Silke buried her finger in Anne's cunt. She moved it rapidly for a few minutes as Anne ground her weight back onto Silke's hand. Then she withdrew her finger and held it up as if for inspection. It glistened with Anne's golden honey flow. Very deliberately, Silke opened her mouth and inserted her finger, licking it off.
Silke fetched out the dildo and a jar of jelly. She rubbed it along the length of the dildos shaft. As she strapped it on, she ordered: "I want you to kneel on the edge of the bed, Anne. Bend over." John watched the display of lesbian play-he wanted to join in on the fun, to taste a little pussy himself, but his hands were bound behind his back ...
Anne eagerly took up the position. Silke aimed the dildo straight at her hole and shove it in. John thought that he would come right in his pants if he didn't get some action soon!
Formerly published as: Lust For Ransom
CHAPTER ONE
Bill couldn't take his eyes from the screen. His girlfriend, Anne, was quite forgotten. Wow, this was fantastic! He'd never seen a movie as good as this before. They sure didn't come any hotter ...
All three of them were lying on the bed: the therapist, his pretty young nurse, and the even more attractive patient who was getting a practical demonstration she hadn't bargained for. Still, she didn't seem to mind as she lay there in Julie's arms, returning the nurse's French-kisses measure for measure. Julie leaned away from Katy and began rubbing the doctor's legs and balls.
She wriggled lower. "Frank, I swear you've got the longest prick I've ever seen."
"And I bet you've seen a few in your job," Katy giggled, really getting into the swing of things.
Frank just smiled as Julie opened her mouth and swallowed the top of his distended cock Katy moved down too, so that she could have a clearer view of the action.
"You see, Katy," he said, "there's nothing to worry about. My prick won't eat you ... you're the one who does the eating!"
"I knew you could get me over this silly hang-up," she said. "No wonder my husband Jack told me to come and see you."
Julie ran her fingers through Katy's hair and as she did so she gently pressured Katy's head down until her lips were touching the bottom of Frank's shaft.
"Here," said Julie, as she used both hands to point his cock at Katy's face. Hesitantly she took a large mouthful and slowly began to swirl her tongue around the rim of his knob. Even as she sucked a little more greedily, Katy looked up at the doctor for approval. Frank beamed with satisfaction.
Julie was still working her fingers on the shaft, and now she withdrew the tip of Frank's cock from Katy's mouth and slipped it back into her own. Katy rolled over between Frank's legs, and without any further bidding, she ducked down and began licking the short ridge behind his balls and fried to force her tongue round into his crack. As she surfaced for breath, Julie slipped his cock back between her lips. Then Julie took it again. The two of them swapped sucking each time they took it in a little deeper.
Now the two girls were kissing each other with the head of Frank's cock between their mouths. They were tonguing each other and licking his prick at the same time. Frank sighed with sheer pleasure.
"I want it all," murmured Katy, and bent over Frank as she swallowed his cock as far down her throat as it would go. She took one more gulp of air then throat-fucked him to a climax. Frank shuddered as he came and spurt after spurt of his burning spunk shot down Katy's insides.
"Fuck!" said Bill. "No wonder they call this movie Deeper and Deeper. Just look at that."
He still couldn't take his eyes off the screen where Katy was now French-kissing Frank while the nurse sucked out the very last drops of come.
"Wow," Bill said again, "would you look at that!" He glanced over at his girlfriend.
Anne was calmly jotting something down in a large notebook and it seemed as if she'd paid little attention to the cock-sucking session which had really turned her boyfriend on.
"What the hell ... " Bill said with a disappointed edge in his voice, "Can't you pack that up?"
"Sorry, Bill," Anne smiled at him. "I just wanted to note something down. I didn't want to forget it, that's' all."
"Well, I still think it's a crazy idea for your term paper. Anyway, I'd rather you took note of what's happening up there on the screen."
"Oh, come on, let's not go over it again. I think the Bronco Drive-in is a perfect microcosm of the whole town. It's a great story."
Bill pushed in the cigarette-lighter and pulled out a Salem while he waited for it to heat up.
"I don't think Professor Martin's going to like it," he commented. "What are you going to describe? How Sue-Ann is sucking on Richard's cock in the back of his father's Oldsmobile?" He pointed at the car in front of them.
"Sure, why not?" said Anne. "At least my paper will be an accurate reflection of life around us and not just some stupid daydream."
She indicated the dark shadow of the Plymouth parked by the last speaker in the rear row. "Do you think Jimmy Nash really risked bringing Alex Wilson's wife to the drive-in so they could actually watch Deeper and Deeper and ... what was that first one, High school Jailbait?"
"I guess not," Bill laughed. He took a deep drag on his cigarette. "And I doubt if old Professor Wright really came out for his sociological interests." He pointed over at the old Chevy to their left. "I bet he's jacking off all over the steering wheel."
"That's what I was telling you," said Anne. "This is one Creative Writing assignment John Martin's never going to forget."
"So you think you'll shock him into giving you a good grade, eh?"
"I just hope it works out that way. For Silke's sake too."
"Why, what's Silke writing?' asked Bill?
Silke was the girl who lived in the basement apartment at Anne's house. She was Anne's best friend.
"Oh, she's doing a sort of jet-set sex story. How she got seduced and screwed on the plane coming over here front Munich."
"I've never heard that story."
"Well, there's lots of stories you never get to hear of, Bill. Girls do keep some things to themselves, you know."
As Bill stubbed out his cigarette, the sound of heavy breathing through the speaker by his ear jerked his attention back to the screen.
Katy was busy practicing her new-found confidence on her husband Jack. She was munching away at his big fat cock and deftly rolling her tongue around and around it. Jack lay there with his hands behind his head reveling in his heightened pleasure. As Katy began sucking him rhythmically in and out, she reached down and started to finger-fuck herself. There was a close-up of her fingers buried deep in her cunt as the love juices flowed down over her hand.
"I'm going to shoot my wad right now," said Bill.
Anne chucked the notebook and pencil onto the back seat, then reached over and unzippered his fly. She slipped her hand inside and pulled .the front of his pants down. His cock, suddenly released, sprang out at rigid attention. She put her left arm round his shoulder and hall-dragged him round toward her, while with her right hand she played lightly with his balls.
She opened her mouth and wagged the tip of her tongue, Bill needed no second invitation but clamped his lips to hers and pushed deeply into her mouth. Anne sucked on his tongue as she jacked him off with increasing speed. Bill grunted as Anne now pushed her tongue into his mouth and ran it behind the back of his teeth. She moved her hand right over the top of his cock as his hips bucked and he came again and again into the palm of her hand.
Anne broke of the kiss and Bill gasped for air as she held her hand up. Her palm and fingers were covered in sticky strings of his sperm. She grinned and slowly began to lick her hand clean. She put the tip of her tongue in the center of her hand and then r it all the way up her index finger.
"Mmm," Anne murmured. "That's why I love going to the drive-in. I get such lovely hot-dogs here."
Silke too, would have been at the Bronco Drive-in that evening if her boyfriend Greg had had anything to do with it. As it was she had decided to stay home alone and finish off the rough draft of her term paper.
It was a warm summer night that felt even closer down in her basement apartment But she thought the air-conditioning made her feel too cool, so she switched it off and slipped on a thin cotton robe. Silke sat cross-legged on a large comfortable cushion. Sheets of paper were scattered over the coffee table in front of her.
It was all going surprisingly well. It was amazing how much her vocabulary had grown in the fourteen months she'd been in America. She was writing out the story of her flight over the Atlantic. Silke told it from a third-person viewpoint and had called the central character Maria; this wasn't just to disguise herself; it also had the advantage of avoiding the mental pronunciation of her real name. Professor Martin always called her "Silker" when, in fact, it was pronounced Silky. Otherwise, the story was all pretty much the way it had happened.
Her father, a successful manufacturer, had treated her to a first-class ticket on a mid-week jumbo jet. The plane was only a quarter lull and the first-class bar was almost deserted. The only other passenger there, Russ Randell, a jet-set business executive, insisted on getting her another drink. Mmm, Silke had thought as he walked across the cabin toward her, he's pretty good-looking. Silke picked up her pencil again.
"Maria was feeling pretty light-headed after two Lufthansa martinis. She smiled up at the tall dark man who had put his drink on the bar next to hers and was looking down at her with undisguised admiration.
"My name's Russ," he said. "That glass looks empty. Can I get you another drink, Miss ... ?"
"Maria. Thanks, I wouldn't mind another martini."
She leaned forward a little, resting one elbow on the bar, so that he could clearly see her full breasts straining at the flimsy fabric of her blouse. A tiny bead of perspiration trickled down the deep, inviting cleft revealed by the low-cut neckline.
"Are you traveling alone?" His husky voice had a decisive undertone. It was the voice of a man who always got what he wanted. He moved a bit closer and Maria caught the heady scent of expensive cologne mingled with raw masculinity. She felt the lips of her cunt contract and grow moist as she thought of what it might be like being dominated by such a man.
"Yes, I'm going to America to study," she replied. Her voice trembled with anticipation as she glanced down at the bulging front of his slacks. She shifted slightly on the bar stool, letting one leg slide down toward the floor to reveal her soft thighs.
Russ turned to the barman. "Get us another round of martinis, would you ... and don't hurry back." He slipped a couple of bills across the bar. The barman quickly slid them out of sight, winked knowingly at Russ, then disappeared through the interconnecting door at the far end.
Maria turned toward the window and gazed down at the clouds far below them. Russ was close behind her.
"They're so beautiful," she whispered, "like creamy white mountains."
"You could say that" replied Russ, "and I don't mean the clouds."
Maria leaned back against him as he slipped his hands down the front of her blouse and gently ran his fingers around her breasts. Her nipples hardened into firm points under his Insistent touch, and she sighed with pleasure. He continued his exploration of her body. While one hand lightly tickled her left nipple, the other slid past the waistband of her skirt and caressed her warm stomach. His fingers twisted in the springy curls of her bush, pulling lightly at the thick hair. Maria squirmed excitedly, feeling the hot juices soak her thin panties and a droplet trickle down the inside of her thighs.
She pushed her backside hard against his groin, grinding her hips against him. The bulge had swollen to a full hard-on, and she felt his prick thrusting at her ass. His arms lightened about her. He ran his tongue around her ear, lightly tickling the inside.
"Oh, Russ," she murmured, "do it now. Hurry, before he comes back."
Quickly he took his hands out of her blouse. With one hand he unzipped his fly while the other slipped her panties down to her knees. Maria reached round and hitched her skirt up to her waist then grabbed his throbbing cock and shoved it against her buttocks,
His rod slipped easily from her moist crack and into her cunt. Maria moaned softly as she felt the sharp pang of penetration. She stood on tiptoe to make it easier for him, putting one hand against the window for support. Her fingers rubbed urgently against his wet shaft as he thrust in and out. He squeezed her lightly, kneading her breasts and rubbing his face against her hair.
Suddenly she felt an explosion of warmth inside her as they both came. Her body quivered in ecstasy, and she squeezed her legs together to hold him in as long as she could. For a few moments they stood locked together, gasping for breath. Then Russ took a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to her cunt as he pulled himself out of her. There was a squelching sound as he withdrew, and they both laughed. Maria wiped the creamy come from the lips of her pussy, then quickly put her clothes back in place. As Russ was doing up his fly, the barman came back with two martinis, He gave them a lecherous grin, and put the drinks down on the bar.
"Hope you're enjoying the flight," he said knowingly. "We may be Lufthansa, but we try to fly united ..."
Here Silke paused. She had to admit to herself that recalling her high-altitude fuck was really making her feel randy. Wow. If Anne's paper was half as explicit they were going to blow Martin's mind. The girls hadn't compared notes since they'd discussed their original ideas. They had agreed to wait until both of them had each completed the first draft. If originality counted for anything in Creative Writing 241 then they were cinches for an A grade.
Silke got up and crossed to the refrigerator in the kitchen alcove. She brought an Icy can of root beer back to the coffee table and flopped down full length on the chesterfield.
She felt down between her thighs. The crotch of her panties was soaking wet. Silke arched her hips and tugged the sodden wisp of nylon off. One leg dropped to the floor, the' other was bent up on the couch cushions. Her fingers played with the blonde curls of pussy hair. Silke allowed them to wander lower and ran the fingertips along the juicy slit of her cunt.
Silke reached back: with her left hand and clicked off the lamp on the side table behind her. She lay there in the darkened room lightly fingering herself. She reached inside her cotton robe and massaged her right breast. The nipple hardened under the light rolling motion she applied. And her clit became a firm little button in response to her probing fingers. She drifted into the twilight world of her imagination. Here it was her turn to dominate Russ.
She was in a hotel room with him. Somewhere luxurious. Maybe the exclusive penthouse of a posh New York hotel. They were playing cards. His jacket and trousers were carelessly crumpled on the floor beside them. It must have been strip poker.
I'm sifting cross-legged on the floor, thought Silke. She leant back on her elbows so that Russ could get a clear view, of her snatch: blond curls peeked out from either side of the narrow strip of lace that barely covered her juicy cunt. Russ had a massive erection. "I suggest we up the ante and play for higher stakes," Silke told him. He rose to the bait but lost the next deal.
"Now it's my turn to call the shots, and I order you to remove everything but your jockey shorts and go lie on the bed." As soon as he was in position she bound his arms and legs lightly with the cords from their bathrobes. Now Russ had to lie helpless as she teased him unmercifully. She flipped on the radio and magically the music was "The Stripper." She saw herself slowly peeling off her remaining clothes.
When she had only her bikini pants on she moved closer to the bed. She rubbed her hands between her thighs as lewdly as she could. "What's this?"
"Cunt," gasped Russ.
"Whose cunt?
"Silke's cunt."
"What sort of cunt?"
"A silky cunt. A juicy cunt." Russ was unbearably excited by now.
Silke slipped off the flimsy panties. She held them under his nose.
"Open up," Silke commanded him.
Russ opened his mouth and Silke screwed the moist panties into a tiny bail which she slowly pushed into his mouth. She crossed the room to the table on which were the remnants of their private candlelight dinner. She picked up one of the long yellow candles and came back to Russ.
Silke tugged down his Y-fronts and held his rigid cock between two fingers. "Why, you don't even measure up to this candle."
There was a chair by the bedside and Silke flopped into it. She straddled one leg over each arm and displayed her slick pussy before the frustrated Russ.
"Now watch carefully, she ordered. Slowly she inched the candle up her cunt. She threw her head back and ground her hips in the chair. Russ mumbled tough the delicious stuffing in his mouth. He pleaded to be allowed to fuck her. Silke paid no attention. Her stomach muscles were taut with anticipation. Her climax came with a shudder that trembled through her whole body. She wanted it never to stop.
Silke rocked her hips even faster as the orgasm exploded within her. Suddenly she was back ... she was lying on the chesterfield ... she had two fingers working in her cunt while with the other hand she rubbed her clit. Silke removed her fingers and almost absent-mindedly began licking them. That was good, she thought but I wish I was sucking a big, long cock right now.
She reached back behind her and clicked on the light. She placed the phone on the coffee table and flopped back on the couch, then she dialed Greg's number.
"Hello," he answered after two rings.
"Hi, Greg ... it's Silke."
"How are things going?!"
"Pretty well. I finished that paper I was working on."
"Great. Do you want to go out now? Or is it too late?"
"Well, why don't you come over here?"
"Sure ... be there in ten minutes."
Silke hung up. She was enjoying college life in America. This seemed to be one place where you could have your cake and eat it too.
CHAPTER TWO
New Concord was a growing town. Year after year, slowly but always steadily, this quiet college town expanded. And George Weston's fortunes rose with the development of New Concord. Weston had been the senior partner in a building supplies company, which had prospered as the community enlarged.
The University had a long-established reputation which was further enhanced by the addition of two new colleges, and then in the sixties New Concord had been chosen as the site for the Institute for Advanced Computer Technology. That was another windfall for Weston's company. They had also just completed the contract to help build the new Center for Military Studies, a steel-and-glass structure carefully blended with the more traditional architecture that surrounded it. New Concord had indeed been good to George Weston and his family.
Larry, Anne's elder brother, had left for England. Father and son had an easygoing relationship, founded on trust if not mutual understanding. Larry was an excellent student of political science, but George Weston confessed that he never could figure out what his son saw in rock music. It was another important way of putting across basic political truths, Larry told him often enough. It was the surest way to communicate with other young people. George would shake his head every time no matter how carefully Larry tried to explain it; still, better that he should be involved with his own rock band than hot-rodding round the gravel pits or aimlessly hanging around the bar at the Excelsior Hotel like so many of the other kids. And besides, George was secretly proud of his son. After all, he had managed to earn enough playing at high school dances and Christmas patties to pay much the larger part of his tuition fees at the University of New Concord. Now that sort of get-up-and-go, that kind of self-reliance, was something George did understand, and he was especially pleased to see it in his boy.
Larry had graduated the year before, and had immediately left to hitchhike around Europe with Jim Cavendish, his best friend and the drummer in their band, before commencing graduate studies at the London School of Economics. "He'll make out all right," George often told his wife Jean, "and we can't hold it against him if he doesn't want to join my arm." Perhaps deep down inside George Weston was just a little disappointed that Larry didn't want to take over from him, but he was wise enough to know that he had no right to upset Larry's ambitions by forcing him to work in building supplies.
With no one to whom he could pass on his share of Weston, Hawthorn, and Smith, George decided to retire early, much to the delight of his wife. "I'll just see how it suits me," he had said, "and if I get bored I'll start up another little business of my own." He'd always been a keen stamp and coin collector and at the back of his mind was the idea of a small philately dealership in New Concord. There was no competition and he'd already picked out a possible spot. In the new Parkside Shopping Mall development. "Before you start talking about throwing yourself into another business," Jean had said, "we're going to celebrate by taking that trip we've always talked about."
Jean Weston had a passion for ancient history. Years ago she had taken an undergraduate degree in Classical Studies. The house was full of coffee table volumes on the art and architecture of the ancient world, books on mythology, and novels set in the heroic ages of Greece and Rome. Now with George retiring she had the chance she'd longed for to take a leisurely cruise around her beloved Mediterranean. She planned it all through the cold winter months, pouring over every glossy pamphlet that the travel agent could supply. George left her to it and let Jean arrange the whole thing. His one major suggestion had been that they might return via England so they could stop by and see how Larry was getting on in London.
Anne was looking forward to her parents' holiday almost as much as they were. Not that she had anything particularly wicked in mind, but she knew it would be fun to have the run of the house for a whole summer. George and Jean Weston had debated what they should do about leaving Anne all to herself for three months and finally decided they should do absolutely nothing. "DO her good to look after herself for a while," George had said, "it'll build up her self-confidence, just you see." "Of course it'll be all right," Jean finally agreed. "And it's not as if she'll be all alone for she'll always have Silke for company."
Silke Sommers had arrived in New Concord the year before. She'd come over from Munich to get her first degree at an American college. Her father, a wealthy manufacturer, fully realized the value of fluency in English and an understanding of the American outlook; after all, his business success was founded on it. Silke had met the Westons in her first week at New Concord. Now that Larry was away they had decided to finish a minor conversion to the basement and rent it out to a girl student. Jean thought it would be nice for Anne to have a companion who would also be a next-door neighbor, as it were, and Silke was certainly no disappointment it suited the German girl admirably, as quiet tree-lined Russell Avenue where the Westons lived was only an eight-minute walk from the campus. She'd taken an immediate liking to Anne and the two had become firm Mends. Although Silke was taking History and German, an easy option for her, she'd enrolled in Creative Writing as an elective in order to share at least one class with Anne. Anyway, it was a good opportunity to practice and develop her own expression in English.
The two girls had driven George and Jean out to the airport to see them off, and on the way back they'd daydreamed wildly about all they were going to do now they had the place to themselves. Actually, very little changed, as both Anne and Silke worked hard on completing their college year successfully. They'd both picked courses that stressed participation, seminar work, and take-home essay exams, so that neither of them had finals to face once classes were over. Of course, it hadn't been all work and no play. Silke didn't have to kick Greg out early since there was no one, to see her boyfriend's coming and going. And Anne reveled in the freedom of staying in the lounge and letting Bill fuck the pants off her after she'd teased him all evening. Once he was sitting in the big comfy chair in front of the television with his trousers open whilst Anne gently rubbed him off, when Silke came knocking at the connecting door by the stairs. He'd only just tucked, his stiff cock out of sight when Silke strolled into the sitting room. She'd only come up to borrow some tonic water, but it was obvious from the twinkle in her eyes that she guessed just what Anne and Bill were up to. Bill would have been most surprised if he knew that Anne and Silke compared notes on their sexual adventures.
For the last couple of weeks they'd only seen the fellows in the coffee shop, or met them outside the library, as the girls were both busy finishing off their term papers. Sixty percent of their marks rode on the essays they were to hand in to Professor Martin, the Creative Writing teacher. Bill could almost feel his balls ache at the memory of Anne's handling of him in the drive-in; he could hardly wait for the end of term and the chance to put into practice a little of what they'd seen in Deeper and Deeper. He'd 'told Greg what an utterly fantastic sucking session was the movie's climax, and, although Greg didn't say anything, he too was more than eager to stick his fat cock once again into the moist cavern of Silke's sensuous mouth. This was really going to be some end-of-the-term celebration, the boys thought in their separate ways.
One evening, just before Anne's parents had left for their cruise, the two girls had gotten together in Silke's small apartment to discuss their strategy for doing well in Creative Writing. They figured the fellows would either try to do an action piece (of which they had little experience) S imitate some kind of episode from Catcher in the Rye; as for the girls why, they'd probably do some character study drawn from their family or some phony romantic scene. They had to be different Ann and Silke decided, really different, and even shock Martin into noticing their papers. Anne finally decided to use the Bronco Drive-in as a cross-section of New Concord's inhabitants, one which revealed the moral reality hidden beneath the surface of the quiet college town. Oh, she'd change the names all right to protect the guilty, she promised Silke, but otherwise it'd, be no holds barred. After a while Silke decided to reject a possible confession about life in a German girls' boarding school and settled instead on an Incident that had happened on her flight over to America. "It's outrageous," Anne had laughed when Silke first told her about it, "but that's just why he'll sit up and take notice?
They had handed in their papers a week and a half before classes ended and got on with finishing their take-home finals. The two girls seemed to have reached an unspoken understanding not to discuss and worry over their essays but to wait till they got them back before broaching the subject again.
John Martin had tacked a notice to his office door: The term papers for Creative Writing 241 have been left with the department secretary. Anne walked down to the glass-fronted office. "Hi, June. Have you got the papers that Martin's just marked?"
"Sure. They're over there." June gestured toward the pile of essays on the table beside her desk.
Anne walked around the front counter and flicked through the heap.
"Here it is," she said, extracting the paper in its blue plastic covering. She turned to leave. She was dying to get away on her own and find out the mark, but she resisted the temptation to do it there and then in the office.
"Oh, by the way," the secretary said, "Silke dropped by to pick up hers about fifteen minutes ago. Said she'd got some shopping to do and would see you back home later."
"Thanks, June," Anne called out over her shoulder as she left the office with a quickening step.
Elizabeth Kendall, who taught American Poetry, bumped into Anne outside the Faculty of Arts building.
"Hello, Anne. Can I walk with you?" she asked, as they were evidently both going in the same direction.
"I was extremely pleased with your analysis of Anabel Lee," Elizabeth told her as they crossed the lush green field that the university centered around. 'Most students mistakenly think Poe is a fairly easy subject, that the symbolism is all rather apparent ... your tentative approach to his work was rather refreshing."
"Thank you," said Anne, her mind firmly on the essay which was burning a hole in her canvas carry-all.
"Yes. I shouldn't really tell you before you receive official notification of your grades, but I gave you a solid 'A'. Eighty-six percent, I think it was."
"That's marvelous, thank you; I really did enjoy the course!"
"Are you going to enroll in my specialized reading course on Whitman next term?"
"I think I will," said Anne rather absent-mindedly.
A few moments later Professor Kendall said: "Well, here's where I must leave you: I'm going to catch the bus downtown."
"Oh," said Anne as her mind focused attention once more on her surroundings. "Thank you again. And have a good holiday."
"I'll certainly try to; ... lots of preparation to get on with though."
Ann left Elizabeth Kendall at the bus stop, turned the corner into Russell Avenue; and fairly flew home. She jumped up the front steps two at a time, fumbled with the key in the lock, and hurried indoors. She threw the canvas bag down by the coffee table in the lounge and very deliberately went out to the kitchen and poured herself an ice-cold lemonade from the fridge. Only then did she sit down and reach for the paper, quite tingling with anticipation.
Anne couldn't believe it. She just couldn't believe it. There on the final page was the mark in bold red felt pen: "A disappointing effort. 34/60. Overall grade, 61%/C-minus."
"C-minus shit!" she exclaimed bitterly. Anne read his final comment: "I'm being generous in giving you a C-minus."
Anne blinked back the hot tears which stung her eyes. She flipped back through the pages: "... merely an adolescent fantasy ... why this obsession with physical activity, there's more to people than that ... crudely expressed ... is this supposed to shock me?"
"Damn him," she said out loud. "Damn John Martin's eyes!"
Fuck that bastard, she thought, this awful mark absolutely blows my chance for a scholarship next year. She had so wanted to show her father that Larry wasn't the only one who could put himself through college. It wasn't just a game of seeing if she could best her brother, but her father did put a lot of store in people making do for themselves. Even Professor Kendall's good mark was wasted now. She threw her essay on the floor.
"Jeez, the bastard," she said again. "Fuck his bloody generosity. A lousy C-fucking-minus."
She lay back on the couch and the tears burned down her cheeks. Anne was furious. She sobbed for a moment then wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. She didn't even hear Silke's knock on the interconnecting door. Anne was suddenly aware of her friend's presence when Silke said quietly: "So you got screwed too."
"I can't believe it," Anne said. "C-minus. How did you do?"
"I got a C too. Sixty-four percent overall."
"What a prick," replied Anne, choking back another bout of tears. "What was he expecting, another Hemingway?"
"I've no doubt some of the other kids handed in Hemingway imitations, probably got good marks for them too. As soon as I saw how he'd graded mine, I guessed yours would be pretty much the same."
"I'll never get that scholarship now," said Anne, as the tears trickled down again.
"I'm sorry," Silke consoled her. "I'll put on the kettle. Let's have a cup of tea for a change."
Anne just lay there staring at the ceiling, vaguely listening to her friend go through the motion of putting the kettle on the stove. Silke called out to her from the kitchen. "I guess I was overconfident I thought after the last term's results I just might have got through with straight A's."
