Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 29

As I continued to scour her breasts with my tongue I pressed my left hand, the one not holding the popsicle, flat against her stomach and slowly allowed it to drift down, gradually turning so that the fingers combed through her pubic hair before coming to rest between her legs and beginning to caress her there—not penetrating, just lightly teasing her lips apart with the middle finger.

It was driving her crazy, I could tell by the way she started gasping my name over and over—"Jonathan! Jonathan! Jonathan!"—as if she wanted desperately for me to do something but had been made so mindless with desire that she could no longer find the words.

This effect was only increased when I took the now dripping remnant of the popsicle and, turning it horizontal, reached behind her and starting at the tops of her thighs began drawing it slowly up over the tender, burning skin of her buttocks, all the while maintaining my attentions to her breasts and between her legs.

Suddenly it was as if she were having a religious experience, her body shaking in place as she began to babble incoherently, her voice getting louder and louder as she neared her climax.

When I judged she was unable to hold back any longer I did three things simultaneously: I seized her right nipple with my teeth; I slid my middle finger deeply into her pussy, pressing the heel of my hand against her clitoris...and I shoved the dripping, ice-cold tip of the popsicle right between the cheeks of her behind.

It was unfortunate that the band was between numbers at that particular moment. The scream that came out of Carol was so loud, and so long, that I'm sure it carried all over the square. I was forced to grab the rest of her clothes, scoop her up in my arms—even though she was still twitching and jerking in the reverberations of her orgasm—and run, before a mob came looking to see if someone had been murdered.

I carried her as far away as I could without actually leaving the maze of alleys. When I finally set her on her feet she was still so wobbly that she had to lean against a wall, eyes closed, while I pulled up her underwear and shorts and helped her into her bra and t-shirt and wrapped the pink shirt around her shoulders.

Her lips and the area around her mouth were still stained orange from the popsicle and the rest of her face still glistening with sweat and come. I said, "I'll get you some water so you can clean up before we head for the bus," and started to leave, but her voice, barely audible, stopped me.

"No...like this."

I turned back to face her. Her eyes were still closed. I said, "You want to get on the bus the way you are?"

Her eyes opened to bare slits, their expression glazed with exhaustion, and she answered, "Yesss...want people to see ...I'm your...property."

She used her hands to push herself away from the wall and started to straighten up when suddenly her eyes popped wide open. She exclaimed, "Oh! OH!" and suddenly started jerking her hips from side to side and shivering.

For a moment I thought she was somehow having another orgasm. But then without warning Carol jerked her shorts and underwear back down to her ankles and squatted to the ground, still shaking back and forth.

"Oh! C-c-cold!" she gasped between chattering teeth. She strained for a moment...then suddenly relaxed, her expression one of great relief. As she stood up again I looked behind her and there on the ground was a piece of orange popsicle about the size of a peach pit. It must have broken off inside her when I let go of the popsicle to pick her up.

And it must have been considerably larger to begin with because it had melted all the way through the back of her shorts before she'd noticed. I had to root around in a nearby dumpster to find a plastic bag for Carol to stuff down the back of her shorts and another one for her to sit on so she wouldn't stick to the bus seat.

Later she had to buy a special plastic page insert to seal her panties in before she added them to her scrapbook. She showed it to me, but before she did she told me she'd made a special trip back to the alley where we'd been. Then she opened the scrapbook to the most recent addition and there, sealed in the plastic next to her stained and sticky "Little Mermaid" panties...was a popsicle stick.

To Be Continued...