David Crane

Schoolgirl peeper

CHAPTER ONE

Jennifer Hastings found it difficult to get through the day without playing with her pussy at least once. She was a very horny young lady, and it was rather surprising that she was still a virgin – but her cherry had only been preserved by the diligent manual attention that she paid to her crotch. No boy had even got her alone when she was too hot to turn him down, mainly because she always frigged herself off before she went out on a date. She had started masturbating in junior high, discovering the pleasures of self-stimulation almost, but not quite, by accident. She was amazed when the thrill of a climax came racing across her nubile loins; it had been so wonderful that as soon as she stopped panting, she did it all over again.

After that, she played with her pussy two or three times a week, at first, but as she grew older and hornier, she began to frig herself with greater regularity. By the time she was a sophomore, she was doing it every day and by the following year, she had commenced a twice-a-day routine.

She would do it first thing in the morning, while she was still groggy with sleep and the act had a dreamlike quality that she found pleasant, and would do it as the last thing at night, enjoying a long and leisurely hand-job as she drifted towards slumber. Sometimes she fell asleep before she came, but she didn't mind that – it was handy to wake up and discover that her hands were already cupped over her cunt, all ready to start frigging again.

Her cunt was exceptionally creamy.

When she came, cunt juice dripped from her fingers and trickled down into the crack of her ass and soaked the insides of her smooth thighs. She was not a particularly vain or conceited girl, but she was not given to false modesty, either, and she knew full well that she was possessed of a cunt of quality.

Some young man was going to strike it lucky.

The rest of Jennifer was nice, too. She was a tawny redhead, tall and nubile. Her waist was tiny, and her hips flared out in carnal contours that made men think of the treasure that lay between them. Her ass was full, shaped like a teardrop, firm and well packed, and her tits were large and thrusting.

She wore her red hair in a sweeping frame around her face and, with her high cheekbones and slightly slanted green eyes, she looked like a lioness, ready to gobble up unsuspecting prey. Those tilted eyes were green as jade and her mouth was wide and sensual.

As much as Jennifer frigged herself off, the sexy girl had inspired even more masturbation among her admirers.

Ninety percent of the boys in her class at school had, at one time or another, pulled their pricks while they thought about Jennifer Hastings in various ways, according to their tastes. They thought of that well-packed ass that seemed designed specifically to grind a man to a frazzle between her thighs and of those thighs, which had been formed so perfectly to act as hooks as they drew a man between them. They imagined how her tits would look, bared, as they industriously beat their meats and, the more depraved, or imaginative, or experienced ones, often fantasized about those sensual lips covering the heads of their pricks.

Not only young men were inspired by Jennifer!

Every one of the male teachers below the age of sixty-five had been turned on by the gorgeous redhead. The single ones had whacked off with as much gusto as the students, and the married ones had all fucked their wives with their eyes closed, while they made believe that they were pouring the prick to Jennifer.

The janitor, a crude and loutish fellow, frequently retired to his broom closet where he beat off while he imagined he was sliding his cock up her asshole.

Even the female teachers were not immune to Jennifer's charms, and the gym teacher in particular missed no opportunity to look at the redhead in the locker room or in the showers, after which she usually fucked herself silly with a big rubber dick and wished that she had a real prick of her very own to use on Jennifer.

Gallons of jism had been spilled over thoughts of Jennifer.

None had yet been spilled into her.

She was obviously not frigid, and she was certainly not without opportunity but somehow she had never been fucked. She wondered why that was. This was the age of permissiveness. She had no particular desire to save her cherry for marriage. In fact, she knew that she would be glad to be rid of the damned thing because, once she had been fucked for the first time, she knew she would be more relaxed and less inhibited and could fuck any guy she wanted to fuck.

But somehow it had not yet happened.

The time and the place and the man had not yet worked out just right for her. If she had time, they were not alone. If she found herself with time and privacy, she didn't fancy the man. If she was about to yield, something interrupted them.

Soon she would be fucked.

She had never sucked a prick, either.

But, horny young lady that she was, she had thought about it and found the idea attractive.

Soon she would do that, too.

She had been felt up by a few young men and finger fucked by a couple and had certainly enjoyed having hands fondle her body, coming at the touch of her clit or the caress of a taut nipple.

She had jacked off one lucky fellow in his car at a drive-in movie. What a thrill it had been to feel his hot cock throb in her hand as she slowly pulled it up and down, and then to see the creamy blossom of his jism erupt from the knob! But, of course, it had made her wonder what that stout prick might feel like if it were stuffed up her cunt or taste like in her mouth. If only the young man had asked her to, Jennifer would have gladly taken his cock into her mouth and let him shoot that lovely stuff there, or she would have spread her sleek thighs and taken it up her cunt for the first time.

But he hadn't asked.

