Kylie Gets a Ride

It was the colour of the car that caught Kylie's eye. A sickly lime green that would look awful on any motor vehicle, but especially an old Vauxhall Nova from the 80s. She only knew the name of the car because her father sometimes commented on it as they drove past the owner's driveway. A Nova was the first car he'd ever owned, although he was quick to point out his had been coloured a racy red.

It made her tremble a little to see it parked by the side of the road, a short distance from the gates of her school, as if lying in wait. Her reaction was a curious mix of trepidation and arousal, because she knew the car was owned by Harry Roper, the old neighbour who'd tricked her into having sex on the floor of his grotty bathroom.

What on earth was the old pervert doing parked mere yards away from her school gates?

Kylie chose to brazen it out and walk by the car with her head held high. She was with her friend, Cynthia. Surely, Mr. Roper wouldn't dare approach her while she was in the company of someone else.

"Is that person in the puke-coloured rust-bucket waving at you?" asked Cynthia.

Evidently, Kylie had miscalculated because Mr. Roper rolled down his window and called to her from the backseat of the car. Now she'd no choice but to look and found the situation even worse than she'd feared. Albert Brent was in the driving seat. He was another old man who'd fucked her. On that occasion, she was bent across his dining table.

"Pay no attention," snapped Kylie. "Just keep walking and ignore them."

Instead, Cynthia stopped, turned to face Kylie, and said, thankfully in a low whisper, "Wait. Are they the two old duffers you told me about? The two you shagged?"

"Just keep walking, please."

Cynthia began to giggle. "Which is the one with the big cock? The old-age pensioner in front, or the really old pervert leering at you from the backseat?"

"Please Cynthia. I'm begging you."

"Come on, which one? Spill the beans. I'm not taking another step until you tell me."

"The one in the back," replied Kylie, sighing deeply in resignation. She was becoming exasperated with what she thought of as her growing stupidity. It was bad enough she'd let herself get conned and fucked by two old pervs, but why, oh why, had she confided in her friend about it?

The two girls had been drunk at the time, knocking back too much Mojito in Cynthia's house while her parents had gone out to see a show.

There'd always been an element of competitiveness to their friendship. When they were younger, this manifested itself on the hockey field, and in their academic performance. Later, when their bodies took shape and boys, indeed even some men, began to pay them particular attention, their rivalry seeped over into other matters. Who'd be first to have a steady boyfriend, and then first to lose their virginity? When those matters were settled, Cynthia claimed a certain prestige from having the most boyfriends in a single school term, while Kylie countered that because her boyfriend, Peter, was old enough to already be at college, this trumped any of the mere boys her friend had dated.

For the most part this competition was good natured and the source of a great deal of mirth at the vacuous egotism of their male counterparts, but that night, infused by the sweetened rum, they vied with each other to be the most outrageous.

Cynthia told of how she was forced to spend the Easter holiday at her grandmother's and renewed her childhood friendship with the boy who lived next door.

"We were in his bedroom," said Cynthia, "supposedly using his PlayStation, as if I could be interested in stupid computer games. We were barely up there five minutes before I had his dick out and we were fucking like rabbits."

"You always were a terrible slut," giggled Kylie.

"I know," Cynthia chuckled in agreement. "It wasn't as if he'd grown into much to look at. Pig ugly face all covered in spots. However, I kind of did it out of spite. You see, his mother is a sanctimonious old bag who always thought her son was too good to associate with me. Nothing had changed in the intervening years. She was always going on about how wonderful her son was. 'My Andrew did this' and 'My clever Andrew is brilliant at that.' More than the sex, it was really the thrill of fucking him while the old crone was downstairs that really fired me up."

Kylie asked with a devilish grin, "Did Andrew make you come?"

"Not once, although I lost count of how many times, we went at it. He always came too soon. Once I nearly got there by rubbing my clit while he fucked me. I was just about to come, then the pathetic nerd said he loved me, and my arousal evaporated immediately."

"Oh, poor little Cynthia, so you came home after the holiday all frustrated and unfulfilled."

"Not quite. Not once his dad called round to fix some problem with the water tank in my grandmother's attic. He's something of a silver-fox and was always giving me the eye, so I made sure he saw me undressing as he walked by my bedroom. I kept my door open, so when he was finished, and walked past my room again, he'd a clear view of me lying on the bed playing with my cunt."

