It was cold outside, but inside Haller’s Auto Repair it was warm with the bodies and the breath of men and the cooling engines of cars that people brought in to be worked on, and fragrant with that peculiar bouquet of engine oil, gasoline and dust that characterizes all garages. Since Christmas was approaching, it also smelled of the pine garlands tied up with red ribbons that Haller’s wife had made and hung from the walls. Eugene Wanzack, the youngest of Haller’s employees, was doing a minor tune-up on Harvey Beck’s Ford. He was a sturdy, dark-haired young man of average height, with gray eyes and a squarish, Slavic sort of face that often bore a faintly worried look, but right now he was happy, because he was exactly where he wanted to be. Beck was good about keeping his car maintained, and all it had needed was the oil and other fluids checked and changed, and a new set of plugs. Everyone was trying to avoid starting any job that would hang over into the following day; it would just have to wait until the day after Christmas because everyone was going to be off.

Albert Reems, one of the other mechanics, said, “Hey, Gene, have you decided where you’re going to stay tonight?”

“I guess I have till the end of the day to do that,” he said as he adjusted the gap on a plug.

He had two choices: he could either stay in town, in his apartment in Matthew Haller’s home behind the garage, or he could go home to his parents’ farm, outside of town. Going home had its appeal; his mother was a good cook, and the whole family would be there. During the war, they had been one short on Christmas, as his older brother Adam had been in France and England, mostly disabling unexploded bombs and mortars that had landed in people’s back yards, but he was home now. Zandra and her husband would probably drop in themselves. Zandra was not the most domestic of wives, and if she could eat someone else’s cooking on Christmas Eve as well as Christmas Day, she would. Later on Christmas Day they would visit Uncle Victor and Aunt Ruby and their bunch.

The very things that made going home appealing were also a good reason to stay where he was.

He had been living in the Hallers’ home since the summer of ‘43; Haller had persuaded Anton Wanzack to let him learn all he could teach him about the art, science and business of car repair, and pointed out that if Gene lived on the premises, it would save Anton having to carry him back and forth every morning and evening. He spent so much time in the garage as it was that he might as well hang around and get paid into the bargain. Anton had consented under the condition that Gene stayed in high school long enough to graduate; it puzzled and irked him that a kid of his should be uninterested in higher education when he’d had to fight his father for every day of schooling he had. Zandra had been to veterinary school and Adam was majoring in electrical engineering at UT. Further, he saw the arrangement as an apprenticeship, pure and simple, and an Old World, old-fashioned way of doing things. But he figured he’d have better luck hanging onto the south end of a northbound bull, to keep Gene on the farm.

Gene’s apartment had a rudimentary kitchen, but he had hardly used it in the three years he’d been there; Matthew and Clara Haller expected from the outset that he would take his meals with them, and he dined heartily on food that had a hearty, European, pre-War solidity and plentitude. Adam, who stayed thin as a rail no matter what he ate, had warned him in one of his letters not to get fat. Gene wasn’t worried. Taking out and re-installing engines, differentials and transmissions, and wrestling tires on and off their rims was enough to keep any man fit. And he had reveled in the attention he received from the couple, as if he were the son they’d never had; he hadn’t realized how much he had craved this until he got it. He had often felt shuffled aside, a mere spectator to the crisis and drama that just naturally seemed to blow up around his siblings.

And then there was that special bond between them; not that they tried to leave him out; they just did, they couldn’t help it, for all that they would back him up in a fight. The closeness had worried Anton and Marie; they felt it was intense to the point of being…well, unhealthy. But the plain fact was, neither of them was the other’s type: the women Adam looked at were girlier than Zandra had ever been or could be on her best day; and Zandra had married her type—big and brawny and strong enough to overpower her physically if he wanted to, but easygoing, and with all due respect to Dennis, he was a good man—not quite as intelligent as she was. It was this, Gene thought, which kept them off each other, more than fear of hellfire.

While he was musing on these matters, a black 1940 Caddy purred into the garage. Gene looked up. The door opened, and out from the car, first of all, issued a pair of slender, well-turned legs, taut and shining in one of the few pairs of nylon stockings existing in Koenigsburg; clothes rationing might be over, but some things were still rare. A young woman descended from the driver’s seat, her dress riding up in a tantalizing manner as she did so. She shut the door of the Caddy, smoothed her skirts down, and came toward him. She had honey-colored hair that she wore in a long pageboy and a naturally melancholy cast to her face, unless she smiled. There were certainly prettier girls around, but on the other hand, besides those legs, she had the best rack he’d ever seen.

“Hello, Gene. Hello, Albert,” she said, noticing Gene’s colleague. “I’m going out, but Aunt Clara wanted me to stop in and ask you if you were staying at the house or going home to your family tonight.” She smiled.

As quickly as that, Gene made his decision. “I reckon I’m staying in,” he said. “Tell Miss Clara I’ll see her after work.”

“Will do,” the young woman said. “I’ll see you at supper, then.” She smiled at him, turned around and went back to her car, her skirt swishing around her legs and her round rump swaying gently as she walked. As the car backed out, he turned his attention back to his work. He wondered why women had to truss themselves up in these torturous-looking underpinnings that might just as well be made out of steel plate, like the armor the knights of old wore, and kept them from looking natural in their clothes. He much preferred the way her breasts looked under her dressing gown, when he passed her in the hall in the mornings when everyone was just getting up. They seemed to shift and strain at the satin cloth of the robe as if they were live things, longing for fresh air, and if it was cold, her nipples—about the size of 3/8″ acorn nuts, he thought—sprang out in vivid relief. He could almost imagine the weight and density of those fine Zeppelin breasts in his hands, the nipples pointing up in his palms—

“Boy, you’re gapping that plug way too wide,” Albert said. “Mr. Beck’s car ain’t gonna start nohow like that. And you better adjust yourself, before ever’body else in here sees what you’re thinkin’ about.” He looked pointedly at Gene’s lap, where the front of his pants was being tented by an all too obvious hard-on. Gene blushed and shifted the treacherous object into a less obtrusive position and tried to quit thinking impure thoughts. They’d gotten him in enough trouble already.

Cora was Matt Haller’s niece, the child of his brother, who was an indirect casualty of WWI. He had been exposed to gas in Aisne and his lungs had never been any good after that; when the flu epidemic hit, he caught it too, and he died. When a few years later, his wife also died, Matt and Clara took their child to raise. The girl had a right to look melancholy, even so; except for her uncle and aunt’s care, she had received some unlucky breaks: orphaned by WWI, she had been widowed by WWII. The last thing her husband had done before going off to Europe was to get her pregnant, but she lost the baby.

As she was young and healthy, she soon recovered from the miscarriage physically, but she was depressed for a while after. Sometimes Gene would bring her a cup of tea, when he was in the house, or something funny from a magazine or paper that he had cut out, to cheer her up, and they became friends as they never could have when they were younger. To a boy, a girl two or three years older seemed as distant as the moon. One evening, to his astonished pleasure, he found himself walking with her to the drugstore—she said she was in the mood for ice cream, and asked him if he wanted to come along. It was Saturday, and a few of his ex-classmates were in there with their dates. He wondered if anybody would think this little expedition was a date. She disabused him of that idea when the Sundaes came and he began to get out his wallet.

“Put your money away, Gene,” she said. “You don’t have to get my ice cream. I’m getting it for both of us. It was my idea.” Gene put his money away. It was plain that she didn’t think it was a date. He began to relax.

That was last year, but now everything was different. And it was his fault.

On summer Sundays, very little happened. There was hardly anywhere to go, and in the heat of the day, everything and everybody shut down. After dinner was finished and cleared away, it was a good time to take a nap. It was too hot to do anything else. That was what Matt and Clara were doing, and Gene presumed that Cora was doing the same thing. He was feeling sleepy, himself, but he was also thinking about the peach pie they’d had for dessert; he had turned down a second piece, and now he was wishing he hadn’t. He padded into the kitchen in his trousers, undershirt, and no shoes, and got another piece of pie, which he ate standing up next to the sink, looking out the window. When he was done he put the pie back in the pie safe and rinsed his plate and fork, putting them on the drain board to dry.

His place was at the end of the hall; one then turned right and went up a short staircase to a tiny landing. Cora’s room was just opposite the passage. The latch to her door was bad; unless she closed it hard, leaned on it and listened for the click of the latch to make sure it had caught, it came open, and since nothing in an old house was quite level, the door would swing a little ajar. She had been after both the men in the house to do something about it—after all, she said, a pair of ace mechanics ought to be equal to fixing a doorknob—but so far nobody had got around to it.

Gene paused at the end of the dim corridor. She’d probably meant to close the door this time, and as usual the latch had slipped out and the door fallen open. He thought maybe he should pull it to for her. As he stepped forward to grab the knob, he saw into Cora’s room. And all thought of pulling the door to completely fled his mind.

She was reclining in a chair of peach-colored velvet, her aqua blue satin dressing gown fallen open. Her naked body was everything that he had been wondering about or could have hoped for, from her luscious breasts to her tiny waist to her well-shaped legs, which were parted and spread wide, to reveal…well, more than he was expecting. Her luxuriant bush was a shade or two darker than her hair, and in its midst, like the flesh of a splitting-ripe fruit, her cunt swelled and glistened. Growing up on a farm, he had seen the parts of various female animals, in heat or not, and although he’d never had a clear look at a human female’s parts before, he saw more similarities than differences. What he had not expected to see was the fingers of her right hand skidding wetly over all this suddenly complicated and exotic flesh, now slipping into her vagina, now parting over and bracketing the bud-like nub of her clitoris. While he watched, entranced, she brought forth from the folds of her robe a thick, partially-used candle, the blunt end of which she first slid up and down her slit, and then plunged halfway up inside her. She slowly began to slide it in and out. His gaze shifted between the utterly fascinating way the dark-rose inner lips of her pussy yielded and then clung to the white shaft of the candle, and the concentrated, inward look on her face.

He had taken for granted that Cora grieved over the loss of her child and missed the companionship of her husband. It had not occurred to him that she missed anything else.

His cock had sprung into ferocious readiness with the speed of a fire hose filling up, and was straining against the front of his trousers. He was barely breathing as he watched the woman’s hips rocking to meet the thrusts of the candle, the long muscles of her thighs flexing, faster and faster. A few more thrusts, and she jammed the candle up and in a final time, and her body abruptly pronated and stiffened. Contractions rippled up the muscles of her belly. He heard the heavy panting of her breath.

He thought that if he didn’t come himself, he would die. There wasn’t time even to shove his hand down his pants, let alone open them; he grabbed his cock from the outside, and the encircling pressure of his hand was enough. He gasped as his climax slammed through his body. At that time, Cora relaxed, spent, and then looked up to realize that her door was open. Wild-eyed, she yanked the candle out and shoved it down the side of the chair, and was on her feet, her robe wrapped tightly around her body. It was just a few steps from there to her door, but, he thought afterward, there should have been time to get away. He didn’t. He couldn’t. She jerked the door open and there he was, hapless, helpless to do anything but what he was doing, gripping his cock which was pulsating wildly in his hand and making a spreading stain on the front of his trousers. She looked at him, her eyes wide, her face flushing; when the door banged shut in his face—and that time she put her shoulder to it and it clicked—he was able to move. He was back in his apartment so quickly he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there.

For a little while he stood with his back to his door as if something or someone were after him, trembling with shock and embarrassment. Despite the heavy warmth of the room, he felt cold. For several minutes he remained like that, waiting for the world to end.

Evidence, he thought. He had to get rid of the evidence. Making sure that his own door was locked, he stripped off his lower garments, feeling his spunk already cooling, congealing, and causing his boxers to cleave to the end of his abashed dick. He put on a pair of clean ones and threw the soiled trousers and underwear into the sink in his small kitchen, running hot water onto them. He attacked the clothing with soap flakes and a scrubbing brush, obsessed with the idea that no one must see the evidence of what he had done. Usually Mrs. Haller was kind enough to wash his clothing if he left them in a basket outside his door, but not these, no, never these. When he was sure the clothes were clean, he wrung as much water out of them as he could and hung them over a chair, and his window sill, to dry. He lay down on his bed in his underwear, looking up at the ceiling without really seeing it. His mind was a whirling chaos of images and fragmented suppositions. He’d never considered that a woman might have a need to do—that—the way a man did. He’d thought that girls were somehow…above all that. If some of them were not, maybe none of them was. It hardly bore thinking about.

He thought of Cora’s face when she had opened her door and seen him, and wondered what she must be thinking of him. Was she thinking he was some kind of pervert, some kind of peeping tom? In a way, he was, but he hadn’t looked at her on purpose. He just hadn’t been able to look away. Would she tell on him? Surely not, when he had seen her as well…but it wasn’t as if he would say anything.

For the next several days when they met each other in the house, they could hardly look at each other. Gene noticed the Hallers looking at both of them with puzzlement and a little concern, and dreaded the moment when one or the other of them would demand some kind of explanation from him. They would not have been the only ones. He could use a few explanations, himself; he wished there were someone he could talk to. Anybody he worked with was out of the question. The priest? He hadn’t been to confession since he’d left home, and he would be doing penance from now until next summer. He thought briefly of talking to his father, or his brother. One was a possibility, although Anton would probably just remind him that blue-balledness was a natural condition for a man of his station of life, as surely as a flower had to be a bud first. As for Adam…he used to be a romantic, falling in love at least once a year, but the war had changed him. There was a woman, a good-looking widow who lived between Koenigsburg and the next town, who would let certain gentlemen call on her and spend the night, as long as they understood that they were to leave money on her dresser the next morning…That was the kind of advice his older brother would give him. It wasn’t his business, but it seemed to Gene like an unsatisfactory way to operate. That left his sister, so a couple of Sundays after this event had taken place, he borrowed one of the garage cars and went to his brother-in-law’s farm. He found Dennis there alone.

“It’s Sunday!” he said. “What’s she doing out on calls?”

“It’s not like animals know to put off being sick until Monday. Well, Dr. Muldaur promised to take her into his practice, and it looks like that starts with taking over his Sunday business. She gave me a list of where she was going to be…” He pulled a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket. “Looks like you’re going to have to chase her down. You want me to come with you?”

“You don’t have to,” Gene said, “unless you just want to see her.”

“That’s all right,” Dennis said with a grin. “I know she’s coming home.”

He ran her down at the Elsings’ farm, where she was examining a horse. She looked surprised to see him. “You look a little down in the mouth,” she said. “What’s going on with you?” She gave him a sharp look. “Something bothering you? Tell me about it. But it’ll cost you.” Gene looked at her questioningly. “Just hold this beast’s head while I get this dose of medicine down him, will you?”

She listened while he related his story, one corner of her mouth twitching. “Well, blow me down,” she said when he was done. “And here I thought you’d made up your mind to die young.” “It’s not funny,” Gene said. “If Mr. Haller had caught me, I would have died young.”

“You know what I mean. You were always the good kid of us three. I must say, when you decide to bust loose, you do it up brown. Anyway, he didn’t catch you and he won’t find out unless she tells him, and I’d bet a week’s pay she won’t do that. You’ve got a Mexican standoff here. Another thing: for all you know, she could have been thinking about you…”

“That’s crazy,” Gene said. “She thinks I’m a kid.”

