3 comments/ 30130 views/ 4 favorites Not All Mine By: toomuchinmyhead AUTHOR'S NOTE: All characters in this story are over 18. This story includes scenes of unprotected sex and multiple partners. If it is not your cup of tea, please move on. Thanks for reading. * I shuffled into the room with the rest of the parents, and tried to get comfortable in my son's fourth grade desk, my long legs stretched out to the side. He had left a note for me, and I read it, and looked through his stuff, then gazed aimlessly around the room, scanning the kids' work on history and geography. I was pretty much up to speed on his work; even though my wife and I both worked a lot of hours, we always made sure we spent time with his schoolwork. I worked early mornings, and Lynn, my wife, worked evenings. It made for hurried and frantic sex sometimes, but with all the passion we had when we had been dating. She was great mom who got to be there for our son during the day. At thirty-three I was doing alright for myself and my family, and Lynn had quit her full-time job when our young man was born, and stayed home until last year, when she went back part-time. He was a great kid, and staying with the neighbors tonight while I attended Parent-Teacher night. I was still glancing around the room when the teacher walked in, and wrote her name on the board, Mrs. Jones. I watched her writing, guessing her age to be about mine, slim, dark hair just past her shoulders. Trim figure, a little short, ass fit nicely into her dress pants. Good thing these are fourth graders, I thought, they still think girls have cooties for another year or two. Sixth or seventh grade and they'd be rubbing one out to fantasies of their hot teacher. And then she turned around. And suddenly I was eighteen again, just finishing high school. There at the front of my son's classroom stood Charlene Ryan, my first girlfriend, my first lay, and my first broken heart. And a lesson I would never forget. I panicked momentarily, thinking she would recognize, me, fearful she wouldn't, terrified of what she might say. Did she remember us the way I did? How could she not? Would she bring up our past? What if she did? What if she DIDN'T? I tried unsuccessfully to hide my 6'3" frame as she scanned the room, introducing herself, saying hi to parents she already knew. "Hi, John," she said, when she saw me. "Charlie," I answered, giving a slight wave, and what I thought was a not-too-horrible smile. Her expression didn't change, and she moved on to the rest of the group, and began talking about the class. Like I was just another person, no different from the rest, nothing special. Just like High School. Just like when we dated. It was a small town, and a small school, and after high school I had moved to the city after college, started working, building my business, a small consulting firm. I had dated, and had a couple of serious relationships, until I met Lynn, and fell in love, real love. After my parents died we took the house, and I moved back to my hometown, and commuted to the city. We got married about five years ago, and Little John had come along a year later. A great life, a great wife, and a great son. I had it all. And I owed a lot of that happiness to the pretty woman standing at the front of the room, casually resting her shapely butt on the edge of her desk, speaking to us. She had taught me about life, taught me plenty. And as I sat there, seeing her, comfortable in her classroom, the memories of my first love, and all the things she'd taught me came back, the emotions opening like a fresh wound, gouging my heart, and tormenting my head. I was in school, in a classroom, seeing Charlene Ryan as she was then, and my mind reeled back to how it all began. She wasn't my age, she was a year older, still in high school from being left back in grade school due to a prolonged illness. I first met her when I was sixteen, and fell head over heels in love, but she didn't know who I was for another year. She was in some of my classes, and I pined over her, fantasized about her. Not beautiful, but pretty, and lively, and outgoing, always seeming to appear as though her good looks were effortless. I worshipped her from afar for a year, wondering if she might ever talk to me, notice me. I was too shy, too self-conscious to ever approach her. At sixteen I was tall and gangly. But the summer after my seventeenth birthday I filled out and grew into my man's body, and when school started my senior year, I saw her starting to look at me. I never asked her for a date; she asked me. I couldn't even talk I was so afraid, so nervous. Inside I was still the gangly kid who didn't fit with the cool kids, my self-image shaped by taunting in my formative years. So when she approached me that day, I felt like the Grinch, my heart growing three sizes. And all for her. All for the lovely Charlene. She asked me to take her to a movie, maybe get something to eat after. Her voice caressed my ears, and my stomach did flips. I'm sure I sounded too needy, too eager when I said yes. I had been on other dates, but none had ended in a kiss. Well, a friendly peck n the cheek, but that was it. But that night, right after the movie, she kissed me like a woman kisses a man, passionately, softly and seductively, and the chasm of love opened and I tumbled in. We dated for a few months, but not every weekend. I called her all the time, talked to her on the phone for hours every time I found her at home. Kids didn't have cell phones then, so it was always on the house phone. Our dates after that first one were always public dates, parties and the like, always with other people around. And every time she would kiss me after, holding me close, rubbing her body against me, as we made out like crazy. It wasn't until a few months after my eighteenth birthday that we went out on a solo date again, to a movie again. I tried to kiss her in the movie, for the first time making the move, instead of waiting for