"Dirty trollop!" said Kylie, but it was clear she wanted to hear more.

"It stopped him in his tracks, although he barely said a word. Just slipped into the bedroom, closing the door behind him, and fucked me there and then on the bed. You should have seen the cock on him. Unlike his son, the man was hung like a horse. I didn't think I could get it all the way in, but I did. I came twice and they were the most explosive orgasms I'd ever had in my life. Knowing Andrew's self-righteous mother could have such a wonderful dick whenever she wanted, made me hate the old bitch even more."

"Both the father and the son? How could you? Cynthia, you're nothing but a whore."

"Well, don't knock it until you've tried it," responded Cynthia a little defensively. "Getting fucked by a big prick might do you the world of good. Give you a new prospective."

"I've already been fucked by a big cock," responded Kylie. "More than one, in fact."

"Not by Peter," scoffed Cynthia. "From what you've told me, your boyfriend's barely average in that department."

"No, not by him. Someone else."

"Who? Anybody I know? It wasn't Mr. Brewin, the chemistry teacher, was it? I've seen the way you drool after him."

"No, it wasn't him either. It doesn't matter who it was."

"Of course, it does. It matters if you want me to believe you, Kylie. Come on, out with it, who was it fucked you with a big cock?"

There it was, that competitive element again. There was a part of Kylie, a still sober, shameful part, which wanted to keep what happened a secret, even from her best friend, but at that moment her inebriation got the better of her judgement.

"Well, last week, I delivered this pasta dish my Mom made to one of our neighbours..."

Subconsciously, Kylie must have always wanted to tell Cynthia about everything that had happened with the two old men, because once she'd started, the whole story simply poured out of her. Not only that, but she also found herself relishing every sordid detail of her disclosure. Her nipples hardened, and her pussy moistened in the retelling.

How old Harry Roper had tricked her into having sex, but her reward was two hugely intense orgasms. So good in fact, a couple of days later she returned hoping for more, only to be conned by his friend, Albert Brent, into going to his house where he cajoled her into screwing him. A development that resulted in another fantastic fuck session that culminated in orgasm.

Cynthia had listened to it all in titillated astonishment, giggling at the narrative, and pressing her friend for as much detail as possible.

The next morning, feeling the worse for wear, Kylie could hardly believe she'd told her friend everything. Her immediate concern was if the story should spread, especially through the socials, she'd have to live with the shame and embarrassment of everyone knowing what had happened. The consequences were just too terrible to contemplate. Yet, she reasoned Cynthia was her best friend, and they'd both shared secrets neither would want widely known, so that eased her mind somewhat.

However, as a hungover headache made its presence known, Kylie swore she'd never have anything to do with alcohol or those two old perverts ever again.

By now, the two girls had drawn alongside the battered and ugly Vauxhall Nova, but rather than look away, Cynthia seemed intent on reciprocating the attention the two old men in the vehicle were showing them.

"Hello, Kylie," said Mr. Brent. "We were just driving by when we noticed all the pupils leaving and thought you might like a lift home."

"That's very good of you," replied Kylie, with a little clearance of her throat, "but I'm off to study with my friend, Cynthia, at her home."

Then Cynthia, beaming broadly said, "Well, I only live around the corner from Kylie. It looks as if it might rain, so a lift home would be wonderful. You're so kind."

Kylie turned towards her companion; her eyes wide in horror at what her friend had just said. This was an utter betrayal. Cynthia had to know the situation was one of acute embarrassment for her, so why was she intent on prolonging it.

Being too engrossed in her own reaction, Kylie failed to notice the less than enthusiastic expressions on the wrinkled faces of the two old men.

Harry and Albert had both fucked Kylie, and they desperately wanted to do it again. The problem was how to bring this about. The girl had stayed away from both men after Harry had entered Albert's house and found them fucking on the dining table.

Not only that, but through some supernatural, mother's intuition, it seemed Caroline must have suspected something unsavoury had occurred between her daughter and the old men. In the days that followed, she stopped calling to their houses with cooked meals, which also meant she'd stopped fucking them.

Denied access to Caroline's charms and favours, the allure of her eighteen-year-old daughter was something that grew in intensity, making both men desperate to experience it again, or as Harry expressed it mournfully, "You just can't beat fresh, young cunt."