“Do you think so? You’re not, you know.” She was right. Now that high school was behind them, he and his classmates were sorting themselves out into what they would be doing with their lives; some, to work their family’s land, some to take jobs in town, some to college or the military. Many of them had paired off already. He was keeping his eyes and his options open. As the best-behaved of the Wanzack kids, he’d had his share of pleasant dates, but the older he got, the more he found that some of the girls’ parents were giving them The Talk—the one that invariably included the phrase, “His folks are good, good people, but…” But. But. The family’s obscure eastern European origins, and their eccentricity. The fact that they worked the land, and didn’t live in town. Maybe he should have considered going to college. Trouble was, when he thought of it, he couldn’t see himself there. He couldn’t imagine anything at a university as interesting and challenging as working on cars. The other men in the shop made enough money to live decently and support a family. Now that he was through with school, he was working more hours and starting to make more money, most of which he banked. He was saving up for a car of his own…

Author’s note:

The first and second chapters of this story got so many votes and positive feedbacks asking for another chapter, that I had to write this the third installment. The first chapter took 3rd place in the August Literotica.com writing contest. Over 10,000 people downloaded the second story in its first two days online. Thank you, and keep the votes and feedback coming. If I get good positive feedbacks on this chapter I will write yet another chapter.

Please read Chapters One and Two before reading this one. I don’t want to have to restate those stories; I’d rather keep this as a novel, going simply to the next chapter.

If you haven’t read my other works, just click on my name for the full list.

*****

I stood at the railing of my Suite overlooking Cupecoy Bay in St. Maarten. The sun was four fingers above the horizon, it would set in an hour. I had another eight days to spend in this tropical heaven and I was already fulfilled and totally rested. 2 days of sex with a very willing 19 year old virgin named Roni who had given me every part of her several times, and a small touch of love. There had also been two incredible trysts with her mother Angel that had left me sexually spent. That was when Angel asked me to bed her only other daughter Elsie since the child had never had an orgasm.

I’d used the two days to rest, relax, get a massage, take a long hike up several short hills, and get a tan. The big drawback to spending most of the week fucking was my tan was suffering. Didn’t matter, I live in Southern California so sun isn’t missing from my life, though sexual experiences like this one were hard to find anywhere.

I’m not going to take the braggart’s route and tell you what a fabulous stud I am, and that I could have fucked them both for three more days straight. No, that’s not me. I did my best which has worked most of the time. I’d had a massage each day since, turned down passes from two lovely French ladies who knew Angel by reputation and started hitting on me once they saw her lounging by my side at the pool, and eaten as healthy as I could on vacation to build my strength for the coming evening. I was expecting a fight. Yes, the fortunes of staying in that wonderful resort that week were too vast to think of.

The front desk called me to tell me that my limousine was waiting at the front of the resort. The tiny island of St. Maarten, 36 square miles total, hardly seemed like the type of place for a limo. Small streets and even many dirt roads that were narrow, filled with potholes, blind hills and just treacherous to drive on in the light of day. A limo at night was madness.

As the driver shut the door behind me I reached straight away for the waiting bottle of champagne. I popped the cork as he returned to his seat and began the drive to the boat. The champagne was Dom, the night sky starting to come alive with a few stars. Living in Los Angeles for many years I’d gotten used to seeing stars through a hazy layer of sky. Here the stars were reachable, touchable, and it was invigorating.

I was wearing a black silk shirt, blacks pants, and everything else was black. Not trying to be Hollywood, just wanting to match whatever Elsie wore. In the mirror I had to admit that for a tall but generally average guy I looked damned good.

I was buzzing from the champagne, the stars, and from the memories of Angel and Veronique. Sex with Angel had reached into the depths of my pleasure centers, and filled me with recurring tingles from all the great fucking we’d done. Just that afternoon she’d come down to the pool, slipping in quietly yet still raising a stir with all the men around the pool. Angel could easily be the poster Mom for sexual energy. Not a MILF (Mom I’d Like to Fuck) but a MELF (Mom Everyone would Like to Fuck.)

Her 19 year old daughter, Roni had given all of herself in its virginal state to me, and I had taken her in every way I knew how to. Sex for me has developed into Sexual Improv, trying hard to be like a masseuse that’s tuned in to your body; able to sense what’s needed and give that. The energy and eagerness of Roni and the sensuality of Angel, actually quite opposite powers but I could see how Roni would someday grow into yet another Angel, and that was stirring my crotch. Now I was going to bed the third and final woman of the family, Elsie. Yet another of my many sexual fantasies come true.

So why was I more than slightly concerned about Elsie? Because she was the family black sheep, currently spending her holidays on St. Maarten with a guy that looked like he’d not yet heard the 80’s hair bands had all moved on to cemeteries or VH1 Behind The Music segments? He had hugely spiky hair and an attitude, though I’d only seen the two of them briefly and never yet spoken to them. Each time I’d seen Elsie she was bitching at her parents about something, and that did nothing to make me want her. I’d tamed women before, and didn’t want to do it with a 23 year old, not ever again if I could help it. Besides, she could possibly ruin my memory of Angel and Roni, I shuddered at the thought. I was going to have to write to Penthouse Forum when I got home, seriously.

Elsie had the looks of the family, but had chosen to tarnish her beauty by dying her hair blue and orange, showing multiple piercings and I’m sure there were others we couldn’t see, several bad tattoos on her arms and legs, wearing rags for clothes, and baring her breasts through those tattered clothes quite often. You could tell she had an inner beauty that was only slightly buried, but it was enough to make her come off as white trash. She was the rebel, which made me wonder why she would even tell Angel that she’d never had an orgasm.

I’d had sex with Angel because she invited me to her Penthouse suite and seduced a very willing me. When she’d asked me to be Roni’s first lover I was skeptical but willing to do it. Slap me if I ever tell you otherwise. After spending a long time that afternoon gazing at Roni’s naked body on the beach, the entire rest of the day had found my brain focused on the moistness between her legs lightly covered with sand. The ensuing two days of sexual bliss with Roni has been a highpoint in my life.

But Elsie was different. Elsie seemed hell bent on being the only rebel the family could produce, and fucking herself and her life up along the way. That scared me. As much as I could have a stern side, I’m a decent guy and one that doesn’t like to hurt women, certainly I’d never struck one in anger and though I know you always have to play games to combat a woman’s games, I like women. I like the way they feel. I like the way it feels to slowly and excruciatingly enjoyably insert my cock into Roni’s ass for the first time ever, knowing she could hate it but praying that at least that once she’d love it. Face it, I love women and want them in my life.

I felt the limo go into a very wide turn; only the first time on the short trip I’d even felt the car moving. What an excellent driver, especially considering the poor shape of the roads he was driving on.

The car came to a stop and the driver turned to look at me. “Sir, the launch is waiting just across the parking lot to take you to the ship.” He said it like we were heading for a cruise on the Queen Mary. As I nodded he left his seat and came around to hold the door for me.

I refilled my glass and stepped into the parking lot. We were in Marigot Harbor, looking out at more than 100 boats of all sizes and shapes. Maybe half of them had lights running. There were several large yachts moored right under the beautiful Fort De Marigot, and I wondered what our boat would be. I looked away from the large ones expecting to be taken to a 35 foot Sea Ray or something. The sun was just above the horizon, a scattered collection of light clouds filled the sky, remnants from the afternoon showers. A reggae band played just a few doors down, the steel drums lightly taking wind.

The driver walked with me to a waiting launch at the shallow dock. I saw two empty beach chairs and was reminded of that line from a Jimmy Buffett song, “…while out on the beach there are two empty chairs that say more than the people who ever sit there…” The chairs in the harbor spoke volumes, or was I just wanting to avoid meeting Elsie alone?

Two crewmen were waiting, one at the controls, another to help me aboard and take in the lines holding the boat steady to the dock. The launch was gracious and observed the no wake restriction as we motored out into the bay. It was early evening and there were a number of boats moving about, not all of them being so nice. The wind in my hair and right beside me another bottle of Dom. Angel and her people were making sure this was another great evening, so why was I concerned? Because I was about to fuck a hellion, or be fucked by one? Yes.

Soon it became obvious that we were heading right for the largest most brightly lit ship in the harbor. It was big, certainly bigger than anything else there, but the size isn’t what made it stand out. The helicopter on the ass end made it stand out. It was the only ship in the harbor with a helicopter and I was minutes away from stepping aboard, drooling at the ship I was going to meet Elsie on for the first time. And give her the very first orgasm of her life, I was certain. Or was I?

The crew helped me onto the yacht and I only had seconds to gaze at it before the captain walked up to me. “Welcome to ‘The Playroom’. Follow me, sir.” He started walking up the stairs a level higher so I followed him.

“Please, call me Sean,” I said as I felt the boat moving. “Is Elsie here yet?” I asked.

“She’s been here for several hours. She wanted time to get ready, Sean. She asked for the time alone and we were happy to oblige her wish,” he said as we reached the next level and he pointed out to the vast beauty of the Caribbean Sea at sunset that day. “The crew is thrilled that on one of the most beautiful nights of the year we have passengers to show this all off to.”

“Where is she?” I asked ignoring his comment about the evening sky. Might as well get on to the next step, especially if it was going to be bad. I felt the ship moving out to sea under my feet.

“She’s in the main salon sir, just through that door.” He pointed out the right door to me. “With your permission, we thought we’d quietly motor over to a protected harbor we know of off Saba. It’s about an hour trip. Then we can serve dinner and be out of your way, yet here when you need us.”

“Sounds great, but I’ll check with Elsie and let you know if we want to change anything.”

The captain walked off, a butler brought me yet another glass of champagne, and I stood to admire the ship, just as they gave it a slight bit more power as we left Marigot harbor. I asked the butler the statistics of the ship, and his eyes lit up as he told me; 132 feet, a crew of 9, two of which were qualified in the helicopter, the launch they’d picked me up in larger than most people’s fishing boats, four Wave Runners, one ski boat, one Hobie Cat. Four windsurfers, scuba gear for twelve, a chef from a 5 Star Paris restaurant that did a three month stint each year to relax, and a range of close to ten thousand miles. It was totally self contained even making its own water. The entire ship was washed from stem to stern every day, every surface in it cleaned. Geez, this really was a ship. We were on the top level, and there were two levels below. The helicopter perched mere feet above my head and I knew I would figure a way to get a ride in it.

I thanked the butler and stepped to the salon door. Nothing could take away the question of how Elsie was going to behave, and I wanted to know. I opened the door and stepped into the room. There was only one low light burning behind the bar. The rest of the room was one large shadow, mainly because I had just been looking over the bright lights of the harbor.

“Sean,” said a voice from the corner, “I want to make a request before we continue, all right?”

“Elsie?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Fine, what’s the request?” I asked.

“We call it road rules; whatever happens here stays here.”

“You think I went around the island telling all seven of the people I know that I had sex with Angel and Roni?” I asked not just slightly insulted.

“You discussed Roni with mother. I don’t want you to discuss me with anyone,” she asked.

“Ah,” I said. She was right. Her tone was pleasant, not the fearful voice of someone that was planning to ruin my date with her. I also knew that when she had told her boyfriend she was going away for a night or two he had gotten angry and taken a taxi to the airport. He was gone. “Yes, I promise,” I replied.

My eyes were beginning to adjust to the light in the room and I could see her in the corner. She was sitting in a large leather chair. She was small enough to look smothered by the chair, and I recalled she was only 23.

“Good. Now, I mean, I don’t want you to discuss anything at all, got it?”

“Yes,” I said getting a little irritated.

With that I heard her pop the cork on a bottle of Champagne, Dom I was certain, and then she stood, reached for the wall, and the lights came on in the salon.

I was ready for the champagne and Elsie to be standing in a linebacker’s stance, ready to knock me on my ass. I wasn’t ready for her to be standing there in a black Vera Wang silk dress, hair having been died to a lustrous shade of auburn and held up above the back of her head by a slender pearl inlaid clip. I wasn’t ready for the dress to so graciously hug her muscular curves, or for the way her breasts were now hidden and I suddenly wanted to see them. I wasn’t ready for this formerly garish princess to have a solid body, not like her petite younger sister. And I surely wasn’t ready for her feet to be wearing a very ladylike thee inch heeled shoe with slender straps holding her feet in. I wasn’t ready for all of her pierced jewelry to be gone, as she now stood there with only a brilliant diamond necklace, bracelet and earrings on. Quiet and expensive. I wasn’t ready for all of the tattoos to be gone and in their place the same smooth oiled skin Roni and Angel had.

She looked like a girl who had played soccer and ridden horses for years. Not petite, nothing fat about her, all muscle, yet relaxed muscle. That’s why I thought she must have spent time with horses. Horses are exercise yet they’re also very calming.

I was also ready for a devilish grin and her to walk over to me with the champagne. She refilled my glass, spilled some, set the bottle in the ice bucket then quite seductively walked toward me. Just before she would have had to touch me she did a spin in place, the bottom of her dress flaring out. I saw a lot of her as she spun, but my eyes went only to her ass. It was round and firm, and when she spun left she was slightly turned out from me and I reached for that ass, electricity igniting my fingers as the silk of the dress caressed my fingers.

She touched her glass to mine. “To secrets,” she toasted. I knew it was her because it was the same face, but where had this change come from?

Her free hand went immediately to my cock, it was having a tough time staying in my pants and her hand found it right off.

“The Captain…” I tried to say but words were tough in coming to my mouth. Elsie was radiant, and so totally different than I’d seen her only days before. Which one of her was an act I wondered.

“I hope you don’t mind if we anchor off St. Barts tonight?” she asked.

“Fine. The Captain said something about Saba…” My gaze was fixed on her, my mind not sure if I was speaking a language anyone could understand and didn’t care.

“Saba is nice for diving, but I like St. Barts. I think it will be calmer water there.” She seemed to know and I didn’t have an opinion. “We’ll dive Saba tomorrow.”

As she said it the butler entered with some more hors d’ouvres. I hadn’t noticed the small setting on the bar, but walked over for something to bite. Elsie told the butler her plans for St. Barts instead of Saba. I bit into a light pasty, watching that ass the whole time.

Outside the ship, lights from Marigot were fast fading as we moved a few miles off the coast. I could see stars everywhere, including straight out in front of me. The butler left just as Elsie had another idea. She went over to a phone and punched a button on it. All I heard was her laughter, warm and sweet, and she talked the captain into doing what she wanted. She hung up the phone and came over.

“The captains says the moon will be reflecting off of Saba tonight and we should see it. So we will take a fast cruise around Saba during dinner, then head for St. Barts and anchor there for the night. This is okay with you?” she asked.

“Fine.” I sipped my champagne, expecting her to be a twin, the evil Elsie coming out any second. “Where did you go to school” I asked.

“NYU, graduated last month, why?” she asked.

“Your English, it’s far better than Angel or Roni, though both of them try hard not to have an accent when they speak.”