She came back into the lounge carrying a tray with two glass tumblers on it. "That fucker's spoiled it now. What a blot on my record! Here, a shot of this'll make us feel better."
Anne reached up and accepted the jigger of brandy. Her nose wrinkled a little at the strong aroma.
"Come on, drink it down," Silke ordered as she placed her own glass and the bottle on the coffee table. "It'll do you good, Anne."
Anne wasn't very fond of brandy but she swigged ft-back in one long gulp. She put the glass down and coughed violently. Silke sat down beside her and started to pat her back and rub it with a circling motion. Anne calmed down a bit.
"Here I am always telling Dad that women can stand on their own two feet, and now I'll have to go to him and ask for next year's tuition fees," she choked again. "What a bummer ... and all because of that bloody puritan, John Martin."
"Your Dad won't mind ..." began Silke.
"That's not the point," Anne cut in. "I guess I wanted to prove it to myself as much as to please him."
Silke went out and got the tea. She put the cups on the table and poured another finger of brandy.
"There you are, have another one. You can use the tea as a chaser."
"What kind is it?"
"Earl Grey," said Silke. "Come on, drink up."
"It's a bit early in the day for all this," said Anne. "What are you trying to do-get me drunk?"
"That wouldn't be a bad idea for both of us," Silke said quite seriously. "It's just what I feel like doing."
This time Anne sipped at the strong spirits. "I'm sorry," she said.
"Pardon?"
"I'm sorry I got you into this mess. I don't have a straight-A record, but I can imagine how disappointed you must feel."
"Here, now," said Silke, "you didn't get me into this, we both got into it together. It was a mutual decision."
"I suppose you're right," Anne agreed. "But it did seem like a good idea at the time."
She curled back up on the couch, laying her head in her friend's lap.
"I still think it was a good idea," Silke said firmly. "Anyway, I enjoyed doing it a lot more than I would have done if I had simply written about my first impressions of America or something corny like that. Come to think of it, Russ was my first impression of the States."
Anne half-listened to her friend's consoling chatter but she still felt bitter about the let-down she'd received at the hands of John Martin. Involuntarily another tear trickled down her cheek. Silke bent forward and kissed it away, then with the point of her tongue she licked away the track of tears on her other cheek. She ended by kissing Anne on her forehead.
"Oh, Silke," Anne murmured as she pulled her friend down closer. The two girls kissed each other full on the lips. Silke's tongue pushed its way into Anne's mouth.
With her hand Silke swept back Anne's long hair from her neck and kissed her gently there before nibbling at her ear. Anne squirmed with surprised delight when Silke poked her tongue in her ear and swirled it around. "Kiss me again," she said urgently.
This time their mouths met in open invitation. Silke slid her hand down and caressed Anne's breasts. Beneath the sheer blouse her nipple hardened in response. She made no move to halt Silke's exploring fingers. One, two. She slipped the blouse open and pushed her hand inside. She cupped the whole mound of Anne's, left breast then bent down to suck on it.
Anne wriggled with the thrill of her friend's lips rolling the taut buttons on her fits and half-slipped off the couch. The two girls roiled onto the thick shag carpet. Anne's top was open to the waist now and she reached up to undo Silke's shirt. Neither of them was wearing a bra. Silke alternated her attention between Anne's breasts and nibbling on her earlobe.
"That feels so good," moaned Anne. Silke let her hand stray lower and rubbed it along the inside of Anne's thigh.
"Anne ... Anne. ... " she repeated softly. Silke sat with her head against the seat of the couch and held Anne's head to her chest. Anne sucked greedily at Silke's tits. She sucked them as a grateful baby might, while Silke's fingers probed the flimsy defenses of her briefs. The German girl slipped her fingers underneath the elastic edge and played with the tuft of pussy hair that she could fell.
"Anne, lie back," Silke breathed in her friend's ear. Anne obediently lay on her back but reached forward with open arms for Silke.
"Good, it's so good," she murmured. "Don't stop ... don't stop."
Site had no Intention of stopping now. She pushed her tongue deep into Anne's mouth, while her finger slid into Anne's juicy cunt. In and out, in and out, she finger-fucked her friend. Anne sucked on Silke's tongue as she reveled in this delicious frigging. She ground her hips into the carpet and shuddered convulsively as she spent her orgasm. Silke held her tightly. It was several moments before either of them spoke.
"Wow, that was fantastic," said Anne, breaking the enchanted silence. She sat up, catching her breath, then putting her arm around Silke's shoulder she kissed her a warm thank-you on the cheek.
Site looked at her lovingly. "It was all my pleasure, Anne. You don't know how I've longed to be with you like that."
"What do you mean?" asked Anne. "You go out with Greg and ..."
"Of course I go out with Greg. And I sleep with him whenever I fancy it ... but that doesn't stop me from wanting you."
"Wanting me?"
"Sure. Just because I like getting fucked by a fellow, doesn't mean I can't appreciate and enjoy a girl's attentions, or giving them for that matter."
"I'm not sure I really understand," Anne said as she sipped on the cup of tea, which had cooled down considerably now. "I feel like a cigarette, how about you?"
Anne got up, straightening her skirt as she did S. but she didn't bother to button up her blouse again. She lit two Pall Mall filters at once and handed one over to Silke.
"You did enjoy it, didn't you? Silke asked her.
"I should have thought that was obvious," said Anne, making a little stroking motion on the front of her skirt.
"Well, so did I," said Silke. "You know a private boarding school can be a pretty lonely place for healthy growing girls. We used to relieve our frustration, in the dormitory after the lights went out."
"Thinking about it ... you really are most skillful," Anne complimented her.
"Practice, sweetheart," she laughed, "lots of practice."
"Didn't it put you off boys?"
"Hell, no. No way. One afternoon I got fucked by a young gardener in the woods by our horse-riding trail. And in the evening I recounted the whole episode to my friend, Elke, while she was busy sucking me off."
Anne smiled devilishly: "I bet you give pretty good head too?"
"Sure," said Silke, "Maybe tonight I'll show you just how good. Let's face it, girls know their way round a pussy better than any guy. That's why we can give each other so much pleasure when we go down for a little feast."
"I'd never thought of it like that," confessed Anne. "I guess you're right."
"Any sex is great," Silke reassured her, "so long as your heart's in it. What should it matter if I sleep with Greg or with you?"
"You're not seeing Greg tonight, are you?" Anne asked, with a slightly disappointed edge in her voice.
"No," laughed Silke. "Let's stay in together on our own tonight."
"Great," said Anne, with evident relief. "I know, let's get out some beers and phone for a pizza. Then you can teach me all your tricks. I can see I've got a lot of catching up to do."
"O.K." said Silke, secretly pleased at Anne's obvious delight in this new dimension that she had opened up for her friend. "Let's call it mutual consolation."
Anne set her cup down sharply. That last remark had made reality come flooding back in.
"Jeez, I'd like to get my hands on John Martin. Adolescent fantasy ... what the fuck does he know?"
"I know what you mean ... I'd like to show him a thing or two myself. Bloody prude!"
Anne finished off the drop of brandy in her glass and washed it down with the rest of her tea.
"I'd like to make that mean bastard pay ..." She stopped, now fantasizing about the kind of revenge she'd take.
It was quite a few moments before Silke said: "It would be better for us if we could change his mind."
"Change his mind?" queried Anne. "What do you mean?"
"Well, the final marks don't have to be in until the end of next week, so I doubt if he's submitted his official grade report yet ... "
"... and if we could change his mind before then," Anne took up the theme eagerly, "he might up our grades before feeding them into the computer."
"That's the general idea. Of course, I haven't a clue how we could do it"
Both the girls sat there in silence, mulling over the problem.
"How about going to 'his office and seducing him," suggested Anne half-heartedly. "Give me an A and I'll let you fuck me here on the desk."
Site said nothing, just stared blankly ahead of her. Anne trailed on: "No, that's been tried so many times before. Martin's too smart to let that sway him. He'd probably have the time of his life and then still end up giving you a C out of pure meanness."
"There is a way ... " Silke said very slowly. "There is a way we might change his mind."
"How's that?"
"Make him see that our stories aren't just daydreams but do reflect what's-going on now."
"Aw, he's convinced it's a lot of juvenile fantasy."
"Maybe we didn't shock him enough," Silke said, looking Anne in the eyes. "You remember that English novel he made us read as a fine example of, what was it, 'inner narrative' ... "
"Psychological revelation, he called it," said Anne.
"Right. The one about the chap who keeps the girl captive in his cellar. Oh, what was it called? The Collection, or something like that."
"Whatever. I remember it now. Go on."
"Well, if we turned the tables on him," Silke continued, warming up to her own plan, "we might be able to persuade him or shock him into changing his mind."
"Great!" said Anne. "But how do you propose we get our hands on the happily married Professor Martin? I presume he is happily married?"
"Yeah, that's the problem."
"Well, you think about it. I'm going to phone out for that pizza. All the trimmings?
"The works," Silke nodded.
A few minutes later she came charging into the kitchen as Anne was hanging up the wall phone.
"I've got it!" she exclaimed. "There was something in this week's bulletin. Have you got a copy?"
"Sure ... oh, shit, I've thrown it away."
Anne held up a finger indicating inspiration and then she pushed on the pedal of the waste-bin.
"Here it is," she said, fishing out the crumpled bail of the University Bulletin. It had already soaked up the stains of the previous evening's coffee grounds. "Ugh, what a mess."
"It's on the back page ... where it lists faculty activities," said Silke, as Anne straightened out the paper. "Look, there it is."
Anne read the item and smiled, "A heaven-sent opportunity."
She threw the damp paper into the air and clapped her hands for joy. Silke started laughing and in between fits she described her plan to Anne.
They were both still giggling when the delivery boy arrived with the pizza.
CHAPTER THREE
"Come on, Silke," Anne called out as she skipped down the stairs into her Mend's apartment. "We're going shopping."
After last night's delicious bout of female love making, the two girls, as if by unspoken agreement, had each retired to their own bedrooms. Silke, still - half-dreaming of Anne's eager attentions, was taking the opportunity of lying in bed late. She had no morning classes that day and, what the hell, it was the last week of term.
"O.K.," she said sleepily. "There's nothing I want to get but I'll go downtown with you."
"We're both going shopping," Anne said firmly, from the bottom of the stairs. "We'll drive over to Campbellville; we can get everything we want there."
Silke stuck her head around the bedroom door.
"What are you talking about?"
"This," said Anne, displaying a sheet of paper with a long shopping list on it. "I've got it all worked out. This is everything we need."
"Need for what?" Silke was genuinely puzzled. "For our private party on Saturday night?"
"Nope," said Anne. She looked somewhat disappointed. "It's what we discussed yesterday. You remember, the plan. Well, I've worked everything out and what we'll need I've broken down into this shopping list."
"Let me see that." Silke reached out for the paper. "You mean what we planned for John Martin?"
She looked down the list. "You do mean that! You're not joking?"
"Serious," said Anne. "I'm absolutely serious. I've got the whole thing figured out, you'll see."
On the drive over to Campbellville she told Silke the entire plan, detail by detail. Silke doubled over laughing but by the time Anne pulled in to the Westdale Shopping Mall she was one- hundred percent behind her friend's scheme.
"We can start here," said Anne as they walked across the car park. "First we'll visit the pet shop. Then we'll look for Eve's Garden ... it's listed in the Yellow Pages. Oh yes, we mustn't forget to pick up the magazines."
Silke was still beaming with joy at Anne's outrageous proposal as they pushed through the revolving-door entrance to the mall. This is going to be fun, she thought What a way to start the summer break! Once inside, away from the warm glare of the parking lot, Anne slipped into the cardigan that she'd been carrying draped around her shoulders. She removed her sunglasses and tucked them into her bag; after a moment's pause, she fished them out again.
"Better leave these on, I suppose," she grinned at her own suggestion of a disguise.
Silke hesitated: "What's first, the pet shop? That's it over there."
"No second thoughts?" Anne queried her as she reached out with a restraining hand on her friend's arm.
"No way," Silke looked her right in the eye.
"Come on, let's go."
Silke led the way as the two girls marched into the pet store. Anne picked out the longest training leash she could find. "Is this the best one you have?"
"That's it, miss."
"That collar doesn't look too comfortable."
"Oh, I don't think the dog will mind."
"Do you have any others?"
The shop assistant produced a large cardboard box full of assorted collars. Silke immediately chose a wide studded collar that was lined with a much softer leather.
"I'll take this leash and that collar," Anne continued, "and do you have a restraining chain?"
"How long do you need?"
Anne looked at Silke and pursed her lips. After a moment's thought: "About twelve feet will do."
"O.K. I think. I've got one that short. Must be a small yard."
"Yes, that's it, it's a small yard." As the man turned to pick out the chain, Anne took the opportunity to give Silke a broad wink.
Once they got outside with their package, Silke told Anne: "You should have seen the leer on his face when you were signing the charge slip."
"Probably thought we were training a German shepherd to service us."
"Where do you get such ideas, Anne?" Silke said with mock innocence. -
"You're a pretty good teacher to start with! Look, there's a magazine rack in that cigar store."
"Why don't we get them afterwards? We don't want to carry them all around that Eve's shop."
The plaza walkway made an L-turn and the girls spotted Eve's Garden just down on the left. The backlit sign displayed a picture of the biblical Eve reclining on one side, with the snake wrapped sinuously around her body, thus concealing certain vital areas. Eve was just about to take a bit of a large red apple.
"This feels so strange, said Anne. "Going into a sex shop before lunch is like having hard liquor in the morning."
"If you can't do this, then you certainly won't go through with the rest of the plan," Silke said quite matter-of-factly.
"You're right, of course," said Anne, walking forward without any more hesitation.
The girls needn't have worried for they weren't the only ones in there. A young couple were strolling around giggling at each new novelty with a rather forced gaiety. Two young men, probably on their coffee break from other shops in the mall, were thumbing through the home movies bin. One of them nudged the other and handed over an illustrated film package. The second fellow raised his eyebrows in evident disbelief at the succulent menu which was promised the viewer. One girl was browsing around with an air of detached amusement. Probably picking out something to surprise her husband with, thought Anne. Well, good for her; there's probably far too few women who take the initiative. Anne almost pulled -out the shopping list and then thought better of it. She reached out to a glass shelf and took down two plastic jars of Fun Jell, "sensual lubricant," it claimed. Silke nodded in agreement.
Anne then picked up a vibrator, about nine Inches long, with a fitting sleeve that was a perfect plasticized replica of a man's cock. There was an empty cardboard package beside it. She held it up sideways for Silke to read: Vibra-Dong, it said. Again Silke nodded. The German girl had moved slightly ahead and already discovered a rack of dildos with straps attached. She selected one and added it to their haul.
It was then that they came upon the section of "Erotic Lingerie and Lounging Wear." Silke chose lace-trimmed panties and a half-cup bra in a soft, slinky fabric. Basic black is always best, she thought. Now it was Anne's turn to nod in agreement. She chuckled underneath her breath as she selected a pair of sheerest nylon briefs with a delicately ruffled garter belt to match. Anne settled for white and pink bows and trimmings. They were about to turn and walk back to the check-out desk when Anne spotted something which took her immediate fancy, a pair of the tightest fitting crotchless panties in a fiery red.
"I must have these," she said. There was an ad on the wall that caught their eye. It read: Enquire about our special values in Mirraplast, the flexible mirrored material which reflects your true sexuality. Anne bumped the palm of her hand against her forehead: "I'd completely forgotten ... "
"What's that?" asked Silke.
"Well, a couple of years' ago ... " Anne paused, " ... no, I've got a better idea, I'll show you when we get home."
She walked quickly to the cash register. The girl behind the counter served them with the neutral aggression of professional courtesy.
Once, they were outside the store, Silke asked: "So what's the new idea you're so excited about?"
"Nothing," Anne said, shaking her head to indicate she wanted to drop the subject. She was obviously bubbling with fresh excitement. "I'll tell you all about it when we get back; better still, I'll show it to you. Let's not discuss it now."
The two girls' were almost back at the main exit when Silke remembered. "The magazines! We've forgotten to get the magazines."
Silke went back on her own and picked out six of the raunchiest men's magazines she could find tucked at the very back of the display rack. Two of them were in white plastic shrink wrapping. Must be something- in there we have to be protected against, she thought with mild amusement. The man at the cash register smiled back at her. "They're for my boyfriend ... he's in the hospital," she blurted out.
"The pictures in these will give him a relapse," the man replied. Silke paid his and hurried back to where Anne was waiting.
"It must rub off or something," she said to her friend. "I seemed to be almost as embarrassed as you were outside Eve's."
"Embarrassed?" replied Anne, then added honestly, "perhaps I was for a moment. But once you've taken the plunge, it's all rather fun. Let's go home."
"O.K. What about the extra food, though?"
"We can stop at the supermarket on the way back and pick up everything at once." The two girls stepped out into the bright glare of the parking lot, joking together as they walked back to their car.
They were still chuckling over their own daring nearly two hours later as they dumped their hoard of shopping bags on the kitchen table.
"Mmm, I love American cheeseburgers," declared Silke, passing judgment on their lunch. "You ready for another cup of coffee?"
"Sure. You stick the kettle on while I go out to the workshop."
Anne rummaged around the work shed which adjoined the rear of the garage and returned holding up two very strong hooks and an electric drill like so many prizes. "Just what we wanted. I tell you the Westons are equipped for every contingency."
"I somehow doubt your father had quite this in mind," Silke said as she poured the coffee. "Now what was this bright idea which suddenly dawned on you?' Anne put the hooks and the drill on the counter and fished out the large screwdriver she'd tucked in her pocket. "Leave those coffees to cool down and follow me ... on second thought, we may as well take these other tools down with us now."
Silke followed Anne downstairs and dumped the things on her coffee table. She obeyed Anne's beckoning finger which summoned her into the bedroom. Anne stood by the dividing wall that separated the bedroom from the lounge. She put her fingers under the heavy gilt frame of the oil painting which decorated the center of the wall.
"One indifferent landscape of the Grand Tetons," Anne announced as she shook at it with her fingers.
The picture remained where it was. "Not hung by a wire in the usual fashion but, rather, screwed to the wall by mounting brackets."
Anne paused in the lecture she was giving in a fake schoolmarm tone. She added in her natural voice: "Here, give me a hand. I can't budge it."
Silke gripped the screwdriver tightly and soon had the two bottom brackets undone.
"You do the rest," she panted.
"O.K., there's only one on top," said Anne. "You hold onto the frame."
She quickly managed to twist the top screw loose; and took over supporting the gilt frame from Silke. "Now, I want you to step back into the middle of the room."
Silke followed the instruction.
"And now ... da, da, dum," Anne sang out as she lowered the painting away from the wall.
"A window," gasped Silke. "A one-way window!"
"A one-way mirror," Anne corrected her.
Silke ran out to her living room.
"It is a mirror," she exclaimed, looking at her reflection in the glass inset in the wall above the couch. She ducked back into the bedroom: "And it's a window!"
Anne's eyes gleamed with satisfaction: "This makes it even better."
"Why didn't you tell me about this before?"
"Honestly, I'd completely forgotten," said Anne.
"It only just came back to me."
"Why on earth would your father put that there?" Silke asked with raised eyebrows, as she moved back into the lounge to check on the mirror again.
"It wasn't him, silly," Anne exclaimed. "It was Larry, my brother, who did all the finishing off down here."
"Still, why would Larry put it in?"
I wondered about that at the time. You see I peeked in here when Larry still declared it 'off-limits' to the rest of the family ... he wanted to surprise Mom and Dad with the job all finished. Anyway, I saw this mirror then, and it wasn't until a couple of months later that I heard he'd taken a bet with the rest of the band that he could get inside Mary Jane Moore's pants ... "
"Who's she?" Silke called out.
"Oh, she was the dashiest of the cheerleaders ... "
"And so he could prove that he wasn't lying, he set this up while he was finishing off the basement?"
"I guess so. I wonder how many fellows were in the audience," said Anne, then changed the subject: "Personally I think he did a great job down here with all this soundproofing, connecting walls, and ... "
"and one-way mirrors," Silke finished. She picked up the electric drill.
"Put down that machine at once," came the disembodied order from Anne.
Silke dropped it and looked up with wide staring eyes at the mirror.
"And don't look so surprised."
Silke poked out her tongue at her own reflection.
"It's no good poking your tongue out at me," said Anne.
"Terrific, it works ... It really works," Silke said joyfully. "Come on out here-I want to watch."
The two girls traded places and Silke stood behind the mirror-window. From the other room Anne blew her a kiss.
"Thank you," Silke sang out.
"You're welcome," said Anne. "But I can't see if you returned it."
"Take my word for it."
Anne crossed over to the record-player and put on the first album she laid hands on, a collection of Beach Boys golden oldies. She danced round the room.
"Am I in sight all, the time?" she enquired.
"Pretty well," replied Silke.
Anne ran forward and dived down onto the couch.
"Now you've vanished!" Silke called out.
Anne's face suddenly appeared right in front of the mirror as she jumped up from the chesterfield.
Her lips splayed on the glass as she kissed her own reflection. Then, without warning she crossed her eyes and Silke collapsed laughing.
Anne pushed herself away from the wall and rejoined her friend in the bedroom. "Let's get those hooks firmly in place."
She selected the most appropriate spot and scratched it with the drill bit. As she was sinking the holes, Anne and Silke discussed all the new possibilities that the discovery of the one-way mirror opened up. This was going to be much more fun than the original plan.
Anne pulled her weight against the first hook. It was solid as a rock. She slipped the end of the chain on it and closed it tight with a pair of pliers.
"That's secure enough," she said, and proceeded to drill, the second hole directly above the head of Silke's bed. Silke went upstairs and returned with the plastic shopping bag from Eve's Garden. She removed the crotchless panties.
"Oo, la la," she exclaimed as she spread them across the front of her jeans. "Very appealing."
She tossed them onto the foot of the bed and pulled out the dildo and the vibrator. Silke stood them up on the dressing table. She pensively fingered the plastic flesh which sheathed the vibrator. "You know, I don't think this is very much bigger than Greg's."
Although the two girls had swapped some pretty intimate details, this was the first time either of them had commented directly on their boyfriends' measurements. Anne instinctively felt that she ought to offer a similar confidence. "It's longer than Bill's. And anyway, his kind of bends to the left. Of course, I couldn't be sure of the comparison until I tried swallowing that beautiful machine."
They both laughed.
"It is beautiful, isn't it?" Silke commented, as she traced a pattern on the shaft with her fingernail. "Still, it'll never replace the real thing."
"Oh, I don't know," said Anne. "It does have one very real advantage."
"What's that?"
"It'll never go limp," answered Anne with a throaty chuckle. "There. That fixes the chain in."
She slipped the leash around it and now gave a good tug. It was absolutely right for the purpose.
Silke placed the other delectable lingerie in the top drawer of her dressing table. All that was left were the magazines she'd bought at the cigar store.
"How do they look?" Anne asked.
"Very suitable," Silke said as she held up a double-page spread of a black man with his face burrowing into some blond chick's pussy. "Here, I've got some thumb tacks. We can stick them up on that cork walling all alongside the bed."
"I think my brother had some posters down here too."
"They're in the top of the cupboard," said Silke.
"I've never even taken them down to look."
Anne fetched out the posters while Silke bent back the staples and disassembled the first magazine.
"No wonder they call it Pretty Maids," said Silke as she held up a picture for Anne's inspection.
It showed a striking brunette, with shoulder length hair not unlike Anne's, sitting out on a sunny balcony, dressed only in a torn pair of denim cut-offs. She obviously had nothing else on for as she was sitting with her legs drawn up the crotch of her ragged pants clung to every outline of her pussy. She had a long banana stuffed into her mouth and she was gazing with lascivious eyes straight into the camera.
"Great," said Anne. "What a good idea! We'll leave a bowl of fruit down here ... with some yummy bananas in it."
"Your imagination is very fertile, young lady," said Silke. "But you're right, it's a super idea."
They pinned up the first picture.
"Look at this," exclaimed Silke. "Indulge your every whim, it says."
It was an advertisement for a New York mail order firm. An inset picture showed a one-piece pair of nylons with a gaping hole to reveal all of their wearer's charms.
"I've got some just like that," Silke said with a smile.
"Why don't you model them for me," Anne invited saucily. "Put on a little fashion show just for one."
"I might just do that later," Silke responded, adding, "but only if you're very, very good."
"Lucky girl," said Anne, pointing at another picture. A honey blond was kneeling before her man. She had just slipped his black hipster briefs down a fraction to reveal seven stiff inches of uncircumcised pleasure. The next photo was a close-up of her eager smile as, in the foreground, she peeled back the skin from his knob. In the next shot, she was bending forward over the back of an armchair. The girl was reaching back to spread her cheeks as the fellow stood behind her with his rampant cock glistening slickly with oil. The final picture in the layout showed the guy buried deep within her and throwing his head back as if with a groan of pleasure.
Anne gave a little shudder: "Lucky girl indeed I can almost feel it."
"It doesn't much look like they're faking it, does it?"
"Look at the smile on that girl's face. That's for real. She's getting the ass screwed off her right in front of the camera."
They put up some more of the photos. Silke undid the second glossy magazine and cut out some more pictures to join the array pinned up on the cork wall.
"How's that look?" she asked.
There was no reply from Anne. She was lying front down on the bed, her chin propped up in both hands, as she stared at the picture layout in front of her. Silke sat down beside her to examine what her friend was so absorbed in.
It was a three-way tumble between a big black stud, a white jock-type, and a redhead. Well, at least the hair on her head was a rich auburn. One picture showed her sitting, with legs spread wide open, in a leather lounging chair. The white guy was on his knees, gobbling at her cunt, while the black dude half-knelt on the arm of the chair as the girl took just the tip of his cock in her mouth.
In the next shot, she wearing a shiny black slip which contrasted enticingly with her creamy skin, and this time the two guys were standing on either side of the chair while she grasped both their cocks.
"Whew, how would you decide?" Anne commented as she turned the page.
Now the girl was naked again but she was kneeling astride the big black guy as he lay back in the chair. She had her back to him as she swallowed the other fellow who stood in front of them both. Her lips were stretched tight as she gulped down as much of his distended cock as she could.
The final picture was of the same setup but in this one the black model was holding her by the shoulders and bucking his hips forward as he shot his load into her. She was holding the jock just a few inches from her face as he hosed thick globs of spunk over her lips, her cheeks and even into the hair which framed her totally satisfied face.
"Wow," gasped Anne as she threw the magazine spinning onto the floor. "That's enough to make anyone horny."
Silke already had her hand resting on Anne's pert ass, and now she slipped it under the hem of the cotton dress and rested it lightly on the crack between her thighs. Anne said nothing but lay flat out on the bed. She moved her legs apart to facilitate Silke's stroking action.
