Inspired by [Login to see the link] of women whose cut/uncut preference we’d like to know, I wrote a foreskin-centric romp featuring one of the hottest politicians on the scene, set in her pre-election days.
Comments appreciated.
(BTW, she just filed for divorce. So there’s a chance.)
Going Down – On the Farm
by Intact
“Bet you’d hate to get in the way of this, wouldn’t you?”
“Lauren!” Coach snapped.
Lauren Roberts held a bovine castration tool in one hand, and a pair of live bull calf’s testicles in the other. Looking right at me, her face had the same daring grin she always put on when she felt like challenging one of the boys.
Coach had warned us, before we began this training, that any attempts at being funny or abusive would mean instant dismissal from the lesson and a grade of F for the day. This was serious business, he said, and missteps could injure one of our calves, or even us. But somehow, Lauren got away with it. She always did.
Lauren was the first female admitted to our Future Farmers of America chapter at Rifle (Colorado) High School. Not that there had been any previous applicants; the girls around Rifle knew what they wanted to be, and full-time farmer/rancher wasn’t even on their long list. They liked the FFA boys, mainly for the same reason we liked being in the club: We looked badass in our matching denim jackets, and we moved like a military unit wherever we gathered. But Lauren was the first girl who wanted to actually wear the colors, not just ride in the center seat of a pickup next to a boy wearing them.
I’d overheard Coach talking with Principal about Lauren the week she applied. Something about “boys need to bond as a group,” and, from Principal, “but times are changing.” Senior year had already started when the decision came down. That afternoon, Coach put us all in our seats, leaned against his desk, and told us we were getting a late-enrolling student, and this student (he held off specifying male or female for most of his talk) was to be accepted and treated as one of us. Besides, he said, this student grew up on a ranch and could probably teach us all a few things.
Lauren gripped the tool with renewed determination and pushed the calf’s scrotum and testicles through the band with a rubbery pop. She let the handles go, fixing the strap above the testes, where it would remain until the dying/dead tissue fell off in a few days. The process struck me as crude, but it was less risky than the old pocketknife-and-alcohol method.
She handed the tool back to Coach, who signaled one of the boys to let the calf loose down the chute. Another couple of guys prodded the next one into position, and we all rotated our posts.
Lauren stood to the side, flexing her hands. That tool, essentially a big pair of pliers, was designed for a grown man to operate, and holding it against the band’s tension had apparently strained Lauren’s muscles.
I wondered how that would affect my next handjob.
I’d known Lauren since grade school. She was a tomboy then, a fearless fielder on the kickball court and a high finisher in every footrace. She always got first-girl prize in the annual President’s Council on Physical Fitness exercises, chinning herself up five or six times while most struggled with one.
Like most girls in their teens, Lauren filled out in ways that got the boys’ attention. Her waist narrowed, her hips flared, and she sprouted firm little breasts that she had no problem showing off under a snug top. Her rolling brown hair draped over her shoulders. Despite her often ornery manner, she could flash a smile and unveil her big, dark eyes in a way that got us giddy.
We all noticed her gait, which struck me as maybe she’d climbed onto too big a tampon. (I got a big laugh from the boys when I said that out loud, far away from Lauren, of course.) She’d walk by, sort of sawing her way along, but with a space between her skinny thighs just the right size for a stealthy hand to slide up there and tickle her cooze–if any of us would dare. Nobody in senior class wore jeans the way Lauren did.
But most of us horny young males were afraid of her, in one way or another. She’d gotten into trouble twice after slugging two different boys square in the face after they’d said or done something she saw as rude. (It was.) Her dad intervened with the principal, who let her off both times but suspended the boys for three days. The rest of us learned our lesson: Don’t mess with Lauren.
At some point, though, her hormones clashed with her tough-girl front.
Lauren started striking up conversations with me in senior biology class, where alphabetical order had placed us side-by-side near the back. Never one to pass notes like the other girls, she nonetheless wrote things on a notebook and held them up for me to read. Funny things, provocative things, unlike the mostly prudish and shy girls I’d known up to that point. I didn’t have to communicate back much. My red-faced, muffled snickers seemed to give her what she wanted.