“I’m sure by tomorrow morning you will notice lots of differences between my mother and sister and I.” Then she placed a piece of melon in her mouth and walked into my arms. She gently pushed the melon into my mouth until our lips met, then we each slowly sucked the melon back and forth between us. I could feel where her teeth had smoothed some of the edges of the melon when she pushed it into my mouth, I could feel her arms pulling me in closer, giving herself to me. Whatever act she might be playing, she was fully into what we were here to do.

Somehow the melon got chewed and eaten and our mouths stayed together. Our glasses were set on the counter and we just melted over to the large couch. I know I spent far too much time rubbing, caressing, touching, feeling, and loving her ass, but I couldn’t help it. It had been hidden from my world until now and I was amazed. I have always been a leg and butt man ever since Freshman year in high school when several of the girls started to show firm round asses and long pony legs. Not a large ass mind you, firm, round, shelves.

Elsie’s legs were smooth as oiled divinity, and the silk of the dress matched the silk of my black shirt and black pants. This was not at all what I expected from Elsie, but it was welcome for sure. Several times I could feel eyes looking at us, but evidently it was the crew checking and they left when they saw we were occupied.

I first heard my zipper heading south, then felt her hand reach into my pants for my hard cock impatiently waiting there for her. She pulled my pants down, took each shoe and sock off, then removed the pants. She folded them then set them on a chair, then walked back to me. I reached behind her, each hand taking rest on her ass, stroking the firmness of it. She turned and sat between my legs, my cock sliding across her back. “Unhook my dress, please,” she asked.

There were several small pearl buttons keeping her in the dress, and I knew she could have reached them herself, but as the buttons opened they helped reveal her taut back to me. I gently pulled the fabric over her shoulders, then it just fell down to her waist. I pulled her closer so I could kiss my way from her neck downward. She shivered and goose bumps appeared on her skin. I kept kissing as her hands worked behind her and tenderly grasped my cock. God her hands felt good. She slowly started both hands working together, in the reach behind position, yet they were orchestrated immediately. One hand found my balls, stroking and gently tapping them. The other hand twisted up and down on my shaft lightly tracing arcs across it rather than grabbing it. My head was exploding, then she pulled her hands to her front.

It was such a slight and sudden move, that Elsie just seemed to lean forward, and when she sat back the lips of her dripping pussy fell over the top of my cock and I found myself pushing into the third wonderfully hot pussy in this family, then it stopped. My cock stopped; it couldn’t go any further. I even heard her let out a little sigh, and just stop moving.

The following story has been edited from the original in order to comply with this website’s guidelines. Note that only Part 1 has been edited. Please contact the author if you have any questions.

***

CHAPTER 1

***

I was eight years old when my parents died. They had come to America just before I was born, eking out a living as hired farm hands in California before moving on towards the Great Plains. This was the land of opportunity, but life was not easy in Middle America for a couple of uneducated Chinks and two small children.

Still, all of their hopes and dreams were for our success. My younger sister and I attended local schools as often as possible, and every extra penny they had went into providing for our educational needs. They dreamed that I could grow up and be a doctor or lawyer, live a better life.

We were on our way to a new job in the next state over when my dad fell asleep at the wheel. He and my mom had been driving in shifts for the last two days straight in order to make it to the new job on time. Our battered truck flipped into a ditch, and the next thing I knew, Child Services was delivering me to a dusty building where a weather-beaten couple was waiting for me. A sign by the road read “Masters Farm”.

A kind but overworked and exhausted social worker was talking to my new foster parents. They were signing some paperwork and then the social worker handed them a check. She turned and pointed to me. “His family died in an accident off Route 47. We don’t have any record of where they were headed or where they were coming from. Just a family of undocumented Chinese. But the boy’s got a US birth certificate; he speaks perfect English, and responds to the name ‘John’.”

‘Responds to’ is right. My name is “Chon”. Hell, they had my birth certificate which spelled it out for them. But after trying to get that point across for several minutes I just gave up. John sounded close enough to Chon anyways.

The social worker gave me a tight smile and then climbed into her car, driving away in a cloud of dust. My new father, a big man, bellowed in my general direction, “Johnny, get over here, boy!”

Oh how I missed my teddy bear at that moment. I hadn’t seen it since the accident. So with my eyes downcast to the dirt, I had nothing to hug but myself as I trudged forwards and followed my new parents into the house.

They sat me at a worn but serviceable dining table, and settled into the chairs opposite me. I did my best not to cry while they laid down the ground rules. First off, I was to call them “Master” and “Ma’am.” Ma’am went on to place a bowl of pea soup before me, which I ate quickly and hungrily while Master explained my situation.

“The government is only giving us pennies a month for you, and you’ll damn near eat that much alone. So you’ve gotta earn your keep around here, see? You’ll have chores all day every day, starting at six o’clock. You come right here and see me every morning and I’ll tell you what you need to do for the day. Except on Sundays. That’s the Sabbath. Understand?”

I just nodded my head yes.

Before I realized it, the side of my head was splitting in pain and Master was leaning over me, his open palm cocked for another slap. The tears were flowing freely from my eyes now. “You say ‘I understand, Master.’”

“I understand, Master,” I managed to burble out.

“Smart boy. Now part of the deal is that you’ll get some schooling. Now I think that’s a waste of time for a farm boy, but a deal’s a deal; otherwise they’ll stop giving me checks for you. Understand?”

“I understand, Master.”

“Good. You learn fast. I like that. Now when you’re finished with your supper, Katie’ll show you where you’re sleeping.”

For a moment I thought he was referring to Ma’am, but even as he said this, Ma’am turned and hollered out the backyard, “Katie! Get in here!”

Moments later, a young girl about my age came running, fear in her eyes as she stopped in front of Ma’am, rigidly at attention. “You’ll wash up Johnny’s bowl and then take him to the Barn. Understand?”

“I understand, Ma’am.”

“And you say hello to Johnny.”

Katie turned to look at me. Her eyes were the clearest blue I could imagine. “Hello Johnny. Pleased to meet you.” She came forward and scooped up my bowl, quickly moving to the sink to begin washing it. I noticed some light bruises fading on her arms and face. Nothing serious. But I understood this was a family that believed in corporal discipline.

Master explained, “Social workers brought us Katie last year. She’s a good worker. We’re hoping you’ll be a good worker too.” He turned and looked to his wife. “Heck, maybe we should get us a coupla more orphans and we won’t have to do nothing ’round here no more!”

The bowl and spoon were quickly put away, and then Katie came to me. She took my hand in hers, and led me out the back door. From that first day, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She reminded me of a doll I’d once seen in a toy store. Strawberry blonde hair, round cheeks, bright blue eyes. I’d never been at a school long enough to make real friends before. I hoped she would be my friend.

***

The first week was really rough. It took me a while to get used to saying “Master” and “Ma’am” after everything I said, and I had the bruises to prove it. They weren’t bad people, mind you. It was just their idea of discipline. And there were so many things to learn. I’d never really worked a farm before. As a kid, I’d usually just help my parents picking fruit or small jobs like that. We’d be around for planting or for harvest, then move on to the next job. All the tasks I was used do doing were handled by other hired help. Now I was suddenly expected to milk cows, saddle horses, and do all the daily things involved in running the place.

Already I was starting to learn the Rhythms of Life: Tragedy, happiness, sadness, love. One day I’m crying. The next, I’m laughing at one of Katie’s little jokes. Life goes on.

In hindsight, the overwhelming nature of my new life was a blessing in disguise. It kept my mind off of my family. I never got to mourn them, I was just forced to adjust and keep on living. Kids are pretty resilient that way.

Katie really helped me out. She was patient in teaching me everything, and always willing to help when I got in over my head. We slept in the barn loft, with warm hay and a quilt. And when the nightmares from the car crash came to me, I would find Katie wrapping me in a warm hug, and then sleep would come a little bit easier after that.

After three months, she was already the longest friend I’d ever had. Even more than that, Katie was my new “sister”. In public, I referred to the Masters as my Ma and my Pa. Townsfolk got a big laugh out of a little Chinese boy having a white sister and parents.

School would come few days and far in between. I knew how to read and could pick up the math pretty well. But whenever I’d just start to make friends or get the hang of things, the farm would call me back and I’d lose a lot of the progress I made. Same with Katie.

Time began to just fly by. With my daily routine on the farm, every day blended into the next. I never knew the exact date; but I knew when Sunday came, because it was my one day of rest (mostly). And I could count the number of winters we’d made it through.

It was the middle of my sixth winter on the farm when I snuck into the house to swipe some bread. It was still very early in the morning, the sun not yet up, and the Masters were usually still asleep at this hour. I glided through the door and down the hall with practiced ease.

I knew it was against the rules to steal. But I was really hungry and I’d only been caught but a few times doing this. The last couple of years had not been very good for the farm, and the Masters had cut back a little on feeding Katie and me. You would think that on a farm, the last thing we’d run short of was food. But I was starving. I was in the kitchen, the cupboard open and the loaf within reach when I heard a scream.

Instantly, I froze, thinking I’d been caught. Then after a few heart-pounding moments, I closed the cupboard and turned around to find myself alone in the kitchen. Then the scream came again.

I was afraid to move, but some noble male part of me ordered that I investigate and protect. So I grabbed a rolling pin and padded down the hallway. The walls closed in on me in the darkness, and just then a cloud passed in front of the moon, plunging me into an even deeper pitch of black. For a fourteen-year old boy, the unknown is a dreadfully scary thing. And my mind conjured up evil monsters lurking behind every corner in the dark. My blood racing, I hesitated, teetering on the edge of turning about and fleeing for my life.

But then the moon came out again, and I breathed a little bit easier. Gathering up my courage, I started up again. When the third scream came, directly from the Masters’ room, I hurried to their door. I was afraid I’d lost my second set of parents. The door was open, just a crack, and I got down to peer inside.

Just when I was about to push in the door, Master yelled, freezing the blood in my veins. But when I managed to look inside, Ma’am was just kissing Master. What was with all the yelling and screaming? I was very confused, and sat there with my jaw hanging open, trying to understand.

Just when you think you’ve got everything figured out around this place… Well, apparently there was no harm done, unless the Master caught me out of bed and in the house. And then there would be much harm done on my poor body. So as quietly as possible, I retreated back to the barn, and prepared myself for the day’s start.

Katie wanted to know where our bread was. I only told her that the Masters were awake, and I had run away.

***

The next morning, I woke up in my usual position: stretched out across the hay, with Katie’s strawberry-blonde head pillow on my arm. Her body was already starting to develop, and from my vantage point, I realized I could see the soft swells of her breasts starting to peek from the neckline of her shirt.

I couldn’t quite organize the thoughts in my head. Even when I was looking away, I felt the urge to turn back and examine Katie’s body once again. At first I felt I was doing something wrong. After all, I felt uncomfortable whenever Master was looking over my shoulder while I was doing some new task. And I knew that staring in general was considered rude. But this was Katie. She was my sister in a way. She was family. And that made it okay.

Katie was already awake when I began my examination of her body, and when she realized I had joined her in the world of consciousness, she moved my other arm off of her hip and turned around to face me.

“Good morning, Johnny.”

Many hours later, after a long day of work, we washed up and settled into our hay bed for the evening. I lay awake in the darkness, staring at the roof, when I started thinking about what the Masters were doing that previous morning. Why had they been yelling and screaming?

For some reason, the train of thought prevented me from going to sleep. I looked to Katie, as if she could help me figure it out. But she had already gone to sleep. Already, I could see she was becoming quite “cute”. Oddly enough, I had never thought of her in that way before. She was never a “girl” to me, just “Katie”. But now, I could see how she would soon grow into the body of a woman.

As I watched her sleep, my face started to heat up, my breath not coming as easily as it normally did. My heart was pounding, and in shame and confusion, I tore my eyes away from Katie, turning around and facing the wall, willing my thoughts towards something else.

Fidgeting, I started mentally reciting my chore list for tomorrow, going over every little detail and every little step of my tasks. Eventually, I tired out and fell into a fitful sleep.

***

It was a few days later, a Sunday actually. Most Sundays, the Masters let us sleep in, and wouldn’t come to get us until about nine o’clock to get ready for church. Since we normally woke up with the sun, those extra hours were the highlight of our week.

Katie and I woke up in our usual position: stretched out across the hay, with Katie’s strawberry-blonde head pillow on my arm. My other arm was wrapped around her belly, holding her tightly.

The sun had just risen, and so we were awake when the morning rays entered our barn. But being a Sunday, we just lay there and enjoyed the time off. I snuggled in closer and let the sweet smell of Katie fill my nostrils while I left my eyes closed.

Perhaps a half an hour later, Katie turned around and stared into my eyes, her head still pillowed on my arm. “Johnny, I want to try kissing again.”

We had tried it a few times a year ago after watching the Masters do it. After all, if was easier to experiment with each other instead of trying to find someone from school. But kissing just felt funny, and a little awkward. It was nothing special and so we didn’t see what the point was.

So when Katie asked me, I looked at her kind of confused. But if she wanted to try something, sure, why not? There was no harm in it. “Um, okay.”

She leaned forward, puckering her lips the way we’d seen Ma’am do, and pressed her lips to mine. Last time we’d done this, it was nothing special. But this time? Something electric was jolting through my body, and I found myself pressing my lips back at hers with a burst of energy. Instinctively, my arms wrapped around her body, my palms finding a good grip on her butt cheeks.

It was all over too quickly. Katie backed up, her eyes bright. We both smiled, wondering at how different that had felt. I wanted to try it again. But then she simply turned around, snuggling in against my body again. We cuddled in bed the way we had always done for warmth and in friendship. Somehow, this felt very different.

Two weeks later, the Masters moved Katie to a bedroom inside the house. Ma’am’s health wasn’t so good. They needed Katie to start becoming a housemaid. Besides, I was strong enough now that I could handle all our farm chores myself. And then I was on my own again.

***

Several more winters went by, and Katie had grown up into a beautiful woman. I didn’t see that many girls to compare, just a few at school or around town and the matrons at church. But still I could tell that she was far more attractive than anyone else I had ever met. Now that she worked inside the house, she was able to keep clean, and her skin was clearer and softer than I ever remembered.

Katie had developed into a lithe version of the classic hourglass figure: tall, slender, and curvy in all the right places. She had an especially buoyant bosom that turned the heads of every male that saw her, and Ma’am made sure that every one of Katie’s dresses and blouses had a high neckline to keep her breasts out of sight.

I’d caught glimpses of them myself, but only glimpses. In the privacy of our barn loft, Katie and I would sneak away to practice kissing. She would loosen the ties to her constricting dresses, allowing the upper slopes of her breasts to come into view. I didn’t know exactly why, but seeing the shallow valley begin between the two mountains did more to get me hard than anything else. And Katie learned early on to tease me with these glimpses and get me to kiss her with greater passion.

Matched with a cute face and big blue eyes, Katie was the unquestionably the prettiest girl within a hundred miles. The Masters had to work extra hard to keep away all the boys who wanted to court her.