"My, my, you are wet," Silke told her, as she hooked her fingers inside Anne's pants.
"Well, that was enough to make anyone's juices flow."
Sue buried her finger in Anne's cunt. She moved it rapidly for a few moments as Anne ground her weight back onto Silke's hand. Then she withdrew her finger and held it up as if for inspection. It glistened with Anne's honeyed flow.
Very deliberately Silke opened her mouth and inserted the finger, licking it off.
"Mm," she said, "very juicy!"
Anne watched her friend feasting on her pussy dew. Suddenly she sat up and knocked Silke back on the bed.
"Let's see how you're feeling," she cried out in fun. "I'll just bet your cunny's running over."
She tugged Silke's jeans off and her underpants went with them. Silke sat in a reclining position, propped up by two pillows, as Anne dived down for her snatch. Anne didn't miss a stroke of her fervent licking as Sue reached over her and tugged her dress up. She sat up and shrugged it off and then immediately resumed her feast.
Silke bumped her hips to the rhythm of Anne's insistent tongue. Anne is such an eager learner, she thought, this is going to be the best summer ever ... the daydream disintegrated into an explosion of colored lights as the orgasm gripped her whole body and mind.
She didn't even hear herself cry out in joyous ecstasy for the next thing she was aware of was Anne's open mouth pressing against her lips. She sucked greedily at her tongue, the pressure tugging it into her mouth. It was quite a few moments before she recovered her senses. Anne was nuzzling her neck.
"That," she declared, "deserves very special repayment"
"Promises, promises," murmured Anne.
"You'll see," Silke assured her. She gently set her friend to one side as she got up from the bed. She stumbled slightly on her way to the dressing table.
"My God, I feel quite wobbly after that."
She looked over her shoulder at Anne. The American girl was now lying there completely undressed. Her legs were open and with two fingers of her left hand she spread her cunt open, while with the right hand she manipulated her stiffening clit. The two girls looked at each other with frank admiration.
"You have ..." they both began together before bursting out laughing.
"I was going to say ... you have a gorgeous body, Anne."
"Thank you. I was going to tell you the same thing," replied Anne, then added quite shamelessly, "I love exploring it."
Silke fetched out the dildo and a jar of sweet jelly. She delicately rubbed it along the length of the dildo's shaft. As Silke strapped it on, she ordered: "I want you to kneel on the edge of the bed, Anne. Bend right over."
Anne eagerly took up the position. Her elbows rested on the bed cover while her hips thrust into the air. Silke approached her from behind. Her fingers were still slick with the jell, which she rubbed lightly into the furred crevice Anne presented.
"You're going to like this, Anne. I think you're going to like this very much."
Anne groaned with tingling anticipation. "Oh, give it to me, Silke. I want it all. Now."
CHAPTER FOUR
"This is the day," said Anne, as she poured a second cup of coffee and lit yet another Pall Mall.
"I've never seen you smoke more than one cigarette after lunch," Silke commented. "Nervous?"
"Not at all." Anne sounded taken aback. "Well, maybe just a little. Actually I'm rather excited, aren't you?"
Silke nodded.
"You do think he's going to be there, don't you?"
"That's the third time you've asked me, Anne. All I remember is that Carol once told me that he often drops by the Corner Bar for a beer before he goes home," Silke shrugged. "So if he doesn't show today, maybe he'll be there tomorrow."
"Let's just hope that John Martin is a creature of habit. Tomorrow's Friday, the last day of term ... Oh Lord, I do hope he's feeling thirsty tonight."
"Is everything ready? Let's check over it again."
"The padlock," Anne exclaimed. "I must fit the padlock. Go and fetch the collar, will you please?" Silke ran downstairs and brought back the heavy dog collar. Anne had gone out to the work shed and returned with a leather punch.
"Mom did some evening classes in leatherwork last year." She punched a hole through the end of the collar strap and right through the second layer underneath. "Now I'll just do this up ... the two holes are aligned ... and I can slip this padlock hinge right through."
Anne clicked together the clasp of the small brass padlock. She tugged at it a couple of times: "Seems quite solid."
"For goodness sake, don't lose the key," warned Silke.
Anne undid the padlock and, with a theatrical flourish, dropped the key into her purse. "Don't worry so. We may as well leave it all together downstairs."
The girls went and checked everything in Silke's apartment.
"That'll hold a horse," said Anne as she tugged on the chain strung between the two walls and hanging in a slight curve over Silke's bed.
"I don't think John Martin's that much of a stallion," chuckled Silke. "Lots of food and drink. And you can reach the bathroom O.K.."
Anne raised an eyebrow.
"I checked it out this morning before you got up," Silke confessed. "Just wanted to make sure everything worked according to plan."
"Do you doubt my organizing ability?" Anne queried with mock indignation. "Are all the accessories to hand?"
"Aye, aye, Sir!" Silke opened and shut the top drawer of the dresser. "And the picture's back in place ready for the little surprise to be revealed whenever we like."
"And plenty of reading material so he won't get bored."
"I think he's going to be anything but bored."
"What do you think of the decorations?"
"Very stimulating," assured Silke. "That is, if he's not a raving queer."
"Maybe that's why he hated our ... " Anne pursed her lips. "No, it couldn't be."
Silke laughed at her friend's sudden doubts.
"Don't be silly. He's as red-blooded as the next guy, I'm sure. He just has to be reminded of what it's all about."
"It would be hard to resist getting turned on by that," commented Anne, peering closely at a photo they'd tacked to the cork wall behind the bed.
"Let me see that," said Silke.
The picture showed a girl with long black hair flowing down over her shoulders. She was kneeling at the side of a bed with her weight supported on her elbows. She had her rear to the camera. As she was slightly twisted to the left, the deep curve of her generous breast was revealed. All she was wearing were a pair of black nylons, a wet-look satin garter belt to match, and a pair of spiked-heel silver shoes. Her knees were quite some distance apart which spread her cheeks to display the tiny darkish hole above, with its puckered ring of brownish-mauve flesh, and below that the bulging fronds of her pussy lips. Curling around, reaching from the front, was a. mass of silky black ringlets.
"How would you like that for lunch?" Anne nudged the German girl in the ribs.
She smacked her lips together with a slurping sound, "Only if I could have you for seconds."
"Let's hope it has the same effect on him," said Anne. "Don't forget your baby-dolls. We may as well take them upstairs now."
"O.K. But will I need them?" said Sue. "Can't I cuddle you if it gets chilly in the night?"
"We'll see about that. Let's go up and mix the magic potion."
Silke folded her see-through baby-dolls and placed them on Anne's bed cover, then went to find her friend in her, parents' bedroom. Anne came out of the private adjoining bathroom carrying a plastic pill bottle.
"Here we are," said Anne. "Mother's little helpers! Actually, I think she only takes them from time to time."
"How strong are they?"
"Pretty powerful. I tried them once or twice and they just knocked me out. Slept like a log."
Anne twisted off the child-proof cap and shook out two of the bright orange capsules. Then she extracted one more, "No harm in being sure."
"What are you going to carry them in?"
"Here," said Anne, pulling a package of cigarette papers from her pocket. "No dope, but I've still got some papers."
She pulled one out and smoothed it down on the glass top of her mother's bedside table. Next, Anne pried open each of the sleeping capsules and deposited their powdery contents onto the cigarette paper. Finally, she twisted it up and held it in front of Silke.
"One Mickey Finn coming up. Here, let's flush these down the toilet," she said, gathering up the halves of the plastic capsules. "I'll just put this bottle back on the shelf and we're all set to go."
They heard a whistling outside as they went back downstairs, followed by the rusty creak of the mailbox lid. Anne opened the front door.
"Nothing for you, I'm afraid," she told Silke.
"Oops, I'm sorry. This is addressed to both of us."
She was holding a garishly colored postcard of a cruise ship sailing into a semi-tropical sunset.
"Dear Anne and Silke," she read out. "Had a fine flight over and an interesting stay here in Las Palmas. Joining our cruise ship this afternoon. Still very excited. Take care, both of you, and don't get in to any mischief. Love Mom and Dad. P.S. Hope you do well with your final grades."
"If only she knew," said Silke.
"You mean about the grades?"
"No ... about the mischief."
"Hark at you," teased Anne. "Who's the worrier now?"
"Let's get going," said Silke. "I can hardly wait."
"Neither can I," agreed Anne. "So let's keep our rendezvous at the Corner Bar."
Right then, John Martin was thinking about a drink too. He finished marking the essay in front of him and tossed it onto the pile with all the others. Thank God that lot's done, he thought to himself; sometimes it felt as if he'd never reach the end of term. Why on earth did he let himself get stuck with freshman English? Next time there was a department meeting on course allotment, he'd pull a little rank; after all, surely he'd been there long enough to pick and choose his own courses. There were at least three people who'd joined the English Department after him. Why shouldn't they look after it?
What a term it had been. And now, finally, it had come to an end. Damn, he cursed inwardly, I've still got that last Creative Writing class tomorrow. He looked around his office for inspiration and his attention settled on a red leather-bound edition of the Tales and Poems of Edgar Allen Poe. That's it. I'll read them "The Pit and the Pendulum," tell, them that's the kind of vivid imagery to aim for, and then dismiss them with a blessing for the summer.
He picked up the University Bulletin and glanced down at the list of faculty publications. His own name was followed by the details of a book review he'd written for Modem British Fiction, an academic quarterly to which only he and Professor Kendall subscribed, At least; as far as he knew they were the only ones with sufficient interest in the new novels. Martin never quite got over seeing his name in print but it was odd that he'd never gotten around to writing that important novel he knew he carried within him. Oh well, maybe I'll start on it this summer.
His eye caught his name repeated again ... no, it was an announcement of faculty activities that said his wife, Professor Joannah Martin of the Psychology Department, was off to a three-thy conference. She'd been in very good spirits when he'd said goodbye to her at lunchtime and wished her a safe journey. Why didn't she seem that enthusiastic when they had an ordinary weekend to spend at home together? The car, he suddenly thought Of course, she's taken the car, so I'll have to walk home. No matter. I'll stop off at College Corner and have a beer. I don't even need to get home for supper.
Martin walked down the corridor to the Department's washroom. As he rinsed his hands, he inspected himself in the mirror. Teaching takes it out of one ... I do look tired. Still, going on forty soon, and not a fleck of grey. He ran a comb back through his mop of dark brown hair. A few years younger and I'd grow it longer at the back, but it always looks so silly when a college professor tries to ape his students. He had a square face, rather striking hazel eyes, and full, almost sensual lips. He looked at his reflection rather distantly; it never occurred to him that his female students might occasionally find him quite attractive.
Sally Rossiter had visited his office earlier that week to make a -great display of the obvious charms of her budding figure. But then that wasn't out of any attraction to John Martin, he realized. Rather ft emphasized her desperate need to get at least one. B grade this term. There's always one of them that'll try it on, thought Martin, but why pick on me? I'd be foolish to succumb to such a trick. News would soon get around the department and what a buzz that would make. Anyway, she's much too young. And the same went for those two foolish girls who had submitted some rather second-rate attempts at erotic fiction for their Creative Writing papers. Erica Jong might have the experience and talent to get away with it, although he never had got to the end of Fear of Flying, but Anne Weston and her young German friend shouldn't have tried to write about things they could obviously have no first-hand knowledge of ... Really, what a silly put-on.
Martin stacked the freshman papers on the secretary's desk and walked down the stairs and out into the late-afternoon sunshine. He returned the greetings of two of the better students in his Dickens seminar as he cut across the rolling grass lawn in front of the main University building. A strip of bare earth had been beaten by the march of countless feet to and from the corner bus stop. Martin ambled along this track, enjoying the warm glow on his skin. He loosened his collar as he went.
A beer at the College Corner Bar, he thought with anticipation, no, two beers, and then he'd stroll down the hill and stop by at the variety store and look through the magazine rack. Maybe there'd be some good short fiction or an interesting interview in this month's Playboy. His own self-deception never really occurred to Martin. After all, when he did buy Playboy he rarely got around to reading the articles, although he'd inspect the photo layouts with aroused enthusiasm. Sometimes, late in the evening, he'd stop behind in the front room while Joannah got ready for bed and look, through the back issues at the girls. When it felt good and hard he'd follow her to the bedroom and make his usual overtures. Joannah rarely refused him. I'm lucky that way, he thought Once or twice she's claimed to be just too tired to please me, but she's never been so corny as to plead a headache. Still, it would be nice if she'd take the initiative occasionally.
"Hello, John," a voice interrupted his speculations. "Well, we're nearly at the end."
It was Richard Nash, one of his colleagues, walking in the opposite direction.
"Hi, Richard," he replied. "Going back for another round?"
"Just some last-minute marking. I'd like to get shut of it and leave the weekend clear."
"I finished mine this afternoon." John pulled a face.
"Lucky you," said Richard. "See you later, John."
Richard moved off and John stood at the curb patiently obeying the wait sign although the nearest car was fully a hundred yards away. The lights changed, John crossed over, and there was almost a spring in his walk as he approached the college tavern. He pushed through the door and it took a few moment for his eyes to adjust to the smoky gloom. Damn, it was the end of term; he should have realized the place would be packed.
"If it isn't John Martin," a student greeted him with a pronounced slur in his voice. "Hello there, Professor."
"George," be nodded. "Looks as if you've done some celebrating already."
"Right on, Prof. Come and join us for a drink."
"Well, really I ... "
George clutched at his arm with one hand while using the other to sweep the crush of people aside.
"Make way, make way. I've got a thirsty man here."
They were almost at the bar when John felt someone else tugging at his other sleeve.
"Professor. Martin, why don't you join us. We've got a table in the corner."
It was Anne Weston. Thank goodness there was someone to rescue him from George Weber and his hard-drinking locker-mom pals.
"Steady on there, George. I've come to have a drink with Anne and her friends."
"You don't want to drink with us?"
"It's not that at all ... "
"George, we did invite Professor Martin for an end of term drink with us," Anne cut in quite sharply. The young man released his grip.
"Thank you, George," John said in a conciliatory tone. "Maybe I can join you later?"
"Sure, Prof later. Anytime you want a drink, there's room for you at the bar."
John gave him an appropriate smile of appreciation. George turned and was swallowed up in the crowd milling around the bar counter.
"Thank you so much," John said to Anne, as she led him over to the table they had secured in the darkest corner of the room. "You couldn't have arrived at a better moment: you've rescued me from the suffocating embrace of the football squad."
"Hello, Professor," Silke beamed up at him. "Sit down here."
She gathered up their purses which had reserved the third chair at their table. "Can we order you a beer?"
"Yes ... please."
Anne caught the waitress' eye as she swept past them and held up a finger.
"Draught?"
"That'd be fine," John called out, "Hello, Silker. And thank you once again, Anne."
Silke didn't correct his pronunciation of her name, but raised an eyebrow at her friend.
"Apparently I was just in time to rescue him from that mob at the bar," Anne explained.
"I don't think I've ever seen it this crowded," John said. "I wouldn't have dropped by for a beer if I'd known."
"I guess everyone wants to let off a bit of steam."
"Can't say I blame them," John admitted. "It's been a long haul this term."
"It's nearly over."
"Yes, thank the Lord. All that's left is our last Creative Writing session tomorrow." Even as he said it, John felt a sickening churn in his stomach as he recalled with a start-that it was Anne and Silke who had submitted those dreadful papers. What if they want to discuss them now? he thought.
I couldn't face that. He smiled at each of them in turn.
"One draught." The waitress set the foaming glass tankard down with a plunk. John reached in his pocket for change.
"Here ... this one's on us," Anne restrained him. She tossed some coins on the tray and the girl moved off to answer another call for more drinks.
"Thank you both. It's most kind of you."
He took a long swallow of the Ice-cold lager. Well, if they do say anything, I'll just plead that we're on neutral territory and they can take up any points with me in my office tomorrow.
"What are you planning to do in the summer?" asked Anne. She certainly didn't seem about to launch into an extended discussion of the literary merits, or rather lack of them, in her term paper.
John gave the usual polite explanations, saying how much preparation he'd have to put in for the next round of classes. The conversation drifted amiably through a round of small-talk topics. Inwardly John chuckled cynically at his own misgivings; after all, they were just like the rest of his students and probably never even, glanced at the comments he'd made. It wasn't like that when he was a student, he mistakenly recalled. Actually, these two sure are rather more pleasant company than some of the others, John thought, as the chill beer washed out the sour taste left by all that depressing marking.
Anne spoke of her parents' Mediterranean cruise, which Silke complemented with some of her own observations regarding 'travel In Europe. John had little to add to talk of foreign travel, so he switched it round to a British series he'd been watching on the public television station. He was pleasantly surprised to find that Anne and Silke had caught a few episodes as well. He was well launched into his lecture on the superior dramatic virtues of the British television series when he drained the bottom of his glass.
"Have another," Silke insisted.
"Really, I must be boring you ..."
"Not at all," Anne contradicted him. "This is absolutely fascinating. Most of the Profs here just turn up their noses at the very mention of watching television."
"Yes, do go on ... please," Silke said in support.
John relaxed in his chair. It felt good to have an appreciative audience and they were most perceptive to put their finger on his colleagues' reverse snobbism. The waitress answered Anne's beckoning finger.
"This round's on me," John said firmly, as he pulled out the wallet from his corduroy jacket.
"Same again?" the girl with the tray enquired, somewhat impatiently.
John looked at his two young companions.
"The same again is fine with me."
Silke nodded as well.
"Another round of draught lager then, please, and perhaps you'd bring a scotch on the side for me."
The waitress went back to the bar and as John turned his bead he thought he caught Anne exchanging glances with Silke.
"It is the end of term," John said. "Might as well join in the festive spirit. Are you sure you don't want anything a little stronger?"
"Beer's fine for me, thanks," said Anne. "Me too," Silke made a brief waving motion with her hand. "I thought some of the mini-series that the American networks have made were pretty good too."
John, now warmed to his theme, launched into a further discussion of the comparative merits of television shows. The girl returned with their drinks, and he paid her.
"If you'll excuse me for just one moment ... " he said, rising from his seat.
"Sure," said Anne. "We'll be waiting for you to continue."
As soon as they saw that John had made his way to the men's washroom and was safely out of sight, Anne opened the flap at the front of her purse.
Silke looked around them: "O.K., go on. No one's watching."
Anne unwrapped the twist of cigarette paper and, with a final glance about the room, she shook out its contents into the whiskey glass. With nothing better to hand, she took out a pencil and swirled the drink around. To cover her movements, she moved the glasses as if rearranging them on the table top.
"He's coming," warned Silke. John was still in the doorway of the washroom, looking about him rather uncertainly. Silke waved and John grinned back.
"Rather lost my bearings there for a moment," he explained as he sat down again. "Here's to a relaxing holiday."
"... relaxing holiday," Anne repeated, tongue in cheek.
"Cheers," said. Silke.
John sipped at the whiskey, pulled a face and then, much to the girls' relief, he threw back the drink in one long swig.
"Always feel like John Wayne when I do that," he laughed.
"While you were gone we were discussing pop music," Anne lied. She remembered once in class he'd gotten really sidetracked with a talk about the Beatles' lyrics. "Do you think much of it can really claim to be poetry?"
John fell for it hook, line, and sinker. A few years ago he'd come across some rather good articles in an obscure British journal and had shamelessly pillaged the arguments as fodder for cocktail chatter at those interminable department parties that had to be attended each Christmas. Anne and Silke listened with rapt attention as he expounded the brilliant symbolism in the movie Yellow Submarine. Twice he stumbled over his words, once he yawned widely without putting his hand over his mouth, and now he felt quite dizzy.
"I say ... it's awfully warm in here, isn't it?"
Anne looked at Silke: "No, I feel O.K., don't you? Have some more beer; that'll cool you down."
John's head drooped forward as he fumbled for his glass. He tried to swallow some but slopped it on the front of his jacket. "I don't think I feel too well ... "
He started to rise but collapsed back in the chair. "... not too well, at all."
"You do look rather pale," Silke said concernedly.
"Maybe we should help you out?"
"Thank you, yes. I think perhaps I'll need a hand." His head fell forward on his chest.
"Come on, Silke, we'd better steady him to the door." John could hear Anne's voice: she sounded miles away.
"Are you O.K.?" She laid her hand on his shoulder.
John managed to look up at her: "The air just a breath of air ... I'm sure I'll feel better."
"My car's parked right outside," Anne spoke to him firmly. "We're going to drive you home."
"Wouldn't hear of it ... just some air ... " The room swirled as he tried to make it to his feet. Anne draped an arm around his shoulders while Silke held him upright on the other side. Together they steered him along the corridor that ran around the perimeter of the bar room. They had almost reached the front door when George loomed up in front of them.
"One to many, eh?" he leered at them.
"Out of the way, George. He's just feeling a little faint," Anne glowered at him.
George shrugged, grinned stupidly, and turned back to the bar. The girls exhaled with relief.
"Come on, not much further."
They steered John out to the parking lot and propped him against the side of the car while Anne opened the rear door. John sprawled onto the back seat. Silke moved his legs and clambered in after him. "I'd better ride in the back with him."
Anne nodded in agreement and got in behind the wheel. "Everything O.K.?"
Silke's smile was reflected in the rear-view mirror: "He's sleeping like a baby. Phase one completed according to plan."
A few minutes later Anne turned the wagon into the Weston's driveway and swept straight into the garage. She got out, pulled down the door from the inside, and returned to help Silke discharge their unconscious passenger.
CHAPTER FIVE
When John Martin recovered his senses, he could hardly believe the predicament in which he found himself. The room was obviously a girl's bedroom to judge by the furniture, but the walls were covered with large colored posters of popular models and television stars. Any one of them, with their flimsy bikinis and wet, half-opened lips, was enough to give a healthy male a real hard-on. Taking them all together they were overwhelming.
He reached up with his hand. My God, he thought, there's a collar round my neck. And, indeed, he was wearing the sturdy kind of dog collar you'd expect to find on a German shepherd or a Doberman but certainly not on a professor of English at New Concord University. The leash was secured to a stout chain that ran between the opposite walls and was secured by two massive hooks that were sunk deep into each wall. He tugged at the chain. It wasn't going to budge.
Martin sat up. He'd been lying unconscious on the girl's bed. The cork wall that ran down the side of the bed was covered in pictures torn Out of the glossiest kind of men's magazines. For the moment he completely forgot the weird jam he was in as he stared at the photograph nearest him.
The girl was lying sideways across a bed with her head thrown back toward the camera. Her eyes were closed and her mouth slightly parted in moist invitation. A delicate pale blue slip was pulled down from the shoulder to reveal her right breast, which was generously proportioned and topped with a dark brownish-mauve nipple of larger-than average diameter. The only other apparel was a pair of black stockings which contrasted vividly with the smoothness of her thighs and perfectly framed her dark triangular bush. In the background was a large oval mirror that afforded a detailed view of the girl's fingers as she explored her own outer lips.
The next picture had the model sitting on the edge of a window sill. The slip clung to her full breasts but the lacy hem was hitched up far enough to reveal everything below as the girl stretched open her long legs.
John Martin was getting a real hard-on. He felt with his hand to adjust his growing erection when he suddenly realized for the first time that he had been stripped to his shorts and T-shirt. He shook his head to clear it. What the hell was going on? He couldn't be dreaming all this; his balls ached slightly as his stiffened cock pushed out the front of his shorts. He looked back at the wall. No wonder he was as hard as a rod.
He looked, at another photo of the same model. This time the slip had been discarded and she was bending, forward across a dressing table as if checking her makeup in the mirror. This action opened up the lightly furred crevice to reveal her in that enticingly vulnerable pose which invites any red-blooded male to approach things from the rear.
"Enjoying the view?" a voice asked brightly.
John Martin spun round and the chain rattled out its warning of restraint.
"Anne? Anne ... Anne Weston!" he stuttered incredulously. 'What on earth is going on?"
"Going on? Why, nothing," she replied, ... it's just that you've become our guest for awhile."
Anne stepped into the room and Silke followed her. She waved innocently at her professor as if she'd just run across him in the corner of the campus coffee shop.
"Silke?" said John, still pronouncing it 'Silker.'
"Silke," she chided him. "I always have to correct your pronunciation."
"Silke," he repeated after her, "now just what are you girls up to?"
"Up to? We're not up to anything yet," said Anne. "We just wanted to welcome you for the weekend."
"Sorry about that stuff in your drink," Silke apologized; "We didn't want you to turn down our invitation, that's all."
"You are feeling OK, aren't you?" Anne asked.
John shook his head again, then said: "I think so, yes. What time is it?"
"Oh, about eleven o'clock or so," Anne told him.
"Well, I don't know what prank you had in mind, but I think you'd better let me go now."
"But you've only just got here," said Anne.
"Well, about three hours ago anyway."
"Look, I'm expected at home."
"No you're not, John. You don't mind us calling you John, do you? This is really a most informal situation."
"She's right, John," said Silke. "There's no one at home to expect you. Your wife is away at a three day conference on, what was it, 'Sexual Roles in Infancy,' or something like that."
John suddenly remembered: "But how did you ... "
"Here," Anne cut him short, "it's on page three of the University Bulletin." She put the paper down on the bedside table.
John remained sitting on the edge of the bed. Silke sat on the chair that stood against the opposite wall. Anne stepped back and dropped into a cross-legged position on the thick pile of the dark green carpet.
"Aren't you curious as to why you're here, John?" asked Anne.
"I doubt if any answer could possibly explain why, when I went out for a solitary drink earlier this evening, I should end up dressed only in my underclothes and chained like a troublesome pet in your bedroom!"
"It's Silke's bedroom, actually," Anne corrected him. She waved at the alluring pictures, "Of course, we designed the decor especially for the occasion."
"And what do you hope to do?" he asked. "Take compromising photographs to blackmail me with later?"
Silke looked at Anne and pursed her lips: "That's not a bad idea, at that. But, no, it isn't in the original plan."
"Oh, there is a plan." John's voice held an edge of sarcasm. "Do you hope to turn me into your sexual slave? I would have thought you'd be better off with one of the college's football heroes."
"Come on, John, don't sell yourself short. All that jogging shows ... you're really in pretty good shape ..."
"for a fellow of my age," John completed Silke's sentence. It was the first time he'd smiled.
"No, John," said Anne.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said 'no.' We're not going to treat you as a slave. We want you to think of yourself as a very special pupil."
"A class of one," Silke aimed in.
"It should be a mind-expanding experience," Anne continued. "Anyone who could say, 'this is merely an adolescent fantasy' is really out of touch."
"Adolescent fantasy?" queried John. "When did I say that?"
