Double Dare
- 4 years ago
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Double DateChapter 2 free porn video
We share the town with a college. That's both good news and bad news. The good is that people don't concentrate on the high school students so much. The bad, well, you're expected to go to college, and that one in particular. Of course the really good news is that college kids throw some terrific parties. You just don't want to be at them when the cops barge in, as they inevitably do.
The college is in the center of town. We have a parochial high school on the east side, and our high school on the west. There's a lake to the south, leaving the north for industrial development and the airport. This isn't really important except that the lake has a beach and a lot of kids hang out at that beach, much to the dismay of the adults. It seems they have objections to girls going topless in public. What I thought was funny was that included the "nice Catholic" girls. They flashed their bare boobies just as much as the rest of us did.
Having been well and very thoroughly laid the night before I was difficult to get up. Mom persevered, though, and I eventually shuffled down to breakfast. By then I'd showered and dressed—jeans and a blouse—and was ready, or so I thought, to face the day. The moment I walked outside it hit me: the cold. We live in Northern North Carolina, and we get snow. We didn't have any on the ground, but the air smelled crisp, and there was frost on some windshields.
School was ... school. I was under a lot of pressure to "get a good education" and to "get good grades", as if the two could be equated. I'd already figured things out. The only way to get bad grades was to drop out of school. You got good grades by simply showing up. People who don't believe that, by the way, haven't seen the lawsuits filed by parents because their precious little darling didn't get an A in a class. We used to measure how well students did. Now school is a babysitting service, and the A is not for a high achievement, but for simply showing up every day. People think I exaggerate, but I don't.
Now I was after the education. Like I said, I had it figured out. In college your freshman year was spent teaching you what you should have learned in high school. I didn't want to do that, even though retaking all of those subjects would boost my college G.P.A. I wanted to get fresh material, new things, and that meant I had to get past the freshman year. My plan was to do my first two years (of my four) getting set for transferring to some place where I'd get a real education. To do that, though, meant I couldn't mess up high school. I had to show up.
Mom doesn't want me to date every night (see "get good grades). Rick and I had dated on Wednesday, so it would be Friday before we could go out again. There was a dance after the basketball game, and we went to that. The dance was heavily chaperoned, so nothing happened except some close dancing. Kids are going to do that anyway, so the parents who were there watching over us didn't mind. Besides, that's all we did.
The party we were looking forward to was on Saturday afternoon. This was one of those parties that started in mid-afternoon and went until exhaustion set in, which meant 9:00 p.m. My parents liked them (they'd never attended) because kids got home early. Mom knew we'd probably stop and get some ice cream or something after the party, but that was all right with her. It was what boys and girls did. I didn't tell her that the party was what else boys and girls did.
The average person just can't walk up and get involved in one of these parties, no matter how much they want to. First of all, there's the privacy angle. A lot of people either brag about what they've done, or bad-mouth what happened, with enough details that everyone who was there will get known. Given the attitude most Americans have about sex, if word got out that someone was taking part in parties like this, their name would not only be splashed across every newspaper and magazine in the area, but they'd be appearing on TV. The implication would be that they're doing something wrong, even though a lot of people wouldn't mind being there.
This is the part of the "there are no consequences" attitude. The US Congress passed all sorts of laws so that people could have sex without fear of getting pregnant. The solution: letting people make up their own minds and take their own consequences, wasn't permissible. The government had to protect you from having sex without protection.
The second reason, of course, grew out of the first. There were a lot of people who were carrying STDs, and not just AIDS. They had irresponsibly done what they did without checking the sexual history of the people they were doing it with. Unfortunately, despite the best efforts of the do-gooders, they hadn't found a way to make STDs impossible. We were careful in school, you knew who did it, who didn't, and people took care to make sure their bodies were clean. It was called being an adult.
You had to be invited to these parties, and to do that you had to be "known". Rick and I were, along with about a dozen girls and another dozen guys. The people who knew us and our histories were those who had been in high school before us. These older kids had known us when we were first starting out, and they could vouch for us. We still had to get physicals and blood work, and prove that we could keep our mouths shut. There was usually a quiet feeling-out process, and then we were invited ... to smaller affairs to see if we lived up to our billing. You only got invited to the big parties when everyone was satisfied.