her. She kissed me quickly, and then looked at me for a while. Then she turned and watched the movie. When we left, she asked me to take her home. I was crushed, I thought for sure I had completely ruined everything. When I pulled my Dad's car up in front of her house, she turned to me and said, "My folks are out. I want you to come in." I could barely walk. Every time we went out, and she kissed me, my dick would be hard as a rock. But like I said, I was an insecure kid then, very unsure of myself, and despite my love for her, I was convinced she was way out of my league. Every time I'd go home and jerk off, dreaming about her, wondering if maybe, one day, I'd find out was sex was like. As we walked to her front door my dick was already growing in my pants. I was embarrassed, afraid she'd see it, and -- what? Laugh? Become afraid? Tell her friends the next day, and they'd point at me in school? But we got to the door and she kissed me, hard this time, her soft, wet tongue spearing into my mouth. She was a fabulous kisser, and my dick went full hard in my pants as I pressed against her sweet body. And then she pressed back. And she groaned in my mouth as we kissed, and then she suddenly stopped, and opened the door. She took me to her bedroom, and we sat on the bed and kissed, and I was so afraid to make a move. Ridiculous, looking back; she took me to her room and sat me on the bed, and still I was afraid to touch her. Finally she helped me by unbuttoning her shirt, and in a short while I was sucking my first nipple since my mother stuck a bottle in my mouth. It was delicious, and wonderful, and, emboldened by my success, I reached between her legs, rubber her pussy through her jeans as I sucked her tits. She moaned, and then pulled her pants open and off, and I slipped a hand inside her panties, and felt my first pussy, shocked at the wetness that greeted my finger. That night Charlene took my cherry. Remember, she was older than me, and she dated a lot, so I assumed she might not be a virgin. But I remember feeling just a little disappointed that my first insertion was not hers; I wanted it to be a moment we shared together, both of us, the first time. But I slipped right inside her, so easily, and of course, my moment of dismay vanished as my cock disappeared inside her. I never thought of protection, or pregnancy, or anything -- all I could think of was oh, how great this was, sex! I was having sex with the girl I loved, and she wanted it, wanted ME! My brain shut down, and my heart and body took over, and we fucked. I thought I fucked at the time, anyway. Looking back, I was pretty much going along for the ride, doing what a young man's body does, while she fucked me. I know now she didn't orgasm, but I did, and I blasted a full young man's load into her. I remember driving home that night, feeling like the king of the world, so in love, with a girl that loves me, and made love for the first time. I had sex, and I knew we were made for each other, perfect for each other, and we'd be together forever, so in love, the world couldn't tear us apart. The next weekend we did it again, this time in the back seat of my Dad's car, and the next weekend, the same way. In between I saw her at school, after school, called her in the evenings, and we would talk for hours if she was home. Sometimes she was out. The next week she broke up with me. And the following Saturday I heard she was dating another guy. I was not the confident, travelled and accomplished business man back then. I was an ass. I was crushed and broken, unable to comprehend how the girl I loved could leave me; I had convinced myself that she felt the same way, and couldn't let go. I moped and pined first. Then tried calling her house, but her folks always said she wasn't home. I tried talking to her in school, but it always ended in her saying that she liked me, but not the way she used to. Every rebuttal served to convince me that she was lying, she was afraid that she loved me too much. I convinced myself that I could win her back, if I just tried harder, made myself available to her, waited for her. And so I entered my complete asshole phase. I hung around, trying to look happy to be around her, even as it tore me apart, especially to see her hanging around with guys. I carried her books. I walked her to class. I waited for her to get out of class and walked her to the next one. I bought her lunch, and presents, and flowers. I knew -- KNEW -- that she couldn't ignore me, and I could win her back. Her friends made fun of me, but I didn't care. She dated other guys, sometimes kissing them right in front of me, and it tore me up, but I didn't show it, unless we were alone. Then I'd get all mopey and droopy and she'd feel sorry for me, and she'd touch my cheek, or hold my hand. But not come back to me. Not yet. There were always guys hanging around her, and they took some sort of humor at my expense. I convinced myself that I was suffering for her, for her love. Some of them laughed openly at me, called me 'Charlie's Dog', and wimp. Some of them threatened to beat me up if I kept hanging around, but Charlene would stop them. That made me think that she had feelings for me, that she was starting to love me again, even if she made out with that guy afterwards. Then even my own friends started making fun of me. They had already exhausted their efforts at talking me down, telling me she wasn't worth it. They started telling me lies about her, to turn me against her, make me not love her. They said she was loose, that she put out, that her nickname was 'good time charlie'. My best friend Mike, I was over his house one Sunday, and his Dad, HIS DAD, took me into their den and tried to talk to me, to give me advice. "Son," he said," there are girls that you will meet, and like and enjoy, and there are girls that you fall in love with, that love you." He explained that there was a match for everyone, that this girl was not for me, and advised