"It was just one of your many comments on my paper," Anne replied. She crossed over and picked up a sheaf of typewritten pages from the top of the bedside cabinet. She walked up and down the room as she flicked through the pages: '"This is not very convincing ... do people behave like that in real life?' ... here we are, 'this sounds like merely a puerile adolescent fantasy.'"
Anne stopped quoting from his comments and held up the term paper, "I'm being generous in giving you a C-minus.' Quote, unquote. Professor John Martin."
Silke picked up the thread. She had her own essay in her lap. She read out: "'You should try to more accurately reflect real life rather than concocting baroque situations ... You don't expect me to believe this! ... Very energetic and most unconvincing!' Do you want me to go on?"
John shrugged: "Well, that's what I honestly thought."
"Yes, but your thinking's a little out of touch," said Anne. "How old are you, John?"
"Thirty-eight ... no, thirty-nine. Last December."
"And you've been married for how long?"
"Joannah and I have been together for, let me see, twelve years."
"When was the last time you went to the drive-in?" Anne asked him.
"Oh, good Lord, I haven't been to a drive-in movie for years. Since just before we got married. I can still remember it. It was a triple bill of Edgar Allan Poe pictures. Joannah hated it, but, as I recall, I thought they were rather well-done in a tongue-in-cheek sort of way."
"Twelve years ago, at least," said Anne. "You really have been out of touch."
"And when did you ever cross the Atlantic as a first-class passenger on a jumbo jet?" Silke demanded.
"Never, I'm sad to say," John said. "The last time I went to England was for a conference on the novels of Jane Austen. Even then it was a charter flight packed to the gills."
"Then you really had no right to decide as to what high-jinks passengers get up to nowadays."
John shrugged.
"And you certainly had no grounds for dismissing my description of this town's sexual activities as a ... as a 'puerile fantasy,'" Anne said quite bitterly.
John was at a loss for words. Slowly he said: "Perhaps I was too harsh in my comments. You're right, though, I don't have that much of an imaginative sex-life."
He hesitated.
"Go on," said Silke.
"Well, being married to a lady psychologist and political activist isn't all that much fun," he confessed. "By the time she gets through analyzing everything there's precious little spontaneity left. We get on all right together, but despite her rhetoric, it's not a very liberated marriage."
"Well, that's just what we're going to correct," said Anne.
"We're going to ... how do you say it ... add a few colors to your paint box," said Silke, most mischievously.
"Look, girls, I accept everything you say ... now, why don't you just let me go?"
Anne completely ignored this last request. She was really beginning to enjoy herself. She stood up again.
"Some of the demonstrations will be given right here in this room. For others we'll use this as a blackboard." She took hold of the bottom of the heavy gilt picture frame hanging on the wall opposite the bed.
"Here, let me give you a hand," Silke said as she got up and moved over to join Anne. The girls gently lifted the frame away from the wall and revealed what appeared at first glance to be a window.
John stood up and looked straight into the lounge. This hidden aperture afforded a panoramic view of Silke's front room. You couldn't quite see the chesterfield immediately on the other side of the wall but you could see everything else.
"A window?" John sounded puzzled.
"Not quite. But you're getting warm," Anne told him. "It's a one-way mirror."
She rapped her knuckles hard against it, "Very thick glass too."
"Think of it as a laboratory," Silke suggested, "where you're going to witness some very eye-opening experiments."
"Really, this is too much," John protested. "It's about time I shouted for help."
Anne looked at Silke and winked. The two girls screamed in unison: "Rape! Rape! Rape!"
"Don't be stupid. That old trick is hardly going to work when I'm found chained up like this."
"It wasn't meant to be a trick, John. We were just demonstrating that you can shout as loud as you like down here and no one will hear you. Not even if they were upstairs in the house." Anne patted the thick cork wall panels. "It's totally soundproofed ... my brother used it as a rehearsal room for his rock band. Mom never once complained."
John looked defeated. "Will you at least remove this damned leash if I give you my word that I won't run away?"
Silke glanced at Anne, before they both shook their heads.
"I think you're being most unreasonable," he pleaded.
"Let's wait and see," said Anne. "Would you like a drink?"
"I think I could use one," he said, suddenly aware of the awful dryness of his mouth.
Anne opened up the bedside cabinet. It was fully provisioned with a stock of food and drink.
"Biscuits, in case you get hungry in the night," Anne indicated. "Chips to nibble on. An assortment of chocolate bars ... we didn't know what particular sort you liked. Some cans of Coke and root beer. And a bottle of white rum!"
She pulled out three plastic beakers, then popped a can of soft drink, poured it out, and added a hearty splash of rum to each glass.
"Three rum and cokes. That should restore your spirits. Of course, we'll bring you cooked meals at the appropriate times. But don't bother to shout for your supper," Anne pointed at the ceiling. "Remember, it's completely sound-proof."
Silke left the room for a moment and slipped an Andrea True album on the record player in the lounge. She came back in, leaving the door ajar, and picked up her drink.
"Cheers, then, everyone."
"Yep. Here's to a successful, what shall we say learning experience." Anne held her tumbler out toward John.
He raised his eyebrows and took a long gulp of his drink, "And just what is it that you're going to teach me?"
Anne and Silke exchanged glances before looking back at John. Both the girls were grinning with anticipation.
"Well, for a start, we might want to show you that the younger generation," here Anne stressed the word 'younger,' "are every bit as uninhibited as this writer reported them to be."
"Also," continued Silke, "we can demonstrate that most people who aren't shut up in-what do you call them-ivory towers, enjoy any number of permutations when it comes to physical encounters."
"You see, John, reality is what you make it. Reality is a function of the imagination."
"I see you have been paying attention to my lectures, after all," said John.
"Yes, but you meant the 'reality' a writer constructs through his work. Didn't you ever realize that you can do whatever you like in real life as long as you have the imagination to suggest it?"
Anne told him. "When we feel you really understand that ... well, then you can go."
John looked back at the pictures on the wall behind him. "You might say those photos are in the real world because there they are pinned to the wall. But all they're portraying is the fantasy world created by the photographer."
"Fantasy world?" Silke said. "There you go again."
"Well, I can pick up a copy of that magazine from the rack in the bookstore," he admitted, turning back to stare at the model's wide-open pussy, "but I never get greeted like that at home."
"You mean like this," he heard Anne say, and he swiveled forward.
Silke was tapping her foot and swaying her torso in time to the disco beat. Anne was standing in the center of the room rocking her hips to the music. Her hands were lightly slapping out the rhythm on the side of her legs. Slowly, very slowly, she began to inch the hem of her short skirt upward. She didn't miss a beat as she drew the cutely pleated skirt higher and higher. John just stared at her, his drink, forgotten. Silke was watching Anne, too, but now she was clicking her fingers in time with the background music.
Anne wasn't wearing any stockings and her long legs were already lightly tanned by the early summer sun. Finally she held her dress up in front of her like a little girl might, so John could plainly see that she was certainly anything but a little girl. Anne continued her solo jive, grinding her hips in John's direction so the flimsy pastel panties pulled tight on the bulge of her pussy. He could clearly make out the dark shadow of her sugar bush through the thin material. Anne reached down with one hand and began massaging her cunt through the panties. John watched with half-opened mouth as she spun round and bent forward to touch the ground, which caused her skirt to jump up at the back and reveal quite the most enticing ass John had ever laid eyes on. Anne jumped in the air as the music reached its climax.
Without looking back Anne walked out of the room and flipped on a new record. Silke had already taken her place in the center of the bedroom floor and was now shaking to the music of CCR's "I Heard it Through the Grapevine;" She twitched her hips to the solid beat. John still couldn't believe what was happening. He took a long pull and finished his drink. Silke was wearing a blouse tied across her midriff and a pair of tailored blue denims which looked as if she had been poured into them.
There was a thin film of sweat beading John's brow. He stared at Silke's crotch. The pants were so tight that her cunt lips were revealed as bulging out slightly on either side of her pussy slit. Her hands sneaked down from her hips and with palms flat on her groin she stretched those jeans even tighter. Anne refilled their drinks and banded a fresh one to John. He reached out and grasped it without once taking his eyes from Silke's teasing dance. Anne now joined Sac at center stage and picked up on the rhythm of the rock band.
Anne was positioned behind Sac as they both swayed with the music. She reached around her friend and slipped her hands down inside the front of Silke's jeans. The German girl shook her bead with enjoyment and looked back over her shoulder with a smile. Anne blew sexily in her ear, then wriggled her hands deeper toward Silke's mound. John was breathing quickly now, and his second drink remained untouched beside him on the floor.
Anne gradually withdrew her hands until they were resting on Silke's taut flat stomach. She reached up and with one neat tug pulled open the knot securing Silke's blouse. It fell free and John caught tantalizing glimpses of Silke's tits jiggling in her half-cup bra. Silke turned around to face her friend. Still they danced on.
Next Silke shrugged one shoulder clear of her open shirt ... then the other. She let it hang at her back for a moment before shaking it loose onto the floor. Her creamy smooth, back complemented her blond boyish hair-cut perfectly. Now it was her turn. She stepped forward and kissed Anne greedily as she felt down and undid the button on Anne's skirt band. Anne herself reached back and pulled at the short zip fastener. Holding Anne by the hips, Silke worked the skirt down until it too Len on the floor.
Anne stepped to one side and Silke turned around so they were now both facing toward John, Silke in tight jeans and hall-bra, and Anne with only flimsy panties and a short shirt on. They never once missed a beat. John was riveted. They spun around and ended up facing each other, bumping and grinding to "Bad Moon Rising." Silke reached out aid undid the top button of Anne's shirt. Anne responded by undoing the first metal button of her friend's Levis. Silke undid another button. Anne did the same. Soon Silke pushed back the shirt from Anne's shoulders. The open blouse was quickly shrugged off onto the floor. Anne's full breasts swung in the soft bra-she was wearing. Her nipples strained against the pastel pink material. Silke let her jeans fall to her ankles and with one swift movement she stepped out of them. The record ended and the two girls stood there.
"More," John breathed huskily.
The two friends remained standing in the center of the floor quite ignoring John. Silke put both hands on Anne's shoulders and moved her closer. Anne reached around and plunged her hands past the elastic grip of Silke's hip-hugging briefs. She cupped the cheeks of Silke's burn in her hands and almost lifted the other girl toward her. Very slowly, very deliberately, they brought their open mouths together for a deeply 'satisfying soul kiss. John lost all track of time, he was so engrossed. A raging hard-on bulged in the front of his shorts, actually pulling the waistband away from the skin.
Suddenly it was over. Silke stooped down, quickly bundled up the clothes, and walked toward the door.
"Goodnight, prof," she said over her shoulder. "Sleep tight."
"But! ... "
"But nothing, John. You've just had your first lesson," said Anne. "Breakfast will be served at eight o'clock sharp. Sweet dreams!"
Anne turned on her heel and followed Silke through the door. He could hear their girlish laughter before it clicked shut behind them.
CHAPTER SIX
"Good boy," Anne said with the air of an understanding mother, "you ate all your lunch."
John just grunted. He was lying back on the bed browsing through a copy of How You Like It-For Adults Only. Anne had just entered the room but he deliberately didn't look up.
"And how was your day?"
"Just fine, John, just fine. No one asked a thing. It's awful in a way to think you can vanish, and it'll be days before anyone really begins to miss you."
"Joannah would be missing me right now ... "
"If she were around, maybe ... but then she's away all weekend at that conference."
"Well, someone at the college is going to wonder where I am."
"I don't think so, John," Anne replied calmly. "You see, when we chalked 'last class of the term cancelled' on the board, the few kids who did show up were delighted to find you weren't coming in. Nothing personal, of course, but it did give those who've still got exams a couple of extra hours to study."
"Or sit around the coffee shop, more likely."
"Maybe so. The point is that no one initiated a full-scale manhunt for a kidnapped professor."
John knew she was right. He'd made no social engagements for the weekend since he had planned to use the time to catch up with some book reviews he'd promised to write for the Modern Literature Quarterly. The first person who might possibly wonder where he'd got to would me .Joannah when she returned on Monday afternoon. And, even then, she might assume he was up at the college; at least, until six o'clock or so. His colleagues would probably figure he'd gone down to the seminar with his wife. No, nobody would be asking questions. He certainly wouldn't be missed for the weekend.
Silke came in, picked up the lunch-tray, and took it back upstairs.
"You're not too uncomfortable, are you?" Anne asked him. John had moved closer and was now lightly rattling the chain. The extra-long training leash allowed him to get inside the adjoining bathroom and half-close the door. When the girls had been away that afternoon John had explored the full range of his limited freedom. He could step quite close to the mirror-window, not close enough to rap on it, but neat enough to get a full view of the room beyond. Of course, he couldn't get over to the door; the lead had pulled tight when he'd tried that. John dropped the magazine on the floor by the bed. "Given that I'm chained up like a prize mutt, I'm surprisingly comfortable."
He sat up and Anne moved back as if to evade a lunge. John laughed. "I wasn't going to try anything. Yet."
Anne perched on the chair by the dresser which was to one side of the glass viewing panel. She was well out of his reach. "And I wasn't going to afford you the opportunity," she countered.
"That was quite a show you put on last night. I thanked Silke when she brought in my breakfast this morning. And now I must congratulate you on such a titillating display."
Anne shrugged: "That was just a warm-up exercise." An impish grin played at the corners of her mouth with the thought of the floorshow they'd planned to stage this evening. As if to cover up, Anne added, "Wait until tomorrow night. We're planning a little end-of-term get-together that you might find quite instructive."
"I was a student once myself, you know," John replied as nonchalantly as he could. "We weren't saints even back in those far-off days."
"Bringing back a few memories then, are we? "In a manner of speaking."
"Well, if it loosens you up, it's all to the good."
Anne cocked her head to one side and looked at the page on which the magazine had fallen open when John had discarded it. A black girl, dressed in a froth of pink lingerie and matching spiked heels, was spreading the lips of her cunt in teasing challenge to a white man who lay tied and spread-eagled on a four-poster bed.
"Ever do that with your wife?" she asked him directly.
John glanced down at the photo and laughed.
"No ... never," he replied, then added, "unfortunately."
"You fancy being tied up then?"
"Well, I'm getting used to it," he said, giving the leash a playful tug. "I haven't got much choice, have I?"
"Does she ever dress up like that?" Anne asked, still looking sideways at the picture.
"Well, if she does, it's not when I'm around."
"Maybe right now she's all done up in high heels and garter belt, standing in front of some old psych prof and bending over to suck his cock."
"Somehow I doubt that," said John. "You know, in a way, it wouldn't be so bad if she was. Who knows, then she might be a bit more imaginative at home."
"You're making her sound awfully dull."
"I guess I am," John admitted. "It's not that she isn't attractive. Actually she's got a pretty good body for a woman over thirty. I expect it's all that tennis in the summer. But she never bothers to package it as prettily as that."
"You should tell her to go shopping at Eve's Garden."
"Where's that?"
"It's a shop in the Westdale Mall, you know, over by Campbellville. It's a very interesting shop."
"With a name like that I guess it would be interesting."
"Very," Silke joined in, as she came back into the bedroom. "We picked up a few things there ourselves."
"And will I be allowed to see them?" John could scarcely disguise his quickening interest.
"You will, John, you will," promised Anne. "All in good time."
"I see you've been enjoying the light reading we left for you," commented Silke, pointing at the magazine lying on the carpet.
"Unfortunately his wife never parades herself in such finery," Anne passed on the information to Silke.
"How often do you have sex, John?" Silke asked him directly.
John shrugged. "Oh, maybe a couple of times a week."
"That doesn't seem an awful lot for a healthy chap like you."
"I don't know. Perhaps I've lived on a restricted diet for so long I'm used to it now."
"What about the students, John ... haven't you ever wanted to get inside their hot little pants? I bet we could have a lot of fun in your office if we had a practical discussion of Lady Chatterley's Lover."
"You could bring a daisy chain and hang it round my prick," John said dreamily. He suddenly realized he'd just talked about his prick without the slightest pang of self-consciousness. I must be warming to the game, he thought. This was far more interesting than typing out those boring book reviews. "Of course I fancy some of the students but there'd be all hell to pay if a teacher was caught touching up one of his young charges."
"Did you ever fancy us?" Anne asked.
"What, you two ...?" the question had caught him off guard. "As a matter of fact the thought did cross my mind."
Silke crossed in front of him and lightly squeezed his cock through the front of his shorts and then turned for the bedroom door. Over her shoulder, she tossed: "And now look at the situation. Closer than ever before and yet so very far away."
John's cock had stirred in response to Silke's quick fondle.
"Do you get a hard-on just Thinking about your wife?" Anne enquired.
"Sometimes." Here. John paused; the whole situation was so bizarre, so intimate, that he no longer had any qualms about discussing the most personal details of his love-life with Joannah. Why shouldn't he be as open as Anne and Silke? he thought, little realizing that that was the very first lesson. "Not too often, I must confess. After a few years it all becomes so familiar. The initial excitement's no longer there."
"Well, you'll just have to work at it," advised Anne.
Silke had dragged the beanbag in from the lounge, puffed up the stuffing, and was now sprawled in it with her legs spread apart. She picked up the theme from Anne. "Sure. Why not buy her some nice little lacy G-string for her to parade in ... show her that she can still produce an erection. That's important, you know."
"I'd love to, but I doubt if she'd wear it." He laughed at the image. "In the first place she'd probably think and developed some weird middle-aged kink. And in the second place she'd probably be too embarrassed to put it on for me."
"You'll never know if you don't try."
"I think I know her pretty well. She seems to enjoy sex well enough in the most ordinary textbook way, but she has a limited imagination, which isn't helped by her middle-class inhibitions that were ingrained in her long before we ever met."
"Hark who's talking about other people's inhibitions ... the very person who wrote all those comments on our term papers."
"They could hardly be used as evidence for your own uninhibited sense of sexual pleasures," Anne rubbed it in. Abruptly she changed the subject. "Does she suck your cock?
"Sure ... sometimes. Well, when she has her period I can coax her into going down on me. I don't think she really enjoys it. I always get the feeling I'm forcing her into it."
"You enjoy it well enough, though?"
"Do I ever!" he grinned. His cock was now bulging in the front of his pants. "Being sucked is different and occasionally even better than pussy. Any guy will tell you that if he's honest. What do your boyfriends say?"
Anne declined his gambit to switch the interrogation around and continued: "When she sucks you off, does she let you come in her mouth?"
First he pursed his lips, then shook his bead. "No, she'll never do that. Oh, yes, there was one lime when I came just as she'd taken me in ... she spat it out all over the sheet. Not very romantic. It took me about three months of gentle coaxing to get her to go down on me again. Even then I had to promise I'd warn her before I shot off."
Silke shook her head sadly. "She'd get to like it with practice."
"I doubt that somehow."
"Sure she would-what she has to understand is what it means. O.K., so at first it has an odd taste, slightly salty, even bitter, but it sweetens if you have the right attitude."
"How's that?" asked John.
"Well, it's the man's offering to her. It's the ultimate physical expression of his admiration for her," Silke said quite seriously. "She should accept it with gratitude. To drink from his cock is the most intimate expression of her admiration for him."
"You put that very well," commented John. "It's an act both can share with mutual satisfaction."
"Precisely."
For a few moments all three of them sat in silence. It was Anne who broke the spell: "Tell us, John, if you could discuss it with your wife-or, I know, suppose you could order her somehow and she'd have to obey-what would you like to do?"
John thought for a moment. "I'm not sure. I guess there'd be several things."
He pulled a pillow over and propped it behind his back.
"I guess I'd like it more often for a start. I probably do all that jogging to work off my unconscious frustrations."
"Don't evade the question, John. How would you like it to be different?"
"Well, I'd like her to take the initiative sometimes. Maybe I'd come home after a late meeting and find her dressed up in some tantalizing outfit like that."
He indicated the picture in the magazine. John looked up at the ceiling, then shut his eyes.
"I'd like her to try and rape me sometimes. I mean tear off my clothes and not let me go till I'd filled up her cunt with my own hot sperm."
"Sounds like fun," said Anne. John looked at her.
"I'd like to wake up on a Sunday morning to find her sucking on my cock. I'd love her to do a striptease dance like you two did last night. Rubbing her pussy and offering it to me while, at the same time, challenging me to see how long I could keep my hands off her. Yes, I'd really like that. I wish she reveled in her own sexuality and wasn't afraid to parade it for my pleasure. Does that sound odd?"
"Not at all," said Silke. "I'm going to put some music on."
She stacked three albums on the automatic turntable and when she returned she picked up the magazine.
"Would that turn her on?"
"I wish it would. Maybe she'd copy some of their ideas."
"Have you ever photographed her ... with one of those instant cameras?"
"No," John shook his head. "I don't think I'd even dare suggest it. I'd love to photograph her in all the most wide-open poses and build up a private album."
"I can see you would," said Anne, pointing to where his cock strained madly against his cotton shorts.
"Would you like to watch her rub her own open pussy in front of you?"
"You mean masturbate for me?"
"Sure."
"I guess that would be pretty exciting, though I don't know how long I could hold myself off."
"Well, why don't we time you?" Silke said innocently as she leaned back on the bean bag. Her skirt rode up round her thighs and she slipped a finger under the elastic edge of her panties. She began stroking her slit.
Anne stepped across to her, bent down, and quickly tugged Silke's briefs down her legs.
"That's more comfortable," she said. John now had a clear view of the blonde tangle of pubic hair and dark slash of her cunt. Silke reached down with both hands and spread the lips of it wide open. There was a fork in the frilled inner folds and Silke wetted the tip of her finger in her mouth then began a circular stroking motion right there at the junction of flesh.
Anne stood in the center of the room again swaying to the music. The jeans she was wearing had a lace-up front. She tugged the knot undone, then with a stripper's timing she began to pull out the cord. Soon it was wide open and the front of her denim pants hung down in two flaps. Anne wasn't wearing anything underneath. The dark mop of her pussy hair was framed in the vee of her open jeans.
A new song came on and now she gripped the sides of her T-shirt and began to work it up over her fits. There was a sharp intake of breath as John gasped before the beautiful sight of Anne's ample breasts. They hung heavy but firm and swayed with the rhythm of Anne's swiveling hips. She tugged the T-shirt over her head and held it at arm's length before tossing it into John's face. He brushed it aside, determined not to miss a moment of Anne's stripping routine. Silke too was staring at her friend with frank admiration as she continued playing with the little button of her clit. John restrained himself from calling out and pleading her to take it all off. He could feel the same excitement the two girls shared. Anne wasn't going to disappoint him.
She turned to face the window into the lounge as she snaked the jeans down over her hips. Anne kicked them off onto the thick green carpet. Still she swung to the music on slightly bent knees. She placed her hands on the front of her thighs and with agonizing slowness she pushed them down her long legs; eventually she was doubled over forward clutching her ankles. This time there were no panties to restrict John's view of her darkly fleeced cunt. He caught her upside-down smile between her legs, and without unlocking their gaze he stripped his shorts off. His cock jutted out bursting for attention.
"A token of my admiration," he said.
"Eat your heart out," Anne replied not cruelly, but with the resolve that showed she would teach him a lesson he'd never forget.
Anne uncoiled herself and crossed over to where Silke was lying back on the beanbag. She walked around to the head end and again turned away from them. She straddled the end of the bag and began to lower herself slowly toward Silke's upturned face. Very gently she brought her hips down until Silke could reach up comfortably with her tongue to probe the sensitive inner tissues of Anne's quim.
"Hey, John, do you like to suck cunt?" she called out over her shoulder.
"I'd love to be eating yours right now."
Silke made a protesting grunt as she lapped at Anne's open pussy. She continued to frig herself off at the same time. John's engorged cock twitched with almost painful desire.
"Ahh," cried out Anne, then suddenly stood upright. "That felt so good."
Silke just lay there with a little dribble of Anne's juices running down her chin.
"Get out of those things and turn over," Anne ordered.
Site shucked off the rest of her clothes and obediently stretched out face down over the beanbag. At the same time Anne produced the heavy dildo from the top drawer of the dressing table.
"Now that's what I call an erection," she exclaimed, as she brandished it for John's inspection.
"How would you like to see your wife get fucked?"
"I ... I don't know ... I've never thought about it."
"Well, think about it now," Anne instructed him, as she strapped on the dildo in front of him.
"Would you like to see her being sucked off by another woman?"
"Yeah ... I guess that would be pretty exciting," he said, "provided I could be there to join in."
Anne ignored his veiled request. She scooped out some jell from the jar and began rubbing it over the large plastic dick which jutted from the root of her belly. "It must be nice to have a great long thing like this to play with."
She moved behind Silke and brought the head of the mechanical dong against the already-moist lips of her partner's cunt. Silke's ass jutted in the air as she pushed back on the make-believe cock. Anne reached out and steadied her friend's movements. Silke's hungry cunt had swallowed two-thirds of the battering ram. She moaned in pleasure, almost tinged with pain.
"Come on," whispered Anne hoarsely. "You're a big girl now; take it all in. We must show the nice man what you can do."
John stared in disbelief. He hardly dared blink.
With a final thrust of her pelvis, Anne pushed the whole length of the dildo through Silke's distended pussy lips. She worked her hips back and forth and her magnificent prick slid in and out of the straining hole. As she pulled back its inner folds, Silke's cunt clung tenaciously to the oiled surface of the dildo as if reluctant to release it even for a moment. John seethed with envy for Anne's mastery of Silke's body.
The third rhythmic repetition dissolved into a moan of pure sensual pleasure. It was several moments before Anne looked up at John. "That's what I'd call a good fucking, wouldn't you?"
John nodded mutely. His tongue was dry and leathery in his mouth. Maybe now.
"That works up quite an appetite," Anne said as she withdrew the dildo and unstrapped it. Silke still lay there with her eyes closed. Anne slapped her playfully across her bare ass. "Have you passed out on us?"
Site shook her head. "That was fantastic."
"I'd have to agree with that," said John, hoping against hope that now one of the girls would have pity on him.
Anne gathered up the clothes that had been strewn around the room.
"Come on, Silke. Let's see what we can rustle up for supper."
She walked through the door without even a backward glance. Silke climbed a trifle unsteadily to her feet. John looked at her imploringly. Silke shrugged, blew him a kiss, and followed Anne out of the room.
CHAPTER SEVEN
John put the supper tray down on top of the bedside cabinet. Well, one thing he admitted, he couldn't complain about the cooking. He got up and walked toward the bathroom, pushing the leash along the restraining chain as he went. The water was luke-warm for a moment and then ran icy cold. John drank a whole glassful and refilled it before carrying it back into the bedroom.
