Finishing School, Part 9

The Sweet Smell of Sexcess

After the action-packed sex-fest that was Saturday, Sunday seemed very tame by comparison. Mum, Dad and I went on an outing to Wicksteed Park, which was nice but less fun than the last time we’d been, five years previously. I don’t think they realised that now I was eighteen, I’d grown out of swings, slides and climbing frames.

Mum wittered on about the shortness of my skirt and tightness of my top, but I enjoyed the stares and occasional wolf-whistles that came my way. I was slightly taken aback by one boy’s reaction while I was queuing for ice creams. He was leaning, back to the wall, a few yards from the kiosk. He had his baseball cap on backwards and was holding an ice cream cone in his left hand. When he caught my eye he casually formed the fingers of his right hand into a tube and jerked them slowly at the front of his jeans.

The inference was obvious and I quickly looked away as I felt my whole face and neck turn hot. I was shocked that this lad – he had to be at least four years younger than me – would make such an overtly sexual gesture in public. It made me wonder if every other kid had discovered sex as soon as they reached their teens and I had been sexually retarded these past few years. If so, I had certainly caught up with a bang this week.

An image of the boy was etched indelibly in my mind, except in my vivid imagination he had his stiff cock in his hand and was casually wanking as he ate his ice cream. The thought of him masturbating because of my short skirt and tight top made my pulse race and warm feelings throb from my pussy to breasts and back again. By the time I’d bought our ices and returned to the table where my parents sat, my panties were decidedly soggy.

And that was another thing that puzzled me – my gushing pussy. I felt sure it wasn’t normal to leak like Niagara Falls every time I had a wicked thought. Nat became decidedly damp when we got it on together, but nothing like the outpouring of juices that my vagina produced. She seemed to enjoy my copious cunny cream, but it was a little inconvenient when out for the day in public. Fortunately I’d taken the precaution of slipping a sanitary pad into my shoulder bag and nipped to the loos to install it in the soaked crotch of my panties.

As we finished our picnic break I realised what was missing. Natalie had been invited but couldn’t join us because her folks had planned a family visit to a sick relative in Birmingham and she couldn’t get out of it. Shame really, as we would have had a great laugh together.

All I had, as I slipped into bed that night, were her panties to keep me company. I had been quite shocked when she’d insisted on keeping my smelly old pair of knickers. I couldn’t believe she was so aroused by the pong! Then she’d given me her soggy panties to keep and I was beginning to see her point. Lying in bed that night, diddling myself gently off to sleep, I had followed her example and brought her highly aromatic undies up to my nose. Instead of being repulsed, I found her fanny fragrance really appealing. Kind of earthy, musty and a little bit fishy... but also mildly intoxicating and deeply stimulating.

I rolled onto my tummy and drew up one knee, my favourite position for a long, luxurious finger fuck. With my face buried in Nat’s knickers, and my hand full of fluffy pink towel – I wasn’t risking wet sheets again – I slowly sank into a blissful, dreamlike trance.

My face was once again immersed in Natalie’s delicious honey pot, and I had no trouble imagining it was her hand rubbing my pussy.

 My tongue licked and wriggled in her juicy hole, and my lips sucked on her engorged clitoris. Nat’s fingers alternated between brushing the soft towelling against my burning crotch then slipping deep into my cunny and curling forward to touch my G-spot.

In no time I was gasping and moaning as waves of delight spread out from my pussy and my legs began to twitch. Just as I reached the point of no return, that exhilarating peak of ecstasy, the image switched unbidden from Natalie to a young boy with his cap on backwards. In his left hand was a dripping ice cream, and beside it, in his right, was a stiff, straining, pulsating cock!

“Go on, take a lick,” he said. “You know you want to...”

I reached out with my tongue and lapped up a mouthful of cool, sweet ice cream while keeping my eyes glued to his swollen, dripping cockhead.

“Now the other...” he said. “You know you really want to...”

My lips slipped over his throbbing red glans, my tongue sucked it deep into my mouth and instantly my head exploded in a firework display of rockets and sparklers.

AAAHHHhhhh! My hips humped forward and fingers sank to their knuckles. Ooohhh, aaahhh, mmm. I tried to keep quiet but heard something squeaking in time with the spasms in my legs. I was vaguely aware the noise came from my bed’s legs scraping on the bare floorboards, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. My body had been taken over by aliens and was beyond my control. It was wonderfully, terrifyingly, beautifully awesome.

Eventually my orgasmic freefall from the cliffs of climax, slowed to a blissful glide into the sunlit valley of cum-delirium.

“Fu...uuck!” I gasped as the last ripples and twitches faded away. What a melt down!

Why had it taken me so long to discover this garden of delights? And how was it that I’d become so turned on by both pussies and cocks? 

A realisation dawned that filled me with both wonder and dread. I’d turned into a nymphomaniac!