0 comments/ 42524 views/ 5 favorites Finger-Licking Good Ch. 01 By: Cal Y. Pygia "You know what I like most about sleepovers?" Janet Meade asked her guests. "The lingerie on display?" Sheila Adams asked, grinning, as she drew her hands slowly along the frilly, lace-decorated teddy she wore, from her firm, round tits to the silk panties that hugged her hips, ass, and crotch, making a camel's toe between the silk flesh of her creamy thighs. "We're not all lesbos, Sheila," Becky Rogers reminded their gay girlfriend. "They way we can talk about anything," Janet answered her own question, "anything at all." Donna Sommers considered her hostess' comment, and, she had to admit, Janet had a point. The ability to share one's innermost thoughts and most intimate feelings, knowing that the secrets one communicated would go no farther than the bedroom in which they were divulged, was exhilarating. None of the others disagreed with Janet's sentiments. "So, who wants to go first?" Pam Smart asked. "Why don't you?" Janet replied. Pam pressed her lips together, looking up. The tip of her moist, pink tongue appeared between her full, soft lips, as she gave the matter some thought. "Okay," she announced, "let's talk about being fingered." Donna frowned. "Fingered?" The others looked at her, seemingly shocked at her apparent ignorance. "You know," Pam explained, "as in finger-fucked." "Oh," Donna said, feeling herself blush. "Don't tell me you've never been fingered, Donna!" Sheila said. Blushing even more deeply, Donna admitted, "I haven't. Not yet, anyway." The other girls giggled. "Girlfriend, you don't know what you're missing!" Pam exclaimed. The others giggled again. "So, tell me," Donna said. Pam smiled. Taking a deep breath, she said, "It's fun. Better, maybe, than sex--you know, regular sex--itself. Having a guy's finger--" "Or a girl's," Sheila interjected. Ignoring their lesbian friend, Pam continued: "--inside your pussy, fucking you, as if it were a dick--well, that's exciting enough, in itself." Donna imagined it would be; Pam's description of the act was enough to make Donna's cunt moisten. "But the icing on the cake," Pam asserted, "is doing it in public." Donna gasped, shocked by the thought of such a thing. "In public?" she repeated. "I've done it in a movie theater," Becky volunteered. "Billy and I did it at a baseball game," Janet admitted. "I did Bunny in a parking lot, just last week," Sheila said, "and, the week before, she did me in a restaurant." The other girls stared at her, some of them with raised eyebrows. "What?" Sheila demanded. "The thrill comes from doing something forbidden," Janet ventured an explanation for fingering's appeal. "I mean, it's something done in public, not private." "And from the chance of getting caught," Becky added, with a slight shiver, probably at the thought of a cop peering through the shrubs in a public park, to catch her boyfriend fingering her wet pussy. "Of course, a lot of the fun of it is being 'fucked,' too," Pam added, "even if it's only with a finger." "Wow!" Donna said, "it sounds like I have been missing a lot." "Girlfriend," Sheila cried, "you have no idea!" "I guess I'll have to do something to remedy this," Donna said. "The sooner, the better," Janet agreed. "And, once you've done it," Becky declared, "you have to tell us about it at our next sleepover." "We don't have another sleepover scheduled," Donna pointed out. "We do now," Janet corrected. "Right here, next Saturday night." She looked at her guests. "Is that okay with everyone else?" "I wouldn't miss it for the world," Becky said. The girls tittered. "How about it, Donna?" Janet asked. "You in?" Donna thought a week would be plenty of time for her to get fingered for the first time. "I'm in," she agreed. * * * On Monday, Donna caught up with her boyfriend, Danny Simon, at lunch. They were both eighteen, and they were in the last half of their senior year at high school. Up to now, she'd been able to pacify, if not really satisfy, him by allowing him kisses and gropes, with an occasional sucking of his cock. She let him touch--or, to be more precise, mangle--her tits and ass, too, on occasion, to keep him interested in her, but she'd kept her pussy strictly off limits, afraid that, if she let him masturbate her, he'd want to slip his prick inside her. With sex, one thing easily led to another, and more than a few girls who'd started with heavy petting had ended up pregnant. "We had a sleepover at Janet Meade's house Saturday night." Danny looked less than impressed as he took a bite of his burger, chewed methodically, and swallowed. "Any videos?" he quipped. "Ha ha." "Photos?" "We talked about something that the other girls think I should try, but it's something I can't do by myself." "Just take off your clothes, point the lens of the camera at yourself, and--" "It's not taking nude pictures," Donna assured him, rolling