Little Amy Baker
I grew up in an older section of a small town. Our house was only three blocks from the downtown area and my mother and her neighbor friends would simply walk to the grocery store every morning to pick up what they needed for dinner and supper that night. The houses were large, with high ceilings, broad front porches and usually had some sort of wood siding. Most of the houses were white, and most needed a new paint job. Unlike the track houses you see today, the houses were set very close to the sidewalks, so that you could sit on the front porch and talk with the passing neighbors. The houses were set on very deep lots allowing for large vegetable gardens and fruit trees in the back. Many of the houses had sheds of various sorts in the back. These back lots and sheds were my playground. My buddies and I would play war or cops and robbers and use whatever territory we needed. Fences were just obstacles to be overcome in the course of play. Nobody ever said we couldn’t, except a few times when we got caught snooping around inside someone’s tool shed. One afternoon, about the middle of the summer I was prowling around by myself, looking for a ripe peach to steal off one of the fruit trees. As I was sneaking up on my targeted peach tree in the Baker’s backyard, I passed their tool shed. I heard noises coming from within. The moans, groans and grunts sounded as if maybe somebody were hurt. I’d had actually hide in there tool shed a few times so I knew what was in there and I knew it was in pretty bad shape.
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It was made out of rough wood boards, nailed together vertically. It apparently had never been painted so the wood was all warped leaving some pretty good-sized cracks in the walls. It had but one window on the west side beside the door. It was mostly broken out but covered with a piece of heavy plastic that let light in, but when you were in the shed, you couldn’t see out, or at least not very well. I sneaked close and peeked through the crack near the back on the south side.
I knew there was a work bench on the window side of the shed with a bunch of tools, paint cans and other stuff on it. There was a bunch of card board boxes stacked haphazardly on the north wall and they had stored an old table in there with an old mattress laid on top of it about in the middle of the floor. Usually there was a bunch of boxes and stuff stacked on it too, but this time, right at my eye level, instead of all the boxes and junk, I saw a naked man’s hairy butt pumping up and down. A pair of shapely legs with red painted toenails were wrapped high around his waist. I stood transfixed. I had heard of this sort of thing but I’d never actually seen anything like it before. The man’s legs were splayed right at me and I could see his fat balls hanging low, swinging freely with each stroke. He was obviously using his knees for traction with each forward stroke as he rocked back and forth over top of the unseen target of his humping. Most of the moaning and groaning and ‘oh god-ing’, and ‘oh fuck-ing’ was coming from a female voice, even though I did hear the man hoarsely call her a bitch, a little slut, a dirty whore, and a few other choice invectives. Almost instantly, my dick was so hard it hurt! I unfastened my pants, let them drop and pulled out my rock hard peter from my shorts and began whacking off as I watched the erotically stimulating sex act in the shed.
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I didn’t last very long and I soon shot off my cum, letting it splatter against the shed wall and drool down. The couple in the shed rolled over. She sat up, straddling the hairy legs and hips. I could only see her from the back, her long flowing black hair, thin waist, wonderfully small and tight butt and slightly flared hips, hips like those that I dreamed about almost every night. It was the Baker’s tool shed and from the hair and the back view, I was pretty sure that the girl was Amy Baker. Amy was only a bit older than I was, but at that stage of life, we were decades apart. She was 13, a 'teenager', and I was only 12, a little punk kid. Though we had stood at the same school bus stop for years, this past year she had just ignored me almost completely. It just wasn’t acceptable for a teenage girl to give a 12-year-old boy the time of day. When they did talk to us at all it was done out of charity for their underlings. She ground her cute rounded butt into the groin of her lover. She lifted herself, and I could see the man’s long thick dick emerge. As it pulled out, her pussy lips, stretched tight around his hard rod, pulled downward. When she sank back down, her pussy lips inverted as the big cock slid back up inside her. She began to ride him, fucking him with abandon.
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The moaning and soft cursing continued. Suddenly she fell forward, and I watched as her lovely buttocks flexed and shuddered spasmodically for several seconds. Other than her buttocks jerking and her feet twitching, she lay still on top of the man as he continued to enthusiastically fuck her, causing her limp body to bounce up and down on top of his. Then, with her feet carefully placed on the edge of the mattress so as not to slip off the edge, she slowly stood up. The hard dick glistened from her juices as it pulled out of out of her pussy. She ran her fingers through her hair, tossing is back as she shook her head and then, still being careful not to fall off the table-bed, stepped over her lover and turned around facing me. I knew it! I knew it! It was Amy Baker! Damn! She went to her knees again and as she did, grasped the thick, shiny dick and directed it back into her almost hairless pussy as she impaled herself on it.
Her small tits, capped by perfectly pink and stiffly erect nipples, bobbled wonderfully as she greedily humped up and down on the big, lust-swollen dick. For some time Amy had been the object of my nighttime masturbation fantasies and to now see her, completely naked and fucking some guy with wanton abandon was too much. I breathlessly continued to watch, slowly stroking my cock as it got hard again. After several minutes the man sat up and shoved her forward onto her hands and knees. As he positioned himself on his knees behind her, I recognized him too. It was her old man, Mr. Baker! Sweet Jesus! I was really bug-eyed. His face was all red and I could see sweat beads on his forehead as he began to ram her from behind with all his might.
