She was going to be fucked! She was going to be fucked by a boy she had met only two hours ago. She had refused to go to bed back home with the boy who wanted to marry her, the boy she was probably going to accept. She had refused to let Brent Richards get into her pussy, yet she was on the verge of spreading her legs for this stranger. It didn't make sense. It made no sense at all.

Sheri McAlister thrust her tits against the adoring hands as the slender, black-haired boy thumbed her nipples into humming anticipation. Her blouse was unbuttoned, hanging loosely on her arms. Her bra, long ago released to allow his roving hands access to the throbbing globes, was twisted about her neck. Sheri tingled as he leaned his face back to her breasts and sucked frantically on a heaving tit.

"Mmmmmmmm," she sighed, twisting and writhing in his arms as he held her against him on the bed. "Ooohhh."

This wasn't like her, not like her at all. Sheri was not virgin, but she wasn't an easy lay either. How did she let herself get in a situation like this?

It was Marianne's fault. It had to be. If the buxom brunette hadn't talked her into coming to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, she wouldn't be in this situation. It was also Brent's fault. It was because of that last night with Brent that she had complained to Marianne. Her regular boy friend had come on just a little too strong to suit her. He had almost broken down her resistance, he had his big cock out of his pants and was trying to get her panties down when she fought him off.

"No!" she hissed as she stood up and faced him. They had come in after a movie and had sipped coffee in her apartment. She sat on the couch and cuddled with him for a while, letting him caress her tits and stroke along her thighs. This night, however, he tried to go after her with greater intensity than ever before.