her eyes. He almost choked on his next bite of burger as she added, whispering, "It's being fingered." He swallowed, his eyes wide. "You mean as in being--" She nodded. He set the burger on his plate, staring at her. "You mean it?" She nodded again. "When? Where? No, wait! I don't care where. When's the only question that matters." Having given the matter some consideration, she'd decided that she might as well get a trip to The Happiest Place on Earth out of it. "Disneyland," she said. "Disneyland! That's, like, a hundred and fifty dollars for admission alone!" Donna shrugged. "If you don't want to do it, maybe I'll ask Tommy Banner." "Okay, okay!" he groused. Donna smiled. Getting her boyfriend's agreement had been as effortless as she'd anticipated. When it came to sex, boys were so easy! * * * At home that evening, unable to concentrate upon her homework, Donna thought about her upcoming fingering. The high school administration had set aside this Friday for required teacher in-service training, thereby giving students a three-day weekend. Danny had promised to take her to Disneyland on Friday, and, on Saturday night, at the slumber party that was scheduled at Janet's house, Donna would share the juicy details with her friends. Donna had masturbated many, many times, but she'd never been finger-fucked, by Danny or anyone else. She had some idea of what it might feel like, though, to have her boyfriend's stiff forefinger jabbing up and down inside her wet pussy. It might be pleasant, but it would hardly be all that pleasurable, except when, whether by design or accident, her boyfriend's plunging digit brushed the rigid nub of her clitoris. But she and Danny wouldn't be alone. They'd be surrounded by other people--old people, parents, even children! There'd be security officers everywhere, too, and the police would be only a 'phone call away. She gulped, thinking of the many possibilities there'd be for getting caught with her panties literally down. Her clit tingled. Her pussy moistened. Janet had been right, Donna thought. A lot of the excitement of being finger-fucked had to do with being fingered in public and, as Becky had added, with possibly being caught in the act. Again, her clit trembled, and she felt another release of wetness from her flooding cunt. She shivered at the thought of stern-faced police glaring at her as they declared, "You have the right to remain silent. . . ." To be arrested for indecent exposure or whatever the charge would be, and maybe have to call her parents to have them post bail--it would all be humiliating, to say the least! Her clit throbbed at the idea of being exposed and disgraced. Her thoughts turned to another matter. What would she wear? A mini-skirt, she decided, without panties, would be provide ready access to her pussy, and it would be fun to walk through the gigantic theme park with no underpants on beneath her abbreviated skirt, with thousands of others around her and a sprightly breeze, perhaps, fluttering about her body's most intimate parts. Her pussy, she found, was now sopping wet, and her nipples, hard as nails, jutted against the tight cotton of her halter top. She was looking forward to being fingered. Friday, still four days away, seemed impossibly distant. Meanwhile, the "when" had been determined, but there was still the question of where her fingering would take place. There were lots of locations in the park in which she could be finger-fucked: Main Street, Tomorrowland, Fantasyland, Frontierland, Adventureland, New Orleans Square, Critter Country, Mickey's Toontown. Danny could do the dirty deed on the monorail, on the railroad, on the Space Mountain rollercoaster, on the Star Tours ride, on the Small World tour, on Big Thunder Mountain's railroad, on the Mark Twain Riverboat, on the Sailing Ship Columbia, in the Enchanted Tiki Room, in an Indiana Jones Adventure jeep, on the Jungle Cruise boat, in the Haunted Mansion, on the Pirates of the Caribbean boat, on a Splash Mountain log, or in a hundred other places inside or around the park itself. Wherever she was fingered, it would be a memorable event in her life, Donna thought, smiling. Her clitty wanted to be touched, to be caressed, to be petted, just as her cunt wanted to be filled, but, as much as she wanted to masturbate, she resisted the desire, wanting to store up her passion for the magical moment at Disneyland, when, among thousands of others, her pussy as much as the theme park itself, would become The Happiest Place on Earth. Next: A Disneyland delight! Finger-Licking Good Ch. 02 "The line's long," Donna observed, "but it moves pretty fast." Danny smirked. "Not fast enough." Donna smiled at his dubious compliment. He meant, she knew, that he was so eager to finger her pussy that the wait--approximately thirty five minutes, according to the sign posted at the entrance to the attraction--seemed an eternity. As