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Frankie and his Gurl, Part 4: “Jock Tease”
I was staring in the window of a Victoria’s Secret when I saw Billy Mills’ reflection. He was approaching with a tall redheaded girl. They stopped and Billy laughed at me.
“Shopping for your girlfriend, dude?” he said. I almost laughed but then he said, “Or your boyfriend?”
He didn’t know about my female life. I put on my best male voice and said, “At least I buy my dates something.”
“Think you’re funny, little wiseass?” said Billy.
He grabbed me by my collar and pulled me down an alley by the store. I prayed his girlfriend would talk some sense into him. She didn’t.
Billy punched me in the stomach and pushed me against a Dumpster.
“Get out of my sight,” he said. “Or I’ll ring your scrawny little neck. You dork!”
Billy walked on with his girlfriend. She acted like nothing had happened. Billy Mills, big junior class cretin, thinks he’s tough shit.
Dazed I started to walk home. I had been upbeat all day; now I was just plain beat up. But after getting roughed up by Billy I felt like a sniveling weakling; instead of femme I felt like an effeminate weakling.
I even thought about canceling Karen’s lesson. It was Tuesday, and tonight Frankie’s cousin Karen would give me a femme tutorial. But when eight o’clock came, I went.
I told Karen what had happened.
“Oh hon. Being a sweet thing like you sure has its downside. Are you all right?”
I said nothing, just fumed.
“I got an idea. We’ll combine it with tonight’s lesson.” She brought me blank sheets of floral stationery and a red pen. “Write about what happened to you today and what you’d like to do about it.”
“Write it down? Why?” I asked confused.
“It’ll be therapeutic. Don’t you think?”
“I guess. But … what does it have to do–?
“Oh, I forgot to explain. You’ll be doing it in girl’s handwriting.”
She handed me some pages with feminine writing on them. “Here’s some letters I wrote. Some of Lissa’s too. Feminine handwriting can be different with each girl, but there are things in common.”
“I know.” I looked at the letters. I had always noticed how rounded and softer a girl’s penmanship was. I had tried it before but I wasn’t ready yet.
Karen always said that femininity started with feminine thinking. I kept that in mind as I began writing about my run-in with Billy Mills.
I felt humiliated, so I internalized it the way a girl would. After a couple of sentences the words in bright red ink formed easily in curly, rounded letters. The trick is not to force it. Write as fast as possible and tap into the natural flow. It was similar to finding the right vocal register.
Although some of my letters and numbers were still a little rough, most of them came out fluently and appeared genuinely feminine.
I finished and handed it to Karen. As she read she said, “Good, good. Pretty consistent, too.”
She read some more, and suddenly the paper began to shake.
“Jesus Christ!” she said. “You didn’t tell me this.”
“You didn’t tell me it was Billy Mills.” She snapped the paper closed. “That creep tried to … to rape me.”
“Really? That bastard,” I said. “When? Where?”
“Never mind the details. But I had to run over a mile in my blouse and panties, barefooted, till I got to a house where people gave me something to wear so I could get home. It was horrifying. Now I just want to forget about it.”
“Why didn’t you tell someone?”
“I was going to. Then–Look, who am I? Do you know anything about the Mills family? And I had no proof. I decided to forget about it, move on.”
“I’m so sorry about what happened, Karen. But you haven’t
forgotten about it. You know that.”
“Look, everything’s cool now, okay? I’m just still … angry, that’s all.”
“I know, I know.”
Still somber, a tear welling in her eye, she said, “Your handwriting, it’s really good, hon.”
“Thanks,” I said, but it didn’t really matter. “Karen?”
“I can’t stand to see you hurt.”
“Yeah. Well, we both got our problems. Too bad it’s because of the same little prick.”
“You’ll just blame yourself.”
“I said yes when he asked me out. So … maybe I have someone to blame.”
“That’s not right either.”
“I know. But this discussion is over, okay?”
“Okay. But you’ve been helping me with the ‘girl pointers’ and clothes and all. I feel I owe you.”
