Tresspassing

College lass battened, breached and burgled!

"Stop…you bastard…I knew you couldn't control yourself," I said as my boyfriend's fingers lingered along the edge of my knickers under my short, tight denim skirt. 

Geez, I was topless for the prick — in his car — in the local lover's lane.

Jaxon just did the male thing and tried to keep fondling my exposed breasts as he said, "Orrgh Hazel, I know you want it as badly as I do."

But he kept his hands way above the Maginot Line panty barrier. 

He knew he had overstepped our agreed play zone — but lines are there to be crossed. 

God, he wanted to get in my knickers. I knew I was pushing the limits of his cock's ability to wait.

Wait for what? 

I was no virgin, and I needed to get over that cheating prick, Sean. I was having it off with him for a couple of months while he was screwing my former best friend, now assigned the title — Tart, Jacinta.

I was worried Jaxon would do the same thing: aim to be the mythical sailor with a lover in every port. How many women could a guy rotate through while whispering in every girl's ear what they wanted to hear — faithfulness? 

Yes, Sean rooted Jasmine several times in the same week, but he still had me and managed to start on Jacinta.

I realised Jaxon might think he was touching a stone bust in a museum; that was how unresponsive I had got.

The evening was turning sour fast.

Yet it had started with all the potential of a happy ending. His car was at the lookout point. It was secluded, dark and private. And man, oh man, was there plenty of hot kissing. We could both kiss. Jaxon and I knew tongue arousal, and it was too easy as I capitulated and let my creamy yellow blouse be peeled off and let the sod gently unclip my flesh-coloured bra.

But topless was my self-imposed limit.

My tits were exposed for the first time to Jaxon, and there was nothing to disappoint. I knew he had wondered and wondered…he knew their outline from my skimpy summer tops and their heavy fleshy resilience when we pressed into each other kissing.

But here were the twin dreams of his manly desire. My incredible fulsome spongy tits with their delicate soft pink nipples, so hard, as I enjoyed his fondling.

Then I said it: "Jaxson…Jaxson…stop, please… Stop…you bastard…I knew you couldn't control yourself …I want to go home."

This occurred as his finger edged under my knickers and felt my coarse but trimmed dark pubic hairs.

He tried his line about me wanting it as bad as him, still trying to keep my nipples aroused.

I wanted a special time — a special place — probably because Sean had dogged Jacinta; the rumour went behind his family piggery.

I was probably killing the mood more than Jaxon. I saw his struggling erection in his tight shorts as I put my bra and top back on.

"No; take me home."

I knew he wouldn't force himself on me.

He was so hangdog quiet as we wended back along the windy coastal road. I knew he wouldn't ask me out again. I was too much effort.

The full moon, hanging over the coastal hills, brought the old Lincoln mansion, now in probate with a series of contested wills, into a beautiful silhouette. Stately, gloomy, yet drawing — like Hopper's — House by The Railroad.

I had always wanted to go there as a child. Its mystery had increased with its hermit owner dying overseas and the place locked up now for, was it, seven years, at least several — maybe more.

"Jaxon," I said, putting my hand on his bare thigh as he drove, "Let's take a look at the Lincoln house, please."

I flashed my sexy blue eyes, and he was male-led up the garden path, literally and actually. Girls have a terrible advantage when flirting and getting their way.

One final chance before heading to Uni next month to fulfil a dream. Well, it's more of a desire to push into the unknown.

We had to park outside the ornamental high-secured gates on the road access, but there were no other barriers; we sidled through a gap as we made our way, side by side closely, up the shadowy but majestic ghostly silver gum-lined driveway.

The gardens closer to the house were overgrown. The place, too, had a shadowy, mysterious, exciting feel, a bit like first sex in the dark. The appeal was there, and some anxiety. I was holding Jaxon's hand tight and felt safe, but I also knew the tightness was making my pussy wet. Here was a place that could be special for Jaxon and me.

Suddenly, I was in the mood for hot sex with my guy. Well, guys know girls change their minds so quickly with sex. But it's usually the context. And the context was becoming appealing. I was psyching myself up for giving patient Jaxon a memorable humping on the extended ground floor veranda of the still stately Lincoln homestead.

However, my guy sensed his big chance and got extra bold. The randy anticipation and the heated feelings rapidly escalating between us had Jaxon on the cusp of being overly ambitious.

"I'll find us a way in… I know you want it, H."

He was using my pet name. He was in male, actual caring mode. It made him sexier to me. Oh, he wanted in all right — in me. He could have gotten in me immediately on the veranda. 

Still, suddenly I was in the deeper game, too, like abruptly consenting to first anal sex. I don't know where that thought came from; I was still an anal virgin. Maybe Jaxon was getting — the lot — here at the probate house.

Jaxon forced the nearest set of French doors quickly enough.

I hesitated. God, I always did, just like my knickers elastic line at the point earlier tonight.

