I never could figure out how it all started. Many of the bizarre adolescent times with Donna consisted of made up of games. Doctors and nurses, sometimes I was the hero rescuing the heroine. For whatever reasons she’d end up naked and dry hump my hand while wrapped around her tiny cunt. I’d always assumed the redness she got around her face and upper chest was youthful exuberance. The excitement of playing games. As a ginger girl, pale skin and plenty of freckles in place, she got it more than most. We played these games with no knowledge or understanding of what we were doing. It was wholly sexual, yet never, ever did we commit an act that anyone could call ‘sex’. Donna was a skinny runt of a girl who always smelled of farm. That smell of animals, their defecation and mud, mixed with youthful sweat. We were friends who kept any of our games out of sight from anyone else. Why? We didn’t know or care. Who does at that age?
Then came the teenage years. Drifting apart a little, new schools didn’t help. It wasn’t intentional. We got on with life. Not much happening. The memories of what we’d used to do began to make sense. The post-puberty years were a lesson in know what had been going on. I laughed at it all. Meanwhile, Donna was growing. That little rake of a girl now had tits and ass. Not big like a farm girl should. I only had one passion in mind. That desire to fuck grew. Would it be so hard? Was she still the playful crazy girl full of dirty ideas?
We hung out more, but it wasn’t quite the same Donna. Now she had become more self-conscious and aware of who she was. Destined for a life or animals and pig shit, cleaning out horse stables. Only getting satisfaction from riding her mare. Her only friends now were the ones she’d had as a kid. No one else wanted to know this dirty, smelly ranga with unwashed hair and furry armpits. Donna had moved on. Or at, least it seemed she had.
That summer rolled around as one long heatwave. Drinking anything cold became the norm. Often in quantities that would keep a sane person pissing all the time. Donna’s parents divorced, she moved into a decent flat with her mother. An escape from the farm. She kept the faint odour of pig but now she could combat it with clean, fresh clothes and a healthy dose of deodorant. We hung out more. The Donna I remembered from those younger years was clawing to get out of her cocoon.
“You want to see something?” she asked on that fateful afternoon. Of course, I did. Being together was fun. Cuddled up close on the couch watching mindless shit while the sun tried to burn the earth. “We have to do it in my room.” In her room? Why? Her mum was out for the day, she had a late shift and wouldn’t be home again for a long time.
Donna’s room was a mess. Reminded me of the farm she grew up on. Shit everywhere. Piles of clothes and her bed. Books, videos, everything piled up in corners or scattered. Teenage girl friendly posters on the wall. She pulled a plastic shopping bag out from a cupboard. “You’ll love this shit,” she said while turning on the TV and sliding a tape into the VCR. The old days of analogue video. Scratchy copies of copies with poor pictures and poorer sound. Washed colours and faded faces. Donna had discovered porn. Not old any porn. Images of girls sucking dicks, furry hair riddled cunts getting opened. The two of us watching crazy shit with girls tied up and spanked or whipped. No point trying hide an erection now. Donna couldn’t hide arousal either. Ever the ginger who turned bright red. Where in the hell did she get all this? “My dad, he has tons of it so won’t miss any.” Titles that were more descriptive than innuendo, Animal Farm, Sucks to Be Young. Donna on the bed, her hand wrapped her pussy the same way I used to do it, dry humping herself through her jeans. Ephebophilia scenes playing out in front of us. A squeaky long moan and body shakes fell out of Donna during an anal sequence where a girl was taking a very fat cock in the ass. All this time and I’m sitting there with an erection that’s become overly desperate for some attention. I’m a little scared, thinking that if I even touch my cock it’s going to explode. I’m staring at Donna, her cheeks burning, her breathing erratic. Her screwed up face, ginger hair splayed around her shoulders. She never looked hotter than that moment. She’s transfixed with the porn. Another young girl sucking cock, giving head as though her life depended on it. “You want me to do that to you?” Donna asks. I’d been wondering if she even remembered I was here even though we’ve been sat together, legs touching this whole time.
Did I want her to suck me off? Do bears fuck in the woods?
Not that she even gave me the chance to reply. The rampant ranga in on my cock in seconds, flies undone, underwear pulled down. A mess of ginger hair obscures the view as she takes me in her mouth. It’s course and painful at first. Too dry. Saliva slowly relieving the tension. It doesn’t take long. Head bobbing up and down, long past the point of no return. I’m just pumping cum out while squeezing her ass.
Donna lifts herself back up. Lubricious smiling at me with cum covered lips and lines of white running down her chin. That youthful fire inside keeping me hard. I cup her pussy, like the old days. There’s a dampness coming through to her jeans. I tell her to take them off. She strips herself. A pale porcelain body with pink bits. Donna has such white skin, her nipples and pussy a shocking pink. The latter is leaking. Easy to poke a finger inside.
As she straddles me and rubs her wetness on my cock it begins to stir again. Youth was always a fun time or near permanent erections. Nothing good keep the blood flow out of there. “Will you do something for me?” she asks. As if I’m going to say no to anything while her pink cunt is getting me hard. “I want you to fuck me in the bum,” she says. “Smack me, finger me then fuck me,” she adds while manoeuvring herself off me and onto all fours, her ass now in my face. I kiss her pussy and stand up.
That little something inside me started calling the shots. The inner deviant, the Master of Pain and Suffering. Not that I called him that back then. I had no idea what any of it really meant. I just knew that hurting was more of an erotic experience than most things. The acts we like but don’t know why.
Donna’s ass began to turn red while I spanked her. My fingers were slippery with her cunt juice as I alternated them between the two holes. Such a willing little bitch. Every so often I’d pull on the wisps of ginger hair surrounding the fun holes making her squeal and writhe around.
“No,” she said. “In the ass.” Using her pussy just to get my dick wet then straight into her a-hole. Nothing gentle. The tightness was heavenly. An elastic band of pure delight clamping my dick but still loose enough to slide in and out. Hands on her hips holding her in place so the jackhammer could do its work. Every few moments her whole body would tighten up followed by a little shiver. Just keep punching her bum good and hard.
After pumping cum into her we cuddled. The remnants of tears streaked her face. Both of us thankful and sore.