For my part, I went out of my way to threaten anyone who made unwelcome advances at my Katie as well. I’d grown up over the past few years, a steady American farm diet leading me to not only be taller than the Master, but also be stronger and more muscular. I didn’t have to work very hard to make a boy think twice about annoying Katie.

I also realized then that I’d been at the farm for most of my life. It was the only permanent home I’d ever had, and it was time for me to start taking an active responsibility in the place. Master was getting on in years, and couldn’t move as easily as he used to, so I had taken over some of the duties in charge.

Master would bring me to meet our business partners, and I was making friends with our customers and suppliers. Plus, it turned out I had a knack for the business things. With me in charge, we were starting to turn a healthier profit. It was a good thing too, as Katie and I had both reached the age where the government stopped sending checks. More and more every month, Master was looking on me as the son he never had, and I was earning his respect.

One day, after bringing home a particularly good check, Ma’am called on Katie to bring me an iced cold glass of lemonade.

“Johnny, you’re the new Man of the House!” Ma’am glanced at Master coming through the door behind me, a wink and a teasing grin on her face. “Isn’t he Katie? Johnny’s all grown up into a fine young man!”

Katie just smiled at me, her eyes sparkling as her gaze went up and down my body. “Yes, Ma’am. He has.”

I stared for a moment at her, her hair pulled into twin braids, a demure blouse and skirt doing little to hide her gorgeous figure.

Master just settled his heavy hand on my shoulder, breaking my reverie. “You’re doing good, Johnny. Just don’t let it go to your head. Understand?”

“I understand, Master. I won’t.”

I agreed not to get an inflated ego. But my confidence was booming, and it showed in the way I carried myself around the farm, as if now I was the master of my own domain.

That very afternoon, I was taking a cold shower in my usual spot towards the back of the barn. It wasn’t much more than a jerry-rigged cold-water hose inside a wooden partition. But with the heat of those days, it was quite refreshing.

I grabbed the towel off the hook, and began to dry myself off when the door opened. Instinctively, I covered myself with the towel, and Katie stood there with an impish smile on her face, carrying a fresh towel of her own.

“You done yet? You’ve been in here for ten minutes already!” I watched her eyes lazily trail downwards from my face. I was then thankful the cold water made sure I wasn’t going to get an embarrassing tent in my towel for at least a minute or two.

“It’s all yours.”

I stepped out, and Katie stepped in and began to shrug out of her dress even before I closed the door. Thing was, the door was just a few pieces of wood Master and I had slapped together, and we weren’t too careful about making sure there were no gaps between the wood pieces. From my particular vantage point, I could see little bits and pieces of Katie’s naked form right through the gaps, and my imagination was filling in all the perfection that I couldn’t actually see. She had the most beautiful breasts, firm yet soft, round yet perky. Her fit body had a trim waist, and a wonderfully shaped ass. The view was so much more than just a hint of her cleavage.

As quiet as I could be, I simply stood there and watched, catching brief glimpses of pink flesh while my heart started beating faster and faster. It didn’t even occur to me that if I could see her form through the slits, she too could see me. But all too quickly, Katie was done, the sound of water fading as she turned it off.

Shaking my head, I turned around and headed back to my loft. I’d recently discovered masturbation… and this was a fresh experience for my dreamy visions.

***

“Johnny, why are my breasts so fascinating?”

I half-choked on the piece of apple I was chewing on. Katie and I were sitting at the table, catching a breather after lunch in the main house. Ma’am had already retired to her room for a quick nap and Master had already headed out to the fields with a stern reminder for me to join him in ten minutes.

Carrie pulled the hood of her sweatshirt forward over her eyes, even though it did no good. She peered down the street through the raindrops on her glasses. Where was the damn bus? It should have been there 15 minutes ago, and it was dark and getting colder. And now it was raining, too. She fished the crumpled bus schedule out of her pocket and her heart sank — there in bold print at the bottom, it read, “Due to street repairs December 8-31, the #16 Cross-Town will be re-routed…”

Well, shit. She sighed and tried to figure out if she had enough cash for a cab. As she stood there mentally counting her pocket change, a car pulled up to the curb and the passenger window slid down slowly. Carrie could barely make out a male driver, no passengers, non-descript blue sedan…oh, not good, not good at all. Heart pounding, she stuffed her hands in her pockets and began walking away, quickly.

“Hey!” the driver called. Carrie ignored him, walking even faster down the empty street. The car followed her, slowly. “Hey wait — Caroline!” She stopped in her tracks and spun around. “It’s me, Dave Simpson.”

Still keeping a wary distance, she squinted into the dark interior of the car, and was pretty certain the driver was the man who had taught her 12th grade English. “Mr. Simpson?”

He laughed, “It’s been — what? Two years since graduation? I think you can call me Dave now.” He leaned over to open the passenger door. “Sheesh, girl, it’s pouring — hop in!”

Carrie hesitated for only a moment, before sliding gratefully into the warm, dry car. “Oh, man, my clothes are soaked, I’m sorry, your upholstery…”

“Quit apologizing,” he said, “I saw you looking like a drowned rat out there, so I knew what I was in for.” He grinned at her, and she couldn’t help but grin back. He didn’t look like he’d changed at all since she was in his class — same tousled brown hair, same easy smile, same kind blue eyes behind studious wire-rimmed glasses. She felt a quick rush of warmth to her face as she remembered what a huge crush she’d had on him. He pulled back out on to the street. “So, where are we headed?”

“Well…I live quite a way from here…” she gave him directions to her apartment.

He gave a low whistle. “And you always take the bus, this late at night?” He glanced over quickly, concern on his face. “I mean, not that you can’t take care of yourself, but it’s dark out there, and kind of deserted.”

“I know, I know,” Carrie replied. “But my car is in the shop, and I was working on a paper at the library — it’s due on Friday, before Winter Break, and I’m kind of struggling with it.”

“Really? What’s your topic?”

Carrie rolled her eyes. “Huxley’s Brave New World and Orwell’s 1984, comparing their visions of the future.”

“Wow,” Dave said, nodding thoughtfully. “Ambitious undertaking.”

“Yeah, but I may have bit off more than I could chew this time.” She polished the water drops off of her glasses with the edge of her t-shirt, which was slightly drier than her hoodie. “I have the outline, all of my note cards, the bones written down — I’m just having a hard time pulling it all together, you know, making it gel.” She sighed, her mood suddenly as dismal as the weather.

“Hmm…” Dave mused, while they idled at a stop light. “You know, my house isn’t far. We could go there, I could look at what you’ve got, see if I can offer any suggestions. We could even throw your sweatshirt in the dryer for a few minutes.” He grinned again. “What do you say?”

“Would you?” Carrie’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that would be so great…I mean, I’d really appreciate any help you could give me!”

“Absolutely,” he said. “I remember you being a very good student, Carrie, an excellent writer. I’m looking forward to reading what you have done so far.”

Carrie blushed, and looked out the window, “Thanks Mr. Simpson.”

He glanced at her again, quickly, then turned right, on to a suburban street. “No problem — always glad to help out a former student. And please, call me Dave.”

Carrie bit her lower lip, shyly. “Okay…Dave. Thanks.”

Dave drove through an older neighborhood, with small, well-kept yards and huge trees lining the street. His house was fairly small, with a huge wrap-around porch. They dashed from the car to the front door, laughing and dodging raindrops. He tossed Carrie’s hoodie in the dryer and gave her some towels to dry off and spread out on the couch so she could sit down. He introduced her to his Jack Russell terrier, Oscar — Oscar Wilde, named by a friend, Dave explained, rolling his eyes — who was excited and delighted to have company visiting, but finally settled down, curling up on a cushion on the floor.

“Do you need to call anyone to let them know you’ll be late?”

Carrie shook her head. “Nope…my Gran couldn’t take the cold and the damp anymore, so my parents moved with her to Arizona a couple of months ago. Since I’m in school, I decided to stay and get an apartment.”

“Ah, I see.” Dave reached in a drawer and pulled out a stack of rainbow colored paper. He fanned it out in front of her like a magician doing a card trick and said, “Pick a card, any card — I can’t cook worth a damn, but I have take-out menus for every place in town that delivers.” Carrie selected a pizza menu; later, they munched on deep dish slices of pepperoni, mushroom, and olive while Dave proofed and critiqued her work. Carrie nodded, asked questions, and took notes…and remembered why Mr. Simpson had been her favorite teacher in high school. She wasn’t the only girl in her class who had had a crush on him. He was handsome, in a nerdy sort of way — tall and lean, with that wonderful smile. He was young, right out of college two years ago…friendly, kind, great sense of humor — but also intense and passionate about literature, and he imparted that excitement and enthusiasm to his students.

Finally, yawning, Carrie asked him to please drive her home. He helped her slip on her sweatshirt, now warm and drier than the rest of her clothes. As he pulled up to her apartment building, he said, “You know, I could help you polish that paper a little more, if’ you’d like to come over again, maybe tomorrow?”

Carrie felt her heart pounding, her breathing shallow. “Yes, yes, I’d really like that…I’d appreciate it…um, I get my car out of the shop in the afternoon…what time would you like me to come over?”

They agreed about 6:00 would be good. They exchanged phone numbers, and Carrie programmed his number into her cell. Just before she left the car, Dave slid his arm around her shoulder and gave her a quick little squeeze. “Great, see you then..”

OK, this is really weird, Carrie thought, as she let herself in to her apartment. Why do I feel like I just made a date with my teacher? She stripped off her damp clothes, tossing them in the hamper, and stepped into a hot, steamy shower. She lathered the soap luxuriously over her soft skin. She closed her eyes, leaning back against the tile wall, feeling her nipples grow taut, imagining how Dave’s hands would feel sliding down her sides, over her curvy hips, then behind her to cup her bottom, pulling her closer as he…

Carrie snapped back to reality. Jeez, get a grip. What would a guy like Dave see in a shy, plain, inexperienced girl like her? As she dried off, she appraised her reflection in the mirror critically. Wavy brown hair…that was okay, she guessed. Ivy green eyes — probably her best feature, but always behind her ever-present glasses. A scattering of freckles — not every guy likes those. And there’s just too much of me, she thought, frowning at her full breasts and smacking her ample ass in irritation. She towel dried her hair, pulled on a nightshirt, and climbed into bed.

Carrie lay awake in the dark, tossing and turning, thinking about the little squeeze Dave had given her shoulders, wondering if it meant anything at all. Her nipples felt super sensitive, rubbing against the soft cotton, and she brought her hands up under the covers to tweak them and pull on them, teasing them into aching little peaks. Still tugging on her nipples with her left hand, she slid her right hand into her panties, her two fingers sliding wetly over and over her throbbing clitoris as she brought herself to a quick, intense orgasm and soothed herself to sleep.

The next morning, she woke up late — her hair tangled, the sheets in disarray, and her panties pushed halfway down her thighs. She’d evidently had some wild dreams. And she could hardly concentrate in class.

At 6:05, Oscar ran to the door, barking, and Dave opened it to a shivering Carrie on his front porch. “Come in, come in,” he said, ushering her out of the cold. They worked on the finishing touches of her paper over take-out chow mein.

“Well, that was fun,” Dave said, clearing the table. “How do you feel about it?”

“Pretty good, actually.” Carrie admitted. “And really relieved — I didn’t think I’d ever finish it…wow, and it’s only 7:30!” She looked amazed.

“Yep, you worked hard. I’d give you an A.” She smiled shyly at his praise. “So..big plans for the holidays?”

“No, not really. Since my folks and Gran moved away, it’s just me,” she sighed.

“I can relate,” Dave said, nodding. “Doesn’t feel much like Christmas this year.”

Carrie looked around at his tidy, almost Spartan, living room. “You know what? You need a tree.”

An hour later, they were back with a tree…a stand…a couple of boxes of ornaments…a string of lights…all the things Carrie insisted Dave needed, and he had obliged because her bubbly enthusiasm was contagious. While he filled the stand with water and worked on getting the tree as straight as possible, Carrie ran out to her car and came back in with a couple of CD’s. She popped one in his stereo, and then Bing was dreaming of a White Christmas. Dave laughed and shook his head, but after a couple of songs, the tree was decorated, the house smelled like pine, and he had to admit, it really felt more like Christmas. He scrounged up a couple of packets of hot cocoa mix, spiked them with peppermint Schnapps, and handed a mug to Carrie. “Not as good as real cocoa,” he apologized, “but the Schnapps helps a bit.”

“Helps a lot!” Carrie giggled. “Now all you need are some cookies.”

“Well,” he said softly, taking the mug from her hands and setting it down, “I think maybe I could use some mistletoe.”

Dave took her face in his hands and kissed her gently. When she didn’t protest, he wrapped his arms around her. His kiss deepened, tasting of chocolate and peppermint, and Carrie’s knees felt weak. He pulled her close against his body, and Carrie felt a hardness in the front of his jeans, pressing against her belly. He shifted slightly against her, and she could feel it growing, getting stiffer. She broke the kiss, and came up for air, gasping slightly. Her cheeks felt so hot, and she stammered, feeling stupid, “Uh…w-well…thanks for the help…and the cocoa…” She gathered up her papers, stuffing them haphazardly into her backpack.

“Carrie, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to…”

“No, no,” she said, embarrassed, unable to look at him, “it’s not you, it’s me…believe me, it’s me.”

Dave touched her arm. “You don’t have to leave…I’ll behave, I promise.”

“Yeah, I really do have to go…class in the morning. Listen, I’ll call you and let you know my grade, ok?”

Carrie didn’t call, but she sent him a text message, “I got an A — thanks for all your help!”

He texted back, asking her over to celebrate, but got no response.

A week later, at 5:00 on Christmas Eve, Dave was flipping through the channels, telling Jimmy Stewart on TV that, no, it really WASN’T such a Wonderful Life. Oscar suddenly bounded toward the door, barking furiously, and then there was a knock. “Hey boy,” Dave said, patting Oscar while nudging him away from the door, “someone’s here, huh?”

Dave opened the door to Carrie, grinning, cheeks pink with the cold, holding a plate of assorted homemade cookies. “Wow, those look fantastic! So do you!” he laughed. “Come in, come in…”

“I just wanted to thank you for all your help, you saved my grade. I’m sorry I didn’t call, I just –”

“Don’t worry about it, you don’t need to explain anything,” he assured her.

They’d had enough of take out food, so Dave took her out for a real dinner at his favorite Italian restaurant. They drove around and looked at Christmas lights for a while, then finally pulled back into Dave’s driveway. “Well,” he said. “Want to come in for cookies? I happen to have some homemade ones. And I even have milk for real cocoa.” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

“REAL cocoa this time? How could a girl resist?” Carrie laughed.

He dimmed the lights and plugged in the tree. They sat, munching cookies and sipping spiked hot chocolate, listening to Carrie’s Christmas CD’s and telling stories. Suddenly, Dave said, “Hey, I almost forgot — I got a gift for you. Hang on, I’ll be right back.” He bounded down the hall, and returned quickly with a small package wrapped neatly in gold paper. “It’s not much, but when I saw it, I immediately thought of you. And I was really hoping I’d see you again.”

