Virgins on the Run

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Ass

The headlights came up behind me fast and close. Afraid I was going to be rear ended, I pulled over and let him pass. The green Border Patrol van sped past me. “Asshole!” I thought. “He didn’t have to do that.”

Ahead almost out of sight, the van pulled over, U-turned and came rushing back toward me. This time I pulled over and stopped. “What the hell is going on?” I thought.

I turned the headlights off and watched the van disappear again in the rear view mirror. The van had turned around in the distance behind me and was headed back more slowly, sweeping the bushes along the shoulder of the dark country road with spotlights. The van was still well back when two small figures darted across the road, almost running into my dark colored truck.

“Over here! Aquí, aquí!” I shouted at them. Don’t ask why. I don’t know myself. My shouting stopped them in their tracks. They looked at the van approaching behind, then at me and must have realized their options were becoming very limited at that point. I reached over to open the passenger door and two darkly dressed figures jumped in and closed the door. Quickly I started the truck and slowly drove off so that I wouldn’t attract attention. The van continued its search with the spotlights and soon disappeared from view behind us.

With the initial excitement over, reality began to sink in. If the Border Patrol caught me helping illegals, I could be arrested. Worse, who the hell are these people? They could beat me senseless and take my truck!

“Gracias, señor. Muchas gracias,” said a shaky young voice–the voice of a woman.

“Sí, gracias, señor,” the other figure said, also a young woman.

I looked at them blankly in the dim light from the instrument panel. I began to relax.

“No problem, uhhh…de nada,” I answered. Growing up in California, you can’t help but pick up some of the language, but I hadn’t picked up much.

“My name is Martin,” I told them, pointing at myself. “Como se llama?” I asked them.

“Graciela…Gracie,” the one next to me answered. She pointed to her friend. “This is Marisa.” They were dirty and their clothes were torn, but they certainly weren’t much of a threat to me!

“Do you speak English?” I asked them in general.

“Sí, a little,” Gracie said. “Marisa, no English.”

“My God! How old are you guys?” They looked too young to be crossing the border like this alone.

“Diez y nueve,” said Gracie, nervously slipping into Spanish. “I mean 19. Marisa is just 18.”

“Where are you going?” I asked. “Do you have a place to go?”

“We have relatives in Fresno. I live there. I went back to Mexico to bring Marisa. Can you help us?”

Obviously, I had jumped into this whole thing without a plan. I was winging it minute by minute. When I picked them up, I had no idea what I was going to do beyond getting them out of their immediate predicament with the Border Patrol. I looked at them now. Young, tired, scared and probably hungry.

“Look. I don’t know how much I can do. Fresno is a long ways off, and I have to work tomorrow. I’ll get you a motel room so that you can clean up and get some rest and we will decide what to do in the morning. OK?

I found a quiet motel along the old highway. It was cheap and out of sight. The women stayed in the truck while I registered. I asked the clerk for a room towards the back. He handed me a key and I walked back to the truck.

“Room 124,” I told the women absently. I drove around to the room and parked just outside the door. Gracie and Marisa got out of the truck and grabbed the small duffels they had thrown in the back of the truck. I hadn’t even noticed that they had bags with them.

The room was clean with a queen bed, a small TV and a couple of unmatched chairs and a table. Gracie and Marisa stood just inside the door, not sure of how to act.

“You guys get cleaned up and I’ll go out for some food,” I said. They looked at me like frightened puppies as I left, probably wondering if I would come back for them. I did, of course, twenty minutes later with a sack of tacos and three cokes. “Hey, what the hell,” I thought. “Everybody likes Mexican food, right?”

The bathroom antalya escort door was closed, but I could hear Gracie and Marisa chattering happily and excitedly to each other in Spanish. Half of what they said I couldn’t hear, and the other half I couldn’t understand. I turned on the TV and flopped down on the bed. It had been a long day. The water droned in the bathroom, the TV droned on the rickety table and despite my hunger I began to doze off.

“Martin,” a soft voice called.

“Martin,” another even softer voice. Both pronounced it Marteen, accenting the last syllable. I opened my eyes, temporarily disoriented.

“Holy shit!” I cried. Gracie and Marisa jumped back startled. I looked at them standing there, dressed only in men’s white T-shirts with their long, dark hair falling damply over their small shoulders. The two scruffy, dirty illegals had changed into angels. Their young, almost virginal beauty took my breath away.

Gracie came over and sat on the edge of the bed. I could see the V of her pussy against her clean white cotton panties peeking out from under the loose T-shirt. Marisa sat at the foot of the bed nervously knitting her fingers, too shy to look up.

“You have been so kind to us, Martin,” she began, stroking my hair with her long fingers. “We may never see you again after tomorrow. It would be sad not to thank you for saving us from La Migra.” She leaned down and kissed me softly. I held her face and pulled her down to me. My tongue slipped easily into her willing mouth.