"How was supper?" Anne asked as she stepped inside.
"Fine. Just fine," John said.
"Silke does make a delicious goulash, doesn't she?"
"Look, when are you going to let me go?"
"But aren't you enjoying yourself?"
"Of course," he let slip. "What I mean is ... is that ... well, this situation's too bizarre for words."
"Aha," Anne pounced. "So, our English professor finally confesses he's at a loss for words. There really is hope for you, John. I think you're almost ready to start relearning what it's all about." He was about to protest but Anne continued, "It's an odd situation for us ... we don't do it every weekend, you know. Although I must say I'm rather enjoying it myself."
"I think I'd enjoy it more if you took this ridiculous collar off me," he told her, before adding somewhat sheepishly, "I really wouldn't mind joining in."
Anne raised her eyebrows: "Oh, I don't think you're quite ready for that yet."
"Why not try me out?"
"Maybe we'll get around to that," Anne said with mock seriousness. She picked up the tray. "Anyway, why don't you just play the game for now."
"That's just the problem, I'm not being allowed to play."
Anne grinned and gave him a wink as she backed through the door.
"Did you include a fresh change of clothes for me in those plans of yours?" he shouted after her.
Anne put the tray down and poked her head back round the door.
"I knew there was something we forgot," she smiled at him. "Never mind, I know just the thing. Be back in a moment."
John was trying to persuade Silke to set him loose when Anne returned a few minutes later. She was carrying a crimson kimono robe with a black dragon design stitched on the back.
"It was Larry's. I'm sure he won't mind you borrowing it." She tossed it over to him.
"Well," he shrugged, "and how ant I supposed to get this T-shirt over my head?"
Anne looked puzzled.
"I'll give you my word I won't run away if you'll just undo this collar for a moment." He held the brass padlock in his fingers. "You do have the key don't you?"
"Yes, but I ... "
"Don't bother, Anne," Silke said firmly. "I've got some scissors here in the drawer. He can cut the undershirt off. And he doesn't need to remove the collar to get that robe on."
"Thanks a lot," John said morosely.
"Here," said Silke, as she slithered the scissors across the floor to him. "Come on, Anne, let's leave the prof to change himself."
They retreated to the lounge, closing the door behind them. Anne picked up the tray which she had deposited on the floor.
"Ssh!" Silke motioned. "That sounds like Greg arriving."
"Cripes, he's ten minutes early."
"Can't keep a good man down," Silke smiled at her. "Is the door shut tight?"
Anne checked. It was. Then Greg was rapping on the basement door. He didn't wait for Silke to answer but let himself in. "Hi, sweetheart."
"Hello, Greg."
"Oh, hi there, Anne."
He seemed to be staring at the tray she was still holding.
"I, er ... brought my supper down here to eat with Silke," she blurted out. "No point in staying upstairs with my folks away."
"Lucky you," Greg replied. "I wish my parents would take off for the summer. I'd have the party to end all parties. Maybe keep it going all summer long."
He grinned at his own daydream.
"Well," said Anne, a trifle awkwardly, "I'd better be getting back upstairs. See you kids later, maybe."
Anne was halfway up the stairs when Silke turned and called out to her, "Are you seeing Bill tonight?"
Anne paused. Silke knew that she wasn't. I'd better play along, she thought.
"No. He's sitting his last exam this evening. Don't forget we've all got a date to celebrate tomorrow night."
Silke stood between Greg and the stairs. Her back was to him and she took the opportunity to wink at Anne.
"When you've taken the tray back why don't you come on down and join us?"
"Sure," Anne hesitated. "Why not?"
"We were only going to watch a rerun of M.AS.H. and maybe smoke a joint."
What was she up to, Anne wondered, this wasn't in the plan at all. But if Silke was happy to improvise, the least she could do was go along with her friend: "Hey, that sounds great. Look it, I'll get some beers from the fridge and be right back."
Greg looked distinctly disappointed at the thought of a third party being present. He just wanted to fuck Silke as soon as Anne was out of the way.
He held up his hand: "Jeez, look at this grease. I had to change a wheel on my brother's car." Greg walked toward the bedroom door. "I'd better wash up."
Silke spun round and grabbed his arm: "Greg, I absolutely forbid you to go in there. The bedroom's a mess ... Anne will let you use the bathroom upstairs."
"So, I'll keep my eyes closed," Greg shrugged.
"It can't be any worse than my bedroom at home. Mom's always complaining."
He had his hand on the door knob.
"Greg," Anne said sharply, "you really should respect Silke's wishes." Then she added in a more conciliatory tone, "Come on upstairs. You can help carry down the beers."
Greg paused, turned, and followed her upstairs. Anne took a deep breath. Ten minutes later they were all sprawled out on pillows in front of the television set. Anne ran her fingernail down the icy dew on her glass of Schlitz; now she could only wait for Silke to make her next move.
"Where's that joint you promised?" Silke asked Greg. He fished in the pocket of his denim shirt: "Viola! Best Columbian."
He ran his tongue along it while giving Silke a very knowing look, then lit it up. After two deep drags he handed it on to Silke. She passed it in turn to Anne. None of them spoke.
"That's good grass," Anne finally said. "Could you get some for me?"
"Sure, I'll try," promised Greg. Anne stared at the television set. M.A.S.H. really is a funny program, she thought, much better than the original movie. Alan Alda is pretty sexy in his own way.
"Do you think Alan Alda's sexy?" she asked no one in particular.
"Well, I wouldn't kick him out of bed," answered Silke.
Greg playfully dug her in the ribs: "So what's wrong with me?"
"Anne wasn't asking about you, Greg. The answer would have been the same, anyway."
Anne stretched her legs out on the carpet in front of her. She was wearing a light cotton dress with a pastel print pattern on it. The hem rode up a little and she stared down at her legs as if they belonged to someone else. Not bad. Not bad at all.
"Here." Silke caught her attention and handed over the joint.
Anne looked at Silke through the haze of smoke. Her friend was a couple of inches shorter than she wasp but they both had beautifully proportioned legs. Silke's short summer skirt was most revealing. Anne took another deep puff and passed the roach to Greg. She returned her attention to Silke and realized that she wasn't wearing a bra. Two little buttons stretched the thin lambs-wool sweater. They were both generously endowed, Anne thought to herself. Silke shifted position and drew her knees up. Anne caught a glimpse of blonde fur ... so she hadn't any panties on either. The movement wasn't wasted on Greg; as he turned to offer a last drag to Silke, his eyes stopped on her crotch. He was so engaged by the tantalizing glimpse of his girlfriend's pussy that he didn't realize for a moment that he was being watched by Anne. She could clearly see the bulging outline of his cock.
He half-rolled over to hide his intrusive erection and tried to cover himself by asking, in a slightly strained voice, "Anybody want the last drag?"
Sac shook her head and took a sip of beer.
"Nope, I'm fine."
"Anne?"
"No thanks. I'm floating looses," she smiled at him. "I'm feeling really good."
For the next few minutes none of them said anything as they watched the last segment of the show.
They were free with their laughter, which kept edging into the giggles. The program finished and a commercial for fabric softener came on. Greg groaned and pulled out the cushion from behind his head and threw it in the direction of the set: "Turn that fucking rubbish off."
Silke got up, switched of the television, and put the double album of "Saturday Night Fever" on the automatic changer of her record player.
"That was a great movie," Greg said, addressing the ceiling. "Have you seen it, Anne?"
"No, I missed it. I remember that Silke said she'd enjoyed it"
Silke walked back to where Greg was lying in ft tangle of cushions on the floor. She put one foot on either side of his chest and grinned devilishly down at him: "You want another beer, lover boy?"
Greg just lay there staring up her skirt. You teaser, thought Anne, you sure know how to drive a guy wild.
"Well, don't answer," said Silke. "I'll get you one in any case."
She stepped forward over Greg's head and crossed to the mirror. Under the pretext of brushing back a wisp of blonde hair Anne could swear that she saw Silke blow a kiss into the mirror. She went to the kitchen and brought back another beer, then flopped on the floor beside Greg.
"Shift over, you great hulk," she said, "you've got all the cushions."
Silke poked him playfully in the side. Greg arched his hips to move over but dropped back to the floor quickly when he realized that such a movement only accentuated the protrusion in his jeans.
"Hey, watch who you're poking."
"That just pays you back for earlier," Silke said with a laugh, which quickly turned into a giggle as Greg tickled her in the ribs.
"Hey, no fair. I'll have a laughing fit if you tickle me now."
Greg paid no attention but reached out with both hands and wriggled them under her armpits. Silks fell flat out on the carpet gasping for breath. In between the gales of laughter she blurted out: "Help me, Anne. Come to my rescue."
"You started it," claimed Greg, "now you'll have to suffer the consequences." He was kneeling astride her stomach and still tickling the side of her ribs.
"He's right, Silke," Anne called out. "It's not my fight ... "
Greg looked down at Silke in triumph and was most surprised when a well-aimed pillow caught him on the ear.
"... but that won't stop me from joining in," Anne finished. "Let's see if you're man enough to take us both on."
Anne rushed Greg from the side and knocked him over, but the momentum carried her half sprawling across Silke's body. She scrambled forward and managed to roll on top of Greg. He pushed her off to one side and caught a cushion full in the in the face. Greg was bowled over by Silke's dive. He twisted around and pinned her back on the cushions. Silke's skirt rode up round her waist and revealed the blonde triangle of her luxuriant mound. Greg stared in wide-eyed interest, and in that moment's hesitation Anne pushed him back on the floor. Sue spun about and ended up straddling his chest and facing away from him. She had his arms securely pinned down under her ankles. To tell the truth, Greg wasn't fighting too hard; he was gasping from laughter at this uninhibited rough-and-tumble. Anne was kneeling between his legs pushing on his thighs to hold him down.
She reached forward and playfully tugged at the bulge in his jeans. "Stop it," Greg exploded. "Stop it ... I love it."
"Ssh," Silke said to him. "Be quiet or I'll have to gag you."
"Promises, promises," he called out.
"O.K., get a mouthful of this." Silke felt behind her and flipped her skirt up. Slowly she lowered herself backward into Greg's face, and gently rubbed her cunt across his lips. She tilted her head back slightly with a. smile of undisguised pleasure as Greg's busy tongue probed her sensual depths.
Anne was still kneeling between his legs, watching his hard cock twitch beneath his jeans.
Silke reached down and popped open the waist button. She looked Anne in the eye: "Be my guest. I'm sure there's enough for both of us."
Anne needed no second bidding. With one firm pull she unzipped his fly. Silke was still riding on Greg's tongue, and her love juices flowed down over his chin.
"Move yourself, Greg," she ordered In an urgent whisper. He gave a little wriggle and Anne seized the opportunity to drag his briefs and Levi's down off his hips. She gasped with delight as Greg's stiff prick was sealed in its naked glory. The base was surrounded with a thick springy bush of tight golden curls. Longer wisps of hair strayed over the surface of the heavy sac beneath. She cupped his balls in her hand and lightly bounced them before she bent right forward and took them one at a time into her wide-open mouth. Greg had long since ceased struggling to get away but now his body trembled slightly with every mounting pleasure.
Anne released the suction on his balls and gradually ran the very tip of her tongue along the underside of his cock. It was a good eight inches long and so thick that Anne could barely circle it with index finger and thumb. A broad vein curled sinuously up its length to branch out and be lost in the ruff of loose skin near the top. The head of his prick was pinkish-purple and satiny smooth, it was stretched so tight. Anne ran the point of her wicked tongue right around the thick rim of Greg's knob.
She sat back on her heels, wanting to drink it all in with her eyes. No wonder Silke had such satisfying evenings with Greg; he was armed to please. Anne placed both her hands round the shaft and began a rhythmic massaging action. She could see the tic of a tiny blood vessel right beneath the rim of his engorged cock. Stroking, stroking with an insistent milking action. Her reverie was broken by Silke's moan, "More, more ... I'm coming, I'm coming."
With a final convulsion, she spent her honeyed fluid over his lips, his chin. Greg murmured something quite incomprehensible but it was obvious he was enjoying himself immensely. Still Silke didn't move. "Make me come again that way," she pleaded.
"You're just being greedy," said Greg, audible for the first time. Silke moved away her ankles and released his arms. Greg tucked another pillow behind his head and reached forward to spread Silke's cheeks. He ran his tongue up and down her crack and then returned to nibble at her clit. Silke bent forward to give Greg more room for action. Anne moved back slightly and Silke took over the gentle massage of his cock. She slipped the bead of it into the moist cavern of her mouth.
Anne watched her two friends with fascination. It was the first time she and Silke had shared a fellow. It seemed so natural somehow, romping together like this. And she had to admit that watching Greg and Silke sucking each other off was a real charge. Silke was rocking slightly on her knees: this had the effect of bringing her whole cunt slit into contact with Greg's lapping tongue while she managed to swallow progressively more of his impressive erection. Anne realized she'd pushed her panty crotch to one side and was rubbing her own cunt in time with their rhythmic action.
It didn't take too long to work Silke up toward another climax. Anne's clit was standing out like a miniature erection. She rolled it between her fingers and then ran them down between the sticky inner lips of her cunt. Silke was moaning even louder than before, and Greg could no longer restrain himself. He paused for just a beat: "Suck me now; Suck me right off."
Then he wiped his tongue right across Silke's streaming pussy and poked it up into her hole. Silke shuddered with exquisite pleasure as she milked the come from his cock. Greg exploded into her mouth. She swallowed quickly but still some spunk escaped from the side of her mouth and dribbled down the shaft. At that same instant Anne was convulsed with an orgasm. It had never been like that when she'd masturbated alone in her bedroom. Silke was watching her now with Greg's come still dripping down her chin.
Anne moved close to her: "Thank you, Silke. That was really something." She kissed her friend on the lips, on the cheek, on the chin, licking her clean. "And Greg, you were magnificent." She ducked down and scooped up the remaining clots of spunk from the shaft of his cock. Silke got up from Greg and stumbled over a cushion. They all laughed.
"Fuck me!" Silke giggled.
"You should have thought of that sooner," Greg said. He hadn't moved a muscle. He lay back quite exhausted.
"Wow," said Anne again, still half-lost in a private reverie.
"Don't think you're going to be let off that easily," Silke told Greg as she sipped on his beer.
"Hey, leave some for me," he complained.
"It's O.K.," said Anne. "I'll get us all another one." As she got to her feet a trifle unsteadily it suddenly dawned on her that none of them had properly disrobed. She plucked at the hem of her dress and laughed, then reached around the back and unzipped it. She let it fall, then discarded her bra and pants. Anne caught her reflection in the mirror. How is John enjoying the show? she wondered, and somehow I don't think we've reached the main feature. As she drifted off toward the kitchen, Greg's eyes followed her there and back. She handed round the beers while he lit a second, thinner joint. Silke's clothes joined Anne's in a heap on the floor. She rolled around and tugged Greg's jeans past his ankles and tossed them over with the others. He shucked off his shirt. The three of them lay there quite naked, sipping their beers, and passing the joint. They exchanged the intimate smiles of initiates in a new order.
"When we finish smoking up," Silke promised, "I'm going to make you so stiff again, it'll hurt."
Greg smiled. "That really was terrific, wasn't it?"
Anne nodded in agreement and snuggled in between them. Greg propped himself on one elbow and handed the joint across to Silk. He let his hand drop back on Anne's stomach. As if in response she opened her thighs and he let his fingers stray lower. Greg began to probe her gently and then slipped a finger deep into her hole. Silk propped herself up in the same way and kissed Greg with open mouth. She broke it off and bent down to kiss Anne. She kissed her forehead, her cheek, and her neck, then trailed her tongue down from Anne's shoulder and circled her breast. Anne lay there reveling in the sensations of Silke's nibbling at her tits while Greg continued his steady finger-fucking. The dope heightened every rippling feeling that coursed through her.
Greg moved down between Anne's splayed legs, while Silk rolled over and laid her own body on top of her. She supported her weight on her forearms and gazed lovingly at her friend. Anne looked up and slipped her arms round Silke's back. Greg took advantage of their new position to alternately lick at their cunts. He stuck his tongue into Silke's rear entrance and she squirmed forward, then he switched his attention to sucking on Anne's clit. The movement Silk made brought her tits right over Anne's. She moved her torso slightly and theft nipples grazed against one another. She tried again and swung her full breasts so their nipples rubbed together.
"Kiss me again," Anne said urgently. Silke pushed her tongue deep into Anne's mouth, as Greg performed a similar service below. This time it was Anne who quickly bubbled over. She clamped Silke to her as she spent herself on Greg's inquisitive tongue.
"Too much," breathed Anne.
"Let's have an ordinary cigarette," suggested Greg. He lit up and lay back on the cushions. "Wow, is my head ever spinning."
He offered Silke the cigarette. She shook her head: "I'd much rather take a drag on this."
She held Greg's dick in her hand. Already it had made some recovery. Silke playfully waggled it and it uncoiled some more. She bent over his groin.
"This is the only way I can get it all in."
Silke swallowed him to the hilt, moving slightly back as he grew in her mouth. Greg beamed at Anne and wiggled his tongue between his lips. She smiled dreamily back at him.
"Save some for me," she implored Sue. Her friend sat up to catch her breath. Greg was as stiff as before. "May I ...?"
"It's all yours."
"There something I could really get my teeth into."
"Hey," said Greg, "you be careful with the teeth. It's the only one I've got."
"Silly," said Anne. "I won't bite off more than I can chew."
Silke and Greg cuddled together exchanging deep kisses while Anne applied herself to his cock.
Anne couldn't s*allow it all either. But she gave it a real good college try. She ran the point of her tongue around the bulbous head before slipping it as deep as she could take it in her mouth. She withdrew and made little nibbling motions down the length of the heavy shaft. Again, she returned to clamp it between her lips.
"If you keep that up I'm going to come down your throat," he warned her.
"I've got a better idea," Sue chipped in. "I'm going to suck you both."
Anne stopped in mid lick and looked up at her friend enquiringly.
"Greg, you stay right where you are ... Anne, you kneel over him facing away." They both obeyed her instructions. "Now slip him into you."
Anne settled herself down on Greg's prick. She wriggled her hips and took more of him in. "How am I doing?"
"Just great," said Greg as he stared at Anne's crack. That other tiny ring of muscle pulsed as she manipulated the rest of his cock deep inside her.
"Now, Greg, put a pillow by your shoulder so that Anne can lie back."
Anne grasped the idea. She maneuvered her long legs forward then slowly let her top half sink back onto Greg's chest. He lay on the carpet with Anne now stretched out on top of him. She put her head to one side and rested it on the pillow. Her legs were wide open overlapping his. Silke knelt between them both.
They exchanged no more words. Greg reached around with both hands to fondle Anne's tits. She rocked her hips slightly as Greg slid in and out of her gaping cunt. Silke crouched down holding Greg's balls lightly cupped in her hand as she licked first the very root of his cock and then nibbled on Anne's protruding clit. The three of them were joined in a union of pure sexual intensity.
Anne bit on her lip. She held Greg's hands over her breasts.
"Just let go," he whispered in her ear. "Just let yourself go."
She moaned softly at first but it rose in pitch as the shuddering waves of the orgasm engulfed her. Silke concentrated on Anne as with soft, sucking, licking actions she rode with her in a crescendo of primitive energy. The girl on top was now murmuring both theft names over and over again through half-clenched teeth.
Anne uttered a cry. She peaked. Silke felt her whole insides contract as if to trap this ultimate sensation for ever. Greg groaned too. Anne's continued pumping action was milking his seed. He could feel himself jerk and toss inside the fight walls of her cunt as he fired load after load of boiling spunk deep- within her. Never had he had an orgasm so prolonged. He felt it would never stop pouring from him.
"More," breathed Anne, "give me more. I can feel you coming." She contracted her inner muscles and milked the very last drops from him. After a few moments, Silke carefully slid his cock out and swallowed the lip of it. Greg shuddered when a last convulsion seized him as he fired a final salvo into Silke's mouth.
Anne slipped off him sideways and nestled in the crook of his arm. Silke took up the same position on the other side.
"That," Greg said definitively, "was the greatest fuck ever."
He kissed them both appreciatively.
"Yes," said Anne, still trying to catch her breath. "If anyone saw that, I think they'd have to agree."
Silke laughed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Anne awoke earlier than usual on Saturday morning. The hectic activities of the previous evening had done nothing to dull the edge of her anticipation for their plans for today. She lay, for a few moments daydreaming of Greg's thick cock pulsing within her oven as Silke had lapped at her cunt with a wickedly knowledgeable tongue. Just thinking about it made her all juicy again. I adore fucking, she thought, and today is going to be something special. I wonder how Bill will like making up a foursome? He always enjoys the group scenes in those swinging movies. Well, tonight he'll get his chance to join in one for real. It should be quite a spectacle for John. Inwardly she chuckled, Maybe I could try to get both the guys to fuck me at the same time. Anne sandwich. A delicious thought.
She slipped out of bed without disturbing Silke. Anne went down to the kitchen and fixed breakfast. She laid out a tray with orange juice, cornflakes and cream, and a slice of toast. The bright early morning sun streamed in through the kitchen window. She looked out at the back lawn while she waited for the kettle to boil, I must remember to turn the sprinkler on. Her father had left very explicit instructions for the care of the lawns; it had taken him quite awhile to achieve their impressive nap finish. Anne made a pot of tea and added two cups to the tray before taking it down to the basement apartment.
John was lying on the bed with his hands behind his head. He nodded at Anne in reply to her bouncy greeting.
"Sleep well?" she enquired.
"As well as could be expected."
"You mean after that little bout you witnessed last night?"
"I mean as well as could be expected while I'm trussed up like this. I tried to turn over in my sleep and nearly, strangled myself."
"Now that would have been most inconsiderate of you. We don't want you to miss today's demonstration."
"I think you made your point last night," John said. "Isn't it time you let me go?"
"Let you go?" Anne cried out in wide-eyed innocence. "But I thought you were enjoying it?"
Anne had placed the tray on the bedside stand and was sitting on the carpet with her back to the dressing table.
"Nice legs," said John.
Anne casually allowed her robe to slip open just a touch more. "The question is, how much have you learned so far?"
"... that I'd forgotten just how much pleasure there is in the human body."
"That's pretty good for a start."
"And that, although I spend much of my tithe with young people, I've simply lost touch with their daring and excitement."
"That's good too," said Anne as she sipped at her tea. "Do you admit that my paper is probably an accurate reflection of what this town gets up to?"
"I guess I'd have to," John groaned. He ate only half of the toast. "After what I've seen, I'd believe almost anything."
"Why shouldn't we enjoy ourselves? There's nothing wrong with a little healthy exercise," Anne said. She lit a cigarette.
"Hey, steady on. I wasn't moralizing," John defended himself. "Do you mind if I had one of those?"
"Sure." She tossed the package across to him. "Well, you didn't sound very approving."
He lit his cigarette. "I thought I'd managed to give these damn things up ... "
"Like you gave up sex?"
"I didn't ... " John began to protest," ... no, you're right. It's not only Joannah's fault. We've both let it become so mechanical. The fun, the enjoyment, seems to have drained out of it. You do have to use your imagination. Sex should never become stale."
"Well, at this rate, you'll soon deserve to be let free."
John looked at her imploringly. She stubbed out her cigarette, replaced the ashtray on the corner of the dressing table, and moved toward him. "Not quite yet, though."
Anne picked up the breakfast tray and turned for the door.
"Well, I guess I'll just have to take a snooze until you two girls decide you've played this game long enough."
He: lay back on the bed and turned his head away from her. Anne took the tray back up to the kitchen. It's gorgeous out there, she thought. It would be a pity to waste it. Anne and Silke rarely let slip any opportunity to sunbathe. She rinsed the few breakfast things under the tap and then went up to her bedroom.
Silke was still fast asleep. Anne picked up the paperback she'd been reading and walked through to her parents' bedroom. It won't disturb Silke if I run the water in their bathtub, she thought. Maybe If I take a good long soak, Silke will wake up and feel like going Out into the garden. Anyway, her folks' bathroom was equipped with a pulsating water-jet attachment which was a lot of fun to play with. She turned on the taps and fiddled around until the temperature was just right. As it filled up she tossed in some bright blue bath-beads.
Towel, book ... damn. I left my cigarettes downstairs, she cursed under her breath. She turned the bath on, slipped on her robe, and went downstairs again. John appeared to be sound asleep. She tiptoed over to the bedside table where he'd put down the cigarette packet.
Just as she picked it up, his hand snaked out and clamped round her wrist. With one jerk, he pulled the surprised girl down onto the bed. Anne let out a squeal.
"Scream as hard as you like," he reminded her "no one will hear you."
She struggled to break free of his grasp. John twisted around until she was half-pinned underneath him.
"Now where's that key?" he demanded. He felt in her pockets. Nothing. They were both empty. Her robe had been opened wide in their short tussle, revealing all of her supple body. His chest hairs were brushing against her nipples. She no longer struggled but wriggled beneath him suggestively. His left thigh lay between her legs, which she clamped together; with rhythmic pelvic thrusts she began rubbing her pussy against him.
Neither of them spoke a word. Gently he brushed the hair back from her shoulders. He squeezed the ripe fullness of her breasts in his hand. John lowered his face over hers, and they kissed passionately. His desire so whetted, he wanted her badly now. He needed her body.
"Anne," he murmured.
She withdrew the arm he had been lying on and started to caress his balls. She cupped her hands and weighed them in her palms. Anne ran the very tips of her fingernails in a delicate tracery along the underside of his shaft. His cock was straining rigid at her touch. She released the grip her thighs had exerted on his leg and twisted so that they were each lying sideways. She bent his prick forward and slipped it between her legs, then she closed them over him.
They rocked their hips as they lay there. He was not in her pussy, but his prick was rubbing along the length of her moist crevice. Each stroke drew
John's cock sliding across the stiff button of her clitoris. He couldn't take much more of it; he had to invade her.
Anne placed restraining hands against him. She grazed across his chest and sucked on his nipples. She snuggled down lower and, with the tip of her tongue, she traced a path down his taut stomach. He lay on his back. She wriggled lower. John spread his legs wide. She crouched between them. Anne now held his cock upright. A tiny droplet of semen leaked from its tip. In one smooth movement she licked right up its length. Her eyes never left him.
"Now, like you did it for Silke's boyfriend last night." John pleaded in a husky whisper. "Suck it for me!"
Anne bent lower, her mouth wide open to receive him. Then she moved in a blur of speed.
"Not quite yet," she shouted out, as she somersaulted onto the floor. With one bound she'd jumped clear off the bed and halfway across the room. John groaned.
"No fair. You shouldn't have grabbed me."