me that it was okay to have my fun, but not get attached. "Wait till you're older, when you meet the girl for you, you'll know then that I was right." He said that somewhere there was the right guy for Charlene, but that it wasn't me. I listened, but every time he said her name, my heart broke and ached and I steeled myself, and became more determined to win her back. Because I knew none of that was true, and I opposed them, and defended her to them, until I was insufferable, and my friends began to drift from me, frustrated and helpless. I am ashamed to say that my persistence eventually won. Eventually the hand holding turned to soft touches, and then to a kiss, and by spring we were dating again. We had sex again, wonderful, glorious sex, and I felt redeemed, and I knew they had all been fools, they had been wrong and I was right, she loved me, I knew by the way she kissed me, by the way she opened her legs and let me slip my dick inside her, the way she held me during sex. But my love and my victory blinded me to the truth. I lied to myself when she wasn't home when I called, or came over. I told myself that she loved me, even as my friends told me she was dating other guys, saw her kissing someone, saw her at a party without me. I denied when they told me I was a fool for getting involved, that she would just hurt me again. But my love for her possessed me, and I enjoyed the minutes she gave me. A month before high school ended we went to a party, a graduation party, of which there would be many. Charlene told me to meet her there, and I walked, even though it was the other side of town, Charlene said that she'd get us a ride home. Like most parties, someone would be sneaking in beer, I knew. I got there late, and my friend Mike saw me approaching, and stopped me from going in. "John, I'm telling you, don't go inside," he advised, "she's been making out with Zack all night." My heart split open and my chest tightened. I couldn't be true. Zack was one of the guys who hung around her; she had dated him when we were broke up. He was a decent guy, never made fun of me during my Supreme Asshole phase. I liked him. He treated her good when he was around her, but I'd heard him say some things to his friends when she wasn't around. I figured he was just showing off, you know, acting cool. "She's not all yours, man, why don't you see that?" Mike pleaded. "I hate seeing her do this to you, I hate that you have so little respect for yourself, that you humiliate yourself for her. She's not worth it." I felt myself returning to the longing puppy I had been when I was trying to win her back, and ignored his words, and went inside, hurt, aching, and hopelessly n love. I found her in the den, hanging with her usual crowd. Zack and a couple of other guys, Steve and Winston, both of whom had graduated last year. They were laughing, and drinking, and she was sitting on Zack's lap. When she saw me her eyes caught mine and swallowed me up, and she stood, and came to me, smiling her soft, easy smile. She kissed me there, in front of the other guys, and my heart repaired itself instantly, and I felt vindicated, and hopelessly in love. I heard some snickering from the guys, but I knew that inside, I had the last laugh, because she loved ME, no one else. She told me to get a beer from outside, and to bring her one. I went out, walking on a cloud. I was gone a little while, having conversations with my friends, who looked at me warily. I finished my beer and got another, and returned to the den to give her beer she had requested. When I got there she was on Zack's lap again, her arms draped around his neck. The other guys made rude comments as I returned, and Charlene took the beer, but gave it to Zack, and asked me to get her another one. Like the dumb ass I was, I went and got her another beer. When I returned she was making out with Zack, still on his lap. Winston coughed in his beer, and Steve rumbled something under his breath, and she looked up and smiled. Zack avoided my eyes. She stood and approached me. "It's nothing, John, it's just fun, just kissing." She kissed me then, slipping her tongue into my mouth, and despite knowing that her soft lips had just been on Zack's mouth, I kissed her back, unable to help myself. I sat, and she sat on my lap, and once again I convinced myself that they were all wrong, that I was right, that she loved me. Through the night there were other incidents. She kissed Zack again, I saw her, a couple of time, and once she made out with Steve, and they all laughed. At first she did it when I wasn't in the room, but as the night went on she started doing it in front of me. I wanted to run from the room, to tear her away, but felt unable to do anything except wait for her to come back to me. And she would always come back to me, telling me it was nothing, that she liked kissing, it was fun, but it didn't mean anything. At one point she took me outside, holding my hand, and took me on the side of the house, where it was dark, and we made out for a while. I felt her ass, and she pushed herself into me, pressing her breasts against me, pressing her hips into my hardening dick, and moaning softly. We talked for a while out there. She told me she liked me a lot, that she wanted me tonight. I was confused, and torn in two. How could she hurt me like that? "You know I go out with other guys, John," she told me. I remembered seeing her, when we were broken up. I nodded, hurt and needy. "When we first dated, I was only with you, then." I nodded, remembering the elation of loving her, thinking she loved me, trying to convince myself now that it was still true. "But then, you were just another guy I dated. I liked you a lot." "But we made love," I managed. "Yeah, we did," she replied wistfully. "and it was good sex, John, no shit." She kissed me again. "But I like to have fun, honey, I like boys, I like to date guys." She smiled again. "When we got back together, it was because I really