Popsicle Girl

Sarah leaned over the stainless steel counter at the ice cream stand. She was half in shadow, almost hidden under the large menu of the GALAXY FROZEN TREATS sign taped to the glass window. I bent my head down to see her, so she moved forward, the late summer sun catching and brightening her ginger colored hair.

“It’s a little early for ice cream,” she said, smiling. She had a slight overbite but tiny and bright white teeth. Above her mouth was a little snub of a nose, blunt and wide and flaking with the remains of a sunburn.

“Well, it is eighty five degrees already,” I said. Sarah smiled again and cocked her head. I wasn’t sure if she recognized me or not.

Sarah had been a year behind me in high school, which would make her nineteen years old now. She was never one any of the boys paid attention to. Mostly, she had been known for being awarded the “Athlete Of The Year” distinction twice in volleyball. She wasn’t a knockout, but she wasn’t ugly either. She wasn’t huge, but in school she had been considered quite large, the kind they always described as ‘beefy’. If anyone talked about her at all, it was to call attention to her breasts. You know, the way high school boys do when they categorize the size and shape of the tits of the girls in their class. Hers were rated fairly high.

I had never talked to Sarah in school. I had never admitted to myself, or to my friends, the constant desire I had felt for her. I don’t think I had ever had a conversation with her. Yeah, I had masturbated to her plenty of times, sometimes even to the colorful yearbook picture I had of her in her volleyball uniform. I loved her size and strength. I loved her thick ginger hair. To me, she was like a big, firm pink marshmallow that I could squeeze forever.

“Do you know me, Sarah?” I asked. She slid up on the counter and stuck her head out the window. Her thick arms were so smooth and hairless, though her hands were small and delicate. Her fingernails looked painfully chewed. But what I loved best was the magnificent full swell of her breasts, straining through the white polo shirt she wore. They were as luscious as I remembered.

“Sure I remember you…you’re Mike!” She laughed. I haven’t seen you for a year…they told me you’re in the army now.”

I was thrilled. Somebody had told her about me. That meant she had been asking, or had at least been interested enough to listen. I leaned down and put my arms next to hers. I brushed against them. The feeling of the cool steel and the warmth of her skin was electrifying.

As I moved closer to her face, her mouth opened, the tip of her tongue flicking over the whiteness of her teeth. She had such a cute overbite. Her breath was warm and sweet.

“Well Mike…and what kind of ice cream do you want?” I imagined she was breathing heavily.

“What’s your favorite?” I asked.

“I try not to eat it. I try. As fat as I am…”

“Well, youre not…you’re not fat you know. You’re just big and strong. Delicious.The way people like. Men at least.”

Sarah laughed and leaned back. I noticed she did weigh a little more than she had in high school. Her hips were a little wider, making her jeans stretch tight across her thighs. But to me, that was good…very good!

“Well, what about that flavor?” she asked.

“I don’t feel like any ice cream,” I told her.

“Then why don’t you ask me out? i only got a half day today, you know.” She was brushing her hair back over her neck. It was thick, thick and lustrous and almost sparkling, half in sunshine, and half in flourescent light.

So I did take her out. Rather, I took her home. She had said her mother was at work until 5. Sarah lived with her mother and brother deep in the suburbs, in a little cape cod on a peaceful street. When we got into her driveway, the temperature was already over ninety. Standing in the middle of hot asphalt, I had my first full look at her, and the sight made my throat close up fast. Her jeans were as tight as nylons, the denim material clinging to her thick thighs like a seamed blue condensation. The heat kept climbing, that August sun blasting down around us. I could feel matching heat coming off Sarah, though it was a gentler heat, radiating toward me with a hint of cheap perfume and laundry soap.

“I’m gonna faint right here,” Sarah said, looking red in the face. “I need to get into the AC.”

Her blushing cheeks put me over the edge. I grabbed her around the waist. She was luscious and thick, wide around her hips with a ridge of hard fat running over the top of her jeans. Sliding my arms up, toward her breasts, I felt a solid, graceful curve.I pulled her close and kissed her. She opened her mouth at the wrong instant, and her little white teeth clicked against mine. I backed her up against a parked Chevy, moving my hands down to rest on the outside of her hips and bent forward to try another kiss. She bobbed her head out of the way, laughing. The back of her arm brushed against the burning chrome.

“Ouch! Okay jerkoff!” She shouted. She had a rank mouth on her, that girl. “Inside the house, before you fuck me right here where the neighbors can see!”