There was some sort of NCAA basketball game on campus, and that meant parking was hard to find. All those people, though, made great cover. It was very easy to get lost in that sort of crowd, and to be a little vague about where you'd been.
The party was held in a building a few blocks off campus. Someone had bought the house and put in all the things you might need for a party. That had stopped being a useful place when someone began asking why all those people were going in, and not coming out for several hours. Fortunately when the police popped in to see what was going on, there was nothing happening. They found a couple of dozen faculty members, another dozen graduate students, and they were having a serious sit-down conference. The police were fascinated by slide after slide of some exotic plant in a South American rain forest. Then one of the cops did what they should have done: they researched the conference to see if it was a front. Lo and behold! This was a regularly scheduled conference that had been advertised in the university press and several peer revie3ed journals. It was, in short, what it purported to be.
There were weekends where there weren't any conferences. Those were always scheduled first. That was the purpose of this place, after all. This particular Saturday was one of those times, and instead of phyla of exotic plans, or the evolutionary linkages behind some offshoot of a mammal, you had stiff dicks and wet girls.
Rick and I parked a block or two away and drifted toward our destination, moving with a steady stream of people. You'd see couples pausing here and there, and we did the same, making the turn to come at a side entrance. There we proved we were who we said we were, and we slipped upstairs—we never partied on a floor where outsiders could see us—and joined the gathering. Then, undressed and ready for whatever the afternoon would bring, Rick and I sauntered out onto the party floor, seeking adventure, seeking passion, and whatever else we might find.
There are a lot of ways to meet a guy at a party like this. The simplest, of course, is to simply walk up and take his dick in your hand. His name was Charles, and his dick was already hared. I swallowed in anticipation. It filled my hand, with plenty left over. I couldn't wrap my fingers all the way around it, but I wasn't going to complain! He was middle-aged, with dark chest hair and a cute butt (I first saw him from behind).
"I'm Jolene," I said as I took his dick.
His hand went to my boobs. "Charles," he said.
A warm hand on my boob will get me interested in a guy, especially when I have his stiff dick in my hand. I slid down and cupped his balls, then bent over and gave him a soft kiss. When I looked up his eyes were gleaming. Yes, this had the possibility of a happy meeting.
"Your boobs look like my cock would fit in between them just fine," he said.
I smiled. "Shall we find out?"
They did, and I slid up and down his length. There's something about male hardness and female softness at a time like that. He was long enough that every time his dick came near my face I gave him a lick. I could feel him quiver when I did that.
At the beginning of a party guys are primed and will go off without any trouble. I tasted the pre-come drops in his tip, and knew it wouldn't be long. I was more right than I knew.
He mashed my boobs around his dick, gave a couple of hard thrusts, and shot his stuff all over my chest and face. It was a solid stream of white, and tasted flat and salty. I bent my head and opened wide, taking as much of his squirt as I could.
"Ah-ah-ah-ah..." He groaned as he came, and after four or five spurts he ran down. His dick didn't, but it did droop.
I sucked the end, which made him jump, getting the last few drops. Then I set about cleaning up, wiping the come from my boobs and face and licking my finger clean.
Charles was breathing hard, but after a minute or so he regained his composure. "I think I owe you something," he said. He licked his lips to show what he meant.
"I'd be a fool to turn it down."
I sat on his face, and he proved to me his tongue was useful for more things than licking his lips, specifically, licking my lips. And pearl. And entrance. And everything else down there.
You don't think at times like that. When a girl gets head she just sits there and enjoys it. Or at least I certainly did. After a bit I needed some dick in my life, and so I leaned forward and began working on his. I know some women (the militants) have decided that sucking a man's dick is kind of humiliating, but these are the same women who won't say no to a guy going down on them. Charles and I made a matched couple, his lips against mine, and my lips wrapped around his dick.
He did fulfill his promise. After a while I just continued to suck his dick, but without any real intent. I was getting too close.
That last rise of your feelings as everything builds is kind of special. Everything gets really intense, and I clutched my boobs as I rose. There's a direct connection between your nipples and your womb, and pinching them gave me that last little bit that pushed me over. He'd promised to make me come, and he delivered.
He showed his experience right then. He deftly spun me around, rolled me over, and buried his manhood deep inside me, one good hard thrust (emphasis on hard). I was just coming down from my peak, and bam! I went right back up there again.
Lynne
- 16.07.2022
- 23
- 0