“If I need a favor I’ll let you know. But one of the reasons I do this is for my cousin, so you’ll be femme for him. And kind of because of that day you and me and my friends … “
She smiled. “Well, you remember. I had fun then. Though I feel guilty about leaving Frankie out of it. And anyway I’m helping you cause that’s kinda fun, too. You don’t owe me.”
“Whatever,” I said. “But if there’s ever anything I can do, promise you’ll tell me?”
“I will.” She sniffled. “But there’s nothing …” Her voice trailed off as if she just realized something. Then she said, “Nah. Forget it.”
“Girl, tell me,” I said.
A smile began to spread on her face. “Oh God this would be like too awesome.”
“Oh, Julie baby, we gotta do this!”
Her face was close to mine now. “I got an idea how to fix that bastard’s ass,” she said. “And you’re going to help.”
My mother was at work. Frankie and I lay next to each other on my bed. I was clad in a sheer purple teddy and matching G-string Karen had given me. Legs and feet uncovered. Frankie wore only boxer shorts.
He played idly with the small, dark birthmark near my inside upper thigh area, deep in thought.
He and I had been about to make love when I broached the subject of his cousin and our plan to get Billy Mills. I had just finished telling Frankie about it, and how he could help.
“No way,” he said. “We’ll get in trouble. And maybe get beat up.”
“No we won’t. Not if we’re careful. It’ll be easy.” I wasn’t quite sure about that. But because it was for Karen, I welcomed the challenge.
“Maybe I won’t get beat up,” said Frankie. “And Karen neither. But I’m afraid for you. You got the dangerous part.”
He was right about that. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to me. Or you or Karen.”
“But something happening to you is already part of the plan.”
“No, Frankie. You don’t get it. The whole point is that nothing happens.”
“Okay,” he said, but didn’t mean it.
“And it’s Billy Mills,” I said. “I thought you told me you didn’t like him.”
“I said I wouldn’t want to be with someone like him. And no I don’t like him either. But I don’t either like that he’s gonna … try something with you.”
“I know,” I said. “But it’s for Karen. And me, too.”
“Julie … would you ever leave me flat for somebody like Billy?”
I tisked. “Frankie, he beat me up.”
“You didn’t answer. I mean, he’s four years older than me. He’s experienced.”
I hated that I was suddenly thinking of Billy’s large blue eyes and wavy brown hair. I shook the thought from my mind. “No,” I said. “Never. Billy’s a sociopath.”
“Then stay away from him.”
“If you don’t want to help, hon, that’s okay. We’ll get someone else.”
Frankie sighed. “Lemme think about it, okay?”
“‘Kay,” I said, a little miffed.
We lay in silence for another minute, and suddenly I felt a hand touch the area between my thigh and my tummy.
My mood began to change, focused on the stirring in my genitalia. My cheeks rapidly warmed. But then I still had Karen’s and my problem escort bursa on my mind and I couldn’t find the mood.
Karen wore a black sweater and short pleated skirt. Her legs were clad in black stockings–probably pantyhose–and had on buckled shoes. We were in the garage attached to her house.
“This is what we’re gonna do,” she said to Frankie and me. “The dance is tonight. Micky’ll drive the three of us there. Frankie, you and I’ll stay in the car. Lissa’ll be inside, watching. She’ll call you when it’s time.”
“‘Kay,” replied Frankie.
“Julie, you already know what you’ll be doing.”
“We know Billy will be going to the dance alone. Rumor has it he’s not taking anyone. Just stand around until he hits on you–and believe me he will.”
“How can you be sure?” I asked.
“If he doesn’t, just do your stuff and pull him to you. He doesn’t know you. You’re new at school. Just moved here–make up a cover story. Get him to take you to his car. Just long enough so Frankie can take the pic.”
With time getting shorter, I was beginning to imagine all that could wrong. But I refused to let on. Karen’s honor, and mine for that matter, hinged on it.
Besides, Karen’s seventeenth birthday was coming up next week. I wanted it to be a nice one.
