Girl Scout Troop MasterChapter 3
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Girl Scout Troop MasterChapter 2 free porn video
Shit! Shitshitshitshit!
“M-m-mister?”
And shit again. I had become so engrossed in the problem of getting the bus back on the road that I forgot to keep up a good face for the girls. Now my obvious frustration was upsetting them. So far, I had only moved six of them to safety and it looked like nine or ten more were in a tight pile at the door, wondering if they were going to live or die. It was time for me to forget about things and concentrate on people.
“Sorry, girls. I thought I would be able to save all of you in one move, but that isn’t going to work. It only means that we will continue moving you one at a time, but we will get all of you off soon. (Wouldn’t I just love that?) Just try to stay calm. As I take each one from the bus, the rest of you need to keep sliding toward the door to keep the balance as close to this end as possible. Ok?”
“O-ok, Sir”, I heard a few responses.
As I gently took the next girl into my arms, she almost smothered me as she wrapped her arms around me in a stranglehold. It helped me realize how terrified they were. I had been so wrapped up in solving their problem that my focus had not widened to take in the situation we would be facing once all of them were safe. It looked like I would have more than a dozen 14-15 year old girls to be responsible for until I could find a way to get them off the mountain and turn them over to someone else.
As might be expected in this age group, their bodies covered a wide range of development. The one in my arms brought this fact home to me very quickly. Her panic hold on me was smashing my face into a couple of the firmest tits I had run into in a long, long time. Too long. Too damn long.
Speaking of too damn long, I realized that the closeness, feel and smell of this young girl was indeed awakening The Monster. How long had it been since I got a hard on without touching myself? No matter. There was little I could do about it now. I couldn’t spare an arm to adjust myself and she was crushing me to her chest too hard to move her body around to hide my arousal from the others. There was nothing to do but press on.
I knew there was no reason to carry her further than a few steps away from the bus, but I liked nuzzling her tits so much that I carried her all the way to the first group of girls before setting her on her feet. Some of them appeared to notice my condition, so I avoided adjusting myself and just kept walking.
The next girl slid out the door feet first, which caused her short skirt to ride up, exposing some very expensive lace and a nice camel toe. Her quirky grin told me it might not be accidental. She also grabbed me and smashed her tits in my face. Oh, well. Some sacrifices must be made. If it helps calm them down to play their adolescent games, what is the harm in that?
Apparently, the secret mental communication among girls had spread the word and each girl who came to the door after that seemed to be reading from some kind of script. Who was I to question the secret rites of early womanhood if it helped calm their fears? If they wanted to toy with me, I was their boy.
The next girl had either started the day commando or had risked toppling the rest of them off the rim of the canyon in order to shed her undies. She also managed to snag her skirt, somehow, proving her condition. If it had not been for the smug grin on her face and the fact that she was staring at my very serious bulge, I might have thought that she would be embarrassed to have a strange man catch her in a non-uniform condition.
As I lifted her, she wrapped me tightly to her impressively firm bosom, like the other girl had, and whispered something in my ear that the others had not.
“Oooooh, Grandpa. What a big package you have.” Then she giggled in my ear as she buried my face in her cleavage.
It was such a relief to learn that the girls were finding a way to deal with such a traumatic experience. Now if I could find a way to get out of this situation without spending the rest of my life in jail, it would be a welcome miracle.
“Better to satisfy you with, my dear”, was the best response I could come up with. What was I saying? There was no double entendre. That had single entendre written all over it. Was she going to tell the others what I had said? Oh, yeah. I forgot about the mental bit. Every girl I saw was smiling and licking her lips.
Was I losing my mind? Was this actually happening or was I merely having a wet dream? They were few and far between these days, but still popped up from time to time. I can’t tell you how welcome a feeling it is to wake up with a hard on when they aren’t that common in your life any more. The problem was that I needed both hands to hold her and couldn’t pinch myself to confirm that I was awake.
She loosened one of her hands to pull the neck of her t-shirt down far enough to see the beginning of a rose colored wonder. “Does this look like you’re dreaming, Grandpa?”
What was it with this Grandpa thing? Was she on some sort of super-generational incesty kick? If she was, then I was certainly dreaming and it was by far the best dream for me in a very long time. Why fight it? I puffed out my chest and tried to walk without stumbling as she pulled that t-shirt further and further down her chest. You can’t die in a dream, can you? If I were truly dying in my sleep, I couldn’t think of a better way to go.
Death by wet dream? Damn! Bring it on!
Now that I had rationalized my situation, I felt all responsible adult restrictions falling from my back. As that long promised fat nipple finally sprung free of the restrictions of the thin t-shirt, I popped it in my mouth. If I’m going to die with a hard on, it might as well be with a nipple in my mouth.
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