They tried to come up with scenarios to lure the girl into one or other of their houses, but none seemed very practical when examined closely, until finally they hit upon the idea of offering the young woman a lift.

Parking the car outside the school had been Harry's idea, but it had been Albert's insistence that he drive, or as he had expressed it forcefully, "Harry, you're as blind as a fuckin' bat. If I let you behind the wheel, you'd kill the fuckin' pair of us before you got out of the driveway."

Albert also insisted Harry sit in the back.

"What the fuck for?" Harry asked.

"Well, think about it, you old fool," replied Albert. "If we're both in the front and actually manage to persuade the little slut to get in the car, she'll have no choice but to sit in the back on her own. If I'm in the front and you're in the back, we both have a fifty-fifty chance as to who she sits beside."

"I suppose," said Harry, although feeling somewhat short changed, because the girl would almost certainly get into the front passenger seat, if she got into the car at all.

To Albert's silent astonishment, the plan had worked. Despite what seemed her initial reluctance, Kylie was about to get into the car. However, to his great disappointment, they'd assumed the girl would be alone, not accompanied by a friend, and he could think of no reasonable excuse to separate them.

Fuck it, Albert thought. We'll drop them off at the other girl's home, then maybe he and Harry could wait around until they'd finished their studies and pull up alongside Kylie as she made her way home, this time alone.

Besides, two young, good-looking girls in the car wasn't really that bad a consolation. The blonde Kylie and her raven-haired friend, who looked just as fuckable. Their school uniforms consisted of a dark, navy skirt, a white blouse, and a navy-coloured blazer with the school's embroidered badge on the top pocket. The skirts were rebelliously short, revealing long, bare legs, except for white, knee-high stockings. Fuck! He was getting a stiffy just looking at them.

"Come on then," said Albert brightly.

"I'll get in the back," volunteered Cynthia. "Kylie, you sit up front beside the driver."

If Cynthia had to put a label on her feelings as she entered the old wreak of a car, it would be delicious wickedness. She was well aware of her best friend's awkward embarrassment, especially when it was so obvious that in her telling of the story of how these two men had fucked her, she'd glossed over just how old and decrepit they actually were. Well, it was only to be expected, she supposed. Indeed, Cynthia had described Andrew's father as a silver fox, when in truth he'd been, grey, balding, and fat. Although, she'd not exaggerated the size of his cock, or the two powerful orgasms she'd experienced while he was deep inside her.

Yet, Cynthia had become so aroused while Kylie told her story, she'd been masturbating to the images in her head on a regular basis ever since. Now she had the opportunity to determine if her friend had embellished any other aspects of the tale.

"Kylie," she began, "aren't you going to introduce me to these kind gentlemen?"

"This is Mr. Brent," said Kylie, an obvious discomfort was apparent in her voice as she waved a hand towards the driver, "and you're sitting next to Mr. Roper."

"Can I help you with that?" asked Mr. Roper.

Cynthia was deliberately putting on a show, as if she was just a little too dim to find the seat belt on her own. "Would you?" she gushed. "I'm such a featherbrain when it comes to anything mechanical."

"No problem, my dear," said the old man smiling so broadly it was clear he was wearing dentures.

There was such a sly, pervy vibe about him, Cynthia could easily believe he'd tricked Kylie into fucking him. Although, she had to admit, if only to herself, knowing his creepy energy was underwritten by a reputedly huge cock, was oddly arousing.

The old man continued. "The strap gets caught in the top corner of the seat and there's a knack to getting the buckle to take hold." He reached up past her shoulder and pulled the seatbelt down slowly across her body. When the buckle clicked into place, he said, "Now then, you're safely tucked in." Then turning to the driver, "Let's get moving, Albert."

The randy old goat, Cynthia thought. She couldn't have failed to notice how he took the opportunity, as he pulled the belt across, to brush the back of his hand against her breasts. Hers were a little smaller than Kylie's, and while that sometimes made her envious, she strongly suspected her nipples were much more sensitive. Even now they'd become rock hard at the merest of touches.

Mr. Roper turned a little in his seat, so he could look her up and down. His mouth had settled into a hungry grin, as his gaze lingered on her legs, exposed by the shortness of her skirt.