Inside Sarah’s house it was dark and cool, with an ancient room air conditioner noisily pumping out chilled air. The filter wasn’t clean because everything smelled of cold, mildewed dust. I sat on her couch while she went into the kitchen and came out with a yellow box. They were popsicles, she explained. She had tried to swear off ice cream to lose weight, and to fight her temptation she waited to get home where she ate popsicles instead. I couldn’t tell if it was working, but didn’t care.

We sat together on the couch while she unwrapped a red popsicle. ROCKET POPS, the box said. A little cartoon spaceman was pointing a raygun and screaming: CHERRY, BANANA, GRAPE! The popsicles were shaped like little rocket ships, long and slim with tail fins molded on the bottom.

I took a grape popsicle and put my arm around Sarah’s shoulder. She was sliding hers very slowly between her lips, letting her pink tongue curl around the frozen surface. A little stream of red juice slid out over her bottom lip, and she wiped it away, then tilted her head back and sucked the entire length of the popsicle into her mouth. When she had it in real deep, she withdrew it, very very slowly, letting the glistening column slide out over her tongue. Then she did it again, this time making delicious sucking sounds. More red juice dribbled out over her lip, but she stopped wiping it away. Then she turned towards me and closed her eyes.

I moved closer and kissed her, our grape and cherry flavors mingling. Her lips were so cold, but they began to warm up as I pressed my mouth tightly to hers. Our tongues tangled , thick and chilly but then melting into each other. Below the iciness of her breath I could sense a spicy warmth coming from deep inside her. All the smells radiating from her made me dizzy…cherry flavor, cheap perfume, ice cream mix, some kind of coconut shampoo…and that mysterious musky smell women always give off when they’re in heat. She bit off the last chunk of popsicle and swept her hair back, then dropped the little wooden stick onto the floor.

“Get these off me, ” she whispered, tugging at her jeans. I put my hands to her waist, but they were snugged so tight I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t even get a grip on the rivet. So I put both my hands on her breasts, rubbing and squeezing them through layers of cotton and nylon. I let her work on unzipping her jeans. She seemed to be struggling, the tip of her pink tongue protruding between her teeth, a little sweat breaking out over her red-stained lips. Her bra was tight too, the elastic band seemed to cut right into her, stretching flat so that I couldn’t get my hands under or over it, and I couldn’t see how to unclasp it. I gave up and just rubbed my mouth along the coolness of her neck, letting my tongue taste the smooth area just under her brushed-back hair. She whimpered a little.

With a long sigh of relief she yanked her jeans down over her hips. I knelt down to help her, tugging above her ankles while she pushed. Her thighs were so thick it was like yanking a canvas cover off an oak tree. Finally they lay crumpled on the floor, and I reached up to touch the inside of her thighs. They felt like warm silk. She had on pale blue satin panties. There was a dark stain in the middle of them, and it looked to be spreading. I hooked my fingers into the waistband.

“You better be careful,” Sarah warned. “I’m a virgin, jerkoff.” How nice, I thought. What a nasty mouth she has.

I stripped her panties off and slid them over her thighs, having a rather hard time of it. Finally she lay there, her pussy showing, her eyes sparkling, one hand stroking her tangled locks, the other rubbing the inside of her thigh. There was a tuft of caramel-colored hair just at the top of her mound, and very fine, silky hair trailing down the sides of her lips. I flung her panties away and held my face just inches from her warm little muff. The musky, riverbank scent made my heart skip a beat. My mouth began to water with desire.

“Wait!” Sarah grabbed the top of my head. “I got a great idea.”

She spread the top of her pussy lips with her left hand, then touched the scarlet tip of her popsicle to her exposed clit. “Owww!” she yelled, and twitched like she had been hit by an electric shock. I jumped back and laughed.

“What are you doing?” I asked “Isn’t that cold?”

“Shhhhh” Sarah said, then dapped the cherry stick against her clit again. Her thick thighs twitched a little, then she opened them wider. Now, she slid the whole popsicle down along her pussy, laying it down flat and sliding it along her slit, leaving little red beads in her tuft of hair. The slim ice stick glistened crimson in the folds of her light pink lips, and she stroked it slowly up and down, letting the wetness spring to the surface. In the cool room I could only hear the distant hum of the AC and the moist sucking sound of Sarah’s increasingly sweet pussy.