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After a few seconds, he leaned forward over back, reach around under her arms and roughly grabbed her small breasts tightly from behind. The creamy white flesh of those breast rapidly blushed red between his fingers as he obviously use them for handholds, to pull her back hard on his fat pole. With each forward push, his groin met her butt with a loud slap, slap, slap.
Mr. Baker kept increasing his pace, faster and faster. Amy now had her head down, lying to the side on the mattress with her slim bottom held high for her Daddy's pleasure. Her hands clutched the cloth surface fiercely. I could hear her grunting through ragged breaths coinciding with each of her father's lunges into her pussy. Mr. Baker’s face suddenly turned into a snarl as he released Amy’s tits and grabbed her hips, jerking her back hard on himself. His grunts and rough breathing told me his balls were flushing his cum deep into his daughter’s tummy. Amy squealed, "OH G-G-E-E-Z-E, I’m cumming!" and quivered all over.
As if frozen in time, they stayed connected, each panting, his chest raising and falling nearly in unison with Amy’s reddened breasts as she attempted to catch her breath. He pushed her butt away from him, sat back on his legs and began to laugh, "Geeze, Amy, your such a perfect, little slut!"
Amy, still on her hands and knees turned toward her Dad. Her pink, defiled, just fucked pussy now faced me directly.
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Her hole, the place of wonderment for a teenage boy, still gaped slightly open from the invasion of her Dad's cock and I could see his cum running rivulets down her inner thighs. She answered his comments with as if scolding him but a slight giggle gave her away, "Well and whose fault is that? You and your fishing buddies started stuffing your things in me when I was eleven years old. "
Amy's Dad kidded, "Well, you're the one who insisted on going fishing with us. "
"Well, you're the one who agreed to take me. "
"Well, you're the one who brought that way, way, way too small bikini on our fishing trip and then complained about it being too tight. "
"Well, you're the one who told me that if it was that uncomfortable, I should just take it off because it was so small that I might as well not be wearing anything anyway. "
"Well, you're the one who decided to 'just take it off'. "
"Well, you're the one who let me drink all those wine coolers or I probably wouldn't have decided to 'just take it off'. "
"Well, you're the one who thought we should all get naked because you were naked and it wasn't fair for you to be naked and us not because you never saw a naked guy before. "
"Well, you're the one who asked ME if I really DID want to see four naked guys. "
"Well, you're the one who said YES, that you really DID wanted to see four naked guys. "
"Well, you're the ones who got your peters hard after you got naked. "
"Well, you're the one who had the baby titties and that perfect little pussy for us to use our hard peters in. "
"Well, you're the one who thought I should pick the peter that got to go in my 'perfect little pussy' first. "
"Well, you're the one who chose my peter to go in your 'perfect little pussy' first.
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"
"Well, I'm the one who spent most of the next three days with my legs spread and somebody's peter in my 'perfect little pussy' while you guys were teaching me how to be a perfect little slut. "
Well, I'm the one who kept having to take his turn sticking his peter in your 'perfect little pussy' because you spent most of the next three days with your legs spread, learning how to be a 'perfect little slut'. "
"Well", Amy paused a second then giggled, "Well, then I’m the one who’s wondering when we’re going ‘fishing’ again so I can practice being a 'perfect little slut'?"
"Well, I’m the one who’s taking your ‘fishing’ over at Frank’s for the games Sunday afternoon. I’m sure that between all of the guys Frank has invited you'll get plenty of practice being a 'perfect little slut'. "
"Well, how many 'fishing' poles are there going to be for me to 'practice' with?"
"Well, I'm thinking there'll probably be enough that you might just have a little bit of a hard time putting your legs back together much less walking before we're done. "
"Really? That many?"
"That many!"
"Do you think maybe we should get some condoms? You know, I never have started my period, but I'm getting old enough that I might be starting any day and we don’t want me getting knocked up. That would just mess up all of our ‘fishing trips’. "
"Oh Amy, not the rubbers thing again. We both know you don’t like it when a guy uses them, and us guys sure like the feel of bare pussy a lot more than rubber coated pussy. When you start your period, then we’ll worry about it, ok?"
"Ok! Can I get you hard again?" Amy's head disappeared from my view as she leaned closer, into her Dad's crotch. Mr. Baker got a crazy grin on his face and closed his eyes.
All during this I had been staring at Amy’s oozing, dripping pussy, stroking my hard cock and imagining the bunch of men they were talking about using Amy's pussy as their cum depository. I started to cum again, but was taken by complete surprise when a big woman suddenly swung me around. I began squirting, unable to control myself as I looked in horror into the face of Mrs.
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Baker. "You filthy boy!" she shrieked, her face contorted in rage.