"You little minx!" he exploded. She grinned and ran for the door.
"It was a nice try, though."
"You can't leave me like ... " The sentence was cut short as Anne scampered from the room, slamming the door behind her. She smiled at the thought of John nursing his aching balls. She was still smiling when she settled down in the blue bathwater. Anne still didn't have her cigarettes, but she wasn't going back just yet for another try.
That little frolic with John had made her randier than she wanted to admit. That was a mean trick, she thought. Maybe I'll make up for it late. She relaxed in the soft soapy water. Anne felt drowsy. She didn't bother with her paperback, but instead reached for the head of the water pulsator. She rested the back of her neck against the plastic bath pillow and, opening her thighs, she aimed the gentle stream of warm water against the lips of her cunt.
The surface of the blue-tinted water churned in little eddies and whirlpools as the tiny jets played with a delicately tingling sensation on her vulva. She reached down under the water and used two fingers to stretch open her furry crevice to expose the growing bud of her clit. It was stimulating and relaxing all at the same time. For a moment she concentrated on the thrills it aroused in her, then she let her mind drift off ... her imagination wandered.
She was in a room. Looking into another room. Where was she? A room, someone was with her. Silke's bedroom. She was looking through the mirror-window. Her brother was in the lounge. Who was that with him? It was Larry with Maryjane Moore. He was in T-shirt and jeans. She was wearing her most eye-catching cheerleader's outfit. White socks. A tiny pleated white skirt. A scarlet sweater which she barely fitted into. What was he saying to her? Their mouths opened and closed, but no sound was carried into the bedroom.
A body beside her shifted expectantly. It was Paul. He was the organist with her brother's band.
She sensed that the dark shape to her right was the base player, Mark. From behind someone whispered vague, promising obscenities in her ear. She'd recognize the voice anywhere. It was Jim Cavendish, the drummer. They were all standing behind the glass watching Larry with Maryjane.
She was sitting on his lap in the old armchair.
The outfit she was wearing made her look like a little girl. The matching scarlet lipstick and heavy eye makeup only accentuated her doll-like appearance. Larry had one hand up the back of her sweater, the other he rested lightly on her skirt.
They were kissing. Nothing heavy. Maryjane seemed coyly hesitant.
Larry kissed her again. Anne could see he was forcing his tongue into her mouth Maryjane resisted. Larry switched his attention to her neck and then nibbled his way up to her earlobe. He pursed his lips then pulled on it gently. He blew softly in her ear and poked her there with the point of his tongue. Maryjane wriggled with delight Anne felt someone doing it to her. Her breathing was becoming irregular.
This time Maryjane offered him only token resistance before letting him push his tongue between her lips. She began sucking on it as Larry caressed the smooth skin up her spine. Gradually Larry raised his hand, slipped it beneath her sweater, and groped for her big girl tits. She snuggled up to him, putting her hands behind his head in order to pull him down even closer while allowing his fingers more room to manipulate her rapidly stiffening nipples.
Anne felt someone reach around and grasp her own tits. What had she on that made it so easy? A nylon nightie, pale blue like the bathwater, the front slipped open. Jim rolled the hard rosy tips between his fingers. She never took her eyes off her brother in the room beyond. Larry was whispering in the girl's ear. Maryjane flushed. Again, Larry kissed her. This time she opened her mouth wide as his lips fastened on hers. She had pearly white teeth in vivid contrast to her lipstick. Now as Larry probed with his tongue, he rolled her sweater up beneath her armpits.
A boy beside her gasped. It sounded like Paul. Anne didn't turn her head. Maryjane had large mauvish discs adorning each breast; she cradled Larry's head as he bent to suck at her like a cat with a saucer of cream. Anne could feel the hard bulge of Jim's cock pressing against her ass through the flimsy material of her nightdress. Her head jerked back involuntarily with pleasure as he squeezed on her nipples. He was kissing the back of her neck. Paul was breathing huskily in her ear, saying exactly what he'd always wanted to do with her, while. on the other side she could feel the wet swirling of Mark's tongue. An electric thrill shivered through her.
When she looked back through the glass, Maryjane was still lying sideways across the old armchair but Larry was kneeling in front, sucking on one teat while massaging the other round and round. There was a dreamy look in Maryjane's eyes as she played her fingers through his shaggy mane.
The vivid sweater lay in a discarded heap on the floor. Larry switched around. His right hand moved up to play on the glistening peak of her breast, while the other strayed down to rub softly on the flesh above her knee where it was crooked over the arm of the chair. He kissed her again deeply as if to stifle any possible denial of the liberties he was taking with her young body. Anne watched with fascinated curiosity as Larry wandered farther up her thigh. Her view was blocked by the appearance of Paul's face before hers. He clamped his mouth roughly against hers. Two pairs of hands were now groping her body.
After Paul withdrew his tongue, Anne watched her brother working on Maryjane. As he gave her deep probing soul kisses, his fingers forced their way under the elastic of the frilly white panties. She wriggled as if to stop his advance but knowing full well it only gave him easier access to her tight little quim. The crotch of her panties was warm and damp. Larry ran his fingertip along the silky fringe of Maryjane's slit.
Seemingly to consolidate his rapid progress, Larry removed his hand and reached up to stroke back the dark errant curls of her hair. He kissed her tenderly on the cheek. Sucked again at her nipples which were now puffed with excitement. He whispered lovingly in her ear all the promises she so wanted to hear. He reached with both hands beneath her skirt. Maryjane trembled and shook her head. Again, Larry murmured something. Almost reluctantly, she arched her hips as he tugged the lacy white panties off in one smooth movement Larry resumed his indirect approach. He fondled her breasts some more and kissed her again. As he ran his tongue around the back of her teeth, he maneuvered her hand down and stroked it against the front of his jeans. When he released his grip, so Maryjane also-removed her hand. Larry was in no hurry. He didn't pressure her. Anne could feel Jim's hand reaching around under her ass, his finger probing along the sticky slit of her cunt. She reached sideways with both hands and was immediately aware of the jutting manhood tilt Paul and Mark simultaneously offered her. Anne felt droplets of juice trickle down the inside of her thigh. One of the fellows beside her twisted his fingertips in the tangled fur triangle that surmounted the squishy lips of her puss.
She saw Maryjane turning about in the chair. Larry took the opportunity to shuck off his T-shirt. Anne breathed in deeply at the sight of her brother's bulging chest, built up by years of working out in the gym. She had never been turned on by the sight of him like this before. Maryjane sat forward nuzzling him as she ran her fingers over the ridges of muscle. Larry then pushed her gently back in the chair. He propped her legs up over the wide slope of his shoulders. Her white woolen socks were crumpled around her ankles, and she sucked on her thumb as Larry lifted up the short pleated skirt and folded it back on the soft curve of her belly. A thicket of dark ringlets formed a broad wedge pointing down to the purple gash of her cunt. Maryjane appeared to concentrate on the thumb in her mouth as Larry kissed and nibbled a. track along the inside of her leg. Anne thought she could smell the sweet but pungent odor of Maryjane's expectation but smiled when she realized it was more likely her own. Jim had slipped his finger up her by now, and Mark was holding her hand to his prick. They paused for a moment to watch the scene before them.
Very slowly, as if not to alarm her, Larry placed the tips of his thumbs on the lips of her cunt. Maryjane closed her eyes and wriggled her bum in the seat to thrust her hips even more squarely before him. Exerting the gentlest of pressure he peeled back the folds of skin, with their darkly fringed curls, to open her furrow wide. Anne could hardly believe her eyes. The boys with her gasped.
Maryjane's clit popped forward like a miniature cock. The stiff little joint protruded from the notch of her inner lips. Larry bent forward and flicked his tongue across it. Maryjane squirmed with obvious delight. Larry pursed his lips and rolled her distended clitoris between them. She shuddered again. Keeping his teeth well shielded by his lips he lightly nipped it. Maryjane's hands shot forward and clasped his head to her naked gash. A tiny drop of pearly dew formed in the notch below her cunt hole and dribbled down into the crack beneath. Larry licked the flat of his tongue up and down the engorged shaft of her magnificent clit. He shuffled on his knees to make himself more comfortable. His prick threatened to burst.
Anne and the boys in the bedroom couldn't remove their eyes; they feasted on this arousing spectacle. Maryjane was grinding her hips against Larry's pliant mouth. Gone was the "little girl lost" look; her brow was banded with beads of perspiration which trickled down the side of her face. She was bucking even more wildly in the chair. A tiny rivulet of sweat dribbled down the deep channel between her heaving breasts. It ran down to be soaked up by the waistband of her cheerleader's skirt. Maryjane was breathing rapidly; each time she exhaled she emitted an "aah" of wanton delight. With an abandoned wail she was lost in a frenzied kaleidoscope of sensation.
"I'm coming ... I'm coming ... I'm coming," she repeated breathlessly. Anne could clearly read her lips. Maryjane slumped back in the chair with her hips still twitching spasmodically. Larry lifted his head and smiled at her. His chin was sopping wet. A pink, glowing suffusion colored her cheeks, then she smiled back at him. "Oh, Larry," she breathed, "that was fantastic."
Larry could wait no longer. He got up off the floor and stood in front of her. He popped open his jeans and ran down the zipper. Maryjane struggled upright in the chair. She tucked her legs under her and sat back on her heels as if startled by this turn of events. Larry murmured something reassuring and stripped off his briefs. When he stood up again, so did his cock, like a huge throbbing pole in front of him. Anne caught her breath. Of course, they'd bathed together as little children, but what was this monstrous growth that sprang from his loins? A knotty web of veins twisted and curled up the awesome length of the shaft to feed the huge, almost purple, knob which crowned it. Larry could grip both hands around it and still it extended beyond his grasp. He worked the skin back and forth with a casual jacking motion. Maryjane sat transfixed as if kneeling before some awesome cobra. Larry kept up the rhythmic jerking massage. Maryjane sat, mouth gaping wide, her jaw slack with surprise at this bestial weapon. Larry stepped toward her. The battering ram was only inches from her face ...
Jim put his hand on Anne's shoulder and spun her around.
"There's plenty of cock here for you," she heard him say. "Move over here."
Anne watched as Paul and Jim unbuckled their belts and dropped their trousers. Jim spat on his hand and rubbed it along the length of his thick rigid cock. Anne heard Mark stripping off his pants too. Her nipples were hard with excitement as Jim ordered her to bend over. Mark fell on his knees behind her and reached up to spread her cheeks. She could feel his hot tongue lapping her crease, then the stiff point pushing and probing the tight ring of muscle that protected her rear entrance.
Jim pushed his friend to one side and, while Anne was still bent forward, he inserted his fleshy tool in her quim. With short, almost-savage thrusts, he drove himself deep into her. Paul stood in front of them, his cock straining before her eyes. She wiped her tongue over her lips then took him in her mouth. As Jim rocked forward against her hips, she swallowed Paul's throbbing penis. Anne rocked with them, being fucked at both ends. Both of them were so horny from the display they'd seen Larry put on, they were soon moaning and Anne could feel they were about to come. Jim shot off his load in the hot channel of her cunt. She sucked greedily on Paul's huge dong. The excitement surged through him and a hot gush of semen sprayed down her throat.
Jim withdrew and flung himself down on the bed. He lay on his back, his erection undiminished. "Too much, little sister," he exclaimed. "How about giving me a suck now?"
Anne felt compelled to obey him. She knelt between his open legs. Jim reached forward to fondle her teats as she went down on him. He was still sticky from the spunk he'd splashed inside her.
"Hey, how about me, Annie?" asked Mark. Anne kept her mouth glued to Jim's prick but waggled her fanny hi the air in reply to his plaintive request.
Mark crouched behind her. He dipped the head of his prick into her sopping slit. There was a delicious slurping sound as he withdrew it. Mark spread her cheeks wide open and lodged the slick point of his prick against her rear entry. Jim was ram-rodding his hard, pulsing cock down her throat. Sharp, anxious sensations swept through Anne's stomach as Mark pushed and probed against her asshole. Inch by inch he lodged his cock into the narrow channel. Anne felt no shame at this violation. She forced herself to let go, to relax the virginal ring of muscle that gripped so tightly round Mark's throbbing dong.
He gripped Anne by the hips and lunged forward. She burst through a pain barrier in a colored explosion of doubled sensation. She moved her pelvis in time with Mark's ass-fucking and worked her mouth up and down Jim's tool with the same rhythm. Mark covered her back with kisses. The climax, when it came, was more intense than anything she'd felt before. Jim was groaning too. He was going to come again.
Anne sucked the sperm up his stem; it boiled over in her mouth. She was drowning in a sea of sudsy liquid. Gasping, gurgling for air, Anne shook her head ... the bathwater was slopping in her mouth. She spat out the soapy water and sat up. Cripes, she thought, I almost went under! She picked up the water jet and switched it off.
A towel was draped over the stool by the end of the bath. She wiped off her hands and dabbed her face dry. Anne picked up her book and lay her head back on the plastic pillow. Boy, I could really do with a cigarette.
CHAPTER NINE
"Wasn't that fantastic last night?" Anne made it sound half-question and half-statement. She was still wrapped up in thoughts of the previous evening's romp with Greg.
"I think he enjoyed himself too!" Silke giggled. She didn't open her eyes.
The two girls were lying out on the back lawn savoring the late-morning sunshine. They both wore the skimpiest bikinis and their bodies glistened with suntan lotion.
"No wonder you have such a good time with Greg."
"He's a nice guy, isn't he?"
"Nice? That's putting it mildly when you're talking about a cock like that!"
"Yep," agreed Silke, "you'd have to admit he's pretty well hung."
"You must invite me down for supper more often," Anne laughed. "Hey, I'm turning ... over how about rubbing some of that oil on my back?"
"My pleasure," said Silke.
Anne rolled over onto her front. Silke took off her sunglasses and sat up. She poured some lotion into the palm of her hand and began to massage it into her friend's shoulders.
"Mmm, that feels good."
"How's our guest this morning?" Silke enquired. "Oh, he's just fine. Had a great appetite for breakfast."
"Still grumbling that he's all chained up?"
"Yeah," said Anne, suddenly reminded of their brief rough and tumble. "You know, he tried to jump me."
"How did that happen?"
Anne recounted the whole episode in detail, although she didn't admit how close she'd come to giving in. It had been difficult to jump up from John's bed when his rampant cock had been so' ready for entering her. Still, she'd get around to that again later.
"... he'd already admitted how much he wanted to join in with the three of us last night," Anne concluded her story. "Somehow I think there's hope for him yet. By the time this weekend's over, he'll be quite rehabilitated!"
Anne absentmindedly plucked a blade of grass and began chewing on it as she added: "It's funny, but I think he's enjoying the whole game as much as we are. Maybe more."
"You're right. I get that feeling too!"
"I'm sure it's the best thing that's happened to him in ages."
"So when should we let him off the chain?"
"Soon. Let's see how it works out," said Anne, quite confident that their prank couldn't backfire now. "He's loving it. Anyway, if he isn't yet ready to concede we were right; tonight should really turn his head around."
"You've said it. It'll really make him strain on the leash."
"Why don't we go down and check on him? We've got to make sure things are all ready for tonight."
"Five minutes more, Silke. I'm digging your massage too much to go in right now."
John was snoozing on the bed when the girls did go down to Silke's apartment.
"He's pretty cute, you know," said Anne, "... for someone who's such a square."
"Used to be a square," Silke corrected her. "I think we've broadened his horizons somewhat."
"Right," agreed Anne as she closed the door quietly. "Let him get some energy back before the evening performance."
They tithed up the front room together: puffed up the pillows, emptied the ashtrays, made sure there was plenty of ice in the refrigerator, and brought some drinks down from upstairs.
Anne went back up again and returned with a square cardboard box in her hands. "Look what I've found."
"What is it?" asked Silke, continuing to sort out some suitable records for the occasion.
"It's a game. I found it in the cupboard with a lot of Larry's old things. Good thing Mom never went through that stuff! Look at this; 'SENSITIVITY, the body-language game for broadminded adults.' "
"Now that sounds good ... "
"What a way to break the ice. Why don't I put it down here with the Scrabble and Monopoly so that one of the boys can accidentally find it."
Anne laid the box down on top of the others on the shelf beneath the record player.
"Shit," exclaimed Silke. "The bloody television's gone wrong again."
She'd flipped on the switch but the screen was just a jumbled mass of fuzzy lines rolling over and over. She fiddled with a knob at the back of the set. "Damn, that doesn't seem to make any difference."
"I don't think we're going to be watching television, are we?"
"Who knows? Look what it lead to last night."
Anne grinned at the memory. "Sure, someone might want to turn it on."
"Anyway, tomorrow night I wanted to watch that serial John was telling us about."
"Listen to you. Now who's learning from whom?"
Silke shrugged, "I don't see why it shouldn't be a mutual learning experience."
"I was only teasing," said Anne. "I'll give the T.V. shop a call ... maybe they can send someone over."
Forty minutes later a service truck turned into Russell Avenue and pulled up outside the Weston? home. The girls were upstairs in Anne's bedroom which faced the front. Silke glanced out of the window when she heard the van door slam.
"That must be the serviceman ... that was quick."
"Take a look at him," said Anne, who'd joined her friend by the window. "He's a pretty gorgeous hunk."
"Shall we invite him for tonight?" Silke said in a saucy tone.
Anne dug her in the ribs. "Don't be silly!"
"Well, you as good as said you fancied him."
"Quick," said Anne urgently, "I've got a great Idea." She wriggled out of her bikini and dragged on a pair of denim shorts. "You go down and wake John ... make sure he doesn't miss a thing!"
Silke stood there and raised an eyebrow quizzically.
"Go on, scram. He'll be at the door any moment."
Silke fairly ran out of the room and leapt down the stairs two at a time. Anne came down somewhat more calmly, tying up her halter top as she approached the door. The repairman was ringing for a second time when she opened the front door with an easy smile.
"Come on in. It's the set downstairs that's gone on the blink. I'll lead the way."
Anne ushered the serviceman into Silke's lounge and pointed at the television set in the corner: "I don't know what's wrong with it ... the picture's all fuzzy."
He crossed the room and while his back was turned Anne couldn't help grinning at the mirror.
Silke should have John wide-awake by now, she thought, as she gave them both a big wink.
"What's your name?" Anne asked the repairman. "Michael. What's yours?"
"Anne," she replied, and flopped down in the armchair.
"On your own, are you?" he asked.
"Yep. All summer. My folks are cruising around the Mediterranean somewhere."
"Nice work if you can get it."
He looked up from the back of the set and just managed to stop his mouth dropping open. Anne was wearing her shortest denim cut-offs, and the way she was sitting with her legs sprawled out pulled them tight between her thighs. Little curls of hair were peeking out mischievously. Right then Anne knew that he was- working hard to keep an erection down.
"Well, I'd better plug it in for you," she said, stressing the double meaning.
Anne picked up the connecting wire and bent right over as she plugged it into the wall socket. The denim shorts couldn't contain her well rounded bum and both cheeks were showing as she lingered over getting the plug in straight. Anne gave Michael a few moments to drink in the visual feast before straightening up and turning toward him: "I didn't have time to change," she said, "I've been sunbathing all morning."
Michael nodded and turned slightly red.
Now Anne sat on the arm of the chair with her legs straddled on either side. She leaned back and sort of rubbed her pussy on the chair ... if this didn't make him come in his pants, nothing would.
Michael fiddled around with the buttons at the back of the set and the picture slowly settled down into a bright, clear image. There was a baseball game in progress.
"I'll show you what to do if it goes funny again like that," said Michael.
She moved over to the T.V. and bent forward to watch what he was doing. As Anne leaned over she could feel her full breasts straining against the flimsy fabric of her halter top. Michael looked up and she smiled very innocently.
"If it goes fuzzy again just play around with that knob there and the picture'll straighten out."
He stood up. A few curls of chest hair looped over tile buttons of his denim shirt. He smelt good. Maybe it was just the smell of a guy who works hard for a living ... or maybe she had just a little to do with it. It was obvious he had a rigid hard-on that was almost splitting the front of his jeans.
Anne reached out and very lightly, ran her fingers over the front of his trousers. She could feel his firm cock through the denim.
"You've got a knob there that needs someone to play with it," she chuckled.
Michael's breath quickened. Reaching up she pulled the clip from her hair and shook it free. Even as she did so he took the opportunity to place his trembling hands on her tits. Anne could feel her nipples harden as he brushed them lightly with his fingertips. Anne turned around and began to slowly grind her ass into his protruding jeans. His hands were on her hips as he kissed the back of her neck and shoulders. That always gave Anne goosebumps. She brought his hand up and guided them through the loose sides of her halter. He squeezed and stroked her tits with more urgency. Anne felt behind her and slowly unzipped his jeans. To hell with Silke and John, she thought, I'm enjoying this. They were going to get quite a show. And the pleasure would be all hers.
Michael tugged at the string fasteners and the knot gave way, letting the halter fall loose; Anne stepped away and let the cotton top drift to the ground, then turned to face him.
Now he could see her clearly. Michael gave a short gasp. Her breasts were two creamy, white mounds, framed by the shadow traced by her bikini top. The nipples rose out of the darkish-brown rings that were now puffed up from his caresses. He walked toward her as Anne stumbled back and fell into the chair. She put her hands under her breasts and made a massaging motion. Mike needed no second invitation. Anne closed her eyes and softly sighed as he renewed his attentions to her tits.
He bent low and took one of the juicy hard nipples into his mouth, where he lapped at it with his tongue and lips. She stiffened even further as he rolled it very delicately between his teeth. Anne ran her fingers through his hair and brought his face up to her own and gave him a deep tongue-kiss.
Anne threw- her head back as Mike nibbled a path down her neck, across her tits, down to her stomach. Michael took the initiative. He opened the top stud of her denims and ran the zipper down. Suddenly she remembered the audience behind the mirror. Anne sat up.
"Wait a moment, Michael. This is too good to rush. You sit here, and I'll make it a house-call you'll never forget."
They switched places.
Anne shucked off her denim shorts. Her tits were bouncing as she straightened up. Michael flopped back in the chair as if he couldn't believe his luck. She stood before him, hands on hips, with her legs slightly apart; Anne ran her hands down the sides of her body.
"Drink it in, Michael. Do you really want to have me? Do you really want a special screw?"
As she asked him, she began to cup her breasts and slowly squeezed them forward in a milking motion. Holding her tits high, she bent forward and could just flick the nipples with her tongue. Mike couldn't take his eyes off her. Anne ran her tongue around her lips as lasciviously as she could. Then, teasingly, Anne slipped her fingers between her legs and started playing with her cunt. She began to give herself a leisurely frigging while Michael's eyes absolutely boggled.
"Oh, Anne," Michael gasped out, "you're going to make me come if you keep doing that."
Now, that wasn't in. the script just yet. She peeled back the outer lips of her cunt to give him a closer glimpse of that, rich red treasure, Then she took the finger she'd been using and slowly licked it.
"How do you like being sucked?" Anne asked as she dropped down on her knees in front of him.
"It's just great," Michael stammered, hoping he didn't betray the fact that his wife would never do anything "dirty" like that.
"Move, your hips," she ordered.
He lifted himself up slightly and with one deft tug Anne pulled his jeans and Y-fronts right to his knees. Mike couldn't kick them off quickly enough. His prick, now unrestrained, jutted out at a sharp angle. She unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it from his shoulders. Anne grinned at him, "My, my ... you are excited!"
The top of his cock was a deep purple color and a vein on the underside twitched with excitement. Once more Anne licked her tongue around her lips then with open mouth she bent forward quickly and devoured his swollen cock. She knew that as she sucked greedily on his prick he was feeling sensations he had never experienced before. Anne caressed his balls and stroked the shaft as she rhythmically mouth-fucked him. She glanced up, not letting him escape from her lips, and he looked back at her with a mixture of gratitude and ecstasy.
Once or twice she took him deep in her throat as she milked the come up from its reservoir. Anne swirled her tongue around the rim of his cock head as her fingers worked up and down the shaft, and she could even feel the vein throb more intensely. Anne suddenly pushed herself forward and, clasping her breasts together, she gripped his pulsating cock between them.
His hips bucked as the spasm shot through him. Michael groaned. Spurt after spurt of boiling semen gushed over her neck, her face, her tits. He sagged back in the chair.
She leaned forward again and took his glistening cock into her mouth once more, Very, very gently Anne sucked up he last few drops. Then sitting back on her heels, she wiped a thick string of come from her shoulder and throwing her head back, Anne let it trickle slowly into her mouth.
�Mmm ... that was good," she said.
After awhile Anne went into the kitchen alcove and poured them both a cola. They lounged around naked, sipping their refreshment and saying very little. Michael didn't seem in any hurry to leave.
And Anne didn't bother to ask if he had any other house-calls to make. She was now the one lounging in the old armchair; she pulled her legs back, perching her heels on the edge of the seat, giving Michael a completely unrestricted view of her hungry puss. He walked over and fell to his knees in front of her.
He leaned forward and kissed her, then began to tease the rosy tip of her tit with a darting tongue. Anne squirmed with pleasure and compulsively grasped the thick shaft of his prick. Michael slid his finger into her. Anne felt her own rising passion even as his cock hardened at her touch.
Michael sucked hard on her nipples as she-tried to maneuver the head of his prick between her dewy lips. He stabbed forward and pushed inch after inch of his aching meat into that juicy slit. Anne gasped with pleasure and hugged her knees back as far as she could. With one final lunge Michael buried himself in her to the hilt.
Anne slipped her legs forward around him, locking her knees in his back. Michael was trapped, churning his heavy tool in her eager furrow. Her hips were tilted toward him allowing for maximum penetration. Each thrust against her grinding hips brought a fresh wave of raging sensation sweeping through Michael. Never had he felt this way before. There was a faraway look of exquisite arousal in Anne's eyes as he filled her inflamed quim to overflowing.
He sighed with each mounting sensation. Anne writhed in the chair. Michael could feel the hot sperm boiling up from his balls, as each stroke slapped them wetly against Anne's straining crack. Suddenly he groaned as he shot a powerful torrent of the milky syrup deep into her thirsty channel. Anne clasped him to her even harder as another spasm shot through him. The burning stream of Michael's thick spunk kept spurting into her.
Even when it was finally over neither of them moved. They remained in each other's embrace, regaining their breath and their senses. Eventually his prick, its semen spent, began to shrink a little and slipped from her. She looked in his eyes, and saw satisfaction there. And gratitude too.
CHAPTER TEN
"How's John now?" Anne asked Silke as the German girl walked into her bedroom as she came out of the adjoining bathroom.
"He's very perky. I'm not sure whether he's just looking forward to this evening's special show, or if he thinks we'll finally set him free to join in."