“Where do I get made over?” I asked.
Karen looked at Frankie. “Uncle John and Aunt Diane are going out tonight, right?”
“Yeah,” replied Frankie. “Six.”
“Good. Then we start dress-up after that. We’ll be at the school by about nineteen hundred hours.”
Frankie said, “Huh?”
“Seven,” I explained. Now I really wasn’t feeling good about this.
Shortly after six–“1800 hours” according to Karen–we were at Frankie’s house. Karen sat me in an armchair and dropped some clothes and things in another. I had butterflies in my stomach–and not the good kind.
Frankie sat slouched on the couch, his chin in his hand. He looked cranky and his crossed legs nervously bobbed up and down.
Karen laid out my clothes from a Victoria’s Secret shopping bag.
First the under things: a pair of off-black stockings with hot pink lace tops, a black lace garter belt with shiny bright red trim, and matching lacey black bra with a red rose between the cups.
I started to forget how anxious this scheme was making me. Especially when I saw the panties: bright scarlet-red bikinis, the front and back panel silken and glossy, the sides were transparent red lace.
Just like the ones I’d been looking at in the Vicky’s Secret window when Billy Mills came along–the whole ensemble, in fact.
I cupped my face in awe. “Wow. Thank you Karen.”
“My pleasure,” she said. “Frankie, let’s go and let Julie get dressed.
“Why?” asked Frankie.
“Because it’s respectful,” she said.
They left and I put on the bra first, then the black lace bra with the crimson rose. Then the charcoal colored stockings.
I always loved putting on stockings, rolling them up over my knee to hug my thigh. These were especially sexy, with black seams running up the back. But the hot pink lace tops of these black stockings had no elastic bands. I realized why I needed the black lace garter belt.
I fastened the garter belt around my waist then clasped the ends of its dangling red straps to the blushing tops of the stockings. An erection began poking out the wickedly red bikinis.
“Down girl,” I whined, starting to get nervous. Why was Karen paying so much attention to what I was wearing underneath? No way was Billy going to get that far!
As if aware I was done, Karen and Frankie came back into the living room. Frankie’s eyes were wide, indicating as always that he was aroused.
“Hot, Julie,” said Karen.
She took some tissue from a box and stuffed my braw, molded it. Then she went to the other VS bag and pulled out something a shiny red dress. She held it up against her. “You like?”
“Oh, I love,” I replied.
She handed it to me. “Hurry. We’ve got a lot to do.”
I put on the red satin party dress. It was strapless. The bottom flared out and fell just below the knees. And there were slits on either side that went almost up to the waist. I was in awe.
I gasped. “Karen, this must’ve been… “
“No, it wasn’t expensive. Besides, it fits me too, so I’ll get some use out of it, too.”
“But… won’t I be too dressed for this dance?”
“That’s the idea.”
She sat me down to do my face while Frankie sat watching, thumping his leg again.
She placed long eyelashes on my eyelids and used a touch of blue eye shadow to bring out the blue of my eyes. She worked patiently applying rouge to my cheeks creating just the right contour to my cheekbones. On my eyes she used a liner.
Frankie’s thumping increased.
Karen used a liner on my lips and then coated them with ruby red lipstick, all the while working intently like an artist. Then she studied me with care.
“There,” she said finally.
I looked in the mirror and wondered who that girl was. “Wow.”
Karen smiled then acted stunned. “Wait!” she said and went to one of the bags. She pulled out some jewelry. “The earrings are clip-on. The rest is mine so don’t lose any of it.”
The earrings were long and dangly silver with small gleaming red stones. The necklace was liquid silver. The bracelet was embellished with tiny sparkling white gems.
Karen then took out a tiny bottle of amber fluid and squirted it in the air. I knew to step through it to catch the essence so it wouldn’t overwhelm. The scent was a mystifying and powerful one and made my heart pound against my chest.
“It smells so beautiful,” I said.
“It’s called Charlie, hon,” Karen replied. “We’re taking no prisoners tonight.”
The doorbell rang. I gasped.
