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  1. Seasons of Sex 1: Fall 1967
  2. Seasons of Sex 2: Winter 1967-68

Seasons of Sex 2: Winter 1967-68

Categories Fiction, Consensual Sex, Romance, School

Authror: Rick Sturdin

Published: 14 September 2018

  • Font:

SEASONS OF SEX, Part 2

WINTER, 1967-68

It was December 31, 1967, and for the first time in my life I had an actual date for New Year's Eve. It wasn't anything particularly exciting; but just the fact that I got to stay out past midnight—with Annabelle—made it extraordinary.

I picked up Annabelle around 7 p.m. and we drove to Zeb Williams's house. Zeb was a friend from church who wanted us to meet his new girl friend. Zeb was the youngest of about eight children, and his widowed mom was pretty old compared to my parents. She served us a nice supper and then went to bed early.

Zeb's girl friend, Amy, was a cute blonde, a junior at Zeb's school. I liked her smile, her sense of humor, and her short skirt. The four of us took over Zeb's small living room. There were two sofas in the room, on perpendicular walls, with a television set in the corner. Annabelle and I settled in on one sofa while Zeb and Amy took the one to our left. There wasn't much of interest on TV, but we weren't looking at it anyway. Annabelle snuggled up to me and all I cared about was snuggling.

In the middle of one particularly delicious tongue kiss, Annabelle reached for my zipper and began to slide it down. I nervously glanced over att Zeb and Amy, but they weren’t looking at us; Amy was straddling Zeb, her miniskirt hiked up to reveal tiny white bikini panties and just a hint of asscrack. She was grinding herself in slow leisurely circles against his crotch. Annabelle slid her hand inside my trousers to fondle the bulge in my shorts. Her minidress was already showing off her girlish thighs, and it was no trouble for me to find her moist crotch with my fingers. She hunched herself against my hand, making her panties even wetter, and soon my fingers were inside her panties, and then inside her, as she breathed heavily in my ear. “Feels good, Rick, so nice, your fingers in me, oh God, oh, Rick, you feel so hard, so big.....mmmmm.....” She licked my ear and squeezed my cock, then opened my pants so she could slide her hand inside my underwear. Her touch on my cock was light and magical, and soon I was pulling my pants and underwear down, as oblivious to the others in the room as they were to us.

But Annabelle was in no hurry. Once my penis was sticking bravely up out of my lap, she placed her mouth on it, her tongue and lips and fingers working the magic they had learned so well. She cradled my balls in one hand while squeezing my shaft with the other; then she licked the penis all the way up from scrotum to tip, her eyes meeting mine the whole way. A clear droplet appeared at the tip, and she caught it on her tongue. When it stretched out between penis and mouth, she slurped it in like a strand of spaghetti. Then took my cockhead into her mouth and moved it in and out, moving her tongue over the sensitive spot just below the glans. I moaned involuntarily, and she withdrew for a moment, just watching my penis throb heatedly in her hand.

I heard moans coming from across the room and saw that Amy was now on her knees fumbling with Zeb’s zipper and pulling his pants down. She nibbled at the bulge in his shorts, soaking his underwear and making the bulge bigger, until in impatience he lifted his rear off the sofa and she pulled his shorts down so his cock could spring free. I was amazed at its size, and hoped Annabelle wasn’t looking, because I knew I would suffer by comparison.

Annabelle wasn’t looking. She was moving her face up to mine for a juicy tongue kiss, and smearing my copious precum juices over my turgid wiener with her slickened fingers. I enjoyed tasting myself in her mouth, feeling my own salty slickness mixed with her saliva. She placed a hand on each of my shoulders and straddled me, lowering her crotch to rub against my stiffened cock. I found my hands sliding into her panties and cradling her boyish asscheeks, one finger pushing gently against her little asshole.

“Oh, God, Rick, yessss….” She stretched her legs out so I could slide her panties down to her thighs, and then she lowered her bare, dripping crotch to mine, my cock sliding between her thighs and rubbing against the soft hairs of her molten little cunt. “I don’t think I can take this much longer, Rick,” she whispered.