He had been enjoying the hand-job so much that he hadn't looked beyond it or realized that Jennifer was willing to go further, and Jennifer did not think it seemly for a girl to pop a prick into her mouth without an invitation, or to ask a man to up it in her pussy without having him coax her first.

It was the young man's own fault, for lacking confidence and failing to see how willing Jennifer was, and the episode, although she had enjoyed it, had left her unfulfilled and frustrated.

Frustration was nothing new to her, however.

Often, Jennifer found it hard to get through the whole school day without giving herself a hand-job. She frigged off every morning and every night now, but while she was in school, it was not such a simple matter to find the privacy and solitude that a hand-job required.

The teachers were lucky, she thought.

They had staff rooms where they could go for a smoke, and, presumably, for a frig – if teachers did such things. But all a poor schoolgirl had was the lavatory. It was better than nothing and sometimes, when she could bear it no longer, she would lock herself in a cubicle and rub her cunt to a lather.

But a toilet wasn't really a comfortable place for the taking of such pleasure and those hand-jobs were more necessary and perfunctory than enjoyable. That got the job done and she got her rocks off, but not nearly as well as she did in bed. Sometimes she sat on the toilet seat, legs extended, working on her pussy with both hands, and at other times she stood up, leaning against the wall, finger fucking herself in that position, with her legs trembling under her shuddering weight.

But other girls were always coming in and, although they could not see her in the cubicle, she was always afraid that they might overhear the sounds that she made, for she was a loud masturbater. Not only did she whimper and moan and pant as the thrill built up, but her cunt was such a juicy affair that it squelched and squished as she caressed it. Such sounds were incriminating and easily identifiable by other horny young ladies.

Still, sometimes she had to do it.

Otherwise, there was always the danger that she would come as she sat at her desk, unable to stifle the whimpers that accompanied an orgasm and, even worse, the other kids in class might notice the thick cunt juice running down her legs.

So it was that Jennifer was frequently hot and unhappy as the hours of the school day dragged on, and it seemed she would never get a chance to get at her smoldering cunt.

When the final bell sounded on those days, the poor girl had to sprint home, pussy pulsing and dripping, to claw her climax out before she creamed her panties.

Today was one of those days.

But today Jennifer discovered that the school library happened to be an excellent masturbatorium.

And she discovered other things, as well.

CHAPTER TWO

The school library was not open during the afternoon, since most of the students had classes, and one day, the week before, one of Jennifer's teachers had sent her to the library with a key to fetch a reference book required in class. Jennifer had done so, but she had forgotten to return the key. She discovered the key in her handbag today, and having a free period, thought she would return it to the teacher whom had given it to her.

She was walking through the corridors, heading for the teacher's classroom and passing the library on the way. She had actually gone past it when she suddenly stopped, struck by a marvelous idea. The library would be deserted at this hour. It was a comfortable place where a girl could relax, without worrying about interruptions or having juicy, incriminating sounds overheard. It was, in fact, the ideal place for her to get her rocks off during her free period.

Jennifer grinned with enthusiasm.

She had been trying to sublimate the yearnings in her loins. Now her pussy began to steam with anticipation. She turned and went back, looking around to make sure there was no one else watching her, but not really worried because she could always claim that she was merely returning the key.

The corridor was empty. She unlocked the door to the library and went in, locking it behind her again. She giggled, feeling like a burglar or sneak thief. That feeling added to the thrill of the situation. Sexy things were almost more exciting when they were a bit naughty, or a bit risky, she thought. And if they were really naughty they would be awfully exciting. That was why she always let her imagination run away with her when she was giving herself a hand-job. She was liable to imagine the most wicked things that added spice to the act.

For instance, she liked to pretend that she was getting gang banged. Now, Jennifer never for a moment expected that she would ever be a willing party to a cluster fuck, but thinking about it was tremendously stimulating. De pending on the mood she was in, she would imagine that half a dozen lusty young men were fucking her, one right after the other, shooting their cum into her cunt in sequence while she came on each prick, in turn. Or she might really stretch her imagination to the limits and pretend that three men were screwing her at the same time. One would be in each orifice, with her nubile body buffeted between them, squirming with pleasure as those three stout pricks hosed her from all sides and she melted in creamy release. That fantasy really turned her on, but it was just that, a fantasy. It could never really happen because, although she knew that eventually she was going to get fucked, she never dreamed of taking it up the ass in actuality.

And what should she think about today?

A dozen escaped convicts, maybe?

That was always a lovely fantasy.

Huge, hard, hairy, horny criminals, just broken out of prison, devoid of women for years and with vast loads of cum stored up in their balls during their incarceration. She imagined their long cocks, massive and rampant, more like the tools that these men had used to break into safes or batter down locked doors, than normal cocks. Sometimes she thought of being raped by the convicts, and at other times she imagined herself taking pity on them, because they hadn't been fucked for so long a time, and spreading her legs as they fucked her, one by one and then came back for seconds.