“Get that, Frankie!” said Karen.
Frankie bolted and looked out the window. “It’s my friend Timmy,” he announced.
“Oh, God,” said Karen. “That little shit. Frankie, get rid of him, or take him upstairs.” To me Karen said, “I hate Timmy. He’s a brat and a liar.”
Frankie stomped out of the room.
“Don’t mind him,” said Karen. “He’s bored.”
“Maybe he’s worried. I sure am.”
“Julie,” she said, her beautiful lips bent into a snarl, “stop being such a whiny little bitch!”
Her words clobbered me. I abruptly got just as hissy, my hand on my hip and my chin shooting up. “Bitch, huh? Well honey, I learned from the best.”
Karen beamed. “Nice comeback! You’re gonna do great.” She brought out a wig. “You’ll need this. He might recognize you.”
The wig was auburn with blonde highlights and had thick, wavy tresses flowing just below the shoulder. It looked so natural. I put it on. Karen brushed it out.
“We want those earrings to show,” said Karen. She held up a handful of my locks and choked them with a silver elastic band. Curly tresses burst out and spilled lightly over my neck and shoulders. A few tendrils dangled alongside my ears, nicely showcasing the earrings.
She slipped a pair of scandalously sexy silver 4-inch heeled sandals on me and fastened the straps.
“You’re complete,” she said. She handed me a small black pocketbook with a wallet, some bills, and the Charlie dispenser. “Let’s get Frankie and go.”
I went upstairs. The door to Frankie’s room was opened a crack. Frankie and Timmy were sitting on the bed. Timmy was a thin, blond kid who wore baggy jeans and a black T-shirt. He seemed a shade younger than Frankie.
I was going to push the door wide open when I heard Frankie whispering. “I make white stuff now.”
“Me too. Lots.”
“I even have somebody I do it gorukle escort with.”
“No way, really? A girlfriend?”
Instead of opening the door I tapped on it. “Frankie, it’s time to go.”
Karen, Frankie and I got to the dance. I went in and was asked for ID. I told them I was starting school this year. They gave me no argument.
I went into the softly lit gym where kids were dancing slowly. The stares I got from guys that sent buzzing sensations through me. Girls stared, too.
My mouth went dry and I had to fight off the jitters. I was scared but excited at this, my debut in public as a girl.
Several guys came up to me and I quickly excused myself.
Then from behind me came Billy Mills. I guess I was secretly hoping it would never happen.
“Hey, babe. Do I know you?”
My impulse was to say yes, you beat me up the other day.
“I don’t think so. I’m new here. I mean, at the school. I mean I’m new in town, too, but not new at the dance. My n-name is Julie.”
I bit a ruby-red lip and thought to myself, Oh, you’re gonna blow this–no, don’t use that word. You’re going to screw this up–Damn!
“Sexy voice too. And you smell like sweet, sexy candy.”
I left out a silly, nervous laugh. “I didn’t know candy could smell sexy.”
“Sorry, I’m not poet. Wanna dance with me, Julie?”
It was a slow dance. “Um, yeah. No.” I started twisting my hair. “I’m not sure.” I needed to get back my edge. I smiled. “You haven’t told me your name.”
“Billy. Julie, I gotta say you’re the hottest girl here.”
“Thanks, Billy. So umm what class you in?”
“Well, this is a junior dance, so …”
I giggled. “How silly of me! Billy, I don’t think I’d like to dance yet. I’m kinda thirsty. Could you be a sweetheart and get me a soda?”
While he was gone I tried to pull myself together. This was my debut in public as a girl. I tried thinking of what Madonna would do, but in my mind the Material Girl was smoking a cigarette while driving her Porsche and quarreling with someone from Buckingham Palace on her mobile. Even my imagination failed me.
Billy returned, handed me a cup. “Cherry soda for a cherry-sweet girl,” he said.
Oh God! I thought. Gotta get this over before I spew. “I hate dances,” I said, watching kids slow dance.
“I’m not too crazy about ’em either. Hey, I got an idea. Let’s go for a walk.”
