retrieved his cell from his pocket and checked the time. “Look, I’m going to go out for a bit. Mrs. McKinnon left some food in the fridge. You can help yourself if you ever put down that beer for one second.”
“Look, pleeease don’t tell on me t’Rich! I don’t know whass wrong w’me, I’m not usually like—”
“Oh, save it, you dumb drunk skank!” He slammed the door behind him. She would make him breakfast or something in the morning. She simply had to do something good to apologize wholly. But for now, didn’t he say something about food? I love food! she thought, the closest thing to a profound moment she had all evening. Especially when I’m drunk!
She ambled with little balance to the kitchen and swung open the freezer door. The old lady sure had a lot of generic frozen dinners. Really generic. Plain white packaging with no pictures of what the stuff inside was and big boring utilitarian letters that read “Prepatory Frozen Delights”. In no time, she pulled out something that said it was “Thanksgiving Dinner”. She popped it into the strangely gigantic microwave and chucked the box into the trash, neglecting to read a fine print which would have told her it fed a family of five.
After seven minutes of drinking her millionth beer and staring blankly at the logo, the timer sounded and she almost tripped in her excitement for food. She opened the microwave and was stunned to find an absurd amount of shockingly edible-looking grub, huge breasts and thighs, biscuits, corn on the cob, stuffing with bits of sausage in it, sweet potatoes with marshmallow, ambrosia salad, cranberry sauce—even some ham! She doubted she could finish even a quarter of it, but took the mass of food to the new bed in just three trips.
She ate and ate and ate, handily managing to surpass her prediction. She washed it all down with a few more cans of Preppy Beer, forgoing even a second to belch. I always get sooo hungry whenever I get drunk! she thought as her sixth turkey leg made its way down her gullet. Finally, she unzipped her jeans a tiny bit and let her puffy stomach breathe. That gave her time to burp. Wiping her mouth, she decided to just unsheathe her jeans entirely, and propped herself up with some pillows.
She picked a stray bit of biscuit off of her shirt and stared at it dimly before deciding to eat it. In a few minutes, she was nearing a food coma, so completely satisfied and stuffed that, in pleasant combination with all the time earlier lolling around drinking, she was out like a light. But not before she stuck a few fingers underneath her panties. It seemed perfectly logical in her state that eating made her hot and bothered. Right before her head hit the pillow, she felt a soft glow radiate throughout her body. A sleepy moan turned into a snore.
Talk about a food coma! After a while she thought she was dreaming, but then just realized she was helpless under some weird frozen dinner spell. Every so often she would come to, but only her ears would wake up. She heard sporadic things here and there but couldn’t move a muscle.
“...really believed that she’s in the wrong, it’s so funny...” “...cute little ring of honey glaze around her mouth...” “...look at those thighs of hers, those frozen dinners really...” “...don’t want to just cum on the broad’s face...”
That last one really made her ears burn. But she was hardly offended, just curious. She was in such a state that something like that would be welcome. At least someone gave a shit about her somehow. She fought to stay awake and hear the rest.
“You know we can’t start the kegger here until we have a superslut to show off during the party.”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“And you know we can’t have no superslut until the last guy to touch her cums on her face. Father O’Rio—oh-whatshisname said that it puts all the enzymes from the TV dinners into high gear. I know it sounds weird, but hear me out—” It did sound weird to Laurel. But.. a good kind of weird. There goes that soft glow again.
“It doesn’t sound weird, I just don’t want to take advantage of her. I feel like I’ve done enough tonight.” No! Laurel’s mind was raging. Cum on my face, you fucking fratty beefcake you! She was relieved when she heard the clicking of high heels. Sweet high heels to hopefully knock some sense into this dude.
“Come here,” sighed a heavenly female voice, dripping with lust. He didn’t utter a single word of protest, and soon she could hear him moaning over the soft smacking of flesh. She was so delighted that she got the chance to become a superslut. She didn’t know fully what that meant, but the idea sounded amazing. What better conduit to serve and beg forgiveness than her own stupid body?
“What’s her name?” the woman asked, a bracelet or something wacking against her wrist. She had to have been jerking harder and faster now.
“Lauren or Laura or something,” he sputtered out between moans. “I call her Lolo though.”
“Lolo?” the woman said, nonplussed. She clearly gave a lot of handjobs in her day to be this bored about it.