they inched along the lanes that wound back and forth, watching the other men, women, boys, and girls who awaited their turn aboard the Disneyland ride, Danny asked Donna whether she knew the story upon which the attraction was based. "There's a story?" she asked. He nodded. "It's kind of corny." What was kind of corny, she thought--kind of stupid, in fact--if a little sexy, too, was her wearing a halter top without a bra and a mini-skirt without panties. Her nipples were stiff, and they poked against the cotton of her top, making themselves more than merely apparent. Every few seconds, a different guy was staring at them, including some men who were old enough to be her father or even, in some cases, her grandfather. They also checked out her long, bare, tanned legs. She'd even heard one tall, gangly, pimple-face kid her own age say to his buddy, "I'd sure like a piece of that." They'd guffawed, eyeing her as if she were naked. Danny had, wisely, if cowardly, pretended not to have heard or noticed them. "Tell me," she said. "You really want to hear it?" "Yes, I do." He shrugged. "In the nineteenth century, gold was discovered in Big Thunder Mountain. The population and area of Rainbow Ridge, the nearest town, exploded." His eyes settled upon Donna's breasts and their stiff nipples as he added, "A railroad was laid to transport the ore, but an earthquake occurred, and the town, the mine, and the railroad were abandoned, but the trains still operated, on their own, without either engineers or crews." His gaze swept down Donna's shapely legs. "Later, Big Thunder Mountain Railroad was established to permit tourists a ride on the possessed trains, U. B. Bold, U. R. Daring, U. R. Courageous, I. M. Loco, I. B. Hearty, and I. M. Fearless." Danny paused, his eyes again upon Donna's breasts. "I told you it was corny." "I think it's a charming tale," she declared. As the line took several steps forward, Danny and Donna moved ahead in single file, he behind her. He put his hands around her hips, drawing her ass back hard against his groin, letting her feel the thick firmness of his cock, which had become half-erect as he'd ogled her tits and legs. "Not as charming as this tail," he quipped. She shoved his hands down and away, turning abruptly, to face him. There was an angry look on her lovely face. "Danny!" He chuckled. "What?" "You know what!" she hissed. "We're in public!" He laughed at her sudden modesty. Had she forgotten why they'd come here? In a few minutes, as soon as they'd boarded one of the ride's vehicles, he was going to reach up her skirt, between her silk-smooth thighs, and-- "I mean it!" she cried, as he reached again for her hips. He raised his hands, palms flipped up, to show he meant her no harm. "Okay, okay!" He could wait, he told himself. To mollify her, he said, "Let me tell you more about the ride." Red-faced, she glared at him for a long moment. "Do you know anything more?" she demanded. "I've been to Disneyland a million times," he answered. "I know everything about the place." "Tell me, then," she said, "but"--lowering her voice--"keep your hands to yourself!" He would, Danny thought--at least until they were aboard the train. "The attraction was conceived and designed by Imagineer Tony Baxter--" "Imagineer?" "A portmanteau word coined by Disney, merging 'imagination' with 'engineer.'" "Oh." His eyes strayed from her tits to the slight bowl of her skirt between the tops of her thighs, and, she suspected, he was imagining the nakedness of her shaved pubic mound and the cleft therein. Maybe, in his mind, he was fingering her at this very moment, surrounded by their fellow tourists. "The design engineer was Bill Watkins," he resumed his lecture concerning the ride's history. "Originally, the attraction was going to include a rollercoaster in the form of a runaway mine train, too, but the idea proved too expensive, even for Walt Disney. The project, postponed for six years while work was completed on Space Mountain, opened in 1979." Donna made a quick calculation. She was born in 1991, so Big Thunder Mountain had opened twelve years before her birth! As Danny had filled her in on the ride's background, they and the line of which they were a part had continued snaking around the buildings of the deserted town that had once, according to the back story concerning the attraction, been located near the gold mine, which was now no more than a collection of rustic and weathered shacks and dilapidated buildings: a saloon, a hotel, an assayer's office, and a mercantile, among others, with tall, jagged peaks of limestone surrounding them on all sides. "The mountains are inspired by the hoodoos in Bryce Canyon National Park," Danny explained. "Hoodoos?" Danny nodded at the stone columns which, of course, weren't really stone at all, although they resembled limestone and sandstone enough to be mistaken for the real