We walked through a forested area alongside the school, Billy’s arm around my shoulder. He bored me with bullshit about himself. I finished my soda and was about to throw out the cup.
“Don’t do that. I’ve got something in my car.”
End game, I thought. I felt a little relieved.
He had a bright red sports car. “You’ll look so fine in this,” he gloated.
We got in and he drove to an alcove of the school building where no one could see. He parked and pulled a flask of Johnny Walker Red from the back, poured a splash of amber liquor in my plastic cup. The color reminded me of Charlie perfume, except the whiskey smell made me cough. I took a tiny sip.
“You do this with a lot of girls, I’ll bet,” I said smiling and nudging a little closer.
He shrugged. “Nah. Not like I don’t have the chance, though.” His arm went around my shoulder and he sipped from the bottle.
“Oh, you’re a little rascal I’ll bet.”
My eyes scanned the parking lot, the trees, the school–everywhere. Where was Frankie?
“I got a private entrance to my room at home. We could slip in there, okay?”
I sipped a little more whiskey. Too much. My face caught fire and my eyes watered. I held back a gasp. “Sounds awfully nice, but I’ll wanna … wanna go back inside later. We could have a–ya know–nice time right here.”
He shrugged. “I guess.” He took another sip. “Julie … can I kiss you?”
Smiling coyly, I fiddled with the edge of the cup. “I dunno.”
“Hmmm. Are you a prude, Julie?”
“Oh noooo. Just a little shy.” Frankie, where the fuck are you?
“I can cure shyness.”
Ah, you’re a doctor now, I thought.
He nuzzled my wig hair and his lips went to my cheek. I couldn’t help cringing. He blew in my ear, kissed my neck. It would’ve felt so good if it wasn’t Billy Mills doing it.
The warmth of the liquor spread through me. His lips moved toward mine and I went utterly still. He pulled me to him. A little peep escaped me, muffled by his lips.
My eyes roved the parking lot. Then the trees, where I saw something move. Frankie…?
That encouraged me to hasten things. One arm went limply around him. The other went to his thigh. Paint the best picture, I thought.
He grabbed my hand and put it squarely on his bulge. I was scared. He kissed me harder. I glanced out the windshield. Where was Frankie? The windows started to steam up. It had to be soon.
Billy’s hand groped my bra cup and then traveled down to my thigh, beneath the slit in the red satin dress, fumbled past the garter strap, and before I could stop it, went to my crotch and touched my “clit”.
I was dead.
He withdrew from my lips. Breathless and shaking, he felt the outline. I froze still for a moment then gulped a finger of booze.
His hand staying there, he said, “What the hell…”
I braced for a possible physical assault and said, “I’m sorry, Billy, I shoulda told you. I’m a boy. Well… part a boy, gonna have an operation. Don’t be m-mad. Please?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I dunno. You’re so cute, didn’t have the heart? Was gonna? Honest?”
He swigged the whiskey. “Look, ya know… like I believe live and let live. No–no big deal. Be honest I always was kinda … Don’t tell anybody but … I’ve always had a …”
“Fetish?” I said, stepping things up. “I understand.” The liquor was doing its job. I suddenly felt bold, flashing my eyelashes. In my best sultry femme voice said, “Want to … umm … taste each other, Billy?”
He aimed a finger at my red lips. “You can’t tell anybody. You hear?”
“No no no bay-bee. Not a whisper.”
I lifted the front panel of my satin dress. I slid down the scarlet satin-lace bikini as far as the garter snaps on the hose allowed. My clit snapped up stiff as rock candy.
Billy anxiously unbuckled his pants and brought out his maleness. It was thick but not very long. I touched it, sighing. It pulsated in between my fingers.
“Take them all the way off. ‘Kay, hon?” I said cutel.
Billy struggled to shed his pants and tossed them in the back seat. He tilted my seat back, leaned over me, and got right into it. I closed my eyes, shocked by the rush I got. How skillful he was. Amateurs I guessed often can be.