liked you, I saw how you felt about me, and I felt bad." She winced a little. "But I didn't stop going out. You know that, don't you?" In my heart, my poor, broken heart, I guess I did, and while I could deny it to my friends, I accepted it from her. She dated other guys while we were dating. I steeled myself, bracing for the inevitable, fearful that she wanted to break up with me again. "I like you John, I want to be with you tonight, stay with me." She kissed me, and relieved that she wasn't leaving me again, I swallowed my pride and said I would . She held my hand, and led me back to the den. We finished our beers, and even thought the party wasn't over, they all announced that it was time to go. Winston had a car, he wasn't drinking, and we went outside. I saw Mike and some of my other friends, staring at me as we left, my hand in hers, even as she kissed Zack outside the car. I hung my head in shame, unable to meet their eyes. Winston started the car, and Steve got in the passenger seat. Charlene sat in the back between me and Zack, still holding my hand as we pulled away, Steve turned in his seat and leaned into the back, and Charlene leaned forward and I watched them making out, my heart torn in two. I wanted to be kissing her, just me, but I wanted her so bad that I would tolerate watching her kissing another guy, right in front of me. But she held my hand the whole time, squeezing it, letting me know that everything was okay. When she stopped kissing him she turned to Zack, and kissed him. I couldn't see their faces, only the back of her head, but I saw his hand behind her back, rubbing her. Still she held my hand. And then his hand went under the back of her tee shirt, rubbing her bare skin as they kissed. She broke the kiss and turned to me, and then she was kissing me, her wonderful, soft, loving kiss forcing the idea of her kissing two other guys out of my mind. I disregarded where her lips had just been, denied everything I had heard, everything she had told me, and kissed her, and loved her with all my immature, aching heart. Not All Mine She kissed Zack again as Winston and Steve talked in the front seat. I saw his hand under her shirt, rubbing her back, but turned away when it slipped around to the front. I looked at the back of Winston's seat, struggling not to think of Zack rubbing my girlfriend's tits. With my free hand and tentatively touched her back, and she moaned and wriggled her ass back against my hips. So I rubbed her back and neck while she made out with another guy, who was feeling up her tits. When she turned to me, she pulled my chin to face her, and her hand released mine. As we began to make out I could feel her lips, wet from her making out, on my face, her tongue burrowing into my mouth, and suddenly her hand was at my crotch, rubbing my hard dick through my pants. Yes, dejected, despondent and crushed by her affection for other boys, I was hard from making out with her. She was squeezing my dick, grunting a little as we wrapped each other in our arms, pressing our bodies against each other. I boldly snaked a hand up the front of her shirt to find her bra pushed up over her tits, and I grabbed her luscious breast in my hand, unmindful of the fact that I was second. She was panting in my mouth when I heard Steve from the front seat say, "Oh, yeah, here we go." She pulled from me, and as her face moved away I saw Zack's hand on her shoulder, pulling her, and I felt a temporary rage, feeling like I had been cheated, like I didn't get enough time. He turned her as he pulled, and her hand left my crotch to settle on her leg, and I took it, and held it tight, but she didn't kiss him. No, her shoulders slumped and her head went down, and in the dark I caught a glimpse of his erection sticking out of his pants just before her head descended into his lap, and I watched in pain as she began bobbing her head on him. I squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back, acknowledging my presence as she sucked Zack's cock. After a few minute she pulled her head up, and turned to me. Her lips were wet, and she was panting, and she looked at me with a fire in her eyes I had never seen when we made love those few times. She reached for my pants, and I helped her open them. She had never sucked me before, we had only fucked, and despite my horror at seeing her doing it to Zack, I was hard as steel. My cock sprang out of my pants when they opened. She looked at it, then looked at me, and kissed me. I felt her wet mouth smearing on my lips, her tongue inside my mouth, and my stupid love for her allowed me to discount where her mouth had just been, until I heard Steve say, "Look, he still wants to kiss her!" I felt her tense, and she pulled back and looked at me with an expression as close to love as I had ever seen, and then lowered her head to my lap. I groaned out loud as she sucked me into her mouth. "Oh, yeah," I heard Steve say, "I can't wait for my turn!" His turn? I thought, feeling Charlene's mouth stroking my shaft as her head bobbed up and down, my hand in her hair, stroking her head gently. The sensation she produced allowed me to bury my feelings of betrayal and humiliation, and even to ignore his remark. She wasn't teasing and playing with my dick, she was fucking me with her mouth. I heard slobbering, sucking sounds as she pumped her head, then heard and felt a moan from her. I looked over to see Zack reaching under her butt, and realized he was stroking her pussy through her pants. I ignored it and concentrated on what her mouth was doing. It lasted a few more minutes, before Winston said, "Better zip up, boys, we're almost here." Charlene pulled her head from my lap, licking her lips and panting. She looked so lovely and sexy, staring into my eyes, hers shining with fiery lust. I pushed my dick back into my pants, feeling her saliva coating it. Even my balls were wet. I saw Zack doing the same. She turned to him and moved to kiss him, but he pushed her