1. Ty and Cinda--A Tale of Forbidden Love - Part 1


    Date: 5/19/2016, Categories: Fiction Consensual Sex Romance Teen Male/Teen Female Virginity Author: senorlongo, Source: sexstories.com

    ... sometimes.” I watched, amazed, as my cock disappeared into her and even more amazed that she could stretch around me so easily. Holding her hips I drove up into her. Cinda cringed and I pulled her into my embrace. I stroked her curly hair and kissed her cheeks, wiping her tears from her face. “I love you, Cinda.” I continued when she began to shake her head. “Yes…I do. I know hate when I see it so I think I know love when I see it, too. I love you. I’m sorry I hurt you.” Cinda began to laugh into my chest. Raising her head she grinned. “I’m not.” She began to move on me. Oh God, the sensations in my cock were incredible. I knew I wouldn’t last long. There was no privacy in my grandparents’ home. My room was right next to the living room. I could only masturbate late at night when everyone else was asleep. Even then I had to be careful—my grandmother did the laundry. She’d already told me several times about what the Bible said about sins of the flesh. It was a wonder my mother wasn’t completely fucked up between the two of them. I drove into Cinda and then it happened. I couldn’t help myself I blew with the most intense orgasm I’d ever had. Six times I lifted Cinda off the bed. Six times long thick ropes of slick white semen erupted from my cock. I was exhausted when Cinda relaxed on my chest. “I’m sorry, Cinda.” “Don’t be. Momma told me what to expect. Next time you’ll last a lot longer and we can always take care of each other with our hands and mouths.” She gave me a ...
    ... quick kiss then jumped up pulling the half-full condom from my wilting organ. “I remember this from Health class.” “I think everyone remembers that, but whether they bother to do it is another question.” Cinda was back in a minute with a warm wash cloth. She washed me tenderly then returned to the bathroom to wash her thighs and sex. I climbed out of the bed and began to unpack my backpack. I had laid a folded tee-shirt on the floor when Cinda picked it up. “Be careful. Remember what I said about my weapons being sharp?” I took the package from her and carefully opened it. Inside were six throwing stars, each sharp enough to shave with, not that I shaved all that often. “When I began playing ball way back in fourth grade the games sometimes took us into the inner city. Dad was concerned for my safety, not because some of the people were black, but because of drugs and crime. Mom didn’t want me fighting so he took me to karate lessons while we were supposedly practicing basketball at the Y. I’m not a black belt and I doubt that I ever will be, but I can defend myself even against four or five assailants. I actually had to do it last year when a group of older kids jumped my friend Kenny and me. They hit Kenny with a baseball bat so he couldn’t help me at all, but I didn’t need any help. I beat the living crap out of them in only a couple of minutes. These were a parting gift from my sensei—my teacher. C’mon, I’ll show you how they work.” I took Cinda’s hand and we walked outside. ...