“You’re in luck, Annabelle. I don’t GET much longer.” And I slotted myself right into her sweet sloppy heat.

Annabelle’s lusty groan got the attention of Zeb and Amy. Amy slid Zeb’s cock out of her mouth to turn in our direction. She grinned, and Zeb gave me a “thumbs up” before turning back to Amy and inviting her to climb on top of him. She pulled her soaked panties off and did as he asked. I enjoyed, for a moment, the sight of her bare bottom as she impaled herself on Zeb’s penis; but then I turned my attention back to the task at hand.

With Annabelle rotating herself sensuously on and off and around my cock, I slid my hands up her back. She wore no bra, and my hands traveled up past her shoulder blades. I pulled my hands out and began to unbutton her blouse, and she assisted by raising herself up, placing all her weight on our merged crotches, which made us both moan with pleasure. Similar grunts and groans were coming from the other sofa, and I really hoped Mrs. Williams had taken a powerful sedative before retiring.

With her shirt open, Annabelle’s tiny tits were available for my attention. Her nipples were hard little nubbins, centered on their soft little breast-bumps, and Annabelle weighed so little it was no effort to hold her up by the chest. When our mouths met again and our tongues tangled, it was as if we were truly joined together. Mouth, crotch, chest, hands, all intermingling. She opened my shirt and found my nipples, and I somehow knew the coming orgasm would be a special one.

I tried to postpone it as long as I could. I at least wanted to outlast Zeb, who was sliding himself in and out of his girl with sloppy thrusts and increasing grunts. But soon I was emptying myself into Annabelle, and she began to come as well, and her moans became screams, and our bodies moved together faster and faster, lubricated by our mingled juices and the all-consuming lust that took us over and forced us into stroke after stroke. Annabelle was experiencing multiple orgasms, her eyes rolled back into her head, her little butt rising up and slamming down, her fingers raking across my chest as I pumped still more thick hot jism up into her welcoming twat.

I lay there exhausted, Annabelle on top of me, her vagina still squeezing my cock with involuntary little contractions. Zeb and Amy were just reaching their climaxes, and I watched as her rear moved on and off his shaft, the creamy semen overflowing more and more with each plunge. They made less noise than we had as they came, and when they were finished Amy slid herself off of Zeb’s stiff cock and landed on the sofa with her oozing cunt on full display. Only her copious pubic hair kept Zeb’s semen from leaking onto the cushion. She reached down with her fingers and wiped herself; then she sucked her fingers off with relish.

Annabelle and I did them one better; she crawled up my exhausted body and lowered her dripping crotch to my mouth and let me lick her clean. She had another little orgasm in the process, and then it was her turn to collapse, spread eagled, her red-haired pussy visible to the whole room.

The house was silent except for our breathing and the ticking of a grandfather clock in the hallway. The clock began slowly to strike midnight.

It was 1968.

Going back to school was a little awkward. I hadn’t seen Belinda for a couple of weeks, and I hadn’t called her, and she had no reason to suspect that I was as interested in her as I was.

She wasn’t mean to me, but she didn’t go out of her way to speak to me, either. She did seem to flirt more with some of the other boys, smiling coquettishly and laughing at their jokes, leaning up against them more than was necessary, fingering the top button on her blouse as she talked to them.

To me she was civil. We had to sing together, so we had to get along together, but nobody could have mistaken us for friends.

Meanwhile, there was still Annabelle. Oh, was there ever Annabelle! If I wasn’t hard just from thinking about her, I’d get hard the minute she came into the room. And she was more than happy to relieve my hardness. It was so frustrating that we went to different schools! For the most part, we saw each other only at church-related events, and our thoughts and actions on those occasions were far from spiritual.

For the senior high Valentine’s Day party, Annabelle wore a very short, bright red Empire dress which emphasized her tiny tits. Her legs were covered in white tights decorated with red hearts. The tights seemed to give her the freedom to sit and dance with more abandon than usual, and I (along with the rest of the youth) was given many glimpses of her crotch and her sweet little bottom, heart-covered in its tight casing. We left the church as soon as we could without being obvious and headed straight for her her house and her parents’ rec room. Her parents, conveniently, were gone for the evening. In no time I was pulling down her cute tights—somewhat moist in the crotch—to reveal her red hair and pink pussy lips. My pants came down as well, and soon I was sliding myself into her, cupping her little heart-shaped ass in my hands as we exchanged valentines in the best way possible.