Carrie’s eyes shone as she unwrapped a green leather-bound journal, the cover tooled in intricate leaf designs. “Wow, thank you so much,” she said softly, “it’s beautiful.”

“I thought of you as soon as I saw it — the color reminded me of your eyes.” She looked at him, surprised, and he cleared his throat. “I just wanted you to know, you are a talented writer, Carrie, and I hope you keep writing.” Cautiously he reached out and brushed her hair back from her face. “You know, I have to confess something. When you were in my class a couple of years ago, you were what — eighteen?” She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, feeling like she could barely breathe.

“Well,” he said quietly, “even when you were my student and I knew it was wrong, knew I couldn’t have you, knew that I shouldn’t even think about it,” his hand slid from her shoulder, down to the small of her back, as he leaned in and kissed her forehead gently, “I wanted you. I wanted you so much. Do you know how hard that was for me?”

Carrie nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah, yeah, I do.” She slipped her arms around his neck and whispered, “I have a present for you too…but you will need to unwrap it.”

He kissed her lips, her cheeks, her eyelids; he nuzzled her neck and his mouth was so warm. “Carrie, baby…” he murmured, his hands slipping under her sweater, and then tracing up the smooth skin of her back. “It feels so good to finally be able to hold you…to touch you…” She didn’t even realize he had unhooked her bra, and she was amazed to feel his hands cupping her bare breasts, his thumbs teasing her hardening nipples. She made a little sound of pleasure, deep in her throat, and he pulled her on top of him, straddling his lap. His hands were in her hair, and his kisses were more urgent, more insistent. She felt his hardness pressed up against her, but this time she didn’t pull away. She circled her hips, experimentally, grinding her crotch against his. Dave grabbed her hips impatiently, and pushing himself up against her, feeling her heat through her jeans. She rubbed against him again, and he groaned against her neck, his arms tightening around her; she felt a shudder run through his body, and suddenly he pushed her away, not roughly, but firmly. “Stop, god, stop, you’re going to make me come before I’m even inside you!”

Carrie blushed, delighting in this information, in her new-found sense of power. He chuckled, kissed her a few more times, and gently removed her glasses and put them on the end table, next to his. Then he grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. “Condoms, condoms are in the bedroom,” he muttered, while he steered her down the hall.

“Um, I’m on the pill…for my cycle…” Carrie said shyly.

“Good, good,” Dave said, between kisses, “real good.” He left a trail of their clothing all the way to the bedroom: her sweater, his shirt, her bra, his belt, their shoes and socks…when they got to his bed, he tugged her jeans and panties down over her hips and tossed them on the floor, and his jeans followed in the heap. “Looks like we both lost a strip poker game,” he joked, and Carrie giggled, a little nervously.

Dave lay next to Carrie, nuzzling her neck and kissing her shoulder. His skin was warm, and she could feel the length of his hard cock throbbing against her hip. His palm stroked down her belly to the soft curls between her thighs. Carrie parted her legs slightly as Dave stroked her pussy, easing her labia apart with his fingertips, and sliding one long, slim finger into her opening. He whispered in her ear, “You’re so wet, so tight, I can’t wait to be inside you.” He rolled on top of her, pressed the head of his cock against her slick slit, and thrust forward with his hips. “Baby, you’re so tight,” he panted with effort, pushing a little more insistently…and met resistance…

His eyes searched her face. Carrie was biting her lip, breathing shallowly, but she had a look of almost grim determination on her face. “Please, Dave, please…don’t stop.”

“Carrie?” She wouldn’t meet his eyes, and suddenly he understood and felt like a total bastard for not realizing sooner. “Oh, honey, you’ve never done this before?”

She looked at him pleadingly. “It’s okay, I’m okay, just do it, please…”

Dave felt himself wilting just a little, the urgency gone. “No, baby, not hurried like this. You deserve better. I didn’t know. You deserve something special.”

“This IS special!” Carrie insisted. “Dave…you’re the best teacher I’ve ever had. I know you can teach me how. I trust you.” She buried her face against his chest, mumbling, “Besides, it’s my Christmas present for you. I want you to be my first.”

He circled his arms around her, holding her for a moment. He ran his hands up and down her arms soothingly, then kissed the top of her head. “Alright…but let’s back up a few steps.”

Carried looked at him, questioningly.

“Well,” he said, “we were sort of skipping straight to dessert, without an appetizer or a main course.”

Carrie nodded, swallowing hard, while Dave slowly began kissing down her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone, her breasts…stopping to tease her nipples with his lips and tongue while Carrie sighed and ran her fingers through his hair. He continued his journey south-ward, dipping his tongue briefly into her navel, then settled himself between her legs, bending her legs at the knee and pushing her thighs apart. His breath was hot against her, and he opened her pussy with his thumbs, running his tongue from her untried opening to her tiny clit. Carrie gasped in shock — no one had ever done this to her before. She’d made out with a few guys in school, a few uninspired gropes in the backseat, dry humping, a couple of quick hand jobs. But no man had ever taken the time to focus on her, to devote himself entirely to her pleasure. “Dave…” she managed to squeak.

“Yeah?” he said, grinning up at her from between her thighs.

“That’s…wow…that’s amazing…it feels…” Carrie found herself at a loss for further words.

“Nice?” he murmured, giving her a long lick.

“Ohhhh god,” Carrie groaned, her knees trembling, and she felt like she was melting under his tongue like a scoop of strawberry ice cream. “It feels a lot more intense than when I…you know…masturbate,” she finished, embarrassed.

“Well, sure…kind of like, you can’t tickle yourself, you know…it’s better when someone else makes you feel good.” He licked her again, and she writhed under him, her pussy opening for him like a flower. “Just relax for me, Carrie, let me make you feel good…”

He lapped her gently, teasing her clitoris, feeling it swell under his tongue. He laved little circles around it, experimenting until he found the spot that made her pant, made her push her pussy against his mouth, her hands pulling a little at his hair. He smiled to himself, focusing on that sweet spot, feeling Carrie’s thighs shaking under his hands, while she moaned, “Yes…yesss…oh Dave…right there…I’m so close…” He felt her clit throbbing, and sucked gently until he tasted a gush of her sweet juices as she came in his mouth.

I work for Express Deliveries, and had a new address to deliver today. I walked up to the door and knocked, she opened the door.

“Hello I’m Icey Fire,” she said “Well aren’t you a tall one.”

The gal speaking was of average height about 5’ 4” Blonde hair and blue eyes, and pretty well built. The T-shirt she was wearing was one of those muscle T-shirts. I could look down into the gap between her tits. Her nipples made nice little bumps in the icy blue material. She smiled, as she looked me up and down, I tried to keep calm.

I told her I had a package for this address. She laughed and told me to step inside. I followed her into her home. She was wearing a hot red mini-skirt that stopped just short of showing her ass. She stopped next to a coffee table and leaned over to look through her purse. Her mini-skirt rode up showing her ass and her white panties. I leaned over to put the package down and I looked up and could see that her panties had ridden up between the lips of her pussy. As she stood up, I did as well.

She handed me a ten. I told her that I don’t carry any change.

“That’s your tip,” she said. “I really needed this package today.”

She looked me up and down again and said, “are you free for the day?” I just nodded, “How would you like to earn another fifty dollars today.”

I nodded again and asked her what I would have to do. She told me she was an underwear designer. She had a job to finish and she could use someone to model for her. I told her I wasn’t a model, and I had never done anything like that.

She said it didn’t matter and that if I did that there would be more work in the future, for me. She asked me to pick up the package and follow her to her studio in the back of the house where she did her work. There were pictures of men and women all in various kinds of underwear. She took to package from me and tore it open. Taking a handful of blue fabric out she handed it to me.

“Here put this on,” she said.

I took the cloth; it was very soft and silky. When I shook it out, I realized I was holding a pair of boxers. I looked at her and she started laughing.

“I told you I design underwear,” she said “If you are feeling a little embarrassed you can change behind the screen.”

I went behind the screen and slipped out of my clothes, and I put the boxers on. There was no hem in the legs and the fly was open. I called out and told her the boxers weren’t finished. She said that’s what I need to do, was finish the boxers. She told me to step out and she would get to work on them.

I came out from behind the screen holding, the shorts together with one hand. She pointed to a small stand in the corner of the room, I climbed onto the stand. My belly button was level with her eyes. She slipped a cushion for pins on her wrist and took hold of the waist ban of the boxers. She started pulling and tugging at the waistband of the boxers. Shifting the waistband around my hips. Several times the fly parted and I know she was looking at my pubic hair. She finally pinned and marked it with a piece of chalk.

She began folding the lower hem on the boxers. As she worked her way around my ass, I could feel her fingers sliding along side of my cheeks. She worked her way around to the front of the boxers. My cock was still limp, but it had jumped when she stroked my ass cheeks. Her fingers brushed against the head as she folded the hem over my right thigh. She looked up at me smiled, and went back folding on the hem.

She finished with the hem and then worked on some tucks in the rear, to make the boxers hang better she said. She came around to the front of and slid her hand down my left thigh and then down my right thigh, right over my cock.

“Are these comfortable” she asked.

I told her I normally wore boxers but these felt loose. She smiled and said the next pair would fit better. She handed a small piece of cloth and told me to go change.

The small cloth was a pouch with strings attached. One string held up the front of the pouch and ran around my waist. The second string ran from the bottom of the pouch between my legs and up the crack of my ass I had to tuck my cock up beside of my stomach cause there was no room for my cock to hang between my balls. When I came out, she nodded and motioned me to get up on the stand.

I felt more exposed now, then I ever felt before in my life. She walked around behind he reached down and adjusted the waistband. I could feel my cock getting hard. She leaned towards me I could see her tits through the top of her T-shirt. She looked up and asked me if I would like to dance in these shorts. I told her “I didn’t know what she meant by that.”

“She said, “Would you like to dance with a woman close to you wearing this pouch?”

I said, “I am not sure and I wondered if it made a difference.”

“When you dance close with a woman she can feel you through your clothes. Would you be comfortable of you got a hard-on?” she said.

I said “I don’t know>”

“Well let’s try an experiment, if you don’t mind,” she said.

She reached out and began stroking my cock through the pouch. After a few strokes I was hard as a rock, and the head of my cock was sticking out the top of the pouch.

“I think you need a longer pouch,” she said.

She continued to stroke my cock through the pouch, as she stroked she started pulling down the front of the pouch, revealing more of my cock. She wrapped her hand around my cock and began stroking harder.

“I can’t get you excited and not do nothing about it, now can I,” she said.

She stroked the length of my cock faster, and then slowed down. Then she looked at me and smiled, then she leaned forward and started licking the head of my cock. After she had licked the head of my cock for a few minutes, she licked down my shaft down to my balls. With her free hand she pulled the pouch down and started sucking on my balls. Taking one ball into her mouth and then the other ball. With her other hand she was still stroking my cock. She licked her way back to the head and slowly sucked on the head. Then she started working down my shaft till she had all eight inches in her mouth. This was a first for me; no woman had ever sucked all eight inches of me. I could feel my balls lightly touching her chin, wow. She started to pick up the pace going faster. I told her I was about ready to cum, and she pulled her mouth off my cock. She then started to stroke my cock. When I came, I shot cum all over her face, mouth, neck, and T-shirt. She licked all over my cock till it became soft.

She went into another room and brought back a wet towel, and a dry towel. She wiped me off and then dried me.

I got dressed and she handed me a fifty-dollar bill.

“What about you,” I asked her, “don’t you want me to do anything for you?”

“I will be fine,” she said, “when you come back again I will teach you how to fit me with a pair of panties.”

I now stop, when ever I can.

Author’s note: This story is written as its own story. Two of my other stories started out as single chapters and people voted positively and emailed me lots of feedback, which caused me to write an additional chapter. If I get good strong votes and positive feedbacks on this story I will write you yet another chapter.

If you haven’t read my other works, just click on my name above for the full list.

* * * * *

As I pushed my cock’s head into Veronique’s virgin asshole I suddenly felt my whole body spasm and quake. I didn’t come, but I felt it all over. A true Tantric moment. My mind had caused this one, but it was real none the less. This was a dream coming true as my cock entered her virgin asshole. Slowly I pushed, virgin territory falling all day. You see, I’d been the man that broke her hymen, her first blow job, and over recent objections, her first anal visitor. Because her mother invited me to dinner, fucked me, then asked me to fuck her daughter. I recalled her mother’s words… “I need a first lover for Roni and I want it to be you, Mr. Blaire.” Those words floated out into the cool Caribbean air and just hung there.

Okay, let me tell you the full story…

That particular Monday was special; it was the last day I’d spend as a 41 year old kid. I was now ready to move on to being a 42 year old kid. Fortunately I was spending it in St. Maarten, the Caribbean Island just to the southeast of Puerto Rico. There are any number of nude beaches on the island, and I’d spent the day on one of them, Cupecoy Beach. Mostly gazing at unattractive people flaunting their equally unattractive bodies. But there were the rare occasions when a beautiful naked or topless young French, Italian or Brazilian girl would walk past, her skin so young and alive, causing me to long for the days of my youth as a water skiing instructor at summer camp. Young girls in bikinis always make me nostalgic for summer. I’ve passed into that phase where women under 30 rarely looked at me as anything remotely sexual. Sure, there are those girls that need a daddy, and I’ve had my share of them. But I was ignored by most of them unless they want investment advice or something ‘from an older man’. Quite simply, my hair was going gray at the fringes, and I didn’t look 25 any more.

So the afternoon took a decided upswing when, while removing a cold Kronenbourg beer from my cooler, a beautiful naked young girl fell in the sand next to me smiling, asking for two of my beers. I opened one and handed it to her. She was skinny and thin, not gorgeous and far from ugly. Cute, in a smiling, laughing way that projected energy, youth and vitality. “Who is the second one for?” I asked, figuring it was her equally young boyfriend.

“My mother is there,” she pointed, “and we’ve both run out of drinks. We were just saying how wonderful a cold beer would taste just now.” She had the English that all proper French people have, and with a pure white toothed smile her face was alive and alight. More of a British version of English but lyrical to my ears.

“My name is Sean, Sean Blaire,” I said while handing her the second beer.

“I am Veronique, my mother is Angel. The gentleman that just walked up is my father,” she began to talk more in depth about her life and family. Her mother and father were divorced but always vacationed in the same resort so the three children, Veronique, Jonathon and Elsie could spend time with both of their parents away from the business of daily life. Her father turned out to be the developer of the 5 Star Resort I was staying at. They owned the penthouse unit, rumored to be all marble and immaculate. My suite was breath taking, with a stunning view of the Caribbean Sea, so theirs had to be beyond words.

She rolled onto her left hip and kept talking. I had no idea what she said for a long time. I was peering through my sunglasses at the naked body lying next to me, not three feet away yet so comfortable being there. She looked all of 16, maybe 17. Sand clung to every inch of her that it could. Her hips, breasts, pussy, neck, little sprinkles of sand everywhere. I boldly reached out and brushed some of it off her hip, and she giggled. “Mother’s not too keen on gentlemen touching me. It’s her personal quest that I remain untouched until ‘the right time’, whenever that may come.” As she continued talking she seemed proud of her virginity and her mother’s rules didn’t bother her.

