“Besides you know he’s fucking other women.”“And I am too!” Frieda growled.“Other boys?!” Sasha’s voice cracked. “They’re younger ...han him, right?”“Yeah, they’re all younger,” Frieda agreed. She ignored correcting the “other boys” assumption. Frieda had just told her mother that she was fucking women. It was Sasha’s fault if she didn’t get that. Fucking moms! They don’t listen.“Frieda,” Sasha said, taking a heavy breath. “You never were one to date and you don’t know what these emotions are. Her legs were long and she was into cheerleading and sports. Her body was lean and athletic. Right now she was wearing a mind-bogglingly short skirt that barely covered her hips and a button-down top. From the bumps embedded in her blouse, he could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. He wondered if she was wearing panties.“You’re better off,” he mumbled, “A guy like that would only fuck you and dump you.”“Is that so bad?” she asked in a small voice.She had her head turned downward and was shifting. I could feel his cock already stiffening against my thigh. 'What do you call yourself?' he asked. 'Tina', I told him. 'I haven't asked your name.' 'Jonathon' 'Ooh, I giggled. 'Oh, Tina, you're gorgeous', he gasped, feeling my bum then pushing his hands up to my bra. 'Get your cock out then' I sighed. He pulled his trousers down and I started stroking his cock, getting it ever harder. It was a good size - big enough to fill me without being tears to your eyes huge! 'Turn around,' he ordered. I. I saw her masturbating in the tub, or in the shower. I heard her shattering orgasms, followed by the soft sobbing of neglect and guilt she felt when finished. I saw Bob through her eyes, sleeping, on the couch, or in his chair in front of a glowing TV late at night, or snoring in their bed with Lisa by his side, and she’s wondering sleeplessly if he’ll ever touch her again. I could smell her pent-up sexual frustration wafting off her like a cheap perfume. She was just dying for someone, anyone,.
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