Finally, though, I called to ask Belinda out. Not on a weekend, those were reserved for Annabelle, but on a Thursday night, to go to a movie. She hesitated, then said, “I guess so.” Not exactly enthusiastic, but I'd take what I could get.

I pulled my parents' eleven-year-old Chevy into the Carrs' driveway, got out and nervously rang the doorbell. It was answered by an attractive woman of about 35. She had Belinda’s dark hair--though shorter--and her stunning blue eyes.

“You must be Richard,” she said, smiling warmly. “Please, come on in. I'm Lou, Belinda's mother.” Mrs. Carr was wearing a short, loose housedress that had a rather low neckline and a rather high hemline. But I couldn't stare, because she was in the process of introducing me to her rather large and sturdy-looking husband. “Richard, This is Tom. Tom, Richard is taking Belinda out.

Mr. Carr was wearing a flat-top haircut, dress slacks, dress shoes, and a tight-fitting white t shirt that revealed well-developed arms and chest. He smiled perfunctorily as he took my hand. “Hello, Richard. You'll have her home by midnight?”

“Yes, sir,” I promised. I didn't add that my own curfew was 10:00 on school nights.

Mrs. Carr ushered me into the living room. “Belinda will be ready in just a little bit. Can I get you a Coke or something?”

“No, thanks.” And she closed the door and left me alone to fidget on the sofa.

But not for long. The door opened and an amazingly cute girl stuck her head in. “Hi, I'm Steffie. Are you Richard?” She closed the door behind her and plopped herself down beside me. Very close beside me. “Belinda's real excited about going out with you.”

“Oh? Well, good...” I was somewhat distracted by the fact that her miniskirt was riding up to give me a healthy glimpse of her thighs and a hint of pink panties.

“You're cute. She said you were.” She rested a hand on my thigh with great familiarity. “We're sisters, we tell each other most everything.”

“Oh, really? Well, good..”

Steffie's hand slid over to my crotch. “She's nowhere near ready. Want me to go down on you while we wait?”

My mouth dropped, and she took the opportunity to give me an amazing tongue kiss. “Mmmm, it's getting hard already!”

This was, of course true, but it seemed grossly unfair to my date to be making out with her little sister. “Uhhh...Steffie? How old are you?”

“I'll be fourteen next week. Too young?” She pressed a firm young breast into my arm.

“Well, not exactly, but...”

“But what? I know how to do lots of things.” She demonstrated by giving my cock an expert squeeze with one hand and briskly scratching one of my nipples with the other.

My response was to jump and move away from her. “Look, Steffie, I don't think it's right—I mean, I came to see Belinda, and—well—”

“I'm prettier than her, aren't I?” She demonstrated this by opening her legs and jutting out her chest. Her breasts were already more impressive than Belinda's, and her panty-clad pussy was clearly outlined for my viewing pleasure.

I couldn't contradict her. “That's not the point,” I said.

Looking hurt and disappointed, she moved away from me just as the door opened and Belinda came in.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Richard. Has Steffie been bothering you?”

“No...no. You look nice.” She did, too. A form-fitting white top with nipples sexily outlined, and tight blue slacks clinging to her lower curves, almost made me forget about her tempting sister. We said our goodbyes to her parents and headed for downtown.

I was pleased that, with the entire front seat to choose from, Belinda chose to sit very close to me. As we drove off, she slid a hand between my thighs, finding my swollen penis. “Do we really want to go to a movie?” she asked.

I stammered around, totally unprepared for this possible change of plan. “Well, I—I think it's a good one, and—”

She laughed. “It's okay, I'm just teasing you.” She leaned over to nuzzle my cheek and then sat back and leaned her head on my shoulder. “You are really to easy to tease, you know.”