“Please excuse me,” I asked, dipping my head slightly.

“No, no, your touch is nice. I’d actually like to know what the touch of a man is all about, but so far mother forbids it.”

Just as she said it her mother called to her. “Where’s my drink, Roni?” Angel shouted.

“I’ll return shortly,” shouted Veronique over her shoulder as she ran the beer to her mother. She covered the distance quickly, interrupting an argument between her divorced parents.

“Thank you,” Angel called out, drinking half the green bottle in two gulps. Angel was laying back on a lounge chair, completely naked herself. She was one of those well maintained women that were probably 50 to 55, well aerobicized, well taken care of, and hard as a rock Mom was stunning in her own way, and proud of the naked body she was showing to the small world gathered there. On a beach that was mostly filled with naked men, these two really stood out. It was a great time to be naked on the beach.

Veronique walked over, still only covered in the powdery sand, and sat down next to me. “Mother says it is good for me to talk to you verses those young boys over there.” She pointed to a group of boys I’d seen talking to her earlier, when her mother had run them off. I was glad to hear I was considered safe, but for the moment tried to cover my raging hard on. I’m sure I stared at her crotch for too long, for she turned slightly away from me and blushed.

“Where are you from, Sean?” With that we began a two hour conversation about many things. I found her to be well read but not yet well traveled. She loved Britney, though she thought she was really a slut. She’d heard of a lot of things to do in this world and was at that time in her life when she would start to do those things, but she led a totally sheltered life. A chauffer drove her to school and picked her up each day. She was chaperoned everywhere. She enjoyed some time with her best of friends, but they too led sheltered, wealthy lives. It was a world I knew nothing about. I’d had to work for everything in my life, and would always have to. When I enjoyed life, as in staying in 5 Star resorts or flying first class, it was because I’d worked hard for the privilege. I was happy with it.

When it got hot we ran into the ocean and swam a bit, then back to my little corner of the beach. Several times a wave knocked her into me, and my hands found themselves filled with a breast, or once her crotch. She would just laugh then swim a little bit away.

“So, Roni,” I started to say.

“Please, Sean, you I would prefer not to call me Roni, okay? Call me ‘V’, or Veronique, but not Roni, okay?” she asked. I wasn’t sure what to say, so passed it on by.

We spent another hour talking, then parted ways. Yet another female ‘friend’, one I’d dearly love to fuck, but she had never even looked at me in that way, and besides, I was sure she was too young for me, or I too old for her.

My date for the trip had thrown a tantrum then decided not to come at the last minute, thinking I would cancel my plans and stay home with her. Fuck that. I laid on a few drinks and flew to the islands alone. My first night on the island I met Richard and Lucy, a Brit and his Aussie girlfriend, and the three of us set off for parties as yet unknown. I was to meet them and her friend Jodie for dinner. As I opened the door to leave for dinner the assistant manager of the resort stood at my door ready to knock. “Hello,” I said.

“Mr. Blaire?”

“Yes, late for dinner, how can I help you?”

He handed me an envelope. “Mrs. Trudant, has sent you an invitation to dinner tonight, please accept. It is always a good time.” He smiled.

I opened the envelope and started to shut the door. “Thank you,” I said.

“If I could carry back a response it would be appreciated,” he said, sticking his hand into the door just before it closed, so he could keep talking to me. “ouch,” he said as I almost shut it on his hand.

It was a hand written note on fine cream colored linen paper. Her initials were engraved at the top. It simply said, “Please join me for dinner in the Penthouse at 9:00 tonight. I will be so pleased if you can make it.” It was signed, “Angel T.”

“Yes, of course I’ll join her. What is the dress code?”

“You look fine. Shall we go?” he asked. I figured I could take his word, as he was just another gay French man on an island that had its fair share of them.

She’d cut it very close, as it was almost 9:00 currently. I called my friends and found out their drinking schedule for the night, told them I’d catch up to them later, then followed Daniel out the door. I figured a few drinks, light dinner, then hit the bars for real. St. Maarten is a spread out country, and a wonderful place to be. I loved partying here. As much as I loved the Caribbean, and had been to many of its islands, I was also looking for an island to call my vacation spot. Like women, stop looking around and start enjoying one more fully.

The elevator ride was short. But Daniel, the assistant manager, was necessary because the Penthouse required a special key for the elevator. As the doors opened I understood why. The elevator opened right into the unit, there was no entryway. And what a stunning view. The sun had already set, a cruise ship was steaming into port, and the stars were lighting up the Caribbean sky. The lights of the Penthouse were dimmed so the stars had a chance to shine though. Daniel left quickly.

“Roni is the only thing I love in this world more than this home. As you know, my name is Angel. ” she held out her hand to me. I kissed it as gallantly as I could figure out. “You are Mr. Blaire?” She was dressed in a gray silk pantsuit that caressed each ounce of her skin and clung tightly to it. She was as firm as her 19 year old daughter. A truly beautiful and amazing woman for any age. Graceful, beautiful, sexual. Her nipples were jutting out of the fabric and the outline of her crotch was clearly in view through the silk.

“Sean Blaire, and thank you for the dinner invitation. May I ask why?” “My husband and three children took the plane to St. Bart’s for the evening to visit his sister. She and I aren’t the best of friends, so I stayed. I knew you would be interesting dinner company. I hope you didn’t have other plans?”

“I did, I postponed them,” I said.

“I hope they will be cancelled. I do so love a long slow dinner, don’t you?” she said.

“We all do,” I replied.

“You were kind to my youngest daughter and I want to repay the kindness with dinner.”

“Because I was there with a cold beer when you needed one?” I asked.

“Because you kept the undivided attention of my 19 year old daughter today. Anyone that can keep her engaged for that length of time has a fine story to tell. What is your story, Sean? She asked.

Dinner lasted until midnight. Their chef, a local woman, prepared lobster, fish and vegetables, accompanied by the right wines, cheeses and soups. It was truly fabulous and slow in the European tradition. But after a three hour dinner she hadn’t put the first move on me, and we simply talked. The table was set close so we could easily talk, we touched hands now and again, but nothing more. As coffee was brought, she took hers and walked out onto the deck. There is no easy way to describe the majesty of my favorite ocean on that star filled night. Three feet away from me an incredibly sensuous woman. Nearly a full moon, and the Caribbean sea was visible to us for miles. It was so bright we could see three sailboats out for a night cruise or passage.

“Sean, I can see why Roni is enchanted with you. I want to make love with you.” Directness in this family was not a problem.

I didn’t say a word. It sounded there was a “but…” coming and I didn’t want to encourage it. I generally don’t like older women but she was as alive and sexual as her daughter and the thoughts of sex with her were very good indeed. When I didn’t say anything she looked a little nervous. I remained silent, but I smiled.

She must have taken the smile to mean yes, because she undid the silk belt at her waist and pulled on one of her sleeves, revealing her left breast. She kept pulling, feeling the silk ride across each inch of her skin, revealing the other breast, falling to her waist, then the entire pantsuit was lying around her ankles. I walked to her and took her arms, just held them. She used me for support as she stepped out of the outfit, and soon all she was wearing was her spike heeled shoes. Her body was even more magnificent close up. I pulled her close and kissed her, then looked over at the clock. “They won’t return until noon tomorrow. She forces them to stay for brunch. We have hours, if you have hours?”

Her hand reached out and covered my hardening cock. Her other hand found mine and helped me unbutton my shirt, then pull off my shorts. Shoes went flying, and we were perched 12 floors above the Caribbean, naked in the breeze. What a feeling it was. She led me to the side where a low brick fireplace was lit. Aside it were, well they felt like the old bean bag chairs, only a little softer and more molding. A Playdoh water bed? As I stood there she kneeled in front of me, taking the head of my cock into her lips slowly, surely, staring into my eyes for my reaction. I certainly had a reaction and vocalized it. Her tongue began a slow dance around the head of my cock, tickling the entrance, then sliding around to the back, then on to another section. Just the head of my cock. While her lips slowly pumped the shaft of my cock deeper into her mouth. It was as if she were giving two different blow jobs at the same time. The lips and tongue worked in concert, a steady rhythm of pleasure for my cock, winding in and out, twisting, twirling and bouncing. My cock was pulsating with blood, so strong was my desire.

I started breathing slower as Tantra teaches, holding my vibration to a lower level. All this while staring out at the dark blue waters of the Caribbean Sea. I tried to determine the type of sailboat gliding by, but her lips wouldn’t let me think that deep, they brought me back to a more instinctual level of thought. What heaven was I in? I took handfuls of her hair and lightly played with it. She shook her head a few times, snapping my cock against the insides of her mouth, yet never letting her teeth touch it unless intended so. Then just as I felt the swell of orgasm building from my toes, she slowly took her mouth off my cock and pulled me down to the soft floor.

Angel laid me back, pushed my right thigh wider and crawled very slowly up my body, leaving kisses and lipstick traces the whole way. As her lips met mine, she started to apply that same sucking twirling motion to my tongue. My cock was now being squeezed by her crotch. I could feel the wetness of her pussy on the top, and the cool Caribbean evening air on the back. She started pumping on my cock, very slowly. This was a new yet wonderfully strange feeling for me. Soon her lips started back down my body. I was anticipating a long slow trip, but she rather quickly swallowed my cock again, took it out of her mouth, then inhaled both of my balls into her mouth. So softly she pushed them over her tongue, playing games with them. A game of Pong in her mouth with my balls as the main attraction.

I felt both of her hands start at my calves, and work their way higher. She applied some oil, and massaged lightly on the way up. More oil came as she got to my butt, then one of her fingers slipped inside my ass. It too danced slow and lightly. Then her mouth inhaled my cock once again and I knew the cum in my body would soon be in her mouth.

As soon as she got the dual action synchronized with the finger in my tail I felt my toes start to expand, then the rush started there, flew all the way up my legs and spine, into my head, then straight down to my cock as the sperm flew into her mouth. She kept sucking, and the sperm added to the moisture of her mouth, being swirled all around my cock. Sperm being used to lubricate my cock wasn’t new to me, but the action of her mouth was. The finger came out of my butt and she removed my cock from her mouth. I looked down as she tilted her head back, swallowed, then pulled herself up to sit on my cock.

Her body sat there still, but the muscles inside her pussy were slowly puling my cock into her. They worked in a concerted rhythm. I’d heard of women that had their muscles trained to do this, but this was my first real experience. Sure, other women had been able to tighten individual muscles one or two at a time, but this was like a bed of seaweed pulling my cock into her all the time.

“Would…” I started to say but she silenced me.

Then she took up a slow and steady rhythm, riding me, pulling me in and allowing me to slip out. My cock didn’t even have the time to think of getting soft, her pussy was pulling me inside so lovingly. Her head laid back and looked at the sky. I was glad that the old cock had maintained the stamina to stay hard, or get hard again, whichever it was. I tried to touch her breast, but she pushed my hands away. I liked it, but didn’t understand why she was making this all for me, none for her. Then she turned around 180 degrees. We were both facing out to the ocean and it was quite a site to see. I sat up a little so I could look over her shoulder. She leaned forward, to the side, back and all around. Making my cock feel the heat of her pussy at each turn. Then she started to moan, and I thought I knew what she was doing. She had developed a way of orgasming that worked, and maybe only knew one way. Sure enough, after the moaning started it was only a few more strokes before she gave out a loud moan and fell forward, spent. I left her there for a minute, starting to stroke her ass.

When she didn’t move I pulled out from under her. I pulled her ass into the air while her arms remained on the floor. My cock was as hard as a golden brick and easily found its way back inside her. Then she started to moan again, reaching back to grab my ass and pull me into her. I kept it slower, but changed the tempo a lot. Then I pulled out and rolled her onto her back. She hesitated but did it anyway. I followed her lead and dispensed with the light foreplay, we were beyond that. It was time for her to come again, so I buried my cock inside her, then pulled it out and walked it up to her clit. She yelped like a puppy and pulled my head into her pussy.

My lips began one rhythm, my tongue another, working entirely within a one inch space surrounding her clit. Sure, I found her ass, and yes my finger went inside, and yes she gulped air. But my mouth on her pussy and clit was my focus. And focus it did. I pulled her legs over my shoulders and she rewarded me by pinching her thighs together around my neck. I was pulled deeper into her, I changed up the rhythm of my tonguing constantly. Her gasps were getting longer and louder. With several quick circles around my tongue brought her the relief she needed. She shouted out once, quivered, then went limp. So I climbed on top of her, slipped my cock into her pussy, and started to pound away. Her legs took no time to wrap around my back, but the former strength wasn’t there. She pulled me in as I stroked, and started moaning again. As her muscles pulled my cock to signal another orgasm, my toes signaled that the sperm was once again rising from down there, and I came too, my whole body quaking and shaking. She looked me in the eyes, kissed me once, then buried her tongue in my mouth. We spent ten minutes making out, the whole while her pussy was squeezing on my now shrinking cock. That’s when she took me by the hand to the hot tub. There was already an opened bottle of champagne in a bucket there, so we got in the tub, and we both sipped slowly as we lightly stroked each other.

Marjorie Foster, usually called Margie, is from a small town and is finding her Freshman year at the very large State University to be a difficult experience. The size and complexity is intimidating. The large number of people all with their own agenda bustling around her leaves her rather lonely. The only other students there from her home town are older and in different majors and she never knew them that well to begin with. She’s used to being involved in everything, knowing every one. She dated a lot in school. Her mother told her she would be better off not settling with one guy, not going steady, until she was older. So she dated a lot of different boys. She also fended off a lot of different attempts to get her more involved sexually than she wanted to, than she thought she was ready for.

Margie’s a very attractive girl. Dark blond hair turning darker, to almost a light brown; brown eyes; a handsome face with a strong chin and full lips. Not a raving beauty but attractive. Her body is what most girls dream about. It’s almost as if she has more insides than her skin can hold, as if she’s bursting. She’s all curves, not a flat millimeter on her body. Very shapely legs, full firm butt, small waist and breasts that are full spheres, sitting high with cleavage even when she doesn’t have her bra on. That bra is a C cup but it squashes her breasts.

But she’s competitive, too. Played softball and soccer in high school. Not an all star but a good athlete. So she knows that she’ll figure this place out. Thousands of others have so she isn’t going to let it get her down. She just has to slowly get to know more people. For right now she goes to classes and to the part-time job she got through Student Aid. Her parents aren’t rich. They’re paying her tuition and room and board and buying her books but are pressed to do that much. So she has a clerk/receptionist job with a small research group in the social studies college that doesn’t pay much but also doesn’t take much of her time. And the $60 or so she earns each week gives her the money she needs for occasional movies or burgers or whatever.

The job she is assigned to is with a small research group named Sexual Studies. Several of the top people involved have published some notable papers. Margie doesn’t really know much about the work there, she answers the phone and files various papers and reports. But after a few weeks she begins to understand more and more as she sees the titles and subjects involved in what she files and hears others talking. She becomes aware that people involved in sexual activities are monitored. Blood pressure, temperature, EKGs and brain activity are recorded. Even though she’s a virgin she has a normal interest in sex and expects to become active herself at some point. She’s long ago learned to give herself orgasms. So she finds it a little intriguing to be involved in studying sex, even though she’s in a very peripheral position. She reads some of the studies when she has time and discoveries she gets slightly aroused just thinking about it.