“Yeah, I like it. It makes her seem sluttier. I think she likes it.”
Lolo. Lolo the stupid superslut.
“Oh, oh Jesus Christ, that feels awesome!”
If she could have opened her mouth, she would have. All she could do was sit there and get hot, waiting and waiting for her facial.
Joey stood with Carmen at the altar. Their wedding was on an aircraft carrier and a soft rock band was playing instrumental music at a steadily increasing volume. Bombers roared overhead in salute to the couple. He took his time to relish the moment before unveiling his new bride. Upon doing so, he was startled to see a buzzing vibrator emanating from her lips. It buzzed and buzzed, louder and louder, but still he went in for the kiss. The beautiful moment was turning hellish as the thing bore its way down into his throat.
He woke up coughing, startled by the rumble strip on the side of the highway. The exhaust flooding the car made it a rude awakening for sure. It took him a few moments to get his bearings and eventually he realized his engine was sputtering to a halt. Scarcely believing he fell asleep while driving, he silenced the complete static of the radio and tried to collect his thoughts. He looked at his phone. It was almost half past 8:00. He was already a half hour late. Trying to call Carmen would do no good because he had no service, because she lived in a bumfuck fucking town in the middle of cowshit. He fumed. Not a single streetlight or car in his view.
It was time to walk. Abandoning his car on the rural route wasn’t the smartest thing to do, especially when he had no earthly clue where he was, but he was sure he’d find something.
Almost an hour later, he did. It was a creaky old dry goods store with one barely flickering neon light. It wanted to say “Clyde’s”. Luckily enough, there were a few lights on inside, and a middle-aged hulk of a man sweeping up. He propped open the door when he saw Joey amble up.
“Come right on in, stranger,” he said. Joey figured he must be Clyde. He also figured he was close to Cherub Cove. This guy looked as cornpone as they come. “Where y’headed?”
“Oh, just down to Cherub Cove. My car broke down a few miles back.” Clyde looked at him cautiously, studying the young man, trying to make him fit somewhere in his mind.
“You—you a city boy?” he asked, stopping his sweeping. He suddenly burst into deep laughter. “This is Cherub Cove, son!”
Joey recognized that his presumption was correct but it didn’t exactly please him. “Yeah, I go to school in Philly. I’m in town to see my girlfriend.”
This delighted Clyde. “Ho-boy, if’n you told me three, four years ago that you was datin’ some pretty filly here in the Cove, lookin’ scrawny as you do and dressin’ like-at, I wouldn’t-a believed ya. But Cherub Cove is shoor on the rise as of late! It’s quite the.. happening place for cool chicks,” he graciously informed Joey. He furrowed his brow. “Still, I don’t think I know of any girl in town with a boyfriend from outta town—uh, who’d you say you was seein’?”
Joey almost didn’t say, for fear of finding out some crazy secret about the girl he was at one point sure was the one. “Her name’s Carmen.” Clyde beamed and finally extended his hand. Even if he smelled bad, he did have a warm and inviting smile.
“Carmen! Say, is she the, uh.. Law-teen-uh with them big’ ol’ suckers that—” He gracefully noticed Joey didn’t share his bawdiness. “Oh, I forget, it’s different for city folk. She’s a.. a lovely lady. Mmm-hmm!”
Joey didn’t know what to say. “..Thanks?” He noticed a fly skimming the shopkeeper’s head. “Listen, forgive me if I’m prying, but how do you know her?” Clyde returned to sweeping and bellowed out from down an aisle.
“Everyone knows everyone here at Cherub Cove!” He bellowed, opening up a cooler door and retrieving a bottle of some kind of juice. He eased back up to Joey. “But I have to commend you for your choice in a female. We took in a stray girl recently. She was involved in.. hitchhikin’ and.. all sorts of other derelict activity, I’m shoor.” Joey wondered why any girl would hitchhike around here. That was just asking for trouble. “Anyway, she’s like a sister-in-law to me, and it hurt me so much that she wasn’t developin’ normal.”
Joey gulped. “What do you mean?”
“She just wasn’t right. She was, uh.. ree-zist-ang the family way.” Joey gulped again. He took the bottle of pink juice from Clyde and chugged it without even pausing to inspect it. It was qute refreshing. “Your girlfriend, that sweet rumpy angel Carmen, took my Sandy aside earlier this very day and changed her mind about all that, bless ‘er.” Joey could scarcely believe it. His heart sunk low again.