I fondled his member gently, sensuously, trying to keep in mind why I was here. Then I heard footsteps and a rustling outside the car. I opened my eyes and saw Frankie through the windshield.
Frankie wore a cap and sunglasses to avoid being identified. He held up the cell phone and snapped a pic of us.
That aroused me more. Billy’s lips and tongue felt so good. But I had to get ready. I slipped off Lissa’s 4-inch with my free hand, grasped the dashboard, waited.
Frankie took another pic and, moving to the passenger side, snapped another one, catching part of Billy’s bobbing face. The creep hadn’t a clue.
Exit strategy, I suddenly thought.
“Billy, let me?” I begged, looking hungry.
Frankie had ducked out of sight as a breathless Billy looked up and said, “Sure baby.”
He tilted his own seat back and reclined. I wasted no time leaning over and began sucking him, but it was all automatic now. I concentrated on timing, and after a few moments, the bursa sınırsız escort bayan time was right.
My hand reached into the back seat and clutched his pants. My other quietly collected my shoes and purse. Then I squeezed my teeth around his member. Hard.
While Billy screamed I flung the door open and dashed out, shoes and purse and pants in hand. Frankie was already running ahead of me. Behind me, in his shorts, yelling with rage, stood Billy.
Karen’s car was waiting in the lot. We got in and we all laughed as she sped off.
We got back to Frankie’s house at 8:30. I couldn’t believe it; it seemed like it should be at least ten.
I was feeling embarrassed and half-drunk but I accepted a wine cooler to celebrate our victory.
We all sat in the living room with Timmy, who had waited for Frankie’s return. Timmy kept staring at me, and I’d been stared at enough for one day.
Gleefully Karen said, “Time for an assessment. I’m happy to report the operation was a success. Julie, you were absolutely great. Lissa and I were watching in the gym. And keep the getup.”
“Shush. I only had to buy the wig and outfit, really–$140 but I make twice that a week. And it was worth every cent. The shoes are Lissa’s but she said wear ’em whenever you want.”
“Thank you,” came my hushed reply.
“Frankie, you were great. Fantastic pics!”
“You guys really get pics of Billy Mills with somebody?” asked Timmy. His voice hadn’t even changed yet.
“Sure did,” Frankie said.
Timmy looked at Frankie. “With her?” he asked, meaning me.
Frankie beamed. “Uh huh.”
“Wow.” Timmy said in disbelief, “You’re not really a girl?”
“Why do you ask?” I said.
“Frankie already said. But you sure look like one.” He stared some more.
“Go ahead,” Frankie said to Timmy. “Tell her what you told me.”
“Julie, I wanna dress up too.”
“That’s nice,” I said.
“Will you and Karen show me?”
Karen and I said “maybe” at the same time.
“Frankie, let’s go put the pics on the computer,” said Karen.
Karen and Frankie went to the computer in the dining room. I went up to Frankie’s room to change. I sat down on the bed. I started to slip off my shoes when the door creaked open. It was Timmy.
“Hey,” he said.
He stepped in, closed the door. Then he unbuckled his baggy jeans and let them fall. He stood there in his blue briefs.
“I’m sorry, hon, but I’d like my privacy now. ‘Kay?”
“Billy’s my cousin,” he said.
“What did you say?”
“The guy you punked tonight? He’s my cousin.”
“Oh.” My heart started to pound.
“I could tell on you to him. You and Karen and Frankie.”
I was relieved.
“Unless you don’t do something for me.”
“What … do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. Julie, I’m not tryin’ to be a rat. It’s just I need it. I wanna do some stuff with you now.”
“No. And you’re not really gonna tell anyone,” I said, calling his bluff.
He grinned. “I will too. I’ll tell him tonight. Watch me.”
I took a deep breath. He was young. Maybe I could slough him off for now and he’d forget about it. “Okay. Not tonight, though, hon.”
“Uh uh. Now is when I need it.” He kicked off his sneakers and socks and pulled the jeans the rest of the way off. He shed his oversize sweatshirt, dropped it to the floor. Nothing remained on his slender body but the blue briefs and his bellybutton, an outie.