"Not quite yet," Anne replied firmly. "He's still got a thing or two to learn."
Silke laughed and raised her eyebrows.
"I love playing teacher!"
"So do I," Anne agreed. "Dry the back of my hair, will you?"
"One special blow-job coming up," giggled Silke. Soon Anne's long dark hair was dry. She pinned it up and dropped the towel that had been wrapped around her. Quite matter-of-factly Silke said: "You really do have a beautiful body."
"Thank you," Anne said, accepting her compliment with mock seriousness. "Now I must make sure it's packaged as prettily as can be."
Anne put on the white garter-belt trimmed with pink bows that she'd picked up at Eve's Garden. Then she selected a pair of light-tan nylons and made a little show of putting them on.
"Are you going to wear that new lace-up bodice?" Silke asked.
"You betcha," Anne replied. Then, holding up her finger as if making an important announcement, she went on: "But first we have a special item I selected from that shop."
She held up the mind-boggling panties for Silke's inspection.
"Bill's going to cream in his trousers when he sees those on you."
"Darling Bill is going to shoot his load where I want him to ... and when I want him to."
Anne put on the panties and adjusted them. Next came a light wrap-around skirt and then she slipped on the bodice.
"Give me a hand with this," she asked Silke.
Silke reached out and cupped one of her breasts while with her other hand she slowly traced a ring around the nipple.
"Like this?"
Anne shut her eyes and enjoyed the gentle touch of Silke's knowledgeable fingers.
"You did say you wanted a hand," she whispered in her friend's ear.
"Not that kind of hand, you adorable idiot. If you keep that up, well never be ready for the boys."
Silke helped Anne adjust the lace-up front so that although it was apparent she wasn't wearing any bra, the bodice just managed to retain her straining breasts.
"That should give them an eyeful and perk up their interest."
"Two eyefuls, to be precise," said Silke gaily. "And it won't be their interests which get perked but those delicious cocks."
"Mmm," Anne smacked her lips and stepped back. Slice raised the front of her very short skirt.
"And how do I look?"
Silke was wearing black nylon pantyhose that were stockings and belt all in one and a pair of the skimpiest black silk panties. The boys would notice she had on the matching bra under her almost see-through peasant blouse.
"You're a treat, Silke," Anne told her. "In fact, you look good enough to eat."
Anne ran her tongue over her lips.
"Now who's getting us sidetracked?" asked Silke.
"Come on, let's go downstairs."
Even as they reached the hallway, they could hear the roar of Bill's car as it turned the corner into their street.
"They sound really eager!" commented Silke. "I'll go on down. You meet them at the door."
Silke slipped on Neil Diamond's "Longfellow Serenade" album and started pouring out the vodka. Bill came down the stairs two at a time, with Greg right behind him and Anne bringing up the rear. She turned and kissed Bill warmly on the the cheek.
"Bill ... Greg ... well, we've got some celebrating to do tonight: the end of another semester!"
"I'm going to get laid-back drunk tonight," Bill said.
"I wouldn't mind just getting laid again," said Greg, grinning knowingly at Slice.
"O.K.," Anne told them all. "Let's settle back comfortably and drink a toast to the end of term. Bill, here's a vodka and orange. Greg, you like vodka and tonic, don't you? What do you fancy, Silke?"
"Anything that's handy," replied Silke. "You know me, Anne, so long as it's a good long stiff one!"
Greg could barely suppress his expectant chuckles. He'd been bursting to tell Bill all the details of his session with Anne and Silke, but managed to resist the temptation in case it changed his luck. Anne handed Silke a vodka and orange too.
Bill raised his glass. "Here's to the back end of yet another term, and I never want to see it again!"
"Cheers."
"I couldn't have put it better myself?
"Bottoms up!" Silke said in a mock British accent.
They all drained that first drink pretty quickly.
Bill got up and poured out another round.
"Just for this special occasion," announced Greg, as he withdrew a very fat joint from his, shirt pocket and waved it around with a flourish. "Hand-picked from the best crop in Acapulco."
"Great," said Silke.
"There's some matches over there," Anne quickly chipped in, pointing to the shelves against the far wall. Greg sauntered over and picked up one of the matchbooks lying in the heavy alabaster ashtray. He was just about to return to his seat when he spotted the games lying on the shelf beneath the record-player. Anne winked at Silke; this was working like a charm.
"Hello, what's all this?" he asked.
"Oh, they're nothing. Just some of the games that Anne's brother left down here," said Silke.
"Hey, Bill ... come and look at this little collection."
Bill walked over and squatted down by Greg.
"Jesus, I never win at Othello. And I'm not much better at Scrabble," groaned Bill.
"Yeah, but look at this," said Greg as he dragged out the box labeled "For Daring Couples Only."
"Boy, I wouldn't care whether I won or lost at this!"
"What is it?" Silke asked with feigned surprise.
Greg held up the box which showed two couples in various states of undress lounging around the game board in front of a roaring winter's fire.
"The greatest party warmer ever," Greg read from the top of the box. "This sounds as if it was specially nude for tonight."
It was specially placed there for tonight, thought Anne. "So that's what Larry played at down here," she said. "Bring it over ... let's all see it."
Greg carried it back like a prize trophy.
"Use your five senses to really get to know your friends," he read. "For sizzling party action, nothing can beat this game."
"Are you game?" Bill asked Anne. He sounded as if he would have been crushed g she'd denied him.
"Sure," she shrugged. "What the hell ... it's a celebration, isn't it?"
A broad smile cracked open on his face.
"Come on, Greg. Lay it out on the table so we can all see it."
He removed the lid of the box and took out the board and laid it on the coffee table. It was something like a Monopoly board only the "rent" you won was much more interesting. He handed them each a colored marker and put the dice in the middle of the board. The idea was that as you went around you had to obey the instruction on any square you happened to land on. Some of the squares were labeled "Take a Chance!" and others "Just Your Luck!" with different piles of cards corresponding to each of them.
"Here, Bill, you and I swap places," Anne said, "then we'll alternate boy-girl around the board."
Anne joined Greg on the couch underneath the mirror. Bill took her place in the armchair, which he pulled closer to the table. And Silke sat on a pile of large cushions on the other side of the table. She bent one knee up so that the boys could get a flash of smooth thigh anytime they looked at her. And neither of them were looking at Anne right then.
"Who wants to go first?" asked Greg.
"Shake the dice," suggested Silke. "Highest roll starts."
"I insist that it's ladies first," said Bill, trying to sound gallant but scarcely concealing the fact that he wasn't quite so eager to be the first one to break the ice.
Silke looked across the table at Anne.
"Here, I'll start," said Anne, taking a deep drag on the joint Greg had just passed on to her. She picked up the dice, shook them about in her hand, and threw them onto the board.
"Seven!"
Anne moved her counter along seven places. It was a "Just Your Luck!" square. She reached forward and plucked up the first card, and held it close to her front so no one else could see what it said. She put it face down on the table and stood up. The others held their breath. Anne raised her leg, exposing her sleek nylons, and slowly shook one shoe off. She kicked it to one side.
"Remove one item of clothing," Bill read out, since he'd just turned over her card.
"Shoes count," said Anne. "You might be glad of that later. Anyway it's your turn."
Bill threw a ten, and had to pick up the first "Take a Chance!" card. He read it out, secretly relieved: "Finish off your drink in one gulp."
He tossed the drink back and handed the dice on to Silke. A nine brought her counter forward to a 'Just Your Luck!" square.
"It says that I must describe what gives me the most oral satisfaction," she read out. She looked at Greg. "That's easy ... I get the most oral gratification from sucking on a big long cock! I like to see how far I can swallow it."
They all laughed at her frank admission. The game was warming up.
Greg's first throw landed him right on the "Miss a Turn" square. He groaned. Anne moved on round to another Luck-zone. She picked up the next card.
"Place your hand inside your partner's pocket and say what you feel in there," it said.
She crouched alongside the armchair and slid her hand into Bill's pocket.
"Hey," he exclaimed, "It didn't say anything about breathing in my ear."
Anne darted the tip of her tongue in his ear and withdrew it. "I can feel a long, heavy tube. Why, it's getting even bigger. You know, I think it just might be the kind of thing Silke was telling us about."
"Do you want to feel what's in my pocket?" Greg cried out.
"Your turn'll come," said Silke.
Anne sat back on the couch as Bill threw a four. He followed the instructions and took off a shoe. Silke's five put her on the same square and off came another shoe. Anne grabbed the dice before Greg could pick them up.
"You've got to miss a turn." Those words cost her the other shoe. Bill followed with a seven. He picked up another card.
"Watch as the person on your left peels off two items of clothing," he shouted triumphantly.
"With pleasure," Silke told him in a dignified tone. She removed her other shoe and tuned her back toward Bill. "Help me with that top button, will you."
"Bill's hands were trembling with excitement as he fumbled with the small button at the back of Silke's collar. Then she turned so Greg could unfasten the next one. Then back to Bill. Two more goes and the peasant top was undone. She stood In front of them all and slowly peeled it off in time with the music ...
"More ... more," Bill called out.
Silke blew him a kiss. "All in good time."
She sat down again. She still had everything on below but only the black half-cup bra covered her chest as best it could. Bill couldn't take his eyes off the two dark pink circles that peeked over the lacy trim. The cunningly designed top pushed her breast up and forward, deepening the inviting crevice between them. Goddam, this was a great game, both the boys were thinking.
After Silke was made to kiss everyone in the room by a chance card, Greg came back into the game with a ten. "Hand me one of those Chance cards, will you?"
"Down on your knees," the card ordered, "in front of the person to your left and kiss the inside of their thighs."
Greg looked at Anne with a twinkle in his eye. She hitched up her skirt, and placed one leg bent up on the couch; the other she swung out across the floor. The boys both gasped at once; Anne's briefs had no crotch in them and her movement opened up her pussy for inspection.
"Where did you get those?" asked Bill in a hoarse whisper.
Anne said nothing but smiled serenely as Greg bent forward. He kissed the inside of her left thigh. Then, carefully angling his head so that Bill could be sure to see it all, he poked out his tongue and ran it from the top of her stocking, along the smooth tanned skin, finally waggling the point of it in the-first bulging lips of Anne's cunt.
"That's not on the cards," said Bill, somewhat plaintively. "Just the thighs, Greg."
He was about to withdraw when Anne reached down and hugged his head closer to her. She mashed his mouth against her cunt. After a moment of blissful contact she allowed him to withdraw. Greg winked at Bill, "Tasty lady!"
On the next round both Anne and Bill lost more clothing. She stripped off the wrap-around skirt and now lounged on the couch in a lace-up bodice, stockings, garter belt, and the slinky crotchless panties. Bill lost his shoes, his socks, and his shirt. His eyes now rarely strayed from the display of Anne's pussy; if they did, it was to ogle Silke's delicious tits.
Silke was forced to draw another Chance card. It read: "Order the person on your left to strip down to their last item of underwear, and see if you can feel just how they are feeling about you."
"Come on, Greg," she said with a laugh, "it's your turn to strip off."
Greg shrugged good-naturedly, and stood up. He peeled off his shirt and T-shirt, shoes, socks, and then he shucked off his jeans. He stood there in front of Silke. She got off the cushions and reached up to give him a kiss; even as his mouth locked onto hers, the others could see her fondling the bulge in his jockey-shorts. Greg whimpered with pleasure as she plunged her hand down past the elastic waist band and gently squeezed his cock.
Anne couldn't hold herself back. She got up from the chesterfield and moved around the coffee table to join them. Silke broke away and Greg turned to face Anne.
"Wait a minute ... "said Bill.
"Ssh," Silke held up her finger to her lips, then beckoned him forward, "let me feel yours."
Bill lurched up from the chair. He couldn't wait to join in. Silke unpopped the button on his Levi's and groped inside. Bill pushed his tongue in her mouth. She tugged down the front zipper and his trousers fell away from his waist.
"That's better," she said soothingly. "You've got such a. big thing in there ... and it's just straining to get out."
Anne was still fondling Greg's balls as she looked past his shoulder to see Bill kicking off his jeans. She whispered a lewd promise in Greg's ear and dropped to her knees in front of him. Anne reached out and slipped his pants off his hips. His cock jutted in front of her face.
"Look what I've found," Anne called out. The others broke their clinch and turned to watch. Holding the bottom of the heavy shaft with the fingers of both hands, she stretched her mouth wide open and moaned softly as she took his pulsing knob into her mouth. Bill stared in fascinated amazement at the sight of his girlfriend gobbling on Greg's massive dong.
"Would you do that for me?" he asked Silke, with a tremor in his voice. The game was quite forgotten now. He dragged off his shorts and almost pushed Silke down in front of him. "Go on, Silke. Suck my cock."
Without letting Greg's prick escape from her clasped lips, Anne cocked her head enough to see Silke begin nibbling on the underside of Bill's cock. Silke twisted her head sideways and sucked on the heavy balls that hung beneath. Bill's shallow breathing came in short bursts. He reached down and held Silke's face between his hands and guided his throbbing length deep into the moist warmth of her mouth.
"Well, if we're going to swing," said Anne, giving a last open kiss to the straining purple head of Greg's prick, "we may as well have some more music."
She crossed to the record-player and piled on a stack of long-playing albums. That should keep us going for awhile, she thought. I wonder how our audience is enjoying it all. The thought of being secretly watched sent a small shudder thrilling through her. She took off her panties and threw them at Greg who was now lying back on the chesterfield. Anne stood there, legs apart, in the middle of the room. Still wearing the tightly laced bodice on top, and the garters and nylons below, she was sufficiently dressed to look somehow innocent while at the same time being undressed enough to be enticingly vulnerable. She began rubbing her forefinger in the cleft of her pussy.
"Bill," she said softly, "come and see what I've got for you."
Almost reluctantly Bill withdrew from Silke's oral embrace and turned toward Anne. It was his turn to fall on his knees and squat in front of this vision that Anne presented. She straddled his face and began to rock her hips. Bill's nose was buried in her dark brown curls as his tongue flicked back and forth against her clit.
Greg and Silke watched them for a moment, then be put his hand on her bra strap and unclipped it. He caressed her fits, while she formed a ring around his still-glistening cock with her fingers and began rubbing him up and down.
"I'd like to be sucked too," she told him. "Come and sit on the floor in front of me."
Greg obediently moved round and dropped on the floor.
"No. Roll over. Rest back on your elbows."
Greg stretched out on the carpet, supporting himself on his forearms, and tossed his head right back. Silke moved to the very edge of the couch so that her cunt came into contact with his mouth and his nose was buried in the crack behind.
"Come over here, you two," Silke said to the others.
Bill grinned as he saw Greg lapping at Silke's juicy slit. He came over and stood with his legs on either side of his friend below and thrust his cock in Silke's face. Anne wriggled down on the carpet. Greg drew up his knees and opened them wide so Anne had free play with his cock. She needed no second invitation. For quite a while they remained in this communal embrace, Silke sucking contentedly on Bill's swollen meat, Greg poking his tongue up Silke's hole and then licking it across the stiff tissue of her clit while he, in turn, was being sucked by Anne.
Greg was the first to give up. His position was a trifle uncomfortable, and he collapsed on the floor laughing. "Wow, what a great way to spend a Saturday evening!"
"Nothing like a four-way suck-off to relax you, is there?" said Anne. "Come on, Bill, if you keep that up you'll shoot off in Silke's mouth, and I want you to come inside my pussy."
As Bill pulled away from Silke, he shrugged and said, "Have to obey orders. I'll save some for you for later."
Anne had moved to the middle of the room, to be sure that John had a clear view, and was lying back in the scattered pile of cushions. She undid the knot lathe lace-up bodice and began to unstring it a little at a time. Bill stood there above her, his cock pointing rigidly in front of him. Anne finally opened up the front of her bodice to display her heavy breasts for the first time that evening. She pushed a cushion underneath her to arch her hips forward, then offered her arms in an open embrace. "Come here, baby," she purred.
Bill got down in front of her and began sucking at her fits. She reached underneath and guided the head of his aching prick into her cunny. She was overflowing with juices and his cock slid into her, Bill bucked his hips and pushed himself deep within her. Anne gasped with pleasure. He was so thick, so long, he seemed to fill her completely.
Silke echoed her with a small scream of delight as Greg eased into her and began fucking with a regular, steady rhythm.
Anne pulled back her legs and locked them round Bill's body. He pumped his rod as deep as he could shove it up her. Anne responded by pushing her hips up toward him with every stroke. She concentrated on squeezing together her inner muscles and milking his cock even as he fucked her.
Silke was groaning again. Greg had reached beneath her and was squeezing her ass with both hands, making her ride on waves of sensual delight. She began to move a little frantically, bucking up and down beneath his weight. She closed her eyes and moaned. Greg had his cock jammed deep in her body as, with a spasmic shudder, he let go and the spunk erupted from him.
Anne was crying out in an indescribable mixture of path and pleasure as Bill gripped her shoulders tightly. Finally, she felt it happening. Bursting through the sensual barrier, his cock twitching in her, Bill came in an explosion of pure sensation. She locked her heels behind his back and spunk poured out of him in a hot, sticky torrent. He'd never experienced an orgasm like it. Bill kept moving his cock in and out of her streaming channel as she writhed in the after-shock of total possession.
Silke had slipped Greg from her and had slid down his body to take him in her mouth again. One moment he was lying there in languid ease, the next he was trembling violently as Silke brought him to a second sudden climax. He slumped back on the floor as Silke released him. She licked-her lips, savoring the taste of his satisfaction.
It was a long time before any of them made a move to change partners. Silke was the first to get up. She went over to the record player and put on some more music. When she returned, instead of flopping down by Greg again; she stood astride Bill. He reached forward and tugged behind her knees, so that she came down straddling his chest. Reaching behind her, Silke took hold of his tool which stirred into life in response to her feathery touch.
Anne relied over and lay alongside Greg. They kissed. Anne sat up and swung around to where she could administer an oral caress to his stiffening prick. It surged up thick and rigid in her mouth. Greg tugged her across his chest, then guided her hips back down onto his waiting tongue. Bill looked over at his two friends lapping each other in the classic sixty-nine position.
Silke thrust her hips forward and began rubbing her own blonde-furred crevice against his chin. Bill waggled his tongue at her and she inched forward to wipe her moistened cunt on its tantalizing tip. She rode on his mouth. A wave of pleasure shuddered through her. Silke worked her hips back down and slid onto his hardened flesh. Slowly she pumped up and down, and with each downward stroke she exerted her own inner suction to milk the hot seed from him.
Anne was now kneeling across a pile of cushions with Greg mounting her from behind. He could reach forward and stroke and fondle her heavy tits as they swung free beneath her. She writhed with exquisite pleasure at each violent thrust of his swollen cock. Her cunt was running with her own juices intermingled with the sperm Bill had deposited deep within her. She pushed back to meet each new stroke of his iron-hard knob.
There was a ripe squishy sound as Silke's tight wet ring sucked on Bill's hot prick. Her clitoris was throbbing against each drive of his bursting, thrusting cock. Bill stiffened as he felt the boiling rush of semen. He groaned as the yellow-whitish fluid spurted out. Silke didn't stop riding him till she'd wrung the very last drop from his pulsing organ.
Anne had collapsed forward onto the cushions as Greg battered her hair-fringed -slit. She shivered and sighed with each new push against that wet orifice. The cheeks of Greg's ass tightened as he neared the climax of their coupling. Anne, quite oblivious of Bill and Silke, and completely forgetting the other observer in the back room, moaned: "Harder, harder ... I want you to come. Come in me now."
Flesh smacked against flesh as Greg rode the point deep within her drooling passage. Anne's breath hissed through clenched teeth as pleasure mingled again with pain in a boiling flood of passion. His cock seemed to explode within her; the tingling jet of sperm gushed into her. Greg writhed, still bucking roughly against her ass, as he was convulsed by the orgasm. Anne shuddered with the intensified their shared climax. Greg collapsed exhausted on top of her.
This time nobody got up to change the, records.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Silke brought the breakfast tray down on Sunday morning.
"Sorry we didn't get around to saying goodnight to you. You may have noticed we were a trifle exhausted."
"I can believe that."
"Tut, tut. Egg stains on your robe," said Silke, pointing to the dark dried patches on the front of his kimono wrap-around.
"Last night was enough to make Tutankhamen come all over his bandages," replied John.
"Thought you'd enjoy our little celebration of the end of term."
"Not as much as you were evidently getting off on it."
Since sat the tray down on the bedside table with a laugh. John reached across for the orange juice and drained it in one go.
"Thirsty!"
"You're damned right I'm thirsty. Seeing those two young fellows mounting you both gives one a powerful thirst."
He didn't appear to be planning any sudden moves so Silke sat down on the edge of the bed.
"It was pretty exciting, I have to admit," conceded Silke. John sipped at his coffee. His robe had slipped partly open at the front as Silke lightly placed her hand on the lower part of his leg.
"Which was the bit that really made you start rubbing yourself?" she teased. "Was it when I peeled off Bill's pants and took his big dong in my mouth? Or was it the sight of Anne getting the ass fucked off her? You know, I really got excited myself watching Anne and Greg sucking each other. Of course, I gave Bill a pretty good screwing myself."
John grinned and said nothing.
"Have you ever seen anyone swallow as much cock as Anne can? I thought Greg was going to come in her mouth at one stage. And Bill was getting pretty worked up just watching his girlfriend go down on another guy."
She pushed her hand further up his leg. John lay back feeling himself harden. Just the way she was talking was arousing him.
"What was it, John? Did you see the way Bill's eyes bulged at the sight of Anne's panties? They weren't wasted on Greg either. I must confess I got a little tingle watching him licking Anne's cunt. It's a great feeling to know you're all friends and take pleasure out of pleasing one another."
Silke stroked the inside of his thigh and John moved slightly so that the front of his robe parted even more. There was a great bulge where his cock reared up beneath the shiny red material.
"What's this we have here?" Silke asked as she plucked the robe back to reveal John's engorged prick. It strained so rigidly now that it almost lay flat back on his stomach. Silke gave a little gasp of pleasure at her discovery: if anything, John was half an inch longer than Greg and just as broad around. It really was a magnificent cock, she thought, as she played with the heavy pink sac that hung down in the crack between his legs. She brought up her other hand and began to explore his prodigious tool.
Silke traced her fingertips over the undersurface; a vein pulsed in reaction. She slipped her fingers in a ring round the curved rim of his knob, while with the other hand she grasped him at the root and massaged the smooth satiny shaft. Silke turned and knelt beside the bed, never ceasing the steady milking rhythm. John wriggled once and brought himself close to the edge of the bed, lying on his side. Silke smiled up at him and leaned toward the purple flaming head. She stretched her jaws wide and stuffed him in her mouth.
"Not again," murmured John. "Not again. I couldn't stand it if you're only going to tease me like Anne did."
Silke grunted a denial as she gobbled another two inches of him into the very back of her mouth. Without releasing him, she fumbled in the pocket of her bathrobe to produce a small golden key. John took it from her fingers without a word. He lay on his back and reached up to his neck to undo the collar. Silke knelt with her head sideways, her ear against his stomach, as she applied the warm suction to his rigid cock.
John moaned quietly at her lascivious attentions.
Her left hand worked up and down the shaft, while the right hand played with his balls, sometimes straying further to explore that other hole, all this as she continued to fuck him with her mouth.
"So I've caught you," Anne shouted at them from the doorway. "How dare you! What has he done to earn such pleasure?"
Anne was standing in the open door. Both Silke and John turned to look at her. She had on a pair of wet-look, black knee-length boots, and a shiny jacket to match. It was half unzipped to show she wore nothing beneath. Wrapped around her slim middle was a dark blue leather miniskirt. It was more mini than skirt, hitched on with a heavily studded matching belt. In her hand she dangled an old-fashioned fly whisk.
John didn't recognize the skirt which Silke had worn to a couple of classes earlier that term. He didn't know what to think. There was an aching throb in-his cock, now that Silke had released her warm, moist grip. Anne advanced into the room.
"You just stay there kneeling over the bed," she said menacingly to her friend. "I'll teach you to disobey orders."
She brought the fly whisk down with a crack across Silke's upraised bum. A pink glow appeared. Silke squealed. She squealed again as once more Anne wielded the improvised paddle. Thwack! The third time was even harder, and Silke's softly rounded cheeks flushed red.
"Here," said Anne, picking up a hairbrush from the dressing table and throwing it to John. "You know how wicked she's been ... you punish her."
John, delighted with this new turn of events, willingly entered into the game. He put his arm round Since and pulled her across him; with her glowing ass in the air, she was straddled across his knees.
"Anne is right," he said. "You have been a naughty girl."
He brought the flat of the hairbrush down, with a smack. Again, smack. Each stroke left a dark oval patch on the once creamy skin.
"Stop it, stop it," she shrilled in a mixture of pain and sexual arousement.
"Crying out will only make it worse for you," he said threateningly as he gave her an extra hard spank. Anne stood over them both and ran the tip of the whisk handle down Silke's crack.
"Why, you little devil," said Anne. "You're just dribbling with juices."
"Ouch," cried Silke as John paddled her again.
"Stop that now," Anne ordered. "Silke, stand up. I do believe that John is enjoying himself."
John had hardly realized that with each new coral suffusion, his prick had been getting harder and harder.
"Just look at that!" whispered Anne, unable to suppress her tone of husky surprise. "Why, he really did like disciplining you. Look at the massive hard-on he's got."
"Shall I spank him for it?" asked Silke.
"He'd probably enjoy it too much. He doesn't deserve it. I don't think I've ever seen a cock that huge that before," Anne continued. "You could hurt a girl stuffing that in her cunt."
Anne's explicit language only roused him further. Suddenly she leaned forward and pushed him back flat on the bed. She quickly jumped over him and sat on his chest.
"What did I catch you at?" she demanded.
"Silke was giving me head."
"What was she doing?"
"She was sucking my cock."
"How would you like to suck on this," said Anne, wriggling the tiny leather skirt up from her hips. She had no panties on and John found himself staring at the dark luxuriant curls that scarcely hid the pouting lips of her pussy. Anne was only a few inches away from his face and he could smell the musky scent of love juices. He felt Silke nibbling at him behind her friend's back. He smiled.
"Wipe that expression off when I'm reprimanding you," Anne said, scarcely able to keep a straight face. She picked up the open collar from where it dangled by the side of the pillow. "Do you want to be chained up again?"
John shook his head; he was biting on his lip to stop smiling. Anne let the collar fall and put her hand down to spread the outer folds of her cunt. Slick crimson, almost purple, corrugations were revealed and she slid her fingers backward and forward across the notch that housed her clitoris. Anne then pushed her finger deep into the hole, swirling it round, before offering it to John. She smeared it on his lips and then poked it into his mouth. John sucked on her finger greedily.