“But that doesn’t make any sense—Carmen’s not pregnant!” He tried to stand tall next to this big brute that positively dwarfed him. “And neither will she be!”
Clyde just guffawed at this kid’s moxie. “Okay, okay. Just don’t go a-speakin’ fer her now. Say, kid, I like your spunk. We need more good ol’ boys like you ‘round this town.” Joey was preoccupied with being called a “good ol’ boy” and soon finished the bottle. It was a very cool and pleasant taste, sort of orangey. But it kind of, and he hated to admit it, had an aftertaste of how.. Carmen had tasted ever since she started living there. He looked at the bottle. What on earth is Prep Juice?
“You want another one of those? It’s on me!”
He came back up the aisle with a six-pack.
On the drive into town, Joey couldn’t stop sweating. His whole body felt like it was on fire, and the jarring ride in the old pickup wasn’t making him any more comfortable. He had to do a double take, but the AM dial was tuned to some teen sermon espousing the “holy joys of raw-dogging”. He imagined Carmen ready to pop in a maternity dress tailored for show, a whisk in one hand a dildo in the other. If he found the idea so funny and ridiculous, why was it making his dick harder than it had ever been in his life?
It was as if everything was giving him a boner. The faint whiffs of manure seeping into the truck. The wedding ring on Clyde’s big finger. A mortgage envelope peeking out from underneath the floormat. He felt like he was about to burst.
He cursed the fact that Clyde had taken the route to Carmen’s that went through Main Street. Downtown Cherub Cove was hot mom central, and never did these young ladies look as ravishing and delicious as they did at this moment. It was a cavalcade of stilettos and halters and.. well, hot fucking moms-to-be. He struggled to make his engorged dick discreet, but he couldn’t find anything to use but his hand.
Clyde noticed. “Heh heh, I tell ya there’s just sumthin’ about this place,” he said as Joey nervously uncapped another bottle of that Prep Juice. “Makes a man forget his whole—hey, wouldja lookit that?”
He pointed at the street corner to a brawny, muscled hunk shirtlessly bending over a girl who looked like Jayne Mansfield on too many estrogen supplements. She had a frilly white dress hiked up over her hips, the top almost nonexistent, struggling to contain her massive meatbags. A shiny thong lay at her designer shoes. She was practically being split open!
Joey couldn’t help it. He came in his pants right there riding shotgun with a yokel. And he still stayed rock hard.
Clyde took a sharp left onto Carmen’s street and shook his head. “That’s my Sandy!”
Carmen knew she was almost two hours late in meeting Joey at her host family’s ranch. If she didn’t, she reasoned, she wouldn’t feel so low about herself every time she caught the clock. Good thing for her, reverse cowgirl in the upstairs rectory bedroom hadn’t allowed for any view of it. She knew she had no business climbing on top of the priest for one more ride, but that surely made it all the naughtier.
Father Paul barely found the strength to say anything at all when this impossibly curvy mocha nymphette was smacking her fat ass up and down, over and over on his holy sceptre. This girl was certainly doing God’s work. Since coming to this hamlet, he was used to being lonely, as most of the girls that grew up in Cherub Cove were devoted to the mission and either had a bunch of kids already or were certainly betrothed and knocked up in no time.
Carmen was different. She was his first blessed one, even though at the start it was your standard innocent stuff: a blowjob here, a titty-fuck there. That stuff didn’t even count for first base around here. He was helping her remain faithful without exploding from desire, and she was helping him feel a little less lonely. All in the name of the good book. In fact, she was instrumental in validating his job, especially those times every week at confession when some girl was having doubts about the sanctity of fistfucking. He hadn’t done that to Carmen, yet.. but he could at least feel capable giving sex advice when he was actively having it. He marvelled at her rubbery bounce, and, trying to tame his ejaculation, blessed Joey’s good name.
