"God, I love it! I love it! Ohhh, cock… big cock! Ahhhhhh, my cunt is going to be ripped to pieces! Rip it… rip it… rip it! Ohhhhh, I'm about to come again!"
Her naked ass flew in a frenzy, sideways and up and down, rocking and twisting of its own volition. From the waist down, she was separated from the upper half of her body. Her mind was soaring, but it wasn't guiding the movements of her hips. Every part of her slim body seemed to be on the very brink of coming, burning and smoking as it always did when she was being fucked.
She gave a loud, drawn-out wail as she came. The squeezing of her cunt sucked at the man's cock, and she was vaguely aware that he was spewing thick semen deep into her snatch.
He had not made a single sound other than a grunt now and then.
Julie's ass banged down onto the bed, her body trembling. The man's cock slipped from her clinging pussy and the last gush of his warm semen splashed onto the quivering stomach.
She watched him with lazy eyes as he crawled from the bed, walking naked toward the bathroom. She heard water running in there, and she slowly smeared his semen over her belly, a smile of gratification on her lovely face.
The man returned, still naked; he was carrying a camera.
She looked at him in surprise, then at the pictures on the wall. A slow smile of understanding spread across her face.
"You like little mementos of your girls, huh?"
The man nodded, focusing the camera.
"Wait," Julie said, "let me give you a good pose."
She twisted about en the bed, drawing her knees beneath and arching her naked, curvy ass into the air. She looked over her shoulder with a wide smile on her face, reached between her legs and shoved a finger into her soaked cunt.
"This okay?" she asked.
The man nodded and aimed the camera.
He could see through the view finder the lovely, uninhibited girl. She had her ass toward him, and the pucker of her pink asshole would be in the picture, as would the hair-lined lips of her cunt, with her finger deeply inside it. And he liked the way she smiled broadly over her shoulder at him. It would be the best picture yet.
Julie didn't mind. It was kind of exciting, in a way, to have her picture pasted up with those others From the ones she had seen, he knew that her picture would be the best of all, just as she would be the most beautiful of all the girls there.
The camera clicked, and the man quickly rolled the film and shot another picture of her.
"Finished?" Julie asked.
He nodded.
She crawled from the bed and went to the bathroom, where she straddled the sink as well as she could, splashing water against her cunt. Toweling between her thighs, she returned to the room and found the man dressing. So she pulled her panties on, then her skirt and sweater.
Dressed, she followed him back to the cafe.
She sat at the same stool she had occupied before. The man handed her another coke without asking, then he reached down under the counter and pulled out a small bag.
"For me?" Julie asked, picking it up and looking at it curiously. "What is it?"
"Grass," he said
"Grass? You mean… pot?"
The man nodded his head.
Julie laughed. "So that's how it is. You trade grass for ass! Hey, that's neat! No wonder you have all those young girls. Sorry, though, I don't use this shit. Fucking is my bag."
She tossed the small package back to him. "But why the pictures?"
"Insurance," the man said.
Julie understood. "Then you don't need my picture hanging up in there, do you? I mean, I don't blow shit, so why my picture?"
The man shrugged.
She frowned, then shook her shoulders, her breasts jiggling. "Oh, the hell with it. You want my picture, you can have it."
She finished the coke and slipped to her feet. At the door, she turned to face him.
"You're sort of odd, you know that, mister. Don't you talk much?"
"No reason to talk," he said.
She looked for a long moment at him. Then she smiled. "Maybe you're right. Talking does interfere with fucking at times. Well, maybe I'll come through here again sometime. Okay if I stop?"
He nodded his head, and Julie left the cafe.
Chapter 3
Once again on the highway, she laughed aloud.
He had been such a strange man, she thought. He was a good cunt licker, all right, but he didn't seem to have very much interest in fucking her. Just held himself on his hands and knees and let her pump away. It was as if he didn't care whether he screwed her or not. She wondered what he did with those other young girls, and decided he was certainly a queer one.
With the radio on and the top still down, she drove at a moderate speed down the broad highway. She wasn't in that much of a rush to get home. Her mother wasn't expecting her until sometime the following day, anyway. She could spend the whole night somewhere if she wanted. But spending the night alone in the sterile confines of a motel room didn't appeal to a girl of Julie Kramer's nature. Now if she picked up a strong, willing young man, that would be different.
Finding a man would not be at all difficult for Julie. A girl as beautiful as she never had any real problems there. Although she had come three times this day, she was still steaming, although not as much as earlier. Often she wondered if she were a nymphomaniac, but after careful consideration, decided she wasn't. She simply loved sex, that was all. Besides, from what she had heard and read, a nymphomaniac didn't really care for sex all that much. It seemed to be a physical problem, a problem of not being able to achieve an orgasm. A girl who couldn't come was always searching for that elusive thrill, and never finding it. She flitted from man to man, never being true to any one, but always hoping the next cock that entered her cunt would trigger something. A nymphomaniac, Julie thought, was a girl who was always on the border, but never falling off.
Maybe, maybe not.
But she certainly wasn't one, she felt. She could come easily enough. It was just that she loved sex in all its various pleasures, all its forms. There were some things she had not experienced, but not many.
When she was thirteen years old, Julie had been fingering her pretty little pussy for well over a year. She had used her fingers many times, and although she had heard stories of how much it hurt and bled when a girl was screwed the first time, she had not experienced that particular phenomenon. It had been explained to her by the twenty-odd year-old man who seduced her that some girls didn't bleed, that some didn't have any pain at all. Being uninhibited, Julie had told the man of her finger-fucking, and he felt she had simply stretched her membrane that way so that it was still intact, but pliable enough to allow the entrance of a cock, without tearing.
The explanation satisfied her.
From that first time, Julie had discovered she was a sexual person. And she had been fucking since. She never considered why her nature was this way, why her personality had developed in that direction. She knew there were some girls who wouldn't let a boy so much as touch their breasts, and Julie thought they were quite foolish. In fact, she felt those girls were missing the best part of growing up.
Julie could remember almost every boy and man she had fucked. She could remember not so much what they looked like, their physical features, but their cocks and balls, the size of them, and the way they came. Some of them, remembered, could come like a garden hose, while a few would only dribble a bit of thin juice. She much preferred a cock that sprayed powerfully, filling her cunt to capacity, but she would take the ones that simply wet a bead or two, and do so with gusto.
She had no preference as to size, either. A cock was a cock was a cock, she felt. Long ones, skinny ones, thick ones, short ones… they were all fabulous. A man's cock and balls fascinated her. She loved to hold them, to feel them grow and throb in her hand. She enjoyed playing with those sensitive balls, feeling the heft of them, the wiry hair that tickled her flesh. Unlike many women, Julie found the sight of a man's naked body a thing of beauty, all hard muscle and angular lines. She particularly enjoyed looking at a man who had a hard-on, but it wasn't necessary to create passion in her. Passion was always in her, and she had methods to make a limp prick stand up quickly enough.