away. "Fuck," he snorted, "I told you not to kiss me after you suck cock." I couldn't believe he spoke to her like that, and I touched her back, assuming she'd be hurt or insulted, but she just settled back in the chair, grinning, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She turned to me. "You'll still kiss me, won't you John?" And I took her in my arms, ignoring the derisive guffaws from the other guys. They don't know her like I do, I thought, they don't feel like I do, they couldn't. Although I expected better from Zack; he was mostly a decent guy, like I said. While we kissed, I felt the car turn, and stop. And heard doors opening. Then suddenly her face pulled away from mine. I opened my eyes to see Steve pulling her from the car, and I thought for a second that he was assaulting her, but she fell into his arms, and threw her legs around his hips, and humped him. She shoved her face to his, and he kissed her, his hands under her butt, holding and squeezing her cheeks. Winston had opened the door, and called us inside. I got out of the car, and recognized Winston's parents house; I had been to a party here once. Winston held the door open and Zack went in, followed by Charlene, who stopped and made out with him, right in the doorway. Steve had to squeeze his bulk past them, humping her from behind as he did, and she pushed her ass back into him. Winston was feeling her tits, his hands up under her shirt. I waited till they were done, and Winston went in, and Charlene took my hand and led me inside. We followed Winston through the house, to his bedroom. When I walked in, I froze in the doorway. Zack was sitting on the bed, his pants off, his dick standing straight up in his lap. I felt Charlene's hand slip out of mine, and watched her strip off her shirt and bra, and kneel in front of him, topless, and start sucking his hard cock. The lights were on, and there was no hiding, she was blowing him right there, in front of us all. My heart skipped a beat or two as my anguish increased, but my dick went fully hard immediately. Zack was taking his shirt off as Charlene worked his cock, and I saw from the corner of my eye, Steve was taking off his clothes. Winston had disappeared. Steve, quickly naked, looked at me with disdain. "What are you waiting for, buddy? If you want some, you ain't gonna get it like that." He moved to the bed, kneeling next to my girlfriend. He wrapped his arms around her, and grabbed her tits. I heard her squeal on Zack's cock, then pull off. "Oh, yeah, pinch them," she cried, and resumed the blowjob. Winston was suddenly back, beers in hand for each of us, and put his down and started undressing. He gave me an impatient glance, and when I didn't move, disregarded me as though I wasn't there. I looked back at the bed. Zack had moved up to the headboard, and Charlene stood, looked around at each of the guys, and turned to me. She came to me, and kissed me, and I felt her hands at my pants, opening them, then undoing the buttons of my shirt. She was panting in my mouth. She kept at it until I started undressing myself, then pulled away. She smiled at me, kissed me lightly as she stepped back, and opened her pants. She pulled them off her hips, exposing her pussy to me, then turned and shook them down her legs as she made her way back to the bed. As I finished undressing, she was crawling up onto the bed towards Steve, who knelt up, his hard cock jutting straight out. She lowered her head and began sucking him, her ass pointing at me, wiggling seductively. "You snooze you lose," Winston said, and moved behind her, climbed on the bed, and got between her legs. I watched him slide his dick into her wet pussy, and he started stroking in and out. The sound of her moans grabbed my heart and squeezed it. I had heard her moan before, so passionately, but that was when we made love, those few times. This moan as the same, the same way she reacted to my lovemaking. She reacted that way with Winston shoving his cock in her pussy while she sucked Steve. I felt betrayed, thinking she had deceived me into believing that only I could do that for her, that she would only want that experience with me, the way I wanted it with her. That what we had was special, and loving, a unique bond between us. And now she was getting that special bond from Winston, and she was sucking Steve's hard cock at the same time. And as if it wasn't bad enough being betrayed by the girl I loved, my dick betrayed me too. Instead of shrinking into my body and disappearing, it became harder, the blood pounding in it, surging and straining itself, eager to take a turn. Never, I denied, never, I could never do that with her, never treat her that way, I wanted only to love her, not use her like some common whore. But that's what these two were doing. And Charlene, my lovely, wonderful Charlene, was letting them. No, I admitted, finally, she WANTS them to do this, the LIKES them to do this. And my shattered heart broke again, the pieces cracking into shards, piecing my chest, and tearing me apart. I felt a tear, felt my chest tighten, my breath hitch, and I breathed hard, forcing myself not to cry, not here, not in front of these guys. So I stood, and watched my girlfriend invite a ravishing, skewered on two cocks at either end, and panting, and moaning her delight at the treatment. Winston and Steve paid no attention to me, but when I looked at Zack, he was watching me. Did he see? Did he notice me almost cry? "Hey, guys," he said, still looking at me, "give John a turn." He nodded at me, and I wondered if he understood how I felt. He couldn't though. But Steve and Winston high-fived, and pulled out and stepped away. Winston motioned for me to step up. "Come on, man, she won't wait all night." He stepped away from her ass, and I watched her pussy, red and open, staring at me, beckoning, calling me. She turned her head over her shoulder. "Fuck me, John, please?" How could I not do it? I stepped to her, and