Speaking of which.. “Hey, chola!” If she heard him, her hips didn’t let on. In fact, now she was starting to grind on his dick at each downbeat, really letting go of control and relishing the way her pussy was straight-up eating his cock. She now made no mistake that she was, in fact, quite obviously cheating. She was impressed at just how much it didn’t stop her. “You’re very late for your boyfriend!” He didn’t exactly throw her off of him. He just reached for a bottle of chrism and poured a bit of the holy oil on her ass, rubbing it in, amazed at the wonders of creation. He was finding it awfully hard to keep from cumming, though, and eventually found the temerity to pull her off what she sometimes called “Little Father”.
She rolled around the bed, surprised like always at how good she felt, moaning and dopey. She was lightly rubbing her soft caramel legs together, and, twirling a gold crucifix around her neck, stared at the priest’s big cock and seemed to address it. “Father, he’s so mean to me! I just know he thinks I’m some ho.” Father Paul thanked the Lord that she wasn’t looking at his face, because he rolled his eyes as he said, “No, my dear, you’re a perfect chaste angel.”
“You really think so?” she asked, grateful, wiping something off her lips.
“Of course, child,” he placated, “you needn’t feel ashamed about being reverent.”
Carmen playfully tugged at his angry cockhead. “Plus,” she began another round of delusion, “it wasn’t my fault I spent such a long time at the deli. Prepatory Pickles are so good and it’s such a beautiful night. I just sat there looking at all the lovely mommies and all those hunky guys. I swear,” she said, eyes drifting off into space, “it’s like ‘American Graffiti’ with boobies and cocks on that main drag.” Father Paul loved the cute little aesthetic sense she occasionally retained. She sure was a special one. “An hour went by before I realized I had plowed through the whole jar, just staring at all those hot kids!”
“Well,” coughed Father Paul, “I’m sure he’ll find it easy to forgive you if that’s the case.” He eased down to her soft and fluffy tummy and began to blow raspberries on it. After enjoying her sweet little giggle, he lapped up her dripping pussy. She always tasted so good, like forbidden fruit. He was sure that the blessing made all girls in Cherub Cove taste like that, but liked to imagine Carmen was the sweetest of them all. In no time, she was moaning loudly and his tongue was making quite a swamp out of her cunt.
After a few minutes, she got up and, easing him back down, went to return the favor. First, she drooled on his dick, caressing the length of the shaft with a piece of that avocado gum. She abruptly popped his thick wet member out of her mouth. It was twitching wildly. He sorely needed to spray.
“Can you stick it in my pussy?” she pleaded.
“Carmen, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” One more naughty thing from this schoolgirl’s mouth and he would just cum all over it. That would ruin her makeup, though. As soon as this concern presented itself, though, she ruined it all by herself, popping his dick in and out of her lips, smacking it against them, teasing him and smudging her lipstick. “I don’t wanna.. ooh.. cum inside you.”
“Why not?” she asked, petulantly. “You already have! I’m pregnant! With your child, dummy.” She briefly french kissed his dick. That was true. Still, for him it was a point of respect. He didn’t see Carmen as an object, she represented something far more sacrosanct to him. Even if she walked around half the school day with a wedgie and sometimes smacked her gum louder than he thought humanly possible.
“Can’t I put it in your ass instead?”
She was having none of it. She assumed the reverse cowgirl but this time brought her big behind up to his face. “Don’t you love my pussy, baby?” The scent of her overwhelmed him. “Don’t you want my pretty little pussy, baby?” He could scarcely find the heart to say no. And he didn’t object when she eased him in her cunt effortlessly. He wondered, semi-frightened, if she would still be this hot to trot when she was seven months pregnant.
A harsh banging sounded from the first floor. “Joey!” Carmen blurted out, pretty forcefully even though she wished she hadn’t (and wished it wasn’t him). Father Paul came instantaneously. More banging, this time even more aggressive, demanded attention. Any attempt from the priest to wriggle away from Carmen was deterred by her gorgeous, lusciously wet smooches.
She ground her huge rump onto him again, coaxing every last droplet from him. “Cumming, Joey!” she sang stupidly, and after about a minute of savoring gyrations, finally climbed off her priest, moving to put on her already-sweaty leotard, fluffly ankle socks and trainers. She looked so, so obvious, but she made up some weird logic that Joey deserved it for cumming too quick lately. She kissed Father Paul goodnight, and gave the deflating Little Father a peck too, before sauntering downstairs to the porch. She almost forgot to stick a few pieces of cherry Kelly Green gum into her tired mouth.