He went to the door and turned the latch. “Ready?”
I tried to come up with a way out but drew a blank. I thought of just saying no. Then I thought of Karen, and what could happen to Frankie. “Ten minutes,” I finally said. “That’s all.”
“Uh uh. Fifteen.”
“Okay, fifteen. Then you get out of here.”
He shed the briefs and scampered up on Frankie’s bed, lying flat on his back. His selfish little member was rigid and rose like a second hand of a clock, but much faster.
The pinkish glans peaked out from the creamy foreskin. His unripe scrotum was small. His twiggy build hipless and completely smooth.
“Take off that dress,” he ordered, breathing nervously. “And lick my boner.”
I removed the red satin dress and leaned over Timmy to lick the small reddish glans. He shuddered.
“Suck it,” he said brusquely.
I surrounded the four-inch shaft with my lips and began moving up and down. He wriggled and made little groans.
“Take your underwear down,” he said after a while.
My red panties seemed to resist as I slid them down.
He smiled, his eyes widened. “You’re so big, Julie.”
He rolled on his side and fumbled with my clit. As he started licking I tried not to get hard, but nature took its course.
He stopped, tugged the garter strap, and said, “Take this off.”
I unsnapped the straps from the stockings, unhooked the garter belt and removed it. The stockings drooped but stayed on.
He pointed to the satin and lace panties. “Now those.”
I pulled them over my knees and off. I was nervous and scared and a little testy. “What now?” I asked.
“Make me cum.”
“You don’t cum,” I said. “What do you even do?”
“Sometimes I jack off or maybe lie on my stomach and rub against the sheet.”
“Okay. I’ll ‘jack’ you, okay?”
“No. I wanna rub on you.”
Timmy mounted me and put his hands around my neck. His narrow waist fit easily between my parted thighs. He started kissing me and moving his hips.
His penis felt like a sleek nail rubbing against me. He sometimes stopped to reach down between us and adjust our genitals. His kisses were awkward and tasted like bubblegum.
He was holding me tight, his high-pitched grunts as fast and quick as his desperate thrusts. But I couldn’t help tingling all over as I sensed his eagerness. I bit my hand to suppress my urge and hoped our time would soon be up.
“Oh, Julie,” came his strained cry as he kept humping. “Hope … you’re … not mad … are ya?”
The spark of desire glowing deep inside me caught fire and spread. I found myself grasping Timmy’s naked back, squeezing his gyrating bottom.
“You … like it … too Julie … don’t ya?”
My toes tightened. The pressure in my loins swelled.
Timmy held tighter and trembled, pressing hard against me. His slender hips swiveled slower now. His body shuddered. And then he startled me with a long weeping moan. He had climaxed. He fell limp on me, his skin hot, a goofy look on his face. I felt a little puddle form on my stomach.
We could’ve stopped now. But it was too late; the floodgates had burst open.
I held my cries behind a quivering gasp as my loins erupted. All that tension and stress gave way, pouring out in a prolonged release of passion. It was more powerful than I’d dreamed possible.
After the final hot wave washed over me I lay spent and wobbly. Timmy slithered his privates playfully in the result, his belly smeared up to his outie. His chin fell against my neck. “You’re all gooey now,” he said, giggling. “That was so hot.”
Breathing raggedly I started to rise. “Time for you to get dressed and go.”
“No problem.” He jolted to his knees and looked down at me. “But I gotta tell you something first.”
“About being Billy’s cousin? I made that up,” he said proudly. “I wouldn’t tell him nothin’ anyway.”
He jumped off the bed and wiped his lap with a Kleenex. While getting dressed he kept chuckling. “We gotta do this again. Okay?” he said. “Or I really would tell Frankie.”
“No, Timmy.” I grinned. “Everyone thinks you’re a liar.”
“Yeah? How else could I know you got a birthmark down there?”
~ the end ~
Also see Frankie and His Gurl Part 1 – 3
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