One afternoon, she held up a page that read:
UR PANTS ARE STRAINING
She was correct. I was suffering one of those random erections that plague teenage boys, and I wasn’t even sure whether it had anything to do with the way Lauren’s jeans wrapped her up. I gave her a wide-eyed glance. She scribbled on her notebook again:
MEET BEHIND GYM 3 MINS AFTER CLASS
I managed to conceal my gasp.
When class ended, Lauren and I left in different directions. I stashed some of my books but kept my backpack; it wouldn’t look right for a student to be walking around campus empty-handed.
Once outside, I went around the gym building, occasionally glancing to see if anyone noticed me taking this unusual path. There wasn’t anything back there but some utility poles, no reason for anyone besides maybe a janitor to take that route. A high, wooden fence about 10 feet from the building separated the school from homes that bordered the property.
When I reached the back side, I ducked into an alcove. This had to be where Lauren meant. But I was alone, wondering for a moment if she’d set me up. Lauren wasn’t known for pranking anybody. And sure enough, within a couple of minutes, she appeared, setting her backpack down and pressing herself right up against me as I started to come off the wall.
I felt her firm breasts against my shirt.
“So, I have a question,” she said, slowly, looking up into my eyes (Lauren was almost a foot shorter than I). “Have you jacked off today?”
This caught me off guard. Boys weren’t supposed to admit we ever masturbated. It was code, and we especially never said we did in the presence of girls. But then I realized I could answer the question honestly without breaking the code.
“No,” I shook my head for emphasis.
“Didn’t think so,” Lauren whispered, turning herself to my side and lightly grazing my chest with one hand. “Even teenage boys don’t get hard that often.”
She looked down and ran her hand over my belt to grasp my bulging groin.
“Want me to do it for you?”
I swallowed hard and nodded.
“Then let me at it,” she said, taking half a step back. I unbuckled my belt, but Lauren wouldn’t let me continue. She moved in close again.
“I know all you boys do this,” she said, beginning to undo the five buttons holding my jeans shut. “I saw my brother jacking off when he thought he was alone. It looked so sexy. Of course, he’s not for me, he’s for some other girl.”
She expertly pulled my fly wide open, then fished out my erection. She paused, lightly moving the skin along the firm shaft.
“You’re uncircumcised.”
I nodded again. She took the shaft more firmly in hand.
"My brothers are all that way, too. Momma used to inspect them, make sure they were clean after a bath. Sometimes I got to watch. She’d make ’em peel their little foreskins open so she could see.
“One time, when she was getting her gall bladder out, I had to give them their bath. Inspected their weenies myself. Skinned ’em back, like this.”
She pushed my foreskin all the way down, a little too sharply for comfort.
“Then I looked ’em over,” she said, twisting my penis upside-down, slowly, “and made ’em close the skin up themselves.”
Despite the sting of her rough handling, my erection surged.
"Maybe I took liberties that evening. But they paid me a lot more respect after that.
“And I know this feels good.”
She began to move her grip up and down the length of my stiffening shaft, stretching the foreskin all the way out to the end of its travel, then back toward my body, then back out again. The rolling, peeling of membrane on glans made my eyes flutter.
I glanced at Lauren’s face. She was staring down at my penis in her moving hand, her lips parted. I wanted to kiss her. She looked up at me.
“You’re gonna cum for me, Jason. I can tell.”
And within a minute, I began to ejaculate.
“Oh,” Lauren blurted, interrupting her rhythm slightly but continuing to pump as my load of semen made its way out in sharp bursts.
When it was spent, she let my penis go and shook the dribbles of semen off her hand.
“Guess you’ll need to clean up,” she chuckled, wiping the last of my cum onto my jeans. “Nice jacking you off.”
She raised one eyebrow, then turned away, snatched up her backpack, and sauntered off out of the enclave.
My testicles ached. That had happened way too quick. I would need another ejaculation to bleed off the pressure.
And that’s how it began with Lauren: a quick handjob and a hunger for more.
“I gotta say, that was hot pulling on that calf’s balls. No way would I set out to get a thrill from something like that, but it happened anyway.”