“We should eat. Me and Marisa have not eaten since morning. We will need our strength. You too, Martin.” She looked at me coyly, then upended the bag of cold soggy tacos in the middle of the bed. We all sat around the pile of tacos cross-legged and ate them greedily.

“I’m still hungry, Martin,” said Gracie after we had eaten everything.

“Hey, I’ll get more tacos if you want,” I told her. But that is not what she was hungry for.

Gracie gently pushed me back on the bed and opened my shirt. She kissed me slowly on the mouth, then moved down to kiss my nipples. Her tongue flicked against them. I could feel the ends of her still wet curls trailing over my chest like dozens of soft artist’s brushes. They left a cool wetness, which did nothing to quench the heat that was building between us.

I leaned up to remove my shirt. I flung it to the floor and Gracie pushed me back down. My button fly jeans came open easily in her hands. She hooked her fingers over the top and pulled them down with my briefs. My hard unyielding cock caught temporarily in the waistband of my briefs, then sprung back, whacking my tight belly with a loud plop.

Marisa had moved to one of the chairs and let out a little cry. I looked over to see her staring at my enlarged cock pulsating near my belly in time with my racing heartbeat.

Gracie grabbed the root of my throbbing cock with her small fist. She squeezed it gently and watched the head grow larger and more purple. She wrapped her small mouth around the tip and took in as much as she could–barely more than the hooded tip. Not able to take my engorged dick very far into her small mouth, she opened and closed her mouth, squishing her soft hot tongue against the sensitive underside. Her saliva ran in warm liquid rivulets down my shaft and over my tightened balls.

Every so often, she would relax her grip allowing the blood to drain from the swollen head, then draw it into her mouth until it touched the back of her throat. Then she would squeeze the base again, forcing the blood to the tip. The pressure from her grip expanded the head and forced my cock out of her little mouth until only the head remained. She then resumed her tongue squishing movements. No woman since has ever been able to duplicate the sensations for me. Lord knows I have had them all try.

When I had any control of the situation at all, I would glance over at Marisa sitting cross-legged in the chair staring at my dick. One hand gripped the chair arm tightly. The other hand had disappeared between her legs under her baggy T-shirt. Her raspy breath left little doubt what she was doing under there. I was a little lara escort surprised that Marisa never made a move to join us, but Gracie’s skill commanded all of my attention, and I soon quit wondering about it. Marisa seemed to have her own interests well in hand, but her eyes never left my cock as Gracie’s talented mouth continued to work.

“Mmmm. My mouth is tired!” said Gracie coming up for air and laughing playfully. In a flash, she pulled off her T-shirt, slipped out of her panties and grabbed the base of my cock again. This time, though, she straddled me, still squeezing my cock. Skillfully, she rode down on it until it was in her up to her tight little fist. She let go and sat down on my throbbing dick until I could feel the bones in her ass jamming into my hips.

She rode up on my cock until I was sure it would pop out, then just in time would sit back down on it and slid it in until the head stretched against her button-like cervix. I don’t think I have ever been so deep in a woman before.

I reached for her beautiful young breasts, the size of large firm apples and just as sweet. A perfect handful. I glanced over at Marisa and she had pulled up her T-shirt and had cupped both of her breasts. They looked like twins of Gracie’s, and she was mimicking with her hands what I was doing to Gracie, but she never looked at me.

Gracie pounded up and down on my dick with the energy only a teenager could have. Watching her round young tits bobbing up and down, watching Marisa squeezing her own firm apples, it all became too much. I let out a little grunt and Gracie, quick as lightning grabbed the base of my cock, pulled it out, gave it a couple quick strokes and I exploded. A long, white hot arc of cum shot into the air and fell the length of my chest. Gracie kept pumping it and laughing, obviously delighted with the spectacle.

God, sex with her was hot. There is nothing like a sexy, turned on latina woman. Nothing. “Unless,” I thought, “it is two latinas.”

“Isn’t Marisa going to thank me too?” I said jokingly.

“Martin…,” Gracie looked at me frowning. “Marisa is… a virgin. You cannot ask her to do that.”

“I was only kidding,” I said lamely. “I didn’t know.” I felt like a jerk.

“It is OK, Martin. I am not angry.”

Marisa said something softly without looking at either of us. Gracie answered back a bit sharply. It was too soft and too fast for me. I couldn’t make out any of it with my limited Spanish, but I could tell that were arguing about something. Maybe Marisa was upset that Gracie had had sex with me.

Gracie had the final word, but looked resigned. Marisa came over to the bed on the opposite side from Gracie. She lay down next to me and kissed me softly on the cheek.

“What gives?” I asked Gracie who was still laying next to me.

“She insists on thanking you herself, Martin,” she explained. “She says she has saved herself for the right man. Now she is 18 and who could be more right than the man who has saved us.”

“I don’t know, Gracie…,” I stammered. “A virgin?” I couldn’t believe I might turn down every man’s dream.