she turned over onto her back, and I climbed onto the bed. I moved toward her on my knees, trembling with nerves and excitement, and rested the head of my traitorous cock on her pussy. I watched her lips open, saw her hips rise, trying to urge me inside. And without thinking I pushed inside, and her breath left her as I settled my full length inside her. She felt loose, and wet and slippery, and I began pumping uncontrollably. I was angry, and I thrust into her hard, my body trying to take revenge, trying to hurt her cunt the way she hurt my heart. "Oh, yeah, Johnny, give it to me," she cooed, and my brain shorted, realizing that she WANTED it this way, rough and hard, fucking, not lovemaking, hard fucking. I drove harder. "Oh! John! Fuck, yeah, baby, give me that hard cock I love, give it to your baby, honey, come on, give me what I need!" She never talked when we made love, but now, having sex, she was vocal. "Give me that fucking cock, Johnny! Slam it in my cunt!" I looked at her when she said cunt; her face was tight and fierce, grimacing in her urges. I watched her breasts bouncing on her chest as I pounded her, heard Steve say something admiring about me. Zack sat up, getting closer, and reached for her nipples, and pulled them hard, and she cried out. "Oh, fuck yeah, twist them hard, oh, I can feel it in my cunt!" Her face drifted to my side, and she gasped, "Get your cock over here!" As I continued pounding angrily, I saw Winston climb onto the bed, and kneel at her head. She sucked his cock into her mouth, taking half of it inside, and bobbing her head a few strokes, then pulling off with a wet smacking sound. "Yeah, Win, you taste like pussy!" She pushed her mouth back on, and slobbered on his dick, sucking loudly as I fucked her. Then Winston grabbed her hair, and pushed his hips forward, and I watched his entire cock force its way into her throat. Her pretty face was pressed into his pubic hair. Her eyes went wide, and she looked slightly panicked, and she choked, and coughed around his shaft, spit blowing out past her lips. Then he pulled back, and she took a deep breath, gasping for air. I was afraid for her, and my pounding slowed, until she managed to say. "Oh, shit, you know how to do it just the way I like! Fuck my mouth, Winston, give it to me!" And he did, repeatedly fucking her mouth and throat, choking her with his cock, making her eyes water, and turning her face red, and through it all I pounded, driving my cock deeper and harder, furiously shoving it in, still trying to hurt her, until Winston pulled back a few inches from her open mouth, and yelled, and streams of slimy white cum shot from his cock, splashing into her open mouth, striping her nose, her cheeks, and she licked and held her mouth open, trying to catch it, trying to capture his cock. I kept fucking her, and then she began to yell, her mouth opened and dripping cum, and she cried out, and I thought she was hurt, but no; I felt her pussy clench on my dick, something I had never felt before, and her body tensed and her eyes opened wide, as I witnessed my first female orgasm. Even as she came I punished myself; knowing for sure, then, that she had never cum when we made love, but she was doing it now, as I ground my hips into her, as she held Winston's cock at her open mouth and screamed her passion to the room. I shuddered, and my body betrayed me again, and I felt myself climax, a full, strong, tremor running through my body, starting from my hands and feet and head and joining forces in my groin, and I pushed inside her, and yelled, and shot my hot load into her pussy. She turned to look at me, as she always did when I came, staring into my face, only this time with Winston's cock in her mouth, obscenely bulging her cheek, her face coated in his sticky load. My cum seemed to shoot forever, pulse after pulse coursing through me, filling her, and I felt her pussy become slick, and hot with my cum. I staggered backwards, almost falling off the bed, and struggled to stay upright, and fell back into a chair, exhausted, breathing hard. Steve was in my place in no time, shoving his hard cock into her pussy, fucking her, humping himself into her, and Zack moved to her head, and straddled her chest, sitting on her tits, and shoving his cock into her mouth. Winston came over to me and grabbed his beer. "You did good, John," he said, and took a long drink. "She's something, isn't she? She loves fucking, and you gave her a good one there." He drank again, and stepped away to watch, and I didn't answer. My passion sated, I sank back into my emotions. How could she do this? How could I have not known she was like this? What was wrong with her? I assumed it was a defect; it must be, other girls didn't act like this, did they? I surely didn't feel the way she felt. Did I? I had thought, from the very first, that she made love to me BECAUSE she loved me, because it was ME, not just my dick. Not just sex. But there she was, taking cocks in her pussy and her mouth, and enjoying, no, craving it, loving it the way I thought she loved me. As repulsed as I was by her treatment of me, I couldn't tear my eyes away, and I watched her cum again, this time from Steve's dick fucking her. I couldn't see her face, because Zack's ass was in the way, moving back and forth across her tits, but I could see her pussy between Steve's legs, it was frothing with cum and red and swollen. Zack came on her face, he let us all know, and Winston went to the bed to watch, saying things like, "yeah, shoot it in her face, face man, she loves it," before turning to me, and adding, "she loves cum." I wondered if he knew that before tonight, and why I never knew. Zack climbed off her, and Winston turned her head to him, and shoved his cock into her mouth; he was hard again, and she sucked on it. I could see her now, and her face was dripping with cum, she didn't wipe it, or try to clean it off, or anything. As she sucked, she had another orgasm , releasing