Lauren leaned back against the mismatched fender of her creaky F-150 and took another nibble off her dipped cone. We’d run into each other at the Derry-Freez, on the way back from the school’s ag farm.
“What do you mean, ‘thrill’?”
Lauren cocked her head, giving me that corner-of-the-eye look that was so seductive, she had to have practiced it.
“You ever seen horses fuck?”
I had, once, when I was out dirt-biking near the edge of our property. The neighbors’ stallion had been loosed in the same pasture with several mares, and he’d singled one out for mating. I couldn’t help but stop to watch the goings-on, with all that energy and muscle loosed.
“Yep.”
“And it turned you on, didn’t it? Admit it.”
I nodded slowly.
“Well, pulling on that calf’s big ol’ balls did something to me, too,” she said, taking another long swipe of her cone. “I don’t think it’s weird as long as you don’t go out looking for it. It’s just nature, like us.”
I took a long pull from my malted, the best part when the frozen milk is just melted enough to flow through the straw.
Lauren kept staring ahead, toward the highway. The way her lips curled up sometimes, at the edges, I could never be sure she wasn’t about to grin. I took her silence as an invitation. I took a half-step toward her, about to press my hips against her right side.
She threw an elbow lightly but firmly into my ribs.
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she muttered, keeping her cone in front of her nose. “If you want our thing to continue, you won’t try to be one.”
I turned away, then moved a little toward my truck to face her.
“I got ya’,” I said, still feeling the bump in my rib cage, “so no dates.”
“Nope.”
Lauren winked, climbed into her truck, backed out, and rearranged no small amount of gravel getting onto the road. All the more impressive with the ice cream, given the old Ford had a column shift.
“You have a lot of foreskin on your dick,” Lauren mused, stretching the skin out past the glans. “I like that. More to play with.”
This time we had arranged to meet at the ag farm late on a Sunday, when it was very unlikely any students would be out to tend their animals, and we’d see dust from the road in plenty of time to stop what we were doing and look busy. Still, she’d parked her truck behind the barn, invisible from the stalls. We’d found a spot out of anyone’s sight, against the stalls’ north wall.
Lauren moved to my side, pressing her flat belly against my hip. She held onto my waist with one arm, and started tugging my foreskin out and back with her other hand.
“Foreskins are fun.”
“You know any circumcised guys?” I ventured.
“Some,” she said, rhythmically rolling the loose skin, “it’s probably 50-50 in our class.”
“How many guys you do this with?”
“Nunya,” she said, a little sharply. “You better be thankful you’re on my list.”
After a moment, Lauren lifted one knee a bit, wrapping my leg with hers. She paused to pull on my scrotum.
“These balls are full,” she whispered. “Reckon I could pump a lot of cum out of you about now.”
“I reckon you could, Lauren,” I stammered. My erection stood straight out in the evening breeze. Lauren continued to ignore it, stretching my testicles out until they just started to hurt.
“Ever think about how that would feel, a girl about to clip your balls off?”
I grunted.
“I could borrow the tool from Coach’s storage,” she looked down at my scrotum, stretched out tighly in her hand. “Or do it the old-fashioned way, one slice, like my daddy taught me. Then I could show your balls to you.”
“Lauren, please.”
“Now, that’s what I wanted to hear,” she laughed, releasing my testicles and grasping the shaft of my penis. “You, begging me. Now get ready.”
She began her practiced, rhythmic tugging of my foreskin. Lauren knew to pull until the skin stretched taut, then reverse, but stop short of a full stroke down. It felt as good as when I pumped it myself, but this was so much better, with this cute girl so close to me. I swear I could smell her musk.
I moved a hand up to her right breast and traced its curve gently, as much as I dared. Lauren moaned, but after less than a minute, she pulled her breast away. She moved in front of me and circled my penis with thumb-and-forefinger. I knew what this meant.
“Cum for me, Jason,” she said, glancing up, then back down at my cock as she increased her pumping action. “Let it go, now.”
I tried to hold off, but the feel of her pumping, with her other hand braced against my chest, was too much. Jets of hot semen lit out of me, one after another, onto the hay. My knees shook with relief.