Neither the young priest nor the bubbly schoolgirl realized that the lights had been on. Or that the windows were wide open.
She ran tits-first into a grabby hug of Joey. She couldn’t possibly mistake the giant hardon he had, but, she thought, shrewdly disregarded it. Not only did he not seem to like how perpetually horny she was getting lately, but he looked kinda.. sweaty and pissed at this particular moment. A closer inspection of his face told her that not only was this not the case (it was more a look of bewildered concern), but that his jawline seemed.. squarer. She couldn’t resist kissing his cheek. She didn’t know why she was feeling so guilty. After all, she was his girlfriend.
“Carmen, hi. I’m sorry I’m so late, but I think this town is doing really weird things to people. We have to leave like—” Carmen didn’t even fully register to him until now. He looked her up and down and felt his dick burning with blood. She noticed and realized she was getting way turned on by him, in a way she hadn’t since she moved to town.
He just looked at her. She was almost twice as thick and curvy as the last time he visited, which seemed impossible—that was only two weeks ago! Her reasts in particular, which were capped in their leotard quite obviously by forceful nipples that seemed.. wet? “Carmen, you’ve got a little something,” he said, not accusingly, just quizzically. He pointed at her crotch. A pool of cum was oozing out of her tight leotard and dripping onto the porch.
“Oh!” she giggled, “what was I thinking?” She scooped the jizz from her crotch with two fingers and sucked them sultrily. “So.. like, how long did it take to get here and shit?” She brushed his hair to the side. He looked dumbfounded now.
“Carmen, you’re covered in sweat.. What did you.. fuck that priest?” Again, he couldn’t believe he was asking, but he also couldn’t believe how it made him want to get sloppy seconds. Definitely to show her what a real man felt like. Just take her and fuck the shit out of her until she hurts. He tried to ignore the way his penis was undeniably taking over his brain.
She tried not to be too obvious. “Noooo, sweetheart. I was just.. dropping off a strawberry rhubarb pie that Betty made! And then I was helping Father Paul excercise and now he’s sleeping and...” She avoided eye contact.
“You couldn’t even think to use a condom! What the fuck!”
“Hey! We used a condom.” She tried hiding the dribbling cum slushing out of her pussy. She already forgot he had seen her suck some of it down not a minute before. “Look!” she exclaimed, pointing to an errant rubber collecting dust in the corner. It was from one of the first times they ever engaged in physical prayer. “There’s one right there!”
Joey could scarcely process what was going on. “What the—how many times have you—” He took a good look at her and felt a little empathy. He could still make out the Carmen he fell in love with, if barely. This made him sour. He didn’t want to empathize with such a fertile vision of eroticism but he couldn’t help it. Conflicted, he uncapped a new bottle of Prep Juice. “I’m so thirsty.”
She recognized the color of the liquid and just the sight of it turned her on before she remembered why, and that it was the same stuff Coach Jessup drank before he unleashed his big-boob spray. She looked down at her large lactating swangers and a greedy thought came over her. “Honey.. how many of those things did you drink?”
He thought he lost track, but no, “Um.. seven.” He scratched his neck, and Carmen could see that her boyfriend was getting some nice muscle definition. She tried thinking of which exact small number of days it would be before it would be impossible for the townsfolk to consider him a geek. “These things are really great.”
A pair of schoolgirls, quite obviously older than high school age and dressed up in soft white nighties, strolled hand in hand in the moonlight. They looked ready to pop and stopped to wave hello to Carmen. “Hey, Judy!” she called out from the porch. “Hey, Missy! This is my boyfriend, Joey!” They both waved and said hi as they passed by the chapel, like some demented Norman Rockwell painting.
Joey considered his girlfriend again. She beamed with pride about helping others and seemed like she was an easy fit around town. People seemed to like her. But they were also mostly.. “Pregnant girls. You ever wonder why there’s so many pregnancies around town?” He was hoping her answer would ease his mind.
“Um..” she thought hard, adjusting her leotard straps. “Everyone here just loves Jesus and wants wants there to be more people to love Jesus the way they do?” She was satisfied with her plain answer even though she knew she had it in her to be a bit more articulate. Still, it seemed to satisfy him somewhat.
