His balls hung in a heavy sac beneath his cock, and they were swollen, holding the sweet cock cream that would flood her cunt when he climaxed.

"You're really hung, Phillip. Finger my cunt. Get me ready. It'll make it easier for me to fuck your big cock."

She could not get over the mingling of fear and joy she always got when she stared at a hard prick. She wondered if all women were that way.

He knelt. She watched his body. He was beautiful, she decided, but naked men always fascinated her. She had books and books with pictures of naked men, and she always opened them and gazed at their cocks, both flaccid and erect, imagining what it would be like to be fucked by them. When she saw a good-looking man anywhere, she mentally stripped him of all his clothes, tried to picture his prick in her mind.

Most of her parents' friends had come under her scrutiny; she had daydreamed about several fucking her, plunging their pricks in her, becoming more than mere friends, becoming lovers with whom she could share herself.

It had been a friend of her father's who had first fucked her.

She had inadvertently entered the wrong bathhouse at the country club where she had seen her first naked man, a business associate of her father's. He had stood embarrassed, and she had watched him flush. She had been entranced, unable to move, thrilled by his nakedness.

She stared in fearful fascination as his flaccid prick had begun to rise. He had fucked her right there in the bathhouse, her ass perched on his beach towel, plowing through her cherry and giving her what she had always wanted – a hard cock fucking the shit out of her.

He had been embarrassed and fearful when it was over, realizing that he had committed jailbait rape by giving her the fucking she had wanted and had not fought against. The mere insertion of his prick into her fourteen-year-old cunt was enough to condemn him if he were found out. He muttered apologies and fled, and though she too had quickly gathered her swimsuit and slipped it back on, slinking out of the bathhouse, it was with no remorse over what had happened, but with a glow, a sense of her womanhood, a desire to pursue this new-found thing.