It’s amazing we got to the movie in one piece. It’s really difficult to steer a car when it’s floating three feet off the ground.

In the darkness of the nearly-empty theater, Belinda’s hand simply rested lightly on my crotch, while I had an arm around her shoulder in the classic “Maybe I Can Cop a Feel” position. She made it easy for me, taking my hand and placing it over her breast. Feeling her stiff nipple—and no bra—my cock responded violently, lurching against her caressing fingers. We kissed, a long, wet, lingering kiss, and she whispered into my mouth, “Watch the movie.”

I watched, but I was paying far more attention to the show in my lap than the one on the screen. How could I care about Dustin Hoffman’s post-college problems when I, a mere high school student, had Belinda Carr snuggled up beside me in the dark? I wondered idly where she had learned to play with a cock that way, but it really didn’t matter much to me at the time. Her nipple grew harder between my fingertips, my cock strained against my clothing until she finally unzipped me and fished my hard manhood out, precum seeping out to give Belinda something else to play with and make quiet, sexy comments about: "MMM, slick, hot, smooth...." (slurp) "tasty..."--as she licked her fingers slowly. Soon she had lowered her head to my lap and was sliding my cock in and out of her mouth.

It was torture, because she clearly had no intention of bringing me to orgasm. She sucked very slowly, pausing now and then to lick my cockhead, then descending again to her work. My hand moved to her sexy rear; and when I found the rear zipper I slid it gently down. I slipped my hand down the back of her slacks and found the waistband of her panties; inside the panties I found the top of her asscrack and then the hot hairy entrance to her anus. When she moaned, I felt her vocal vibrations all the way through my groin.

After about fifteen minutes of this torment, Belinda decided she wanted to watch the movie. We spent the next hour and a half with our eyes on the screen but our hands in exciting, intimate places. My cock thrust out of my crotch as she held it and occasionally squeezed and stroked. My hand found its way down her top to her hard nipple. She unbuttoned my shirt and caressed my chest and stomach, seeming especially fascinated by the way my nipples hardened at her touch. My hand found its way to her crotch, where I could feel the soft mound of her sex and the sweet slit of her pussy which lurked just beneath her tight clothing. My penis was hard, throbbing, and oozing liquid, which she licked from her slimy fingers.

As the film ended and the credits began to roll, she fastened up her clothing and left me to stuff my engorged cock back into mine; I was so close to orgasm I was afraid I might come all over the seat in front of me.

We walked out of the theater, Belinda smiling with mild amusement at my somewhat awkward gait: my cock and balls were swollen and bulging, and I could only move very slowly and carefully.

Once we were back in the Chevy, and she was snuggled up against me once again, I asked, “Where to? I don’t want to go straight home.”

“I think I know a place we can go,” she said, lightly stroking my crotch again. “I have a friend who goes there all the time.”

She directed me to a wooded area not far from her house. We turned up a gravel road and parked in a grove of trees. It was dark, but moonlight and light from the car radio enabled us to see each other quite well.

There was an awkward moment. It seemed obvious that she wanted to make love, but did she really?

I asked, “Do you want to sit in the front or in the back?

She looked at me with a funny, mocking sort of look. “The front seat is fine.”

So I really didn’t know any more than I did before.

But then she opened her slacks and pulled them off in one smooth move. She smiled at me mischievously and slipped just as quickly out of her panties. The car was filled with the pungent odor of her sex.

I moved a hand up from her knee to her crotch and slipped my finger into her hot wetness. Kissing her and nuzzling her ear, I whispered, “Maybe the back seat would be better.”

She kissed me fiercely and then turned around to clamber into the back. Her bare ass was in my face as she struggled over, and I couldn’t resist giving her a little helpful push right at the moist juncture of thighs and buttocks. She tumbled into the back seat and spread her legs wide. Her wet, hairy snatch glistened in the dim light, and I hurriedly removed my trousers and shorts and clambered into the back seat after her, my engorged cock wobbling and dripping.