“A boy cumming in a barnyard, that’s a new one,” she said, squeezing the last semen out.
Lauren stood on her toes to kiss my neck. That was a surprise.
“You cum big, and right when I tell you to,” she smiled. “That’s what I like.”
I pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the last of my ejaculate from my penis. By the time I’d finished zipping up, I heard Lauren’s truck start up and scatter dirt as she roared off.
Even if we never said it out loud, we all knew that our FFA jackets marked us as celebrities at the annual county fair.
Anywhere we stood or walked together, people made way. Some asked, “Who’s gonna win?” referring to our prize calves, goats, and sheep. The judges would decide that; we showed up for each of the three nights anyway, because the fair was Rifle’s only really big deal.
I spotted Lauren with her mom, dad, and younger sister at the waffle-cone booth. I glanced just enough to get her attention without showing the guys I was trying. Lauren met my eyes, but quickly regrouped with her family.
It seemed strange for her to be here like that, wearing her jacket but not with us. We’d ditched our kinfolk as soon as our tickets got ripped. FFA stuck together. Then again, as the first girl in the club, she was allowed to make her own rules.
After an hour of sipping sodas, the guys started peeling off in search of porta-potties or at least an isolated, shadowy spot for relief. I’d found such a corner, avoiding the lines, between two livestock trailers. As I started back toward the midway, I heard a “Psst!” from behind a tent. It was Lauren. She was holding her jacket and waving me toward her.
“Want a milkin’?” she managed a grin, even as she looked nervous.
I felt that warmth in my groin that I always got at the sight of Lauren these days.
She led me to a space enclosed by shipping containers and a panel truck.
“They think I’m looking for a bathroom. Get your cock out.”
I glanced around, edgy about the carnies, kids, or anyone else who might be wandering around the back lot here at the fair. Lauren pulled my belt buckle hard.
“We don’t have long!”
I quickly pulled the buttons of my fly apart, and Lauren dug my growing penis out of its nest. She got alongside me, as she liked to, and with fingertips nursed my thickening shaft to full length. Then she began her familiar, long strokes, with a full but light grip. My foreskin made a snapping sound each time it came off the glans.
“You never try to tell me how to jack you off,” she whispered. “That’s one reason I like jacking you off.”
Within a couple of minutes, with Lauren tonguing my ear for enhancement, I felt a pull deep in my groin. Long jets of semen pulsed out of my penis onto the grass. Expertly, Lauren slowed her pace as the spurts dissipated. My spent erection sagged in her hand.
Lauren raised her fingers to her lips and licked the semen off.
“That’s my reward,” she said, then kissed my cheek. I felt a bit of coolness where her lips had been, and I left it there as Lauren snatched up her jacket, hitched her jeans, and ambled, a bit wobbily, off to rejoin her family.
By this time, Lauren didn’t need to hold up a note in biology class. She just glanced at me and nodded toward the gym. By the time she arrived, I already had my fly undone in anticipation of her taking my penis for a workout. She dropped her backpack, took position on one side, and straddled my thigh.
She pinched the glans through the foreskin and rolled it between her thumb and forefinger.
“It’d be a shame to lose this skin, wouldn’t it?” she mused, tugging my foreskin out to its full length. I whispered my agreement.
Lauren looked up into my eyes, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.
“I do like the way an uncut boy’s expression changes when I talk about circumcision.”
She held eye contact.
“Look at you, swallowing hard like that. You’d be terrified if I took a blade to this sensitive skin, wouldn’t you?”
“Lauren.”
“Uh-huh. Well, don’t worry. This foreskin is my favorite part of your dick.”
With that, Lauren eased herself to one knee, then the other. I held my breath as she studied my penis up close, just inches from her face. She rolled her big eyes up at mine, then closed them and took my glans into her mouth.
“Mmm,” she moaned, then applied light suction and a roving tongue to the underside, the frenulum. She released it with a *pop*, then looked up again.
“You gonna cum for me?”
I nodded, unable to speak. I wanted my penis back in her mouth again.
