Message-ID: <18991eli$9901220352@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: yngfox@aol.com (YngFox) Subject: Young Fox Story--Melanie, Man Molester Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19990110023515.08429.00009518@ng-fu1.aol.com> Come view my stories at Mr.Double: http://www.mrdouble.com/htm/authors/youngfox.htm Some stories are free, some require a signup fee. It is well worth it. (Melanie Departure-Boarding Durkan, a red-headed feline child of hippy parents who were stoned silly when they made her, is sexually insatiable and seduces men right and left to satisfy her vixen cunt. We glimpse her first in a piney wood, entertaining a man.) Melanie lay on the blanket but couldn't find a position that was comfortable. A pine cone poked the small of her back, sharp twigs annoyed her little butt. But she'd had to cajole and hoodwink her man to get him this far, even resorting to lifting her skirt and showing it to him, before she could get him to come into the woods, so Melanie was damned if she was going to let anything stop her now. She needed a man, any man. She was dreadfully horny. Her poor little cunt spasmed. Damn, she mused, why am I so hooked? Playing with her hard little nipples and licking her lips, Melanie looked up at the gorgeous hunk who stood with his feet planted on either side of her chest. She guessed him to be about twice her age, probably a college student. He stood over her, naked, looking this way and that, listening hard for any movement that might give them away. She saw his arm veins and chest arteries thrumming, his breathing deep, excited. Melanie buried her fingers in herself, scratching so hard she began to bleed. Sometimes guys thought she was menstruating, and that had blown up in her face once or twice, so she strove to stop herself from bleeding too much. She didn't want him to worry about getting her pregnant too. But it was hard: just looking at his jutting penis made her cum. She had a direct upward view of his leaping prick. His balls hung tight in his leathery wrinkled sac. The shaft was thick and heavily veined. He was uncut and the foreskin was tight around the bulb. Her eyes went up further taking in his flat hard stomach and strong fine chest. His own nipples were firm and bigger than hers. Her eyes kept going back to his cock. She had never seen an uncircumsized cock before, although her friend Marianne claimed to have done it with quite a few men who had them, so she knew how they worked. Still, she had expected that his foreskin would be pulled back by his erection, and it wasn't. Melanie thought about art classes where the teacher talked about "perspective". What a perspective this was! Her guy's head was in the sky, surrounded by blue and in her peripheral vision by trees. She was panting. "Can you hurry and put it in me?" Melanie asked the man. "I really need it!" "Hold on, I thought I heard something," he whispered, bringing his finger to his mouth to shush her. Melanie had heard nothing. Impatient, slowly frigging herself she stared at his butt bottom. Somewhat flabby, unlike the rest of his body, at this angle, with the cleft just so, it almost looked like a second set of balls. It was a droopy ass. She sat up and grabbed his cock. "Come on," she insisted, "I want to feel this." And she began to stroke his erection. The man shivered and decided he was too far gone to care anymore, even if a troop of girl scouts came marching through. He knelt down next to her. Melanie discovered that she could pull the foreskin back to reveal the head, and she wasted no time licking around his bulb. It tasted of urine and she didn't think he'd bathed recently. It was fun to lick him. She loved to lick and nibble and suck on cocks. "God, if anyone saw me I'd be in jail!" he groaned. Melanie giggled. "Mister, you have any idea how many guys I do it with?" She licked his tip again. "Mmm, that's good," she told him. "How old are you anyway?" he asked, frightened and besotted. "Don't be nosy!" she teased, smiling like an angel and gobbling him down. "Oh, Jesus!" he groaned. It was not a complaint. Melanie was thoroughly turned on by her taste of a foreskinned dick. She held his shaft, stroking it, pulling the skin back taut. After a time when she released her hand his skin stayed put. "I'm so fucking hot!" he groaned. It's about time, she thought to herself. "Are you going to fuck me or not?" she demanded. He got on his knees and ran his hand through her hair, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek. "Are you sure?" he asked, his eyes locked on hers. She nodded vigorously. "Please," she said. "Please hurry, it hurts not having you inside me." Very gently, he got between her legs, spreading them wide. He stroked her slender thighs, feeling her goose bumps. Melanie's pink wet cunt pouted open and he felt around it with his fingers, marveling at