She pulled her shirt up, giving me a nice view of her pretty little breasts and their hardened brown nipples. I rubbed the head of my shaft up and down her slit, getting it good and wet, and I knew that I could fuck her whenever I wanted. It seemed a good idea to go slowly, to draw the process out, to make it last. I kissed and licked her nipples and then sucked each one gently. Her hand moved to my penis and stroked it lightly, as if to test its weight and hardness. She squeezed me and lubricated her fingers with my oozings. Those slick fingers slid over and around my cockhead, bringing me to further hardness and causing me to drip more thick juices onto her belly and pubic hair. Meanwhile, her other hand unbuttoned my shirt and teased my hard nipples, then slid round to fondle my bare buttocks.

“Oh, Belinda,” I murmured, “be careful...I could come any second...”

“No staying power, Ricky? I want you to come, but inside me.”

Those words almost made me come then and there. “I should have let your sister do what she wanted...then I’d have better control.”

Belinda stiffened, and I could tell I’d said the wrong thing. Her hands moved from my body and fell to the car seat. “And just what did my sister want to do?”

“It doesn’t matter...I didn’t let her...”

“What did she want?”

“She wanted to give me a blow job. But she didn’t, there wasn’t time—“

Belinda began to scramble out from under me. “So, there wasn’t time. How terribly sad for you!”

“No, Belinda, I—”

“Get off me. Take me home.”

“Oh, please—”

“GET OFF ME!!”

I got off her, my hot cock still wobbling from my crotch. She fumed and fussed as she found her clothing and put it on, piece by piece, and I did the same with mine, though it was difficult to slip my lower garments over my swollen, oozing penis. She opened the back door and stood outside in the darkness to straighten herself, and then we were both sitting silently in the front seat.

“Take me home, please.”

I took her home, totally mystified, my cock finally losing its hardness, as if realizing it wasn’t getting any more entertainment tonight. When we reached her house, she barely waited for the car to stop in the driveway before opening the door and storming inside.

I drove home in anger and frustration, my erection returning. But I couldn’t bring myself to masturbate. This erection had been for Belinda, and it didn’t seem right to use it just for myself.

But the next weekend when I saw Annabelle, it seemed okay to share it with someone else. For one thing, it was her birthday. When we were finished and pulled apart, she said, “My God, Rick, you came by the gallon!” White jism was pouring out of her pussy onto the leather car seat. She grinned and rubbed it into her pubic hair, her buttocks, her belly. “Good stuff, Rick. I’m gonna smell like a whorehouse.”

“I think you smell wonderful,” I said, lowering my face to her crotch and taking a good long whiff of her soaked cunt before moving my tongue in to lap up our combined juices.

“Know what?” she said. “I’m a rapist.”

“Huh?”

“I’m eighteen. You’re not. I have just committed statutory rape.”

“You shameless hussy. And me a helpless young victim. It’s too bad I can’t defend myself from your brazen advances. Why, if you were to rape me again, I couldn’t possibly stop you.”

And I didn’t.

St. Patrick's Day was just a few days later, and there was a party at church—not because the good saint's history had any particular place in our tradition, but because we teenagers needed to be kept off the streets and out of the beer which was flowing throughout the city.

We were supposed to come in Irish costume, or at least wear green. I just wore blue jeans, a white shirt and a green vest along with an old leather cap I thought looked vaguely Irish or at least British. But Annabelle was, as usual, a bit over the top, dressed as a leprechaun. Are leprechauns ever female? This one sure was. Actually, it may have started out as a Tinkerbelle costume, but the addition of a few shamrocks and a green tam created the right illusion. It was a short outfit, and her bare white legs and red hair made her look Irish indeed.

Of course, I didn’t get to see SOME of her red hair till we were parked overlooking the river and her green panties slid to the floor and my stiff cock slid its way inside her. “Saints be praised,” I said. “I’ve found me pot of gold.”

She felt so warm and lovely I came almost as soon as I started thrusting, but she didn’t mind…she just kept me inside her, kept me hard, till she came, and then I did too, and the Buick was filled once again with rich fragrance. We cleaned it up—used a lot of tissues—but even that was exciting and we had to fuck again.

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Seasons of Sex 2: Winter 1967-68

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