Winston's dick to scream to the room. Steve followed after her, but he didn't yell, or make more than a few grunts, but I could see his dick and balls clenching as he spewed his semen into her. Then he pulled out, quickly, and still hard, and climbed up tp her head and fed her his dripping, slimy cock, right from her pussy. I watched her lick it hungrily, coating her tongue on his cum, before sucking it into her mouth. Steve and Zack went for their beers, and Charlene sat up, and looked at me. Her legs were open, and her gaping hole faced me, oozing white creamy cum. Her chest looked raw where Zack had sat on her and rubbed his hairy ass on her, and her face was flushed, her hair a mess, and her face dripped cum from her nose and chin. She laughed and licked around, and the other guys all joked about it. She smiled, and her face lit up, and she looked at me, and her smile changed, from the sexy, cum-licking slut to the pretty, wonderful friendly girl I fell in love with. I wondered if my face showed her how much I cared. "Hey, John, could you get me my beer?" In a daze I stood, and retrieved her beer and brought it to her. She took it from my hand and held my hand as she took a drink, and I offered her my shirt from the floor so she could wipe her face. She thanked me, genuinely, and the other guys joked and laughed, except Zack, who seemed to be studying me. I tried to ignore then; it was difficult, but even watching her wipe cum from her face was like a dream to me, just being near her. When she was done, she gave me back my shirt, and held my hand again, patting the bed for me to sit next to her. I sat against the headboard, and she leaned her back on my chest, and I wrapped her in my arms, not caring that wet semen had dripped on her breasts. She watched the guys joking and laughing, but then turned to me, and whispered in my ear, "Thanks John, you were the best." She wriggled her ass a little against my hard cock, which had swollen to readiness watching her. "M-mm," she added, "feels like it's your turn again." But Winston stood, and finished his beer, and announced, "I'm next, all I got was sucked, and I want that pussy." "Oh, yeah, Win, how do you want it?" she asked cheerily. "On my back, like usual," he said, "You on top!" As I wondered about "like usual", Charlene scrambled away from me, and pulled me off the bed, and Winston flopped down on his back, his hard shaft laying on his stomach. Charlene finished her beer, on several long gulps, then kissed me on the lips, and whispered, "I want you, too, okay" and climbed back on the bed. I stood there dumbly as Steve went to get more beer. Zack sat in the chair where I had sat and watched, still studying me, it seemed. As Charlene straddled Winston, I saw her grab his dick and point it up between her legs, and lower herself on it, releasing a contended sigh as she filled herself with hard cock. I just stood there, immobile, slightly behind her, watching her cute ass rise and fall, watching Winston thrust up into her. She held herself up on her arms, riding his cock. After a few minutes she turned her head to look at Zack over her shoulder. "Zack, honey, could you get the lube?" Zack leaned over in the chair, reaching for the bottom drawer of Winston's dresser. He took out a small bottle, and approached the bed. "No, honey, give it to John." Zack shrugged, and tossed me the bottle. I stood there, not knowing what I was supposed to do. "She wants you," Zack said quietly, standing next to me, "to fuck her in the ass." As if on cue, Charlene lowered her head and shoulders, resting her chest on Winston, and looking back at us. "Go ahead man, she -- you've never done this, have you." "No," I confessed. "Okay, you have to go put some lube on her ass, and work it in with your fingers, then spread it all over your dick, and then you push it in." I looked down at her ass, rising and falling, her cheeks spread, her tiny hole winking and neat. I felt my chest tighten, and my breath hitching, and I thought I might cry, but forced the sobs back down and climbed on the bed. Not All Mine She looked back at me. "Please baby, please fuck my ass, I only want you in there tonight, John." Fighting back the tears of my broken heart, I opened the bottle and began lubing her ass, working a finger inside, listening to her awful moans and sighs as I added a second at her urging. Then I coated my shaft, and dropped the bottle, and lined up my dick as her crinkled starfish. Beneath me I could see her pussy taking Winston's shaft, "Put it in me, Johnny, fuck my ass for me, it's all yours, sweetie." She wriggled a little, and pushed back, bumping the head of my dick with her rear hole. "Come on, baby, don't make me beg, put your dick in my ass and fuck me good." I pressed my hips forward, and the head slipped inside, surprisingly easily for what I thought would have been very tight. She cooed her pleasure, and pushed back, taking a little more of me inside, and I fought back the tears, and lost, and began crying as I pushed my cock inside her hot ass. I guess it felt good, because I fucked her hard, and she encouraged me, telling me how good my cock felt fucking her ass. At some point Steve returned, and he and Zack stood on either side of her, and fed her their cocks, which she alternated sucking and stroking. Steve made rude comments, and Winston laughed, and Zack avoided looking at me until Steve looked up, and pointed at me and began laughing, just as I came in Charlene's ass, and she howled as she came on Winston's cock. I was mortified, and I pulled out, still coming, and scrambled to pick up my clothes, and ran out of the room. Zack caught me at the door, half dressed, zipping up his pants, and asked me to wait. He went to the kitchen and returned with two beers, and led me outside. We sat on the bottom step of the porch, and he started talking, and I just listened, and drank, and sniffled. "Listen, man, you're a good guy, I like you. I always have. I can