the smoothness of her skin and lips, unsullied by development. He slipped his hands under her butt and lifted her light body up to him. She felt his tip brush against her lips and she lifted her head to look at the interstices of their bodies. She held his penis and bent it into her hole. He relaxed and let his weight down on her, sinking in. "I can't believe this," he moaned. "Oh, that's so good now!" Melanie purred, reaching for his strong shoulders. "Fuck it into me." His penis was rather small, about five inches, and when presented with a choice Melanie always picked big meat, but this cock was so good for her, and she hadn't fucked all day. The friction of his crotch hairs against her bald pudendum, the pulsing thrusts he made inside her, and the powerful manliness he radiated stirred Melanie to a pitch of feverish lust. Little rippling orgasms made her catch her breath and squeeze shut her eyes. "Fuck...it....Fuck....it," she snarled passionately, saying each word stenoriously and with equal emphasis. He got on his side and rolled her with him, until she was on top, skewered. Her little hands fluttered over his chest, her fingers tracing through his hairs, flicking his nipples. He gripped her butt, a cheek in each hand, pulling the grapefruit sized globes apart, tickling her anus with one finger. "Oh Jesus," he sighed. Melanie rose up on his cock until just the tip was in her, pulled his head up with one hand and said, "Lick my chest, bite my nipples," and the poor man shuddered at the perversity of what he was doing, but could not for his mother's life have stopped. "So perfect," he said, and pressed his lips to a tiny hard nipple. His insistent tongue pushed into the taut flesh of her chest, against the rib cage. There was precious little development (in fact when she'd first asked him to fuck her, he thought to himself "she hasn't any tits at all"). It was so nasty fucking a girl this young. He'd never been so maddened by lust. She plumped back down on his cock, her butt against his upper thighs and crotch and he followed her motion, so he was sitting up at a crooked angle, his neck bent to suckle her, his hands now around her exquisite tight waist, the fingertips aroused by the silkiness and heat of her skin. "Nnnnnnnggg, yee!" she sighed. He licked her throat. "Did you cum?" he asked, his voice slightly fearful, not sure if a girl this age could. "I'm cumming all the time," she responded with a smile, caressing his cheek. "Your cock is so beautiful in me." She began to lift herself up and down, grinding his pole. "So beautiful," she said again and she mouthed the words "I love you." Agog at what she'd said, poor fellow, he jerked into her, almost loosing it. "Can I turn you around?" he pleaded. "I want to see your butt." What a diffident young man, she mused. Most times men just fucked the shit out of her and used her like a rag, and she just assumed that was the way it should be. Once in awhile she ran into a tender man like this. And he was certainly not the first who wanted to see her butt. In fact, when she'd seduced him, it was the display of her bare butt that had forced his capitulation. She scrambled around, not letting his penis out, and rocked herself forward, supporting herself with her hands on his thighs. "Like it?" she asked, turning her head around to see his expression. His face was risible, his mouth frozen in a grin, a rictus of a smile that reminded Melanie of Victor Hugo's character "The Laughing Man". Again, his hands roamed her butt flesh. "Your hole is so pretty." She practically folded herself in half, her head on his knee. It was a difficult position to hold for long but it made his cock go in fractionally deeper. Her smidgen of a clit tickled itself against his wiry hairs. With a surge of energy and power the man sat up again, grabbed her around the chest, pulled her against him, her back to his bosom, and fucked into her with her lying face up, her eyes almost blinded by the cerulean skies. "Fuck.....it.....Fuck....it," she chanted. Then she felt it, that thing for which she had hungered all day, that defining moment that etched the universe with saintly light: his cum. Melanie loved to fuck, delighted in her orgasms, loved every aspect of sex from the beginning to the end and in between and the anticipation of it, but the acme, the very essence of it all was this: the man's cum. Ultimately nothing else mattered a whit. It all boiled down to his cum, to his indescribable contraction, his assertion of self. If Melanie somehow were paralyzed and couldn't feel a thing from the neck down, she would still fuck, because in her mind she would know she'd helped a man cum. She could get by with that, really, if she had to. As he expelled his viscous seed, his cock twitched like an overheated sausage burning on a grill. She wondered if sperm cells cried when they left their familiar