“Do this right, and I’ll swallow it all,” she said, then returned her attention to my glans, which by this time showed a pulse. She moved her head slowly forward and back, rolling and swirling her tongue all down my raphe as she went. I could barely breathe, it felt so good.
I had no idea what “do this right” meant, so I remained passive for a while, letting Lauren set the pace with her rhythmic movement. She pulled at my testicles with one hand and kept my foreskin open with the other. I had never had a blowjob before, so couldn’t think how or whether to try to guide her. I remembered seeing guys in porn hold the girl’s head, so I reached to fondle her hair with one hand. She gently took it away and shook her finger at me, “No.” I guessed that to mean she would accept no guidance.
I closed my eyes and let Lauren work. Her slow, steady movement agonized me even as it felt like a taste of heaven. She released my scrotum, then slid that hand into her own jeans. It was just as well, as my balls were straining to climb up as they always did in the run-up to orgasm.
The thought of Lauren touching her clitoris with my cock still in her mouth took me the rest of the way. I gasped a couple of times, and Lauren whimpered, keeping her pace as the pulses began deep between my hips. She swallowed fast, gulping down the whole of my ejaculation, with nothing left to clean up after she pulled my foreskin shut and rocked back on her heels. I felt woozy, and sat down against the wall, putting us face-to-face.
Lauren leaned in and kissed me, hard, drawing my tongue into her mouth just as sharply as she’d sucked my glans. She released with a *smack* and gave me a devlish grin.
“All mine,” she whispered, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “That’s mine, now.”
I sat dead-eyed and drained, scarcely believing what had just happened. I had something to say, but she anticipated it.
“Do not say ‘thank you’ to me, ever,” she admonished, with a wave of one finger. “You can be thankful, but don’t say it.”
Only then did I notice she still had one hand in her pants. She stared at me hard, a slight twitch in one eyelid. Then she caught her breath, and I realized she was working herself into her own orgasm. Her eyes and head rolled back, and she gasped several more times, hips convulsing while her fingers kept up their pace. Suddenly, she fell onto me, and I caught her shoulders as her jerking body movements grew, then ebbed.
She pulled herself back sharply, blushing through tousled hair, which she quickly pushed back. When she pulled her hand from her jeans, I impulsively grabbed it and put her fingers in my mouth. Her eyes flared and she started to yank her arm from me, but I held fast and suckled her fingertips, staring her down. Panting, she seemed unsure whether to slap me or kiss me again. I slowly released her wrist and licked my lips.
“I want you, Lauren. Just like you want me.”
Without a word, she stood quickly and grabbed her backpack, hustling around the corner before I could say anything else.
I don’t suppose Lauren’s dad imagined that her partcipation in FFA would help cover some of our encounters. Daddies in Rifle, Colorado, kept close tabs on their daughters, but the 18-mile roundtrip to the ag farm probably seemed like a legitimate time away from home and school, no cause for concern.
That day, I would be looking after both our animals at the farm, which meant Lauren could meet me at Bergeron Creek for some very cold swimming, even on a hot day. Lauren said she didn’t like beer, so I brought her a couple of wine coolers. We sat on the bank sipping our contraband, talking about nothing. Finally, I gathered my nerve.
“We goin’ swimmin’ or not?”
Lauren kept her hat on but pulled her boots off and peeled her jeans down right there on the blanket. I started unbuttoning my shirt, unable to look away from her butterscotch thighs. Lord, what is it about the sight of a girl’s bare legs that makes boys hurt?
Next, she slipped her little panties off, and I caught a glimpse of wild, lush hair. She stood, facing away, and tugged her T-shirt off, along with her bra. She put her hat back on, and the sight of her tiny waist as she picked her way through the grass toward the water left me unable to breathe, for a moment.
I struggled to keep pace, and Lauren was already shoulders-deep before I could even get down the bank. She grinned, glancing at my semi-erection, then flung her hat onto the grass and dived under. Her round, wet bottom shone briefly, then disappeared.
I caught up with her after a minute, and we held each other, shivering and kissing.
“We’re gonna have to get out soon,” she chattered, “else they’ll find a couple of frozen corpses at the dam.”
I nodded, running my hands up and down her waist. We swam, a little competitively, back to shore, and toweled off fast.