Anne moved forward and lowered her snatch onto his open mouth. John felt the projection of her slippery cut and closed his lips around it. He rolled it around, flicking at it with his tongue. Then, re leasing her, John started a soft, steady licking. His movements were echoed below by Silke.
Anne moved her legs a little to release his arms. John took the opportunity it afforded to reach up and unzip the wet-look nylon jacket. Anne shook her torso and it fell open to reveal the ripe mounds of flesh, each topped with the dusky circles of her aroused nipples. John cupped his hands beneath them and foiled the stiff buds between his fingertips. He never once stopped lapping at her cunt. Silke was squeezing his cock between her breasts, occasionally freeing him to slip her mouth over its bulging head.
Next Anne cocked her leg over his chest and sat beside him with both knees drawn up. She took hold of his hand and guided it to her sopping slit. John put it one finger, withdrew it, and then plunged two fingers into her fleshy channel. His thumb kept flicking across the swollen button of her cut. Anne reached out and gripped his throbbing shaft, while Silke still swirled her tongue around the crown of his straining dong. Almost leisurely, Anne began jacking him off in her friend's mouth. He sighed at the sight of such sweet sensations.
John stopped his two-fingered frigging for a moment, then pushed his thumb into her hole and reached around with his fingertips for her rear entrance. Anne accepted his probing finger with pleasure, and bounced her hips slightly to allow him freer play. Silke moved too and now sat astride his thighs. Every upward stroke of Anne's hand brought the ruff of loose skin bunched up around the fleshy ridge of his crown, each downward stroke unrolled him taut, shiny, and tingling.
Silke eased her hips forward till the firm shaft of John's cock was rubbing straight up and down the furred channel of her cunt. Anne removed her hand and began rocking her hips harder against John's touch. She was moaning with joy, dribbling on his hand as the spasm of relief shook through her. Silke was sitting bolt upright, clasping his, cock in both hands, holding it tight against her clitoral bud. At the same moment as Anne, she came with a climactic shudder and a squeal of delight. As the two girls watched, John's whole frame stiffened with anticipation. His breath was ragged, his eyes half-closed in a delirium of carnal sensation. He could contain himself no longer. The thrill began as a tremor in the taut sac of his balls, surging up the great staff, erupting in a flood of boiling sperm. The sticky milk of his spunk splashed up across Silke's neck, the underside curve of her thrusting tits, and over her stomach and ribs. His hips bucked back and forth as he came in a spurting torrent of seed. The girls squealed with delight at the shower of pearly fluid that coated Silke's front. She gave the heavy round head a squeeze and a last gobbet of come spewed out and trickled down over her fingers.
"That," said John in a hoarse whisper a short while later, "that makes everything worth it I'll stay trussed up for another week if you make me shoot off like that again."
The girls grinned.
"You won't have to wait a week," Anne assured him. "I want some of that action inside me."
"Not before he's come twice that much up my pussy," added Silke. She scooped up a string of milky spunk and licked it from her finger, adding with a saucy smile, "that is, unless you're in a great hurry to get back home."
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Anyone for more tea?" asked Anne.
Silke shook her head.
"Not for me," replied John, popping another grape into his mouth. He was reclining full-length along the couch. The coffee table in front of him was overflowing with the debris of theft lunch.
The girls had improvised a kind of Roman banquet for their late Sunday lunch. There were grapes, peaches, a couple of pears, and a succulent pineapple. They'd started with a tin of imported pate that Anne's mother had been hoarding in the back of the cupboard. And there was a cucumber salad in a light oil dressing, followed by slices of ham and liver sausage, lettuce, some new potatoes, and a creamy coleslaw that Silke had fixed. Then there was a variety of cheeses with stoned-wheat crackers. And all of it was washed down with a light German white wine which Silke had magically produced for the occasion. Now they were sampling the fruit.
"Have you tried some of that pineapple?" asked Silke. She was lying recumbent on a pile of pillows opposite John.
"I couldn't eat another thing," he said with a low belch of complete satisfaction.
"How about you?" Silke asked Anne.
Her friend was sitting cross-legged at the end of the table. She held up her hand. "Got to leave room for some special desert."
Anne eyed John suggestively. She took another sip of jasmine tea, then lit up a cigarette. They'd all showered after the morning bout on Silke's bed I and then dressed appropriately for the session they knew was bound to happen. John was still wearing the crimson kimono.
"That was quite a stunt you pulled this morning," said John.
"Betcha you were fooled for a moment." Anne giggled at the thought.
"Maybe for a moment my heart was in my mouth ... "
"That's not to mention what was in my mouth," Silke chipped in.
It was a game. It had all been a game. Each of them knew that. They'd all been willing players in a delightful charade. An exciting game. And one that you didn't get to play too often. John knew he owed the girls a great deal. Things were going to be different from now on.
Silke was describing in great detail how. John had reacted to the sight of Anne playing with Michael, the television repairman: " ... did he ever get serviced," she joked.
The talk was already stirring their emotions. Anne got up and put some easy-listening disco music on the record-player. She stood with her back to them and tapped her foot to the beat.
"An after-dinner cabaret?" enquired John.
"Sure," said Anne, looking back over her shoulder. "Why not?"
"Go on, then," said John in a firm masculine tone. "Silke, you come and sit over here."
Silke went round to where John patted the cushion. He draped his arm lightly around her shoulder.
Anne reached up behind her and slowly pulled down the zipper of her dress. With one lithe movement she shrugged it off and at the same time shook her long hair free. She liked stripping. It was an arousing ritual both for the audience and for herself too. She felt flattered that others admired her so. Anne basked in that admiration.
She put her hands beneath the skimpy lace bra that cupped her breasts high, pushing them forward close together.
"You like?"
"I like!" said John.
"I like ... too," added Silke. She traced her fingertips along John's leg but didn't take her eyes off Anne.
Anne turned to one side, then the other, to show off her figure in profile. Her, skin was smooth, tanned, flawless. She massaged her fits again, squeezing them until the mounded flesh almost spilled out from the half-cups which strained to contain them.
John slipped his hand under Silke's skirt and began caressing the firm flesh of her thigh. Anne dropped her hands to her hips, grinding her pelt around to the music. She turned her back to them again. Her sheer panties were stretched taut over her buttocks. She spun back and jerked her hips forward; they threatened to split over the bulge of her crotch.
She knew John admired her underwear. There are few men who are not turned on by frilly, lacy underthings, and John wasn't one of those. His cock uncoiled and grew stiff at the very sight of Anne slowly unclasping one of her nylons. At a tantalizing pace she unrolled the stocking, lifting her leg as she did so to afford them both another glimpse of that grotto between her legs. The wisp of filmy nylon hardly concealed the dark fur delta, the plump outline of her cunt showing clearly through. She tossed the stocking away. It floated to the carpet.
Anne ran her hands up me other leg, over the calf, past her knee, up her thigh. She continued the stroke in one flowing sweep and lightly touched herself in the mossy notch between her legs. She fingered her crotch gently as though tickling a kitten. Anne's gaze never broke from John. Next, she unclasped the other nylon and rolled it down at the same leisurely, teasing pace. She dropped that one too on the floor. John felt, though he had not consciously realized, that Silke was stroking the hairy sac of his balls.
Anne unclasped the garter belt and tossed it over to the couch. Silke caught it and put it down on the coffee table. All that Anne now wore was the half-cup bra and flimsy, sheer panties. She crossed her hands in front of her and ran them slowly down her sides. She half-closed her eyes and blew John a kiss. She ended up with her hands crossed in front of ha pants; she rubbed and caressed herself through the skimpy material. Anne's breathing changed. It was deeper. Each time she exhaled, she uttered a low moaning whimper.
She pushed one of her hands down the front of her panties. With half-hidden fingers she probed herself blatantly before them. Ann arched her hips and swiveled her body in sinuous, suggestive patterns. Her parted lips glistened as she ran her tongue across them. There was an audible squishy sound as she plunged her finger into her cunt hole. Anne shivered and groaned with pleasure. She withdrew her hand and displayed the finger slick with her own juices. Anne licked it greedily.
John was breathing faster now and not only from Anne's tantalizing performance. Silke held his cock in her hand and was slowly massaging the shaft. Anne reached both hands behind her and unclipped the bra. John had seen her naked, of course, but each new unveiling was a fresh revelation of her enticing young body. For a moment she clasped the cups in front of her, then, peeled them away to cast the bra aside. Anne massaged the naked flesh of her fine, firm breasts. She milked the teats toward John, who stared with open mouth. Anne rolled the stiff buds between her fingertips. Oh, she was enjoying it so.
Eventually she released the quivering nipples and slid her hands down her sides once more. The ripe mounds jiggled as she swung to the music. With her thumbs down the inside of her panties she edged them down inch by inch over her hips. First, she revealed the dark bush of her pubic curls that covered the mound beneath. She dragged them lower as she turned around. The creamy cheeks of her bum-contrasted with the rich tan that covered the rest. Anne bent forward for a moment to display the furry crevice from a rear angle. She slipped off the panties completely as she spun round to face them.
She was completely naked. John drank in this beautiful vision. Without the slightest sign of shame, but rather with a childlike innocence, Anne reached forward between her legs. She peeled back the outer lips of her cunt, spreading them apart to reveal the rosy pink flesh of that inner recess. She sighed with pleasure as she stroked her fingertips back and forth across her swelling clitoris.
Both John and Silke were transfixed by the climax of Anne's improvised display.
"Bravo," cried John.
Silke echoed him.
With a mock curtsey, Anne turned and walked into the bedroom. She rummaged around in the top drawer and found the toy she was searching for, but when she returned John and Silke were too busily engaged to look up at the vibrator she was holding in the air like a victory torch. Anne plonked herself down in the armchair and hitched one leg over each of the arms. Without switching it on, she began to ease the plastic wand into her cunt.
Silke was now reclining on the couch. John was kneeling beside her, half-crouching over her body as he stroked and playfully pinched her nipples. Each tweak sent a tiny shiver through her. He stroked his hands over her flat belly and caressed the soft skin of her beautifully shaped thighs.
John brought his hand up and broke off their kiss to lick his finger and thumb; thoroughly wetted with spittle, he reached between her legs and began to massage her chit, rolling it and gently rubbing it up and down. Silke lay passive, reveling in his experienced touch. He wriggled lower and pushed her thighs wider apart. Hugging his arms round her hips, John lowered his head to the feast. The touch of his tongue was amazingly light and feathery although he applied himself eagerly to the task. Silke reached down, watching him closely as she stroked his hair.
"Push it into me, John," she asked in a low voice.
He pressed his lips closer to the very mouth of her cunt hole. His tongue worked in tiny wet circles, sucking, licking, probing. Finally, he forced the point of his stiffened tongue into the innermost slit. Silke drew her knees back and his tongue flickered deep into her cunt passage. She linked her fingers behind his head and squeezed her thighs together. She had John completely trapped, forcing him to reach higher and harder. She was very wet now.
Silke choked back a scream of utter satisfaction. Anne could see her breasts heave as her breathing became faster. She arched her back, her hips bucked in John's face. Then she came. Silke was engulfed in a tidal wave of orgasmic pleasure. Her heart was thudding as the surging passion slowly subsided. When the spasms had passed, she sagged back quite loose, and all her muscles went limp. Her legs released their grip. John emerged smiling, licking the juices from his lips.
"It's my turn to say bravo," Anne whispered. The two of them looked across at her; Silke nodded in agreement.
"Anyone for pineapple now?" asked John.
"I'm full," said Anne, with a wink. Only about an inch of the vibrator handle remained visible. It was buried to the very hilt in her quim.
"Well, maybe you could just handle a banana," said John as he stood up. His cock was a rigid pole of flesh. "I'd forgotten what a turn-on a good pussy-licking could be."
"Come over here," Anne said, pointing at the beanbag. John flopped back on the leatherette bag and wriggled his butt into a comfortable position. Anne threw a cushion between his legs and got down on her knees.
"Where's that vibrator?" he asked.
Silke had picked it up from the chair. "Right here."
"Good. Bring it over," John patted the carpet alongside where he was sitting. She sat facing the opposite direction to John, where he could easily reach down and stroke her still-juicy cunt. Anne had already begun to fellate him.
She wrapped her lips around the head of his massive dong. He thrust his cock forward, filling her mouth, probing the very back of her throat; He began frigging Silke with the vibrator to the same rhythm that Anne was sucking him. He held the plastic tool in such a way that, with each forward stroke, the knuckle of his thumb pressed lightly against her clit. It rubbed back down across it with each withdrawal. It was only a few moments before she reached her second climax. This time it was even more intense. Silke had her hands on the carpet behind her; she forced her weight back and drove her hips forward to meet each thrust. She shuddered and cried out for joy. The orgasm erupted in her cunt and spread like waves of fire, through her entire body.
Anne was still playing with the livid knob of his penis, moving her tongue in butterfly circles around the overhanging ridge of flesh. Again she sucked on him deeply. She drew her mouth back almost letting John escape from her lips, then let him push it back in. Silke, somewhat recovered, patted Anne on the shoulder, indicating that she too wanted to join in the action.
John smiled and climbed unsteadily to his feet Anne clamped her mouth round his tool even as he ros�. Silke clambered onto the beanbag behind hint and clasped her arms in .a circle around his hips. John flexed slightly at the knees as the point of Silke's tongue poked its way into the crack between his cheeks. He rocked his hips, riding the wicked tip of her tongue into his asshole, while Anne urged him further into her mouth with each forward push.
With one hand caressing and bouncing his heavy balls and the other working up and down the slick skin of the shaft, Anne was lovingly milking the essence from him. Perhaps she'd been a little mean before but now she wanted to please him, to make amends, to do something very special. Anne opened her throat to him and urged him deeper and deeper. Silke was using her hands to spread his cheeks wider. She lodged her tongue in his hole. Anne's hands clutched him by the hips; her nails dug into the firm skin. He was repeating their names over and over, moaning sighs of heightened sensation. Anne felt almost lightheaded. She wanted to catch her breath. Even more she wanted him to come now. His muscles tightened and a shiver ran through him.
Silke poked her tongue harder. Anne sucked the fluids from him. John groaned as if in a kind of ecstatic agony. His great cock twitched hard and flooded Anne with a warm, salty tide of milky spunk. She held him closer. With each jerk the thick cream spurted out and gushed down her throat He pulled back as if to withdraw but Anne still kept him between her lips, sucking the last pearly drops from the fountain.
John lifted Anne up from the floor where sits was kneeling and clasped her to him. They kissed. He clamped his mouth to hers wide open and pushed his tongue in to share the thick salty taste of his sperm. Silke stood up and he rewarded her with a lingering soul kiss. The three of them stood there in the center of the room, arms Interlocked in a mutual embrace, exchanging kisses of affectionate gratitude.
It was a couple of hours before John was ready to leave. He took a shower upstairs and changed back into his workaday clothes. Anne had left their papers lying on the chair with his shirt and things.
He rolled them up and stuffed the bundle into the pocket of his corduroy jacket.
"You're not going to lose them?" Anne queried him.
"No way. I look forward to rereading your paper with great relish," he said. "They're going to bring back some delightful memories."
He paused by the door to give them both a farewell kiss.
"Its funny," said Anne, "you know, I still didn't get around to fucking you."
"You were beautiful," John said. "You both were. And as for that screw, can I take a rain check?"
"You betcha," Anne chuckled; "Any time'll do. Any time at all."
John grinned and walked out the door. At the top step he paused and turned back to the girls. "Thank you both for having me for the weekend." He fingered his neck. "I did enjoy being your house guest."
"Thank you for coming ... " said Anne.
"... and coming and coming," Silke added with a grin.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
With each passing day the summer grew hotter and stickier. By Friday afternoon a small patch of grass in the furthest corner of the back lawn was displaying a yellowish-brown mottle. Damn, thought Anne, the sprinkler just doesn't reach that far. Dad will really be upset. She went into, the work shed and rummaged around for the second time. Anne emerged triumphant, clutching a long coil of green plastic hosing. She fixed it to the tap and walked the nozzle as far as it would stretch down the garden. Now she could spray in that difficult corner.
Anne stood there playing the hose back and forth, enjoying the bright sunshine, which was by now only adding tan on top of tan. The tiny bikini gave her maximum exposure. She adjusted the top which barely contained the ripe fruit of her breasts. Absentmindedly she crooked her finger and ran it round the elastic edge of the flimsy pants. From behind her came a whistle of appreciation. There stood Silke in denim shorts and tie-front blouse.
"Still thinking about last weekend, eh?"
"What makes you say that?"
"Well, I could see you fingering yourself in a very blatant manner."
Anne dismissed her friend's suggestion with a laugh.
"Of course, I could've been wrong," Silke teased.
"Maybe you were thinking about what you're going to be doing this weekend with Bill. Either way, you're obviously enjoying a secret finger-fucking session."
Silke didn't complete her playful accusation before Anne turned on her with the hose. She aimed it right at the German girl.
"You'll drown me," squealed Silke.
Anne played the hose up and down her body.
"That's what you get for teasing me."
She put the hose down so more water could soak into the lawn.
"Thanks, buddy. I'm wet through."
"Serves you right."
Silke ran her hands through her hair to wring out some of the water. The denim cut-offs clung skintight to the generous curve of her ass, and the ragged edges were plastered against the golden flesh of her thighs. Her nipples showed 'as two dark blots beneath the thin white cotton top. Anne sat down in the garden chair in the private shelter contrived by three carefully planted bushes. Silke flicked some water drops from the end of her fingertips at Anne. They trickled in a tiny rivulet down her midriff and vanished into the deep indentation of her navel.
Silke glanced about to ensure that this secluded spot was entirely out of view of any neighbors, then undid the knot in the front of her shirt. She peeled off the sodden garment. Despite the almost-oppressive heat, the sudden shock of cold tap water hat raised goosepimples; her nipples stood erect, bringing her exposed breasts to sharp peaks.
"Just look what you've done," she grumbled in fun. She grasped each teat from below and squeezed them toward her friend.
"I thought cold showers were supposed to cool you down," said Anne. "It looks to me as though it's just made you more randy than you usually are."
"Surely you know by now I'm always horny," exclaimed Silke, as she unzipped the soaking denims and peeled them down her shapely legs. "Now that I'm all undressed I may as well stay out here and sunbathe."
Anne tossed her a towel that was draped on the arm of the garden lounger. Silke deftly caught it in one hand and rubbed it briskly on her short blonde mop, then she used it to dry off that other blonde thatch below.
"Thanks," she threw it back to Anne, who crumpled it in a ball and held it under her nose.
"Delicious," she sniffed. 'Weren't you coming out to join me anyway?"
"I was staying close to the house waiting for the mailman."
"Don't say you want to fuck him too."
"No, stupid, but he should be bringing us a couple of important envelopes this afternoon."
"Cripes," said Anne, who, for the first time that week, had actually forgotten about the papers for John Martin. "Of course, the grades have to be in today by the latest."
"Maybe he wants us to go over to his place and pick them up in person."
"That's not a bad idea at that! Come on over here."
Silke spread out on the towel while Anne massaged some suntan lotion into her back. Anne worked her hands lower and lower down Silke's glistening body. She ran her fingers past the line left by previous sunbathing and into the crevice between the creamy cheeks of Silke's bum. She stirred, purring contentedly, and opened her thighs to give Anne easier access. Anne dipped her oily finger into that golden-haired honey pot and Silke squirmed back to take the stiff, probing finger even deeper. The American girl lazily frigged her friend, not trying to rush toward a climax but to prolong each pleasant tide of sensation as they lay there basking in the afternoon's warm glow.
Abruptly, she stopped. Silke complained, "Hey, I want some more of that ... "
"Ssh," Anne quietened her. "Isn't that him now? They could both hear the mailman's off-key whistling as he walked up the front path. Anne got up. "Here goes. Cross your fingers."
"If it isn't what we hope for, I know just how to console you," promised Silke.
Anne ran all the way there and back. She burst from the kitchen door waving two large manila envelopes. Her tits bounced from side to side as she hurried back to where Silke was waiting in the sun.
"One for you and one for me." She tossed one of the packages to Silke. Anne ripped her envelope open with fumbling fingers. It was the original copy of her term paper. She flipped to the last page.
"An A! Wow, eighty-seven per cent!"
"He's given me the same," Silke bubbled.
Anne plumped herself down in the aluminum framed chair and began turning through the pages more carefully. All the earlier remarks had been erased or carefully blotted out with the whitener secretaries use to correct their mistakes.
"I enjoyed your essay immensely on a second reading," she quoted. "You handled the essential point of the story in a thoroughly professional manner ... your approach exudes promise," Silke read out.
"I was particularly impressed by your climax," Anne continued. She flipped back a page. "You demonstrated extremely good taste in these more intimate parts ... Wow!"
"There were some flaws in my original analysis," Silke quoted John's remarks. "But by candidly exposing the holes you showed me things in a different light."
"... a stimulating experience," Anne chipped in.
"You handled the most essential points in a most exciting way," Silke went on. "You have thoroughly earned a top grade."
"Your daring approach wins you a well-deserved A." Anne dropped the paper on the grass and clapped her hands in the air. "Good old John; he really came across."
"Yeah," said Silke, "all over our faces, our tits ... all over us!"
The girls were still breaking up in fits of giggles when the boys arrived that evening.
"You're in high spirits," said Greg, as Anne and Silke exchanged looks and started laughing again.
"We're feeling good," Silke agreed. She kissed him on the cheek then stood on the tips of her toes to blow in his ear. Now it was Greg's turn to laugh.
"Are you stoned already?" asked Bill.
"Nope," said Anne. "Just happy."
She pushed him back onto Silke's couch and went out to fetch them some beers. She passed one down to Bill, then turned to hand another can to Greg. "I think these boys have earned a little reward, don't you?"
Silke winked at her: "Absolutely. May I ...?" She had gestured toward Bill. Anne waved her on.
"Come here, Greg," said Anne: She put her arms around him and pushed her tongue into his mouth. Without breaking their kiss, she undid his belt and zipped down his fly. Anne slipped her hand into his briefs and fondled Ns cream-filled bollocks.
Silke had Bill undone and dragged down his jeans and jockey shorts. He lay back as she began to manipulate his growing, aroused prick.
"I think the first one to come should buy the tickets," Anne suggested as she took the livid head of Greg's tool into her mouth.
Silke nodded her head in agreement without looking round. She licked along the whole length of Bill's rigid cock. Greg had sat back in the armchair and now Anne was sliding her tongue over the corrugated surface of his scrotum. Her brown hair hung loose and softly caressed his thighs.
Silke was lapping at Bill's balls. She took first one then the other jiggling egg into her mouth, taking big care to be most gentle with these vulnerable organs. Bill sighed with contentment. He ran his fingers through Silke's blonde hair and pressured her slightly to return to the head of his cock.
Greg's increasing lust forced more blood pumping into his already-engorged phallus. The warm cavern of Anne's mouth applied a moist suction to his aching, pulsing cock. Her sweet lips nibbled that most sensitive skin around the back of the crown. Greg groaned with the pleasure she was giving him. Even Anne managed to murmur her own enjoyment around the mouthful of male flesh she was doing her best to swallow completely.
Silke opened her mouth wide and took Bill sliding down the back of her throat. After letting him pump the whole length of his prick in her half a dozen times, she eased him $ck so that she might catch another breath. Silke gripped the short base of his shaft that was thus exposed and, ringing it with her fingers, she milked the cream up from his balls. After a few moments she allowed him to ease his heaving rod back down her throat
Thrill upon thrill raged through Greg's body as Anne swallowed him to the hilt. Her cock-loving mouth contracted around his throbbing manhood, urging him, willing him to come. He rocked his hips backward and forward as his desire mounted, forcing his swollen cock in and out of her lips. With both hands clasped behind her head, Greg pulled Anne closer with each stroke.
The soft wetness of Silke's mouth was almost more than Bill could take. He watched his cock sliding back and forth. Silke returned his gaze with a devilish twinkle in her eyes, as if to say, "I'm going to make you come like you've never come before." Her hands gripped beneath him, digging into his buttocks, forcing him to writhe and push his pulse-pounding knob harder into her mouth. Once more she pulled back slightly, to relax her throat and jaws, before returning to the climax of her love-feast.
Anne concentrated her lascivious efforts on the distended cock head that topped Greg's massive erection. Her caressing, coaxing lips applied the sweetest massage he could ever have dreamed of, urging him to relieve his aching pouch of come into her mouth. As she sucked and tongued the stiff column of flesh, she made small slurping noises. Anne was enjoying this every bit as much as Greg. Now he rocked back and forth to the steady rhythm of her mouth-fucking, burying his pounding cock in Anne's angelic face. Her wet, clinging lips seemed reluctant to let him go. He brushed a fallen strand of hair to one side so that he might watch her more closely.
Anne had slipped her middle finger deep into the crevice behind; she felt his muscles tighten as the orgasmic rush began, to course through his body. She gripped the smooth slick skin with both hands and locked her mouth around his straining prick. Greg gritted his teeth and moaned. His back arched. The sperm rushed hotly up his shaft with a burning sensation so close to pain. Anne tasted the thick fluid as the spunk jerked and spewed down her throat. Her mouth was flooded with Greg's creamy come; she couldn't help some of it dribbling from the corner of her lips.
Bill, looking over, watched Greg sag weakly into the armchair. The sight of the other guy's milky sperm trickling over his girlfriend's chin was more exciting than he could bear. The pleasure-pain sensation seethed through him as he released a scalding jet of seed between Sue's sensuous lips. She swallowed and swallowed, gurgling with pleasure, as Bill's spunk sloshed down her throat. His whole frame shook with shivering spasms of delight as he unloaded the pearly torrent into the warm cavern of bet mouth. Anne and Greg watched wide-eyed as Silke rode out the furious jerking of the stabbing horn, of his cock. She didn't spill a drop.
Later, Silke sat on a cushion between Greg's legs, idly playing with his shrunken prick. Anne lightly fingered Bill as she lay back in the crook of his arm.
"That was some reward!" said Greg.
"Yeah what did we do to earn it?" Bill asked Anne. "Tell us, and we do it again."
Silke laughed.
"Let's say it was for services rendered," said Anne.
"I think you made Greg come first," Silke remarked, casually changing the topic.
"What was that you said about buying tickets?" asked Greg.
"Haven't you guessed?" said Anne. "Silke and I want you to take us to the drive-in tonight."
"What's on?" asked Bill.
"Deeper Than Ever," Anne announced with a smile.
" ... and Foursome Fun!" added Silke.
Without another word they all trooped out to the car.
