She squirted.
It was not gradual. It was a sudden, violent gush. The clear fluid sprayed from her pussy against his shaft. Her hips bucked. Her knees went weak. Her body went limp. She collapsed against him and he caught her with one arm around her waist.
He laid her on the rock.
The stone rim of the old pond was flat and wide and cold. Her back pressed against it. Her legs hung over the edge. Her skirt was bunched at her waist. Her breasts were still out. Her face was flushed and confused and her eyes were searching his face with absolute bewilderment.
She did not understand what had happened.
She had never felt that. She had never known her body could do that. She was a maiden. She had touched herself sometimes, in the dark, quickly, guiltily, but it had never been like that. It had never been a gush. It had never been a collapse.
"I—" she said. Her voice was tiny. "I don't know what that was— I don't— why is your thing so big— how will it— how will it go inside—"