home in the man's balls, and set out on their thankless trek in the dark wet soil of a girl's cunt. She philosophized as she came. Would her inability to conceive frustrate the battalions of homunculi pouring into her? Would they rebel against their maker for depositing them in pre-nubile soil? What a nasty girl I am, she reflected, doing this to men, seducing them. They could be fucking their wives or girlfriends or even whores and here she was robbing them of their seed, selfishly. With a shudder that spasmed her whole body, she felt his final spurts. She held herself still, enjoying the afterbirth of their orgasms. Silence. A delicate orotund peace. Their passion had been a cataclysm. Their senses were numbed. Slowly, she began to hear birds. The distant burbling of a stream. The man's cock shriveled and she rolled off him. "That was perfect," she told him. "You are so handsome." "You are beautiful without compare," he gave back, his voice choking with passion. That pleased Melanie. She wasn't sure about her looks. Oh, she knew men could hardly resist her, but she figured that was because she offered something so exciting and wicked. In truth, she was a beautiful girl. He kissed her on the lips, and then on her nose. "Let me clean you," she said. She put her mouth on him and laved him. It was almost too much. A cumming or just cummed cock is hypersensitive, but Melanie was experienced with the endgame of sex. She amazed him by offering to dress him. He felt like he must be in Japan, with a Geisha. She took his briefs in hand, buried her nose in the crotch and bottom. His musky odor of manhood re-intoxicated her, especially so the smell of his butt. She slipped the shorts over his feet and up his legs. "Lift up," she instructed, and she pulled them up over his ass, and took care to fit his detumescence under the pouch. He sat up and she took his undershirt, sniffing the underarms, inhaling his other smells of manhood. "So fine," she mewled. "Raise you arms." She slipped it down over his head. Then she put on his shirt, buttoned it. He put his feet out for her to slip on his pants and when they were all bunched up at his ankles she said, "Now stand up" and tugged them up, zipping him, doing his belt. "I want to dress you," he said. "No. You aren't done yet," she pointed out. He looked blank and then realized his feet were bare. She put on this socks, sniffing them, and sniffed his shoes, inhaling hard enough that she actually snorted. Then he took his turn. "Where are your panties?" he inquired. "Panties?" She laughed. He shrugged. What a delightful gamin. "No bra?" She laughed again. "Are you kidding?" Her entire outfit consisted of saddle shoes and a dark green one piece, two-pocket dress that was cinched at the waist and fringed on the bottom. She could dress and undress in about 2 seconds. "If you want, you can fuck me some more," Melanie told him. She took out a card from her pocket, and wrote her name on the back. "That's my dad's card, if you want me sometime, call him. I can meet you, or you can come over, but call first, okay?" He took the card and frowned in perplexity. This was beginning to feel even weirder than at the beginning. "Your father knows about this, I mean, that you, uh...." he fumbled. "That I fuck, you mean? Sure. Dad got me going," Melanie explained. "Mom knows too." He didn't know what to say. "Well," Melanie said, "I have to go. I really enjoyed meeting you." She lifted her skirt and swirled a bit of sperm out of her cunt, taking it to her lips. "Mmmm." She picked up the blanket, folded it and stuck it in her backpack and asked him to help put it on. She walked away, stopped, turned, blew him a kiss. Then she said, "Oh! Wait! Can I ask you your name?" "Steven." "I know another guy named Steven. What's your last name, or your initial?" "Uh, Steven P," he said, "P like, uh, Philadelphia, okay?" She smiled. He was not the first guy to be afraid of her, after it was over. He'd come back, though, she could tell that. "Okay, Steven, I hope to see you again. Bye!" And she walked off. About 50 yards down the way she began skipping, and Steven thought she skipped with a "yippee!" the way Jack Benny used to do in his old TV show. What a heartbreaker that little girl was, he knew he'd have to see her again. And again, and again. When she was well away from him, Melanie found a rock to sit on. She lifted up her skirt and dipped her fingers in herself to eat out his cum. She had a terrible post-coital headache, and the only thing she could think of was more fucking. In a way sex was kind of a nuisance, needing to do it so often. She thought about Mr. Rogers. His house was only a block away. Mr. Rogers was gay as a pimpernel but the boys he usually had hanging around were often "both ways" sorts. She picked herself up and trudged off. -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----