When his eyes finally lifted to meet hers, Cynthia looked at him from beneath her long eyelashes, and smiled. The drive to her home was less than ten minutes. If she was going to find out if the old man had indeed a very big cock, there was no time to lose.

For a moment or two, the only sound in the car was a news reader on the radio struggling to be heard above the noise of the vehicle's old engine. "Kylie," Cynthia said, "why don't you find some decent music and turn it up a bit. I'm sure these gentlemen won't mind, will you?"

"Not at all," said Mr. Brent brightly.

Her friend turned to look back over her shoulder and the intent on mischief must have been apparent on Cynthia's face because, Kylie widened her eyes in a clear expression of censure. When Cynthia merely smiled blithely back, Kylie snorted in annoyance, then leant forward and played with the dials on the old radio.

Cynthia turned to face Mr. Roper, and raised her finger to her lips, as a gentle caution to remain quiet. Then, while maintaining eye contact with the old man, she slipped her hand beneath the waistband of his trousers, searching for his manhood.

The old man's eyes widened comically as in disbelief, but he didn't object. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, allowing her greater freedom to explore.

Slipping her hand down further, she soon encountered his underpants, the texture of the cloth was course and stiff, and she was grateful for the fact she couldn't see them, because she already imagined they were old and stained. The combination of grimy sweat and body heat she encountered, was both disgusting and curiously stimulating.

She soon discovered his fleshy, muscular cock was already partially erect. She ran her painted fingernails along the shaft, before giving the head a gentle pinch between her thumb and forefinger.

Mr. Roper quietly moaned into her ear. "Oh, that's it, girl. Take a firm hold."

Cynthia ignored the old man. She wanted to work at her own pace. Instead, she delved further until she found his balls. It was so steamily hot down there, they almost sizzled to her touch. She cupped and squeezed the orbs, but not too roughly, just enough to encourage a rapid tumescence.

Looking ahead, it seemed that having settled on a radio station, Kylie had sat back in her seat and resumed her shared silence with Mr. Brent. Cynthia deftly unbuckled her belt, so she could lean further into Mr. Roper, and the old man took the opportunity to place his hand on her arse, gently massaging her buttocks through the thin, soft cotton of her panties.

"You little fucking whore," whispered Mr. Roper, with just a hint of admiration.

Releasing his balls, Cynthia began to massage the shaft. The old man's penis now felt fully erect. She could feel its weight in the palm of her hand, while her fingers explored its contours, and ridges, allowing her to gain an appreciation of its true length and girt.

Kylie had not been exaggerating, it was indeed a very big cock.

Mr. Roper's fingers crept beneath her panties. He continued to massage her ass-cheeks for a while, then his long bony forefinger began to probe the opening of her tight anus.

Cynthia took a firm hold of Mr. Roper's hard and rigid phallus. She'd tossed off her fair share of boys of her own age, but she'd never come across a cock that felt as big and powerful as this. Although it was too thick for her slim fingers to reach all the way around, she positioned her hand just below the head and began to pump the old man's gnarly prick. She began slowly, her movements inhibited by his trousers, but when he undid the waist button, the additional freedom allowed her to speed things up, and she experienced the sensation of his loose penial skin passing over the ridges made by the thick veins of his cock.

The old man's finger was joined by another, as he probed her butthole, pushing ever deeper inside. Cynthia wondered why she'd never encouraged any of the boys she'd previously fucked to play with her anus. If a finger could be so titillating, imagine what a cock would be like. The image spurred her on to pump the old man's dick even harder.

With his free hand, Mr. Roper pulled down the zipper on his flies, then somehow managed to wriggle free of his trousers without interrupting Cynthia's massaging of his cock, or his fingered exploration of her anus. Now that she could see it, so close up, she found it ugly, with blemished skin that appeared so red in places, it might have been raw, and greying, wiry pubic hair around the balls and base, but these seemed like minor qualms when compared to its size. It was fucking enormous.

She placed the purple, precum soaked head to her lips before taking it into her mouth.

"Oh, fuck, yeah, you sexy little cunt!" moaned Mr. Roper loudly enough for both Kylie and Mr. Brent to hear above the music on the radio. In unison, they quickly turned around to see what was happening on the backseat.