“You will be gentle, Martin,” she began, then paused, “and I will help.” She laughed softly and deliciously, and so did Marisa.

Gracie climbed over me to Marisa. She reached under her T-shirt and slowly removed Marisa’s white panties. She twirled them around her index finger several times, laughing and flung them across the room. Marisa lay there smiling with one finger in her mouth. She nibbled on the tip, looking at Gracie expectantly.

“Hmmm,” I thought to myself. “Marisa may be a virgin, but this is not the first time she and Gracie have done this.”

Gracie spread Marisa’s legs gently and began a trail of soft wet kisses along the inside of Marisa’s thigh. Marisa’s firm little ass squirmed excitedly as Gracie continued toward her waiting pussy. When she reached it, Marisa arched her back and moaned slightly.

I could take no more as a spectator. I leaned over and kissed Marisa’s partially open mouth. Her tongue immediately darted into my mouth and I sucked on it gently. I could tell how well Gracie was doing by what side escort Marisa did with her mouth on mine.

I reached under Marisa’s T-shirt for one of her beautiful golden breasts. They were so warm and soft. I pulled her shirt up, and she leaned up slightly so that I could remove it entirely. I leaned down to suck on her perfectly round aureole, the color of dark chocolate. Her nipples were already completely erect as I expected them to be.

Gracie continued working on Marisa’s beautiful young pussy, but reached over to stroke my dick. She soon moved her luscious mouth from Marisa’s wet cunt to my cock, but instead of repeating her earlier trick, she ran her partially opened lips along the shaft like it was a warm living harmonica. All the while, her fingers were busy in Marisa’s snatch to keep her sexual excitement at a fever pitch.

Marisa had waited 18 years and she was not going to wait any longer. She put her arms around me and urged me to mount her. I looked down at Gracie, sucking hungrily on my dick. We exchanged glances that told her Marisa was not to be denied any longer.

“Gently, Martin,” as I climbed onto Marisa in the classic missionary position. I bore my weight on my elbows and knees and slowly lowered the head of my cock to Marisa’s virgin entrance. Gracie knelt by us holding my cock with one hand and reaching around behind to hold my balls with the other. When the head contacted her warm soft mound, Gracie gently pulled it through Marisa’s slippery lips to moisten it thoroughly with her juices.

Gracie had complete control. With her little fist around my cock, she prevented me from entering Marisa too quickly or too hard. With her other hand on my balls, she urged me forward. Watching Marisa’s face, Gracie expertly guided me in with a minimum of pain and a maximum of pleasure. Since I was so large for these small women, Gracie would coo softly to Marisa in Spanish to relax her, then urge me on with pressure on my balls from behind. After a few minutes of this deliciously slow work, Marisa winced sharply and I slid in freely. Gracie realizing what had happened, let go of my dick and let me take control. I think I could have done a pretty good job of it from the beginning by myself, but this was so much more interesting and exciting.

I stroked in and out of that beautiful tight pussy that no man had ever known before. Gracie left us so that Marisa could experience a man completely for the first time. She curled up in one of the chairs to watch, pleased that her friend seemed to be enjoying it so much.

I certainly was enjoying it. Marisa’s pussy would occasionally spasm so hard it was difficult to push against her grip. When she would relax, I would stroke faster, and slow up when the spasms came. At first, I thought she might be cumming, but the spasms were protests from muscles unaccustomed to a man. The sensations became more and more intense.

“No cumming inside of her, Martin,” Gracie admonished from the sidelines. Just when I thought I might be too late, I pulled out and shot my load. The first spurt hit Marisa right in the face. She screamed, then laughed uncontrollably. Gracie chimed in as well. I was too busy bathing Marisa’s bronze body with cum to laugh, but when I had finished I laughed too! I wiped the head of my dick off with my hand and pushed it slowly back into Marisa’s sopping little cunt. There was no resistance.

Gracie jumped onto the bed and wiped my cum from Marisa’s face with her finger. Dripping with cum, she touched her finger to Marisa’s lips. Marisa flicked at it tentatively with her tongue to taste it, then sucked Gracie’s finger clean. Both girls laughed again.

Gracie went into the bathroom and came out with two hot washcloths and dry towels. She handed me a washcloth, then carefully almost ceremoniously cleaned up the cum and blood from Marisa’s beautiful young pussy, now a woman’s pussy. She dried her carefully, put the towel underneath her to cover the bloody spot on the sheet and lay down beside her. I cleaned and dried myself and lay down on the other side next to Marisa. Gracie’s small slender hand lay on one of Marisa’s soft warm breasts. I lay my hand on top of hers. Within minutes, their soft rhythmic breathing told me they were fast asleep.

As exhausted as I was, I lay there for awhile thinking that for the first time since meeting these girls, I had a plan. I wondered how long it would take me to find work in Fresno.

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