"I’m going to talk to your mother about this!"There was a crashing sound from inside the shed. Mrs. Baker heard it. How could she not hear it? She quickly stepped to the front of the shed and jerked opened the door. I heard her shriek again and then the sounds of all hell breaking loose in the tool shed. I pulled up my pants and ran for home. That night at supper, I was very quiet. I dreaded what my mother was going to say and dreaded even more what my father was going to do to me once Mrs. Baker told Mom that she caught me whacking off behind her tool shed. Mom never said anything. As luck would have it, the next Sunday, we met up with the Bakers at the grocery store just after early Mass. Mr. Baker looked me in the eye and glared.
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Mrs. Baker saw me and quickly looked away, but not before I saw her nasty black eye. Amy looked at me from behind the shopping cart, then turned away. I looked away quickly too and felt the red rising in my cheeks. Knowing that Mom and Dad would be busy for a while doing their shopping, I excused myself to go browse through the magazines.
I had been there just a few minutes when Amy silently took a place right beside me, grabbed a magazine and flipped it open. I wanted to melt, run, do something, but my feet wouldn't obey. Pretending to stare into the magazine she spoke in a whisper, "You little pervert! You got us caught! Dad said for me to tell you that if you promise to never tell anybody about us, he’ll let you fuck me anytime you want. But if you do ever tell anybody, he’s going cut your balls off. Understand?"
I turned my head a little to my left, toward her, swallowed hard and mouthed a silent 'Yes'. My eyes involuntarily surveyed her from top to bottom. Oh Geeze! She was in a pair of clear plastic, open toed sandals with about 3 inch heels. Then bare legged to the hem of her extremely short, bright red, pleated mini-skirt. Her top consisted of a white, spaghetti strapped tee shirt under which she obviously wore no bra. Her black hair was lightly curled and hung just below her shoulder.
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As she gently side-stepped closer to me I found myself wondering how her small, maybe 5'2", 90 pound body could possibly endure, much less enjoy the violation of so many dicks as she seemed to have been skewered by.
Nervously, she twisted her back and forth a couple of times, looking up and down the isle then locked my eyes into the deep, blue of hers. In the softest of whisper she asked, "Are you hard?" My peripheral vision caught the movement of her left hand as it raised the hem of her skirt. A few rapid movements were followed by her panties dropping to her ankles, a slight lift of her right leg freed them from her right foot then her left knee raised her foot, bringing the pair of plain, white cotton panties to arms length, caught on her toe. She scooped them up and dropped it onto the pages of the magazine I held, "We can go into the boys bathroom and you can fuck me right now if you want too. But we need to be quick, my Dad said to hurry because he and I are going over to one of his friend's house for a party and we still need to go back home and drop Mom off. "
Even before I had a chance to answer 'yes' or 'no' she followed her offer with, "OOPS!" Then put her magazine on the shelf and walked off as if everything was normal. I turned and looked over my shoulder to see my Mom and Dad starting down the isle with their shopping cart. I quickly shoved Amy's panties in my pants pocket and returned my magazine to it place. When they got closer Mom ask if that was little Amy Baker?
I nodded, Mom had a bit of a disgusted look on her face, "Well, her skirt was more that a little too short, don't you think?"
If her comment was directed at me … No, I didn't think so but I was glad when Dad answered, "Oh Honey, don't be such a prude. She's a sweet, innocent little girl and besides shorter skirts are getting popular again and she definitely has the legs for it. I thought she looked cute, didn't you Rick?" I nodded again. Mom shot Dad a testy look. As we were leaving the store I saw Amy again. This time she ignored me like I didn’t exist.
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As we walked out to the car Dad asked Mom if we had any plans for the day because George Baker had invited him to go over to Frank’s house … you know, the guy who owns the hardware store? … They’re all getting together to watch the games. I stumbled and almost fell looking back over my shoulder as Mom agreed that he might as well go because he would just be watching the games at home anyway. Without being asked, I volunteered that I had other plans and did not want to go.
Dad got home in the late afternoon; long after the games ended … I knew that, Mom didn’t. He didn’t say much to Mom, just gave her a hug and said he was tired and was going to go take a shower. I was standing in the hall. As he walked past he stopped, look at me and whispered, "Little Amy Baker is not a very nice girl … you should stay away from her. "
Of course I ignored my Dad’s suggestion and for the next year or more, I ventured over around the Baker’s house several times. I looked and listened, but I never did find Amy and her daddy doing it in their tool shed again. I always chickened out about taking Mr. Baker up on his offer with Amy. Several times though, I did see Amy and her Dad leave together, sometimes by themselves, sometimes with some other men. I always envisioned that they were probably going ‘fishing’.
Every so often, I would see Mrs. Baker around town sporting a new black eye or a busted lip.
My Mom would talk about it from time to time too, saying that she wondered what happened; that the Bakers had always seemed to be such nice people and now all of a sudden he was abusing her. They even wondered if he was abusing Amy. Dad's only comment was that it wasn't any of our business and we should stay out of it. Mom said on several occasions that she wondered why Mrs. Baker didn’t just pack up her and Amy and leave him.
I, most of all didn’t want THAT to happen. Even after her tummy began to swell, Amy remained my masturbation fantasy girl. But long before that, the white panties she tossed at me in the grocery store were crusty yellow with my cum from me imagining her in the tool shed, riding my cock, just like she rode her daddy’s.
.