“Here,” I said, pulling a second blanket from my duffle bag. I wrapped her with it, but she opened it again to pull me in. Slowly, kissing and groping, we lay down on the picnic blanket and pressed our bodies close.
“Jason, this is awfully tempting, but you know…”
“I know.”
“We can play, okay? Like we usually do.”
With that, she groped my penis and scrotum, keeping my foreskin closed for the moment. I kept kissing her lips and neck, my hips against hers. I couldn’t help it. My body wanted her body and I could do little but let it express that need.
“Hey,” she said, after a minute, “I think we can do something that’s okay.”
Lauren turned around and maneuvered her buttocks up against my abdomen. She reached between her legs and pulled my foreskin hard, then closed her thighs on my penis.
“Work it,” she whispered hoarsely, “work it like that.”
Almost involuntarily, my hips started to pump. It took some adjusting to get the travel just right, but pretty soon I was pushing my glans through the end of my foreskin, with Lauren’s supple inner thighs holding the body of my penis in place. We lay there, side-by-side, my cock gliding between her legs, with Lauren occasionally touching the glans as it gophered into and out of sight.
My precum started flowing, and Lauren sampled it with her fingertips, offering me a taste as well.
“Remember, Jason?” she said, “remember when I sucked the cum out of you and swallowed it all?”
I remembered that so clearly, it served to bring another ejaculation into range. Lauren sensed my hips beginning to move of their own accord.
“Jason, no, wait–I want it down my throat again. Fuck my mouth, Jason. Please!”
I popped my cock from between her legs and rolled onto my back, with Lauren in hot pursuit. She took my erection in and bobbed her head fast, holding my scrotum tight to keep my foreskin open. Within a few seconds, pulses of hot semen burst into Lauren’s mouth. She sucked it all down hard, bringing sweet pain to my stretched-out penis skin. I had to loosen her hands to finish.
“Oh, Jason,” she checked her chin for any spillage, “that was so fucking good.”
Lauren didn’t swear most of the time. Clearly she was in a state now. She looked hard at me and blinked twice.
“Will you … will you go down on me, too?”
Without a word, I grasped Lauren’s thighs and pulled her hips up toward my face. She didn’t seem to get what I was trying to do, but when I lifted her legs over my shoulders, she caught on, and situated herself to lower her fuzzy vulva onto my waiting lips. I closed the distance, raising my head and pulling her hips down. She settled in and let me lap at the juices already flowing from deep inside her.
Lauren took a while to get used to the feel of my tongue working up and down her labia. Then she shifted to press her stiff clitoris firmly against my lips. I suckled it, gently, and she began to thrust ever-so-slightly. The gentle grinding of this beautiful girl’s vulva against my mouth had my second erection standing full mast quickly.
I moved one hand to toy with my balls. Then I pumped my foreskin a few times, which got Lauren’s attention. She strained her neck to see behind her, and when she grasped what I was doing, her thrusting increased.
“Jerk it, Jason,” she panted. “Jerk that beautiful uncut cock for me. I’m fucking your face, Jason. You want it so bad, you’re pulling your cock for me.”
Though I was loving every second of this, I knew a second ejaculation would take a while. Lauren didn’t seem to care. She spread her knees, leaned onto her palms, and thrust her hips aggressively against my face. Sometimes she got wild and rubbed her vulva all the way from my chin to nose. Then she’d make a side-to-side move, sliding her clitoris between my lips. It was all I could do to keep one hand on her hips, guessing her next move, while flogging my cock with the other hand.
Lauren had painted half my face with her juices when she decided to change tack. She sat back on my chest, gasping, then gave me that mischievous grin.
“You stay right there, boy. I want to see it when you cum for me.”
With that, she levered herself off me and turned, placing her knees astride my head again, but facing the other way in a kind of incomplete 69. From here, she could see my erection standing tall against the landscape.
Slowly, she lowered her swollen labia onto my lips. I lapped, and she pulled away.
“Just my clit, Jason. Lightly, please. I’m too sensitive now for anything else.”