tell you have feelings for her, and I kinda know how you feel." He sipped his beer. "I used to like her, a lot, I think I felt a little the way you did." He sighed. "When she first wanted to go out with me, I was walking on air, Charlene Ryan, the cutest girl ever. Man." I looked at his face, and I knew that expression, it was the one that had stared at me in the mirror for months. "But I have been dating chicks since I was fifteen, you know? And I've had my heart broken before, right? So when I found out she was dating other guys, I broke it off. Sure we still went out once in a while, and we still had a lot of sex, like tonight, party nights, she calls it, but I didn't let myself get involved, I gave her my dick, but she never got my heart." "She got mine," I said glumly. "Because you gave it to her, man. But she didn't deserve it. She didn't even want it." He paused again, drank. "Look, she's a great girl, and a good person, and a lot of fun, but she's not going to love you, man, ever. She likes sex, and boys. You can accept it, or you can be angry about it, or you can be hurt by it. But that's who she is. You can't hate her for it. But man, you can't love her either." He left me there, on the porch steps, went back inside. They probably fucked more that night. I walked home, it was a long way, and I had a lot of time to think. For the last month of school I avoided her. I skipped parties that I knew she was going to. I did my best to stay clear of her, and her friends, and especially Steve and Winston, and even Zack, who had, I think, understood, and treated me decently. I had made up my mind to start treating ME decently. It still hurt whenever I though of her, and remember how wonderful I always felt near her. So I avoided Charlene and found other things to do, and after graduation I got some work. By the end of summer it didn't hurt so much to see her with her friends, with guys, even kissing them, and in the fall, I went away to college. I lost contact after that. It took time, but I learned to get on with my life. I didn't forget her, but I moved on. Over the years I dated, sometimes with girls who appealed to me but later determined I didn't like so much. Other times with girls I liked, but missing the appeal. I didn't compare them to Charlene, but I protected myself from being the immature boy who thinks that his love is immediately returned and shared. Eventually I met Lynne, now my wife, and had the experience to offer my love to someone who accepted it, and returned it in kind. I was suddenly startled out of my reminiscing by one of the parents bumping my son's desk as he exited the room. Everyone was leaving, the session was over. I looked up, and Charlene was talking to one of the mothers, who she clearly knew. I sat, pretending to take last looks at my son's work, until everyone had left. I got up and walked to the desk, and she stood, and came to the front, and we perched on the edge of her desk, next to each other. I waited a few seconds, then turned to face her. She was as pretty as ever, her smile still the same easy, open expression it had been all those years ago. "Hello, John." "Hi, Charlene." I paused. "You look good." "So do you. When I saw John's name, I wondered, hoped really, that I might see you." "You had the advantage, then, Mrs. Jones. Married?" "Almost five years now." Her hands fidgeted a little. I was a little nervous too, but struggled not to show it. "Happy?" "Definitely." "That's good. Me, too." I risked a smile. "I'm glad you're happy. It's all I ever wanted for you." "Oh, John, I was always happy. Except for when I hurt you. I- I guess, well, I guess I thought you were like the other guys, like me." She looked down at the floor, then back at me. "I never meant to hurt you, Johnny, really I didn't. And I felt bad, and I was sad that you wouldn't talk to me. I'm glad that you're all right." She sighed. "I thought you hated me." "It was a long time ago, Charlene. I don't hate you, I never did. Hurt, yes. Angry. But I never hated you." I smiled again. She stood, and began collecting her things, and I agreed to walk her to her car as we talked, caught up on the past years. We talked as old friends, and the years slipped away, and by the time we reached her car, we were laughing together as we had done once before, so long ago. She put her bags in the car, and turned to me. "It's so good to see you again, John. I'm glad you're happy. "I'm happy to hear you found someone. Is he good to you, Mr. Jones?" "He's very good. We're perfect together, two of a kind. You should meet him." Her face brightened, as it always did before, and my heart leaped in memory. "Hey, we're having a party, next Saturday, maybe you could come by, bring your wife. I'd love to meet her." A nervous look flashed across her face. "Oh, maybe that's not a good idea, if she's not comfortable..." "It's okay, she knows about my past." I added, "We don't keep secrets from each other." She grimaced. "Ouch. I guess I deserved that." She looked at me. "Would you come to the party?" "I'd feel like we were intruding," I replied too quickly, then added, "but maybe. I don't know your friends, so Lynne and I would be the oddballs." "Oh, we have new people in the group all the time, they'll like you, and I'm sure Lynne will be welcome." " What kind of party? Dinner?" "For starters, dinner. It's Party Night." My head jerked, and the world seemed to spin a few times. "Party night?" "Sure, you know, - oh. Oh, John, I thought, when I said, my husband and I, we're the same, and I've always been happy..." She paused, sighed. "Yes, John, it's party night, and yes, I still do what I like, what I enjoy, and my husband shares my passion, and so do our friends." She looked at me, and I looked back at her. "I'm sorry if I shocked you, or misled you, I assumed you understood." I looked at her for a long time without answering, thinking of the past, thinking of her. And I found myself wondering how Lynne would react ...