I said: "What if there is a security call out?"

"Can't see any sensors H… come on… let's do this."

And we did. Of course, it was wrong to force entry, but we were in the interior shadows. All the furniture was covered in protective but slightly dusty sheets. Jaxon removed one from a stylish chaise lounge and guided me on it with his pressing body.

We were both outlined by the moonlight filtering through the French doors behind us. The location. The timing. His body. My endless waiting all combined for hasty clothes divesting. 

God, we were both naked fast. 

Our hands hungrily, expressively exploring each other. I held my guy's rigid cock. His fingers were over, around and in my moist pussy. He was deep groaning. I was girly, soft moaning. 

"Ooh, mmm, ooh, mmm!"

Then, from frisky foreplay, we hit the double-heady sixty-nine drawcard on the chaise. 

My guy over me, his head between my legs, slurping and licking everywhere and boy, did it feel good. While I had his cock back between his legs, sucking head like I really had missed sucking head. We were a combined pleasure construction. Our united release to orgasm would happen fast if we didn't get out of this position and screw like young bunnies.

I wanted his cock in my pussy and arse. Yep, I had decided that already as I sucked and sucked his dick and fondled his balls while Jaxon found my clitty with his tongue tip. His precum greeted my greedy lips, but I couldn't stop. I was compelled to keep sucking off his dick. I wanted a gob full of cum to match my sensationally approaching orgasm.

Sixty-nine togetherness had never been better in my short sex life. I shut the world out and embraced my body, giving me its impending climax and very soon, I expected a gush of warm splashes of jizz in my needy mouth.

Oh, screw the rest of the world because, boy, did it intrude and trespass on our pleasure. 

Harsh light revealed the big room. 

Two large, burly guys in navy uniforms with security logos separated us, but we were still in our naked, youthful sexual glow, though Jaxon was heading limp fast on the other end of the chaise.

"Oh, you, filthy young pair," said the taller, whom I recognised as Paul Leach, known around town as Paul Letch, though he had piercing blue eyes. 

It was worse; he was that frickin slut Jacinta's dad. 

He was pressing a baton between my boobs while the other security guy, Graeme Morrison; my other former friend Jasmine's dad from touch football; had his baton strategically prodding above poor Jaxon's pubic bone. Jaxon wasn't trying to move anywhere.

"And it's Hazel Willoughby to boot…the cute Judge's little minx…all grown up…very nicely grown up," and his baton, the bastard, went around the shape of both my breasts and between them and across my nipples. 

It was strange. I both hated it but was so excited by it, too.

Jaxon was about to say something, play gallant, I suppose. After all, he was watching his girlfriend be touched. I was, however, caught liking it. My body tingled at the baton's power over my softness, its hardness making me wetter between my slightly closed thighs.

It was like a huge dark cock I suppose.

'Well, Ms Willoughby, who wants to go to law school like daddy eh, and Master Jaxon Crane, wants to be an officer in the navy! Well, your careers are both stuffed; you'll get the full trespass conviction for this one. Daddy won't get the case, sweetie, and the indecency charges; well, they can be added to ignite the gossip in town, and the forever small-town embarrassment is free…unless."

Well, the letch was living up to his name as he slid the baton down between my nearly closed thighs, and then he eased it in the gap, and I almost gasped, not in shame or fear; I liked it. 

I loved the invasion!

The baton was so frickin sexy, pressing and easing between my legs. 

The baton's end glistened with my excited, girly moisture as he withdrew with a full downward slide. 

He saw my nectar.

I saw my fem-jus!

Oh, Jaxon and Morrison saw my moisture, too.

'Unless…you, my dear sweet thing…save the day for your boy and yourself by consenting to have sex with us two, and we'll say it was a feral cat that tripped the security call out…your call…your life…your future…and that guy's too…I suppose," and he shrugged.

Well, it wasn't how I intended to move on from Sean before heading to Uni, but that baton had me so aroused I was beyond being the reserved hold-back girl I thought I was. My consent was given in an eye-popping way. I licked my girly juices from the end of the baton.

Slowly.

I found I tasted pretty damn good.

"Oh, you bitch. You needy, needy bitch…If that's what you want…well, have it."

Well, he was right. I wanted it. I wanted the baton rubbed over and probably inserted in my pussy because I spread my legs. I more than spread them. Flexi me, I pushed my thighs right back and presented the gaped space for …well, baton play.

"Stay put," said Morrison to Jaxon, "And learn how to pleasure your woman…boy."

And with that, Graeme joined Paul in a bustling baton battering of my girly softness. Paul slid his truncheon between my wet, glistening, exposed pink labia, so aroused and open like flower petals across my trimmed dark pubic fuzz. While Graeme was teasing my nipples with his rod, letting the blunt end push my teats into my busty breasts.