The actual research is done by others, all with advanced degrees. Even the assistants are at least working towards graduate degrees. As an undergraduate she’s not really part of the work at all. Then one day things change. An older woman, Doctor someone, she can’t remember the name, comes up to her and says that her assistant has called in sick and there’s no one else around so she needs Marjorie to help her. In total ignorance, Margie agrees. The doctor explains that the rules require a second person to be involved in research, just to verify that all of the statistics are valid. The assistant would do more than she expects from Margie. All Margie has to do is sit there and observe as the doctor takes notes. In fact the doctor grumbles that she’ll probably have to rush her note taking to cover what she and her assistant would have otherwise done.

So Margie is sitting in a rather small room that has a large window. A one-way window she soon learns. The room also has several pieces of electronic apparatus that, she learns later, print out the responses that are coming from the people she’ll be watching. The room on the other side of the window looks like a hospital room. There’s a bed. A rather large bed, probably king size. There is a fairly large machine of some sort next to the bed. Other than that, it’s just a white room.

Then three people enter the room and Margie’s attention is heightened a lot. Two of the people are totally naked. The third, a woman she’s seen around the offices, is dressed and wearing a white lab coat. The third person takes some wires from the other two and plugs them into the machine. They apparently say a few things to each other. The third person must be checking whether the wires are comfortable because the two naked people feel where there are connections to their bodies and run their hands along the wires and seem to move around, seeing if they have some freedom of movement. Then the third person leaves, closing the door behind her.

The two naked people are both young, perhaps students, and look to be a couple years older than her. The male appears to be in excellent physical shape, really good looking. Margie can’t help but notice his penis, hanging out of a bunch of dark hair. The female is actually down right pretty with a very good body, could be a model. The two smile at one another, put their arms around each other and kiss. My God, Margie thinks to herself, her mother would have a fit if she knew her little Margie was watching this. While she has absolutely zero experience, has never even watched a porn movie, Margie knows very well that these people are going to have sex. She’s going to watch people fuck. She turns and looks at the doctor, who is moving from machine to machine, checking that each is functioning properly. The doctor then sits down at a computer keyboard and starts typing while looking through the window at the naked couple.

Margie looks back at the couple herself. They each are still kissing and running their hands up and down each others backs and butts. Then the female moves one hand to between the two bodies and reaches down to where Margie knows the man’s penis is. They continue to kiss but the male moves his hips back, putting a little more room between them where the female’s hand is and Margie can see that his penis is enlarged and the female has her hand around it and is moving her hand back and forth.

Fuck, Margie thought to herself, she’s giving him a hand job. And he’s pretty big, I think. But it doesn’t last long and the woman drops down to her knees and gets her face right next to the man’s penis and she grins just before sliding her hand back, exposing a big, almost purple shape at the end of the penis, which she starts licking. The end of the penis disappears into her mouth. Cripes that’s big, Margie thinks to herself. It must be like having an ear of corn stuck in her mouth. How does she get it in there? She’s giving him a blow job. Oh shit, Margie thinks and she turns to look at the doctor. The doctor is looking through the window as her fingers move quickly over the keyboard, typing away. She’s a good typist, Margie thought, never even has to look at the keyboard. Then Margie looks back at the couple again.

The woman is really moving her head back and forth, taking in a lot of the penis and then sliding back on it but never fully off. Her mouth looks stretched wide to take in the erect penis. Her hand is moving back and forth too, grasping the penis just ahead of her lips. The man’s hips are moving now, too, back and forth, helping move his penis in her mouth. He’s saying something but Margie can’t hear what. This goes on for a couple minutes and Margie realizes that she’s feeling aroused by it. But just then all the movement stops. Well almost stops, the man shoves his hips forward so more of his penis is in her mouth. It looks too big to get all of it in and her fingers are still around the base of the penis. The female’s mouth is moving, her cheeks moving, then Margie realizes that her throat is moving, she’s swallowing. Then she moves her face back and the penis, very red now, is sticking out and there are some strings of white stretching between her mouth and his penis

The woman smiles and says something, licks her lips and stands up and the two are holding one another and kissing again. Their hands are feeling each other again. Then the woman breaks free a little and grins at the man and backs up and pushes herself up a little to sit on the edge of the bed. She is barely perched on the bed with most of her off it like she could fall off easily, Margie realizes. Then the woman spreads her legs. The man steps in between them and kisses the woman. He then crouches a little and gets his hands and face to her breasts. He seems to softly feel each breast and then kiss them and then get his lips around a nipple. He then kisses her on the stomach and she really spreads her legs wide and the man kneels down and walks forward on his knees until his face is right at the woman’s pussy. She can’t see the man’s face now but she sees that the woman is saying something and reaches down with her hands and spreads her pussy open. Margie realizes that the woman must trim or shave her pubic hair because there is very little, just above her pussy. And spread, her insides are all pink and red. The man moves his face forward and blocks her view but she can see his head moving a little. He’s licking or sucking or kissing or doing something with his face to the woman’s pussy. The woman moves her hands to the back of the man’s head.

Fuck, he’s eating her pussy, Margie realizes. She doesn’t know a whole lot but she knows people do that. She’s just never actually seen it done. The man has one hand around onto the woman’s back or butt, holding her to him . His other hand is down between his legs, playing with his penis. It makes her realize that his penis has shrunk some but seems to be growing again now. She can’t hear but it’s obvious that the woman is saying something. Actually the way her mouth is moving maybe she isn’t actually saying anything but she’s making some sort of sounds. And she smiles all the time. She likes this! Margie realizes that the woman liked sucking the guy’s penis, likes having him eat her or lick her or whatever he’s doing. The woman really enjoys this. All of which makes Margie realize that she’s actually getting wet down there herself, is getting very aroused by this. She looks at the doctor but the doctor is still touch typing constantly as she watches what the couple is doing.

Wow, Margie thinks to herself. I bet they end up fucking. She turns to watch some more just as the woman puts her head back and makes a face while she seems to grab the man’s hair and pushes him into herself. The woman’s whole body seems to jerk or jump and then she lets go of the man and sort of falls back onto the bed, her legs still hanging off the edge. The man stands up and holds what is now a very erect penis, very large, Margie thinks to herself. But not too large obviously because he steps forward and shoves it into the woman. As he does, the woman sits up and puts her arms around him and kisses him. His hips are moving back and forth, moving his penis in her.

The woman pulls back just a little and says something to the man. He pulls back and moves. Margie can see his penis. Red and large and stiff, sticking way out. The man jump up on the bed and lays back while the woman straddles over him. They both lift the wires out of the way as they move. Then she takes h old of that big red thing and positions herself over it and drops down, taking it up inside her. The woman starts moving her hips. The man props up on his elbows and says something to the woman. The woman just keeps moving her hips, seems to be going back and forth but Margie realizes that with the penis in her she is actually sort of riding it inside her.

This must go on for five minutes or so. It seems a long time to Margie who truly feels a need to get her fingers busy in herself but doesn’t dare in front of the doctor, who is still typing away and the machines are all printing out foot after foot of charts. Then the two must say something to each other because the woman climbs off and stays on her hands and knees as the man moves, lifting the wires and moving them with him over and behind the woman. He gets between her legs and the woman drops her head down onto the bed, leaving her butt up in the air and then the man shoves his large red thing into her again. He has both hands on her hips and he’s moving his whole body. He really seems to be pushing into her hard and fast, Margie thinks to herself. Fuck, she needs to do something for herself so bad but is scared to do anything.

The strong action lasts another couple minutes and then stops. Just stops. The guy pulls out. Margie can see the female’s pussy. All red itself now, seems swollen or larger. The man drops onto the bed as if he’s tired. The woman crawls on top of him, laying her naked body right on top of him and kissing him. As she lays there, her legs spread some and Margie can see she’s leaking. Whatever the man put into her is leaking out of her. Then the doctor says out loud to Margie that they have to monitor the cool down for a couple minutes and it will be all over. She also says she feels sure the results will show some very peak readings on this one. Margie doesn’t say anything but knows that if she was hooked up her readings would have peaked, too.

Then it’s back to filing again. Margie thinks of trying to take a bathroom break and give herself some relief but is afraid she’d be caught. However, back in the dorm later, Margie takes care of herself immediately. For the next two days, Margie goes to class. Then has another four hour stint at her job. The very same doctor comes to her again and says that her assistant is still out and Margie seemed to handle it fine the last time, so come and do it again.

This time, it’s two women. Lesbians, Margie realizes as she watches. She also gets a much better look at how the fingers and tongue are used on a woman’s pussy. That while there’s some licking in the vagina that much of it is done on the clitoris, something that helps her get better at doing herself. The woman even finger fucks the other woman’s vagina while licking the clit. She thought that she’d be bothered by seeing two women but it is just as arousing as the man and woman had been. The two women seem to spend more time arousing each other, making love is perhaps the right term, in addition to working on each other’s pussies. Margie also sees the first dildo of her life as one woman attaches it on herself to actually fuck the other one with it.

A week later it is another man and woman session. She wonders if she will see two men sometime. She actually thinks to herself that she’s learned something about how it is best to lick a pussy so if she saw two men maybe she could learn more about how to suck a penis. She also knows that she’s never felt so horny in her life. She has always stopped guys from going too far but now she really wants to experience it all for herself.

She’s now worked in the sex lab for eight weeks. There is a male student working there, Brian, that comes by and talks to her occasionally. He seems nice, is very friendly and as a student is in the same place in life as she is with similar concerns. And he’s cute enough. Brown hair, nice enough face, fairly tall, must be over six feet, and seems to be in good physical shape. He asks her out. He says there’s a Laurel and Hardy thing at the local theater and wonders if she’d like to go and she agrees. Actually she’s thought about him, thought he seemed like someone she’d like to date. She’s even vaguely thought about sex and him but mostly just about sex and anyone.

They go to the movie. She likes it. Everyone in the theater seems to like it. Very noisy place. He then asks if she’d like a burger so they end up sitting across from one another in a booth, having a burger and a drink. He mentions where they both work and then he asks her if she’s ever actually witnessed any of the test subjects. She sort of blushes and says that yes, she has. He says that he has too. Very arousing, isn’t it he asks and she agrees. In fact, she is getting very aroused just being reminded of it. You think you could do what they do, he asks, I mean that oral stuff and everything. She just looks at him for a moment. She can feel her insides, she’s probably getting her panties very wet.

“I’m about ready to crawl under this table and unzip you,” she says, “That’s what I think about it.”

“Oh,” he replies and then hesitates for a moment. “I have to come in after hours and clean up so I have a key. The place is closed right now, empty. We could go there and use the bed in the lab and do all that stuff with each other. I think you’re the sexiest girl I’ve ever known and I’d really like to if you would.”

“Yes,” she says, “I’ve never felt so horny. I want to. Definitely. I just have to go to the rest room first. It’ll just take a minute and then we can go to the lab.”

She slides out of the booth and goes to the rest room. He adjusts his boner in his pants and gets up and pays the bill. She wipes herself to try and get somewhat clean for him and buys a packet of condoms from a machine and then goes out and joins him.

“I’ve never done this. I’m a virgin,” she says as they walk across campus. “But I really want to. I’ve been going nuts the last few weeks so I’m glad you asked me out.”

He just stays quiet for a moment as they walked. Finally he answers her. “Me too. I’ve never done it either. I’ve wanted to for a long time. I’m amazed I had the nerve to ever get around to asking you out. But I really want to, too, and you’re the one I really want to do it with.”

“Me too,” she answers, grabbing his hand. “This is all probably crazy, to just have sex on the first date. But I’ve been so horny for so long from watching people have sex that it’s been driving me crazy. I even dream about penises and about me doing things with them like I’ve seen others do. So I really want to give it all a try. But how about you? You asked if I could do all those things. Can you?”

“I can sure try. I’m not sure of exactly how to do it all but I have an idea of what’s involved and I’ll do my best.”

“Did you ever see lesbians?”

“Yeah,” he answers, grinning. “I think maybe there are some women working there that would like to do that themselves.”

“Well, if you watched them, they show best of all how to lick a pussy and a clit. Just do like they do and you’ll be great. And as for some people working at the lab wanting to be with them, there definitely are some people that would like to be with the hetero couples, too. Like me. And maybe like you.”

With that they’re at the lab. Brian unlocks the door and they walk through into the test area, the room with the bed. “Should we leave the lights off, it’s really dark in here?” he asks.

“This is way inside, no one outside will see the light. And I think I’d like to see what I’m doing. And what you’re doing,” And she steps up against him and holds him and they kiss for the first time. She senses that he’s as scared of what’s ahead as she is. “Well,” she tells him, “I guess we should take our clothes off.” And she starts. After a moment’s hesitation he does too.

In a very short time they’re both naked. ‘Wow Margie, you’re beautiful. You have a perfect body.”

She smiles, looks at him and his very prominent erection and tells him, “You look great, too, Brian.” Then she steps against him to kiss and hold one another again. She can feel his erection poking against her abdomen. This is the kind of feeling she’s dreamt about for weeks now. As she holds a kiss, she runs one hand down between them to touch his penis. Still kissing, she shoves her hips back slightly so that she can get her fingers wrapped around it. She almost moans as she feels the fullness and the firmness of him. “This is what I’ve been dreaming about,” she murmurs as she pulls back and kneels down and looks at the erection she’s holding. “Oh, Brian, you’ve got such a great penis. It’s everything I’ve ever fantasized.” She kisses the large head and then bends her head to lick along one side and then moves her head around to lick along the other side, then back to kissing the head. She licks the head, then opens her jaws and lips to fit around the head and take it into her mouth.

Let me first explain that I’m an alright looking guy, I’ve gone on a few dates and I know my way around a pussy, I just don’t prefer to get attached to people because, let’s face it, high school doesn’t last as long as we’d like and ideally, graduation is the last time you see your friends before departing to bigger and better things. Well, we had finally embarked on our last week of full-classes which was humbly known notoriously as Senior Prank week. Now, unlike most conventional prank weeks that high schools have adopted, these pranks weren’t limited to teachers and faculty- or even the vicinity of the campus- no, these pranks are meant for the seniors themselves, meant to be waged against one another in a war-like commitment.

In my group I had some good friends but there were a couple douches there as well- it’s complicated but we were sort of the ‘leftovers’ from other groups that had dissipated over the years due to the public school systems’ effective regiment of there being “no child left behind” which bastardized us away from our former cliques in with one another. Sounds great and it was at times, but there was more of a rivalry there than anything else.

You see, I was more of the writer/journalist of the group while on the opposite end of the spectrum was this loudmouth ass. A self-proclaimed Jock, though no longer since he flunked out last year and this is his second go-around. He was always challenging people to fights and overall just raising hell whenever he could out of spite. As you can probably guess, we were definitely in each others’ crosshairs in senior prank week.

