### GC-1027 ###
Virgin Ready To Eat
by Victoria Parker
FOREWORD
The onset of puberty invariably brings with it the dawning awareness of sexuality, of a child’s inherent masculinity or femininity, and the struggle to put that sexuality into proper perspective.
For some, the transition occurs with relative ease. For others the change is marked by tension and anxiety, and a growing awareness that their world is changing much faster than they would like.
For the young girl in this book, the initiation into the world of sexuality is full of frustration and fear. Eager to explore the bounds of her femininity, she becomes a victim of her own desires, until she learns the power she holds over the men in her life.
VIRGIN READY TO EAT—the story of a young girl’s struggle to make her own, very personal transition into adulthood. It is a lesson for society.
-The Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
Little Denise Slater came home from junior high school. The house was empty. Her mother was still at work. She dropped her books on the table, and headed for her room upstairs. She closed the door and lay down on the bed.
She looked good lying there in her school uniform, a tiny green skirt, a white, silken blouse, a black blazer. Her legs were encased up to the knees in black socks, and her feet sported black-and-white saddle shoes.
Denise was small and had a fabulous little body. Her long brown hair was thick as it splayed on the pillow behind her. Her face, round, fresh cheeks glistening with a pink blush, lips glistening with pink gloss, was a picture of youthful beauty. Denise, after all, had just started her first year at Wilson Junior High School.
Denise had discovered a new hobby.
Masturbation!
God, she loved finger-fucking. She loved the way she felt when she played with her little peach-fuzz pussy, diddling the wet cunt-slit. And that was what she was about to do right now.
She lifted the green pleats of her skirt, pulled them up around her waist, then slid her hand down into her pink panties.
And she started finger-fucking her pussy.
“Ooooooooh, shit!” Denise sighed. “Ooooooh, that feels so damn good!”
Nasty language for such a young girl? A bad habit, this finger-fucking?
Denise didn’t know. She didn’t care.
All she knew was how good she felt when she came. She finger-fucked down in her pink panties, her hand knuckling out the crotch, her finger slicking in and out.
“Ooooooh, jeeeeez!” she sighed.
She was thinking of Mr. Howe, her English teacher, a man in his forties, a masculine, handsome man with a good manly build. She was thinking about how he might take his prick out and rub it around on her panties, maybe even stick it in her pussy.
“Oooooh,” she cooed, “he’s so big and muscular and stuff, and he looks at me with such a hot look all the time in class.”
Little Denise lifted her beautiful ass off the bed and tugged her pink panties down to her knees. She slid her hand quickly back into the fuzzy brown patch of cunt-hair between her smooth, tanned thighs.
Her finger slicked in and out of her pussy. Her long brown hair curled out on the white pillow. Her eyes were closed, her face contorted with passion.
She was an exceptionally pretty young lass, and the passion on her face gave her an erotic beauty that was enchanting and fetching.
Her teeny-bopper tits bobbled under her blouse that pulled in tightly against them so they looked like two round tennis balls.
“This feels sooooo good!” Denise whispered.
Her hand fanned her pussy, and her finger made a juicy, slurping sound as it fucked in and out of her wet little cunt.
“Soooo good, so good,” she mumbled, then she found her clit and tiddly-fucked it furiously.
Her body lifted up as she stiffened.
And then she came with a wild shuddering.
“Awwwww, shit!” she cried.
Her body shook wildly. Her face was etched with erotic delight. Her pretty pink mouth hung open in a big wet O.
“Yeahhhhhh, yeah!” she sobbed. “Oh, jeeeez!”
Then she slumped back down on the bed, lay there her chest heaving, her round tennis-ball tits pushing up and down as she tried s to catch her breath.
She relaxed, looking radiant in her school uniform. Wilson was a private junior high that her mother had insisted Denise attend. She had to wear a little school skirt and blouse, sometimes a skirt and sweater. The attire changed every week, alternating between two uniforms.
Denise was about to fall asleep when she heard her mother drive up outside then come in the house. She got up and went downstairs.
Her mother, Betsy, was a lovely woman in her late thirties. She worked hard at an advertising agency to support the two of them since her husband had just up and disappeared, leaving Betsy and Denise to fend for themselves in the cruel world.
“Hi, Mom,” Denise smiled.
“Hello, honey. I have to hurry. I have a dinner date tonight with Mr. Hanson. He’s taking me out to Benihana for dinner, so I have to get ready. He’ll be along soon.”
“Do you like him, Mom?”
“Well, this is only our second date, but
I think he’s nice, he’s handsome, very tall and muscular, and I like that … and he has money.”
“Good, maybe he’ll ask you to marry him, huh?”
“Let’s not rush things, Denise. Can you fix yourself something to eat tonight for dinner?”
Denise nodded and Betsy went upstairs to get ready for her date.