minerals. "The tall spires," he said. "Some people liken their appearance to that of totem poles." "Wow," Donna said, impressed. "You really do know everything about this park." His gaze had fastened itself to her legs again. It slid up, over her thighs, and came to a rest at her breasts. "I'm a regular geologist," he quipped. As Donna had listened to her date inform her as to the history of the attraction, the zigzagging line had moved slowly, but inexorably forward, a few feet at a time, and, finally, the loading station was in sight. Excited, Donna said, "The line, for its length, really does move pretty fast." Danny, leering as he eyed her skirt, repeated his earlier rejoinder: "Not fast enough." At the station, employees indicated painted lines on the platform, behind which couples should stand, and, as one of the trains, a locomotive engine pulling five cars, each of which had three bench style seats, one behind the next, and could comfortably--well, relatively comfortably--seat six passengers, two in each of the three compartments, slid to a stop, its occupants exited the far side while Donna and Danny climbed into the first car's first compartment, sitting side by side, and their fellow riders clambered into the compartments and cars behind them. "Wow! We get to sit right up front!" Donna said. Danny slid his hand along the satin-smooth inner thigh of her right leg. "That's not all we get to do," he replied. She shot him an annoyed look, lifting his hand from her leg and dropping it upon his own thigh, which, unlike hers, was clad in the blue denim of his jeans. "Keep your hands to yourself until we're inside the mountain," she warned him. He laughed. "Sure. No problem." The attendants came forward, along the cars, making sure that the passengers were strapped in, and, at the signal of one employee to another, the colorful locomotive, with black smokestack, red boiler assembly and wheels, and green cab, lurched forward, pulling the open cars, cut of burnished pine timbers, in its wake as it lumbered down the track, toward a dark tunnel. Danny's hand twitched with anticipation, and, as their car plunged into the tunnel's darkness, he reached under Donna's skirt and plunged his finger into the dark tunnel of her pussy, all the way to the knuckle, and he smiled as she gave a startled gasp. Banking, the train executed a right turn, followed by a left, as the screech of unseen bats filled the darkness. Donna screeched, too, but Danny, pumping his finger back and forth inside the tender tunnel of her cunt, only grinned. Despite her previous modesty, despite her having been startled by the cry of the bats, and despite her excitement at riding the haunted Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, she was pumped sexually as well as emotionally, and her pussy was more than moist; it was wet and warm and wonderful, and he fingered her with more delight than any he'd ever felt during his innumerable past visits to The Happiest Place on Earth. The train rumbled up a hill, and, to their left, Donna and the other passengers were treated to the sight of a cavern full of rainbow-colored stalactites and stalagmites. Donna "oohed" and "aahed" at the sight of the glorious cavern, but Danny, his finger inside the warm, wet funnel of her twat, pretended her sounds of enchantment were caused not by the colorful columns of artificial stone but by his lunging and plunging finger. His fingering of her pussy was both easy and difficult during the next segments of the ride, as the lurching, rumbling, careening train, exiting the cavern, swept down a low rise, turned 180 degrees to the right, leveled into a left turn, dropped and climbed again, in rapid succession, made another right turn, and, after plummeting into a cave, shot up a low incline, hit a block brake, and exited another right turn before exiting the cave and ascending another, longer and steeper hill. It was easy, because, caught up in the excitement and wonder of the ride, Donna forgot herself, not protesting against his fingering her even in daylight, outside the caves and tunnels of the mountain's dark interior, but it was difficult because the lurching, plunging, banking, and jerking of the vehicle made it all but impossible, sometimes, to keep his finger inside the sopping-wet burrow of her liquid pussy. Signs warned the riders of the dangers of blasting ahead, and Donna remembered Danny's having told her of the earthquake that had led to the closing of the town and railroad--at least in the imaginative story concerning the attraction's alleged history. She shivered at the thought that the blasting might cause a landslide that would bring the mountain, with its precariously perched boulders and pitched hoodoos, toppling down upon them. Donna was wet, all right, Danny observed--wet enough, whether with apprehension or passion or both, to have left a puddle of her pussy's