Paul Leach was a letch all right, and Mr Morrison, well, quiet Mr Morrison wasn't so silent after all. And as for me, I was frigging noisy in the paroxysm of newly discovered pleasure; as the letch man spat in my arsehole and rimmed the baton around my virginal crack as Graeme, formerly mild-mannered Graeme, forced the end of his rod into my quickly expanding and surprisingly accommodating pussy.

Absolute body delight. Unexpected body trespass had never felt so frickin good. I was writhing in pleasure. My body gave and gave more than I knew it had to offer.

Then it got dirty. No, I would have to say filthy. No, it was my debased moment of defiled enjoyment. Somehow there was a baton knob in my arsehole and one in my pussy simultaneously. 

My body's capacity for taking overpowered me. 

My body directed my response. 

I was in it completely. 

Sensations crowded on sensations in my teased, expanded, sensitive arsehole and my packed tingly pussy.

Then they went feral. Paul's tongue was licking out my gaped, tender arse cavity. My puckered rawness was exposed to Jaxon's unbelieving eyes. The sod was enjoying watching me get it. His cock was erect in his hand. Then my eyes rolled. My mind embraced only waves of mounting pleasure as Graeme's tongue went the wet repeated slide in my pussy, up and over and lingering on my hard little clitty. 

The exact process repeated as a delirium of delight danced through me.

Oh, I knew I was flushed. I knew my face was a picture of total feminine indulgence in self. I had two guys treating my arsehole and pussy at the same time.

No personal shame. No qualms. I was not worried about how I looked. I was enjoying sex as my revealed, unique slutty self.

My appreciative, repeated, deep moans were consent to what happened next.

I would have consented to anything at this point in the climax bridging.

Paul was under me, nudging his cock into my arse, my arse so ready for its first cock. Exquisite shards of satisfaction filled me from the unexpected. 

My arse felt good. Too good. 

My pussy had a pleasure-filling rival until Graeme, poised above me, shoved his pecker into my demanding space. My canal of elasticity found space like my arse, and suddenly cock was moving in me in two spaces at once. 

I was swooning. 

"Ugh! Ugh! Ugghh!"

Then, as they rammed into areas, I didn't believe I had front and back; I was yelping. My body was caught in complete surrender to a double cock drilling.

Then when I couldn't take any more: it was that bliss laden; when I thought I had hit the apex of cock filling, Paul insisted on one last potentially degrading act of complicity. He urged Jaxon to shove his cock in my empty, yelping mouth.

"Don't sit there, boy…fuck her mouth…cream the bitches gob… she expects it of you."

Well, I didn't expect it …but I got it. Three frickin cocks at once when my evening before the probate house looked cockless because of my defensive heartbreak around Sean. Well, screw Sean. And I probably would have let him and any other bloke join in, too, at this hedonistic, personally deranged, but fantastic moment in my life.

Cock was jagging in my tortured, happy arse. Pecker was spearing in my orgasm-seeking pussy, and my mouth was being fucked, something cruel, but I was accepting. I loved the triple filling. I sensed it wasn't possible. Yet it was happening. I felt the unbelievable waves of fem-pleasure stemming from deep in my arse, through every desire sensor in my pussy, every sensuous giving area of my mouth and every receptor of fem-orgasm response, so appreciative in my brain. I was where a girl shouldn't be, fully male trespassed but embracing the trespass. 

Surely, a girl is made for this if she wants it. 

I wanted it. Took it. The guys all did, too.

I was all woman suddenly. Sexually dominant in my orgasmic throes. The guys had their individual powerful cum release in me…but I was the triple recipient. My body held their cream-given essence and the tingly, the repeated tingly release of a spasming orgasm, with deep contractions pulsing in my pussy and, I'm sure, even my arse.

At first, Jaxon overfilled my mouth with gushing, gooey spunk. He was super excited. He couldn't believe this was him and me. The letch under me groaned heavily, his prick repeatedly jacked, seeming to thicken and push my puckered tightness wider as I felt my arse accept a manly deposit as Paul, the bastard, jacked for the umpteenth time in my butt. No longer placid Graeme, he spread his pecker sauce in my lathered, drenched internal wetness with humping force.

As three guys withdrew from me simultaneously, I leaked cum from everywhere it was girly possible. But I felt wonderful. I was orgasm sated as I licked my lips but couldn't contain the gush of Jaxon's mighty effort, which was dribbling from my exhausted mouth. It smeared down over my tits. The guy under me withdrew his cock, and the one crouching over me did too. I luxuriated in the double trickle pleasure of cum swirling in a leaking expulsion from my blissful pussy and the seeping goo, lazily happy from my contented but smarting arse.

Oh, the trespass charges never eventuated. 

As he headed off to the National Naval College, Jaxon never got my arse or pussy. 

Yes, I headed for Uni and law school and there, I specialised in — faithfulness — to my orifices, kinky orgy consensual trespassing of all three at once. 

After what I had experienced in the probate house, even two guys at a time would never be enough in my life — ever.