She moved to set her bulging clitoris against my pursed lips. I pulled it into my mouth and gently suckled. Lauren rested her hands on my chest, leaned down, and squirmed slightly.
“I want to cum with you, Jason. Show me you want that, too.”
I grunted in agreement, took my penis in hand, and began pulling my foreskin up and down in time with her rocking hips.
Lauren worked my mouth with just the slightest of movement. I ran my free hand along her hip and lower back to discover goosebumps and, although we’d been neck-deep in cold water minutes before, perspiration.
My nose wasn’t in the best place–grazing her anus on occasion–but the fact that we’d rinsed ourselves made it tolerable. I could still get whiffs of the strong, salty secretions making their way out of her vagina, which kept me focused. My testicles still hadn’t recovered from the cold soak, hiding themselves as close-in as possible. Occasionally Lauren raked her nails over my tense scrotum.
I kept a steady rhythm pulling my cock. I wanted to cum again, but I also wanted to stay in this moment forever.
Lauren began to pant. Her clit had engorged to a size I never would have imagined, almost like a fingertip at the top of her vulva. She rose up and pressed it ever harder against my lips.
“I’m gonna fuck the cum outta you, Jason. Shoot that cum sky-high for me.”
My cock was willing, but my balls weren’t ready. I let go of my penis and ran my hands up and down her body. I took her tiny breasts in hand and squeezed them gently. She clapped her hands over mine and held them there. Her rocking increased, pushing my nose hard.
“I’m cumming right on your face, Jason. Cumming ….” she gasped, then held her breath, then shrieked as her hips thrust out of control.
It was all I could do to hang on to her as Lauren’s pelvis twitched and jumped. She pulled her clitoris from my mouth, then planted it again, over and over. As her orgasm tailed off, she let out long, slow, high-pitched whispers. Finally, she lowered her hands to my hips, gasping for breath. Her reddened labia hovered over my face.
“Omigod omigod omigod,” she babbled, thighs shaking. I looked up to find her staring at my erection. Precum had run all the way down to my scrotum.
“Okay, okay, okay,” she whispered, “let’s pull that cum out now.”
She made a circle of her thumb and forefinger, grasped my cock halfway down, and started tugging rhythmically. My foreskin could barely pop over my swollen glans.
“Come on, Jason,” Lauren intoned, “it’s your turn. Let it go.”
Her soft voice, the scent of her glistening vulva just above my nose, and the growing pace of her tugging left me no choice. My hips jerked as my body gave up its second orgasm of the hour.
This one seemed to hurt a bit, as I had so little left in me to give. My semen came out thin, and Lauren watched it spill out onto my belly.
“That wore me out,” I said. “But I’d do it again. After while.”
Lauren snickered, lifting one leg to clear my head. She swiveled, lay down, and drew the second blanket over us.
“Rest up,” she said quietly into my ear. “Just enjoy the moment.”
We lay there, dozing lightly in the sun, with the insects chirping around us. After a bit, Lauren started to grope for her clothes. I didn’t want to move.
“You stay here, boy. I’m the one who has to get back home now.”
I heard her truck pull away, but didn’t perceive much else.
For days afterward, all I could think about was Lauren scrubbing her vulva on my face while my hard-on bobbed in the wind. That got me off fast, every time I had a moment alone.
But then Lauren seemed to avoid me at school. In biology class, she didn’t flash me any notes, didn’t even look my way. After class, she bolted the room and disappeared into the crowd.
Then she didn’t show up for the last two days of school that week. I didn’t see her at the ag farm, and neither did anyone else. Of course, I couldn’t call her at home.
I waited until Sunday to go by her house. The lights were on. I waited a bit, and didn’t see any activity, so I went to the door and knocked. Lauren answered with a blank face.
“We’re busted,” she said, looking past me to one side.
“Huh?”
“Coach found security footage of you and me behind the school,” she blurted, quickly. “He told my dad, and I’m finishing senior year at my cousin’s, in Cheyenne.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I just stood there, mouth open.
“There’s no point in talking about it, Jason. I can’t see you anymore and I got no choice in this. You’re not even supposed to be here. Better git.”
Lauren finally made eye contact with me, which she held until the closing door broke it.