juices on the wooden seat upon which she sat. He told himself that she was lubricated because of him and of what he was doing to her, fingering her in public, at Disneyland, of all places, openly, in front of God and everyone else, rather than because of her excitement at riding the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad. They'd already finished about half the three-minute-and-a-half-minute-long ride, he estimated, and, with less than two minutes left to bring his date to a climax, he'd better focus exclusively upon servicing her clitoris. The train slowed, dropping to the right, and Donna grinned, delighted at the sight of an animatronic goat munching upon a stick of dynamite. As the train passed the animal, it bleated at the riders, and Donna chuckled. After more ascents and turns, the train climbed the tallest gradient yet, and boulders began to shake, threatening to tumble down upon the riders. Like many of the others, Donna shrieked. Danny rubbed her clit with the ball of his thumb, and her sodden pussy released another flood of lubricant. It was stiff and swollen to thrice its normal size inside the delicate folds of its fleshly hood. At the crest of the incline, the train slowed again, dropped to the right, ran along a short, straight section of track, banked to the right, entered a short tunnel, and exited onto a bridge. All the while, Danny's fingers stroked, kneaded, massaged, rubbed, pinched, poked, prodded, strummed, flicked, circled, and patted Donna's clit, worrying the hard nub of flesh to even greater thickness and more rigidity. His efforts were rewarded with another release of his date's subterranean current, as it were, and his hand was warmed by the rush of her syrupy juices. Her silken thighs made quick, hard, scissoring movements, crushing his fingers between their smooth, firm surfaces, and she moaned. She was near orgasm, Danny realized, and he plunged his finger deep into the liquid center of her molten sex, fucking her fast and furiously, as she groaned, grunted, and gasped in the seat beside him, even Disneyland forgotten, perhaps, in the moment of her sexual frenzy. The train shot around a left turn in the track, its wheels clattering and the tracks rattling, passing the skeleton of a tyrannosaurus rex. Rising again, the train shot past the buildings of Rainbow Ridge, their weather-scarred facades flashing past the riders on their right, and Donna, still moaning, her knees still applauding her date's masterful fingering of her flooded pussy, saw the station loom into view as their ride came to a more-than-satisfying conclusion. The riders exited their cars, while, behind them, waiting passengers entered the vacated seats from the other side of the platform. As Donna, hand in hand with Danny, walked toward the attraction's exit, her cunt juices trickling down her thighs, she heard a young boy behind her exclaim, "Eew, Mommy! My seat's all wet and icky!" "Want to do Splash Mountain next?" Danny asked. "I don't know," Donna replied, feeling plenty "splashed" as it was already. "What's the attraction?" Whispering in her ear, he told her of how nubile young women such as she herself often flashed their tits as the ride's vehicle, a long, hollowed-out log, shot down a flume, activating a camera that snapped their pictures and, if the clerks who sold the resulting photographs were laid back and had enough of a sense of humor, were made available for sale, along with those of other, more demure (or cowardly) riders. "That's why it's nicknamed 'Flash Mountain,'" he explained. She gave his hand a squeeze, offering him a smile. "Let's do it," she said. Watching her, he stuck his finger--the one he'd fucked her with--inside his mouth, slowly withdrawing it through his pursed lips. "Eew!" she said, grimacing. "Not 'eew,'" he assured her. "Your pussy is finger-licking good!" Smiling, she punched his arm, playfully, and they made their way through the milling throngs of guests, to Critter Country, where Splash Mountain loomed, the gnarled trunk of a great tree looking like the pointed end of a witch's hat above a pair of looping roots that resembled eyes. Beneath the tree, the flume plunged, from the "mouth" of a cave, past boulders and cliffs, into a small pond. It was too far away to see the riders, but, Danny assured her, there'd be at least one young lovely among the twelve adventurers (two to each of the six seats) who'd be bold and brassy--and sexy and sassy--enough to bare her breasts for the occasion. "And, afterward, maybe you'll finger me again," Donna said, "in The Haunted Mansion." "I'd say you have a lot more than the ghost of a chance of that happening," he quipped. Donna smiled, thinking of the sleepover that she and her girlfriends had scheduled for Saturday night at Janet Meade's house. Donna would have a lot to tell them about how her date had found her pussy "finger-licking good."