“Well, okay. But do you want to get pregnant?” he asked, in a way that would only precipitate an “of course not”. Carmen just snickered and evaded eye contact again. Then she made eyes at him, desperate eyes that were two of the only things about her that hadn’t really mutated or ballooned over the past few months. She rubbed her little tummy, at this early stage only distended with a barely noticeable chubbiness. But Joey knew what the gesture signified.
He also didn’t know whose baby it was, and frankly didn’t care to know. “Baby, I had this crazy need to rescue you, but I’m beginning to see that I just felt that way because I care for you. And I really shouldn’t.” He gulped down some more Prep Juice.
Carmen remembered something. “Holy shit, you said you drank seven of those?” She was nothing if not sly, and not only eased the heaviness from the conversation, but replaced it with her own selfish wants. Her finger brushed against a nipple in subconscious agreement.
Joey nodded. “Or eight, I really don’t know.” She remembered the unending spunk-splosion erupting from Coach and the jugs that wobbled and grew right before her jealous eyes. And that was from one bottle of the stuff! “I think it.. makes a guy.. hard,” he admitted nervously. No shit, thought Carmen. Hard and hot and thick and huge and mmmm...
“I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but I love you and.. I hate you for it.” Carmen just laughed under her breath and knelt down, reaching into her purse and extracting some extra energy shake she still had left over from detention. It was warm, but she was sure it would work. “This is just an energy shake,” she half-lied. “F-for girls!”
“Sorry, boy, but you look hard!” she gushed, still amazed. It was easily bigger than Coach’s and Father Paul’s. “Let’s see whatcha got to work with,” she teased, and unzipped his fly. He briefly considered deflecting her horny come-on, but instead just stroked her back.
“Yup—just as I thought,” she noted in her finest sexy-biologist voice. “It’s fucking huge.” She took her time stroking him to even more brain-busting hardness before slobbering the beast. “Joey, I love you so much. I want you to do what’s best for you, I really do. I just wanna ease your mind. I’m sorry I—”
Joey’s cock sprung up to twice its massive size. “Joey,” she said, worried, “I don’t think that thing’ll fit anywhere in me!” Carmen thought back on all the new things she picked up in Cherub Cove that she thought she’d never be able to learn. How to make a cheesy bacon log. The difference between knitting and crocheting. And, more recently, she was learning about all sorts of things, like anal and even attempting to squirt. All of these things seemed so impossible until she actually did them.
“You’re so big, baby.” Her mouth just hung open and her eyes went wide. “Too fucking big. I don’t think I can do it!” She could hear a baby crying somewhere. “But I’m gonna try.. for you.”
Father Paul finally turned off his lamp.
The party at the old McKinnon house was in full swing. Rowdy, flirty games of beer pong that made messes of girls’ tops and provided ample excuse for the guys to go shirtless. Soon even some of those girls went shirtless too. Everyone seemed pretty nicely drunk even though the second keg hadn’t been tapped. The starlet of the party, some new girl around town named Lolo, grabbed a microphone and sang a tuneless, if bubbly, karaoke version of “Lucky Star”. There were a bunch of guys huddled around her, so I couldn’t really tell upon first glance, but she was bent over with someone’s meat in her. Maybe that’s why her singing was so strained.
New-girl-makes-good Carmen ambled in eventually with her out-of-town boyfriend. She hobbled in, obviously sore from something. She introduced him as her fiancee. Love travels fast in Cherub Cove! Kyle, the host of this party, was in the corner underneath a Christmas tree getting a blowjob from Shayla, the pop sensation that just recently went for the country charts. Shayla was Carmen’s sister and they hadn’t seen each other for quite some time. Oh, you should have seen them squeal! Like little piggies they were, and caught up famously. Carmen whispered something in Shayla’s ear, then extended her hands to illustrate some invisible and long thing. I think I know what it was!
Me, I’m just beginning to get the hang of it here in this quaint little country town. Sure, it wasn’t what I thought it would be like, and by lunchtime, I put away my DAT machine and gave up on trying to capture true hillbilly music. Hell, maybe it was something in the country gravy that made me see all those sweet honeys in a different light. Lord knows before the sun went down, I caught a few candid shots of some sweaty boobies. Don’t tell my wife (she thinks I’m doing some field recording in other towns), but I even got some decent footage of two or three of them girls fuckin’ me! One of them even invited me back to her sister’s place. I tried to say no. Aw, heck. It’ll only be for a night or two.