Or the basketball team?

Most of the boys on the team were kind of ugly, gangly lads with plenty of blemishes but they were tall. Jennifer liked to imagine that their pricks were in proportion to their heights and that, when they shot, a lump of jism as big as a basketball was dunked into her hairy pussy hole.

Maybe the football team!

She had a pet fantasy about sneaking into the locker room at halftime and giving head to the whole team while they were wearing their padded armor and helmets, still hot and sweaty from the violent game and then blowing the water boy, too, just for the hell of it.

The baseball team had certain fantasy value, too.

Pricks the sizes of bats could get a girl churned up; no doubt of that. Their cum whacked into her like a fastball into a catcher's mitt, or slipped in like a sliding base runner.

Sometimes she even thought about girls.

Jennifer was certainly not a lesbian, neither practicing nor latent, and because she was sure of that, she didn't mind fantasizing about other girls, she thought that lesbianism was terribly perverted and that made it all the more exciting to imagine and pretend.

She thought about playing with plump titties and stroking juicy cunts and once in a while, when she was feeling really hot and horny and naughty, she would wonder what it was like to suck a cunt. She never imagined making love with any girl she knew, but always with some stranger whom she had just met, some girl or woman who did not even know her name, so that she could be as depraved as she wished and not have to worry about being embarrassed later, when she saw the girl again.

Often the fantasy girls were faceless, often they were dumb, frequently were shadow-figures but they always had nice fat, creamy cunts and big stiff nipples, and they panted and moaned and whimpered when Jennifer made them come.

It was hard to decide which fantasy to think about today.

She didn't like to switch from one to the other. She preferred to carry the same image on through the hand job.

She decided that she would simply start stroking her pussy and see what image sprang to her mind.

Then she wondered where to do it. The librarian's chair looked comfortable. But the desk was right in front of the door and it might not be that safe because it was always possible that some teacher might stop by with a key. Jennifer didn't like to have to worry about interruptions when she was frigging merrily away on her pussy. It was really awful to have to stop in the middle of pleasant pussy petting or, worse, in the midst of a climax.

She vividly remembered one time when that had happened. It had been both frustrating and embarrassing. Jennifer had been playing with her pussy in the bathtub, a place she frequently enjoyed a hand job. She had soaped her plump tits up first, pretending that the soap lather was cum. Her nipples became nice and stiff and tingling. Then she had settled back, knees lifted, rubbing her cunt to a foam just below the surface of the warm water.

She had just started to come when her father walked in!

He had not realized that the bathroom was occupied, but he wasn't embarrassed by it. He had merely come to get something out of the medicine cabinet, and excusing himself to Jennifer, had proceeded to do so. It obviously had not occurred to him that his daughter was now a nubile and sexy young lady and that he should not be looking at her, naked in the bathtub.

Nor would it have embarrassed Jennifer if her nipples had not been erect and her cunt just starting to melt.

Her father had got what he came for and turned, smiling. Then he raised his eyebrows when he saw that his daughter's tit-tips were standing out.

A fleeting frown crossed his brow.

What thought was her father having? Had he just realized that his little girl was no longer a little girl? Had he understood the reason for her nipples being so stiff? Was he, perhaps, disturbed by some unexpected hint of an incestuous thought?

Jennifer had blushed and tried to look innocent and not at all concerned that he was looking at her.

Then, to her horror, her pussy had creamed! She had stopped finger fucking herself when her father had entered the bathroom, of course but her hot cunt had reached the point of no return and it rippled into a juicy orgasm. Oh, the shame of it! Already blushing, Jennifer now turned red as a beet.

Her father stood there, a puzzled look on his face. He seemed about to say something, for his lips trembled and parted, but no words came out.

Cunt juice came out, however.

The slippery stuff was flooding from Jennifer's crotch and floating to the surface of the water in blobs. It spread out in slimy tentacles from her hairy crotch. The poor girl was absolutely mortified. Surely her father must realize what the stuff was! He must be able to recognize cunt juice – after all, he must have fucked her mother to many a creamy orgasm.

Furthermore, despite her shame, Jennifer could not keep herself from moaning and squirming around as the thrill of her coming laced through her overheated loins.

She snatched up the soap and began to lather her belly furiously, pretending that the little whimpers she was making were caused by the pleasure of laving herself and working up a thick lather to conceal the incriminating cunt juice in the water.

Her father had stared for some time.

Then he had smiled – a rather strange and strained smile, in fact – then turned away, leaving the room.

Jennifer sighed with relief.

She figured that he hadn't realized what she had been doing, after all. Her cunt juice did look quite a bit like soapsuds, all frothy and lathery, and a girl might well squirm and moan, in all innocence and purity, when she was soaping her belly.

She relaxed. Then, quite suddenly, a wash of lust coursed through her, running like malaria through her veins.

Incest was awfully naughty. And awfully exciting, too.