“Lick it boy, ” she said, and I eased forward and lightly brushed the tip of my tongue to her clit. I could feel the breath rush out of her lungs. Her clit was cold and stiff, but soon melted to life under the heat of my tongue. Then I took my tongue away and sucked in air through my mouth and licked it again. The combination of cold/warm/cool drove Sarah into a frenzy and she let out a long sigh of pleasure.

She began to suck again on her popsicle, even more frantically this time, poking it around her mouth and plunging it into her throat like an icy cock. I grabbed another one from the box and tore the paper wrapper with my teeth. In a hurry, I licked the frost from the surface and began to trace the outline of her pussy. I ran the popsicle up and down the folds of her pussy lips, lingering when I came to her clit. I held it there for a few seconds each time while she gasped with both pleasure and the shock of the cold, then I’d swirl my tongue over it. She was heaving back and forth on the couch. As I continued with the icy tease, she began to writhe in ecstasy.

I tried fucking her with it—slipping the popsicle up inside her. Wet as it was, her pussy was tight, and it was hard going just to get it in an inch. She was thrusting her hips up and down, trying to work it up inside her, slurping her cherry cock in rythym at the same time.

Finally I got the popsicle all the way in. She let out a small scream of shock and desire, closed her eyes, and ran her pink tongue over her lips. I drew it out slowly and sucked on it.

As bad as Sarah was with the frenzy of sensations, I was worse. The taste of her alone was delicious, but the cool cherry flavor drove me mad. The musky smell, combined with the cool popsicle made me even dizzier. I could not stop–I kept licking, sucking, teasing with the ice stick—eventually I buried my face in her cool wet warmth, trying to take in everything I could of Sarah.

“Fuck me,” she said, and I hoisted myself onto the couch, getting right on top of Sarah’s bulk and kissing her mouth. The collar of her polo shirt was stained with red droplets, and her lips were sticky and sweet. I could feel her groping fingers grabbing between my legs, getting a hold on the top of my throbbing cock, but those damned ragged nails cut right into me, and I yelped. She was so large it made for an awkward position with me on top, so she twisted herself around to lean against the couch armrest and I knelt behind her.

This was like being in heaven, Sarah’s massive ass bulging into my stomach, her little pussy poking out between her thighs like a soft pink fountain. I set my legs very far apart to get astride her thighs, and it was a full, comfortable, unbearably intense feeling. I poked my cock at her. There was some resistance going in, my cock trying to ease into her tight, hot little snatch, but then it seemed to break through and slide gently into an ecstasy of warmth and wetness. I leaned forward, finding a delicious handhold on her breasts and tried to push in as deep as I could. I was still in a fever of desire and wanted to possess as much of Sarah as I could.

We got into a rythym, me and Sarah, her massive weight pushing the couch forward with each long stroke. I rested my head down between her shoulders, inhaling the clean laundry smell of her white shirt, then she took over, rocking her hips so she began backing into me. My cock drove in deeper, moving even faster with the backwards and forwards thrusts, making a sloppy wet squishing sound that soon filled the whole room. I glanced down and saw a crest of pink froth at the base of my cock, the result of the cherry syrup that had become churned up with Sarah’s juices. In fact, Sarah was still slurping on the last bit of popsicle, and it was dribbling out the sides of her mouth and spilling onto the floor.This drove me into a frenzy, and I rested my weight against her and began to pump with increased fury.

“Fuck me Mike!” Sarah was screaming now. “Fuck your fat whore!” Yes, I fucked her alright. I changed my angle of thrusts to get in even deeper, reveling in that slippery sweet wetness, hoping to spew so much cum inside of her she’d have triplets. Then I noticed something that almost stopped my heart.

On the bookcase just inches from the side of the couch was a framed picture. It was a the original of the yearbook photo, that I had masturbated so many times to. There was Sarah, in her red and yellow numbered volleyball uniform. She was reaching up over the net for a ball, her thick, muscled legs displayed in all their magnificent beauty, her bright hair drawn up in a bouncing ponytail. Seeing that picture just then was too much. I seemed to explode inside her. I felt gouts of cum squeezing out between her tight lips, pouring onto the couch.

Sarah sighed loudly. She dropped the wooden popsicle stick to the floor, where it lay in a puddle of red. I stayed, unmoving, my legs clamped beside her thick thighs, my stomach down hard on her ass, my hands clenched tightly on her breasts.

“Well, Mike,” Sarah said quietly, “how do you like fucking your fat girlfriend?”

“Sarah,” I whispered, “you’re not fat. You’re just delicious.”