Now, obviously we do get along now and again and in fact, one common ground we do share is an intense trust and friendship with his little sister- we’ll call her Robin. I had known her since Freshman year and me and the Jock immediately butted heads because he assumed I was hitting on her during a research paper in which we were paired up to write a paper outside of class- which meant hanging around in the library, each others’ houses, at public places, etc. And we just happened to click and get along so we’ve been talking ever since which turned me from “random lit geek to pick on” to “liability to waking up with evil glare of little sister”. Now because it’s the PC thing to do I can’t continue until I let you know that when I say “little” I don’t mean that she’s a Sophomore or anything- I mean that she’s 18 like me and he’s almost 20 in high school.

That being said, I know what you’re thinking “So what does she look like?”

Well she’s blonde, about 5′8″, washboard chest- some guys have an issue with that, I’m more of an ass man myself and yes, just as her brother she is quite athletic and reprised the mantle of her flunky brother as “senior athlete” which he was devoutly proud of. She’s quite popular with the guys most of the time- but getting past her brother is something that just doesn’t happen too often and I felt bad for her since she was obviously not the slutty type that seemed to be the status quo at this point.

Speaking of which, I had a girlfriend at the time, a beautiful Puerto Rican chica we’ll call Soledad. She was quite curvy and a bit heavy but carried it extremely well, especially in her generous breasts. The only problem is that although we both knew this was just a casual fling, she never put out and rarely returned my advances. I would often share my frustrations with Robin over the whole thing and she would begrudgingly listen to my woes while also criticizing Soledad’s lack of self-respect, though I suspected envy as Soledad was quite well endowed and often had her breasts on display most of the time.

The week prior to Senior Pranks Robin expressed her deepest worries regarding the potential bloodshed and epic war campaign me and her brother would wage against one another and I refused to disclose any details to her at all for fear that she’d ruin my plans by narcing to her brother. Not that she was the type to do that, but I didn’t want to take any chances with the idea I had.

I started off with a preemptive strike which included making him believe that I had filled a balloon full of urine (it was actually full of mildly heated vinegar-) and hit him over the head with it as he left class in the empty parking lot in front of mutual friends and passersby. This prompted him to freak out and begin heaving as though he was going to puke. Gagging and convulsing aside, there was no real harm done, no one was hurt and it was a good laugh after I showed him that it was indeed vinegar and not urine. Besides, a longstanding rule in the school was that if anyone went to the teachers and narc’d then not only would that hurt the whole spirit of the week- but due to anti-prank regulations on campus we may not be able to walk at graduation and the tattle would be shunned.

So it was on, the war had begun.

I thought I was ready for anything.

So that Thursday I’m at lunch, sitting with my buddies and they’re all talking about graduation night events and what we’ll do to celebrate- suddenly Soledad sits next to me in this very revealing crop-top that gave me a great view of her deep cleavage. She then insists on me trying some of her cookies she brought from her parents function the prior night and hands me a cookie while rubbing her breasts against me adoringly. Thinking nothing out of the ordinary (she was quite a good baker) I had a few cookies as she continued to urge me to keep eating as much as I wanted. I had about three of the chips-ahoy sized pastries until I realized everyone was choking their laughter back and looking at me.

My first thought was that someone had replaced the cookies and somehow put laxatives in them. I looked to Soledad in fear but she also had the same look on her face. “What’s going on?” I asked slowly.

The Jock suddenly rushed me and laughed triumphantly, after a brief back and forth which took far longer than the setup for this story that I’m going to have you endure, he finally said,

“You have about an hour before lift off-”

Suddenly my head was spinning. Did he lace the cookies with speed? LSD? Marijuana? Luckily for me I had only one class left that day but there was still the ride home to think about- before I could ask further he took out a box and set it in front of me so that everyone could see.

“Viagra???” I exclaimed.

Everyone burst out laughing.

My first instinct kicked in and I looked at Soledad, she too was laughing hysterically and hadn’t the single hint of sympathy. She knew the cookies were drugged! After 10 minutes of trying to ascertain if this was some payback for making him believe I cruelly pranked him the day before and maybe he was trying to psyche me out, I realized that this was all too serious. When I pulled Soledad aside behind the bleachers of the gym so that we could talk about this in private without anyone else having to know of my disposition- she simply announced that “it’s just time to go our separate ways”.

I protested, completely befallen with fear.

Suddenly, yanking the tie from the crop-top- the hammock falls freely along with her tan breasts, her dark nipples starring at me angrily as she uses both hands to jiggle them. I go silent and in horror, before I can even get my breath back- I’m hard as a rock.

Without saying a word she smirks and ties her top back, tucking away her brown spheres and saying, “We knew this was going to happen, you go your way and I go mine.”

“You can’t leave me like this-” I protest but she won’t hear of it. She leaves, swaying her ass as she walks away and out of my life for good, leaving me and my disposition for the entire world to see.

There I emerged, exposed and vulnerable.

And it hurt, my cock felt like thousands of pins were sticking into every single nerve and I felt buzzed. Without a single idea as to what to do- or reason to remain in class- I ran to my car and pulled out as the Jock ran up to the window and banged on the door hooting and hollering while my- his- friends began making jerking motions in the air and I realized that that’s probably what it was going to take to get this hard-on to go away.

But this was Viagra, it wasn’t a matter of tossing one off and turning on the TV, this was probably the long-lasting, elephant hormone crap meant for hundred-year-old men with ED.

“FUCK-” I screamed, driving home and weaving wildly.

I’m about average size a little under 7 inches, but my cock felt at least slightly longer and I mean that in the sense that it was uncomfortable- it was so humiliating I didn’t know what to do, who to call. As the guys put it, I’d probably spend the evening jerking until my arm fell off.

Finally it wasn’t until I got home that it occurred to me the old warning about Viagra- any erection lasting longer than 4 hours would be hazardous and may even lead to impotency. As in, if I didn’t cum soon and relieve that tension I may never had an erection again.

Running into my empty house and clumsily locking the door behind me, I darted to my room, dropping my pants and horrified at the sight of my swollen cock- and no that’s not me complimenting myself- my cock looked like it was suffering from anaphylaxis. I looked like a dildo about to explode. The engorged cock was indeed uncomfortably longer than usual and it was at full-tilt upward, revealed to the rest of the world as though it had a grudge and purple as ever.

I wrapped my hand around the firm shaft and began jerking, careful to look over my shoulder and make sure that they hadn’t planted cameras anywhere or that this was only the first phase of something much more pervasive.

“Okay get a hold of yourself-” I muttered, walking to my computer as my cock bopped agonizingly in the open air. “I’ll be okay-” I reassured myself. I logged into my computer, there was an email from my mom explaining that she wouldn’t be home until late tonight- wonderful. So I ditched the email, went to my preferred porn site and I found a 30 minute clip from a site that had the most beautiful natural women on the net (in my opinion) and began jerking away.

The video consisted of a white woman with pale nipples, she had EE cup breasts and a big round ass with long dark hair that went all the day down the small of her back. The video began with an interview and subsequently lead to an all-out hardcore fuck with a well-endowed man. Try as I might, maybe it was the embarrassment, maybe it was the pain/pleasure ratio, maybe I was just overworked and freaking out, but I was about 25 minutes through the clip and nothing- my heart was racing, I was sweating bullets and at any time I stopped to take a rest, my cock simply buzzed and throbbed as though it was the ultimate case of blue balls.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, but the door bell what made me jump.

I ignored it once and continued trying to cum until the bell came again.

“It’s me, Robin!” the female voice chirped, “I know you’re here, your car is upfront, please answer the door-”

I stopped, winced at the excruciating agony and stood, pulling my boxers from the ground, slipping them over my sensitive member and waddled to the door. I cracked it open to see Robin standing there, she looked worried and I guess my strained expression only made her even worse.

“I came over her as soon as I heard- I am so fucking sorry-”

“It’s okay,” I grunted, “So I guess words spread already-”

“The doesn’t matter, we need to get you to a hospital-” She insisted.

“NO-” I told her, “I’ve been humiliated enough-” I hyperventilated. This was too much, I didn’t want to be humiliated like this anymore and I was in very bad pain at this point but felt as though at any given moment I’d cum buckets. The frustration and indignity was too much to handle and I found myself beginning to break down.

“Let me in at least,” Robin told me, slipping through, I still hid behind the door and tried to regain my composure and also felt completely perverted if I were to display my erection before someone I considered family. She looked at me sympathetically and told me, “It’s okay, you can close the door- I’m not here to hurt you anymore like those idiots-”

I closed the door, locking it and subsequently revealing my tent.

Robin’s eyes were immediately glued to it as I made no attempt to hide anything. I simply lowered my head. Yet she made no smile, nor interest in my cock, rather evaluated my state of embarrassment and pain.

“We’re both adults here,” She told me in a calm manner, “This isn’t the first one I’ve seen and I think it would be best if we air it out a bit and get comfortable, that’s a lot of blood coursing through it and we don’t need anything getting cut off.”

What else could I do?

I dropped trow and revealed my swollen cock, stepping out of the puddle which my boxers produced. She simply looked at it and asked, “Does it hurt?”

I nodded, unable to speak in front of her.

She paced around for a moment, as though contemplating what to do next, “When did you first get hard?”

“Almost an hour ago.” I replied.

She took a deep breath, “This isn’t good-”

“It hurts, Robin.” I whispered. “But I don’t want people to know about…” I trailed off.

“My brother is an idiot for this-” She growled, ” I can’t believe he would be this STUPID- And Soledad- I’m going to kick her ass-”

“I started it-” I replied dismally-

“But this is taking it too far.” She clarified, looking at my member.

Another moment passed and my hand gesture to it as though my cock was controlling my body and urging me to finish the job somehow. I let out a frustrated grunt, I wasn’t going to jerk it in front of her and I was hoping that the overall embarrassment of being on display would scare the hard out of it. Robin then put her hands to her face and announced-

“I’ll help you.”

I looked to her in disbelief.

She withdrew her hands from her face and looked at me as seriously as she possibly could. “You’re in pain, You obviously are too worked up to be doing this alone, and my brother is the reason why all of this is happening- it’s the only way we can make things right and maybe since I’m a chick it’ll be easier to get off..”

“But-”

“I lost my virginity awhile back,” She admitted, “I’ve had vibrator since I first got into high school and someone told me penetration was the best way to get an orgasm- long story short I had to go to the hospital because I shoved it in too far and popped my cheery and I freaked out…” She looked away, breaking eye contact with me, “I know it’s very humiliating to go to the hospital in such a manner and I wanted to be there for you if you had to go- but I can also do this for you too-”

“But Robin-” I tried to protest.

She then began stripping down in the most elaborate and unromantic way a woman can strip, taking off her shirt, jeans, kicking off her shoes until she was only in a modest sports bra and lace panties, “We don’t have much time and if we don’t resolve this then you could be really hurt.”

Robin stood before me, the blonde young woman was very lean and tan, which led me to wonder if she sunbathed nude because I didn’t seen a hint of tan-lines anywhere. “You’re my best friend and you’ve been there for me so I want to be there for you.” She said in a half-genuine/half-embarrassed tone, “Even if that means giving myself to you.” I hesitated, she then chuckled nervously, “I love you, man. Let’s just… Do what comes natural…”

She then turned around and peeled her panties off revealing a very toned ass to me, bending all the way over and exposing her beautiful flower to me before kicking the garment aside and bracing herself against the sofa, “I’m on the pill to regulate my period and I’ve been on it since I was a Junior- and I’m a relative virgin so don’t be shy, just please let’s do this okay?”

I achingly stepped over to the girl as she looked ahead, I could tell she was nervous and I was frantic at this point. Just then, this voice emanated from her that was womanly and not what I was used to hearing- but also motivated me, “Take what you need.”

This was insane, “Please don’t…” I told her.

“Sorry, I’m not sure how to-”

“I’m already hard I think we’ve covered that.” I clarified.

“Maybe I just want-” She then yelped.

“What?!” I asked, looking at her in fear my cockhead was pressing against her lips and threatening entry but I hadn’t done anything just yet, “I’m not even in-”

“I know, I know-”She replied, “It’s just… Really warm and I’m sorry-” She said, sounding more embarrassed, “Go on, put it in, I’m just not used to someone else touching me there is all.” I slowly inserted my cock into her velvet purse, delicately and respectively not trying to hurt her..

“Robin?” I groaned as she shook,

“What’s up?” She asked colloquially.

“This is my first time.” I replied, “I’ve never had sex before…”

She paused as I slowly fed her my entire cock, never stopping until my stomach was flat against her round ass. She then moaned, “I’m honored…”

“Are you alright?” I asked.

“Fuck me.” She simply replied.

I pulled back and thrust into her slowly- the sensation was unlike anything that can be described. It was like a wave starting at the tip that cascaded down, into my groin and somehow cascaded out from my pelvis to every single nerve in my body. I groaned loudly and I felt as though my orgasm would come at any moment- though this was nothing new compared to the blue balls I’ve been enduring for almost an hour since Soledad flashed me.

“Are you-”

“NO-” I replied.

We both laughed.

Adjusting her stance, raising her ass she muttered, “Now after all that whining about Soledad, the least you can do is use some of that pent-up aggression on little old me, or are you worried that you’re gonna break me in half?”

“Maybe.” I replied.

She purred, “You can split me in half, I want you to leave a couple marks on me- it’ll be funny a fuck to explain them to my brother-” I thrust deep into her as she buckled, “Yeah, that’s the shit, baby-” She urged as I rammed her again, using the back of her sports bra like reigns on a horse as she tilted her head back, “Fuck me good babe-”

I withdrew and thrust once more- this time it caused the sofa to move up a tad and she shivered, “You know, you can do this faster right?”

It put both hands on her hips and began thrusting inside of her, plunging into her like a drill and fucking her pussy as though my life depended on it. She gripped the pillows on the sofa which she could reach and howled in pleasure.

“I thought you said this was your first time-” She asked, panting and tossing her head back as I plowed her.

“It is-” I groaned, the orgasm building but nothing came, I then said in futility- “I can’t cum-”

She moaned in response, “Keep trying…” She breathed, “Oh GOD- keep trying-”

I pulled out- she looked to me in protest as I shoved her onto the sofa back-first, achingly making my way around it and mounting her in a missionary style, she looked at me surprised.

“I need to see your face.” I explained, “It’ll help.”

She smiled, putting a hand on my cheek lovingly as I inserted myself into her.

I looked at her black sports bra and decided it was time for it to go- I lifted it up and peeled it off of her body much to her chagrin. “Why not?” I asked.

“I have nothing there-” She muttered, but I managed to get the bra off revealing a flat chest with two, very pert, pink nipples.

“Oh I see a couple things-” I replied taking the left nipple into my mouth. I had heard a rumor that the smaller the breast the more sensitive the nipple, and Robin was living proof of that. Soledad was always lukewarm when I pleasured her- but Robin was more responsive to the nipple-play than my cock in her pussy.

“OH YES-” She screamed as I quickened my pace and she wrapped her long beautiful legs around me, “DON’T STOP-” She screamed again forcing me in deeper.