He watched intently from his usual spot at her left shoulder, then shifted awkwardly to a position behind her head. Her body magic had him in total erection. Glancing down he shuddered at the poor concealment of striped trousers. This time he wondered if he really cared if she knew. It was their last time together. This was Celeste, once his child prodigy... now mature and maddening female, about to leave his tutelage. An unbearable emptiness filled the tired frame of the Dean of Music at Gordon Conservatory.
Celeste Ann Dantrelle, virtuoso of piano and organ, and heralded as an incomparably talented dramatic soprano. Now at twenty-two she was about to go from the halls of Gordon to what would surely be a brilliant career.
He, Ulrich Flambeau, had made her. He had taken her in childhood when she was only three and led her through years of preparation. His mind seized on one thought as his gaze wandered over the frame of the girl poised at the massive Moeller organ. He had taken her through so much. But that was precisely what he had never done -- taken her!
A shudder rippled involuntarily, low in his gut, as Ulrich felt the grab of lust and the nearing of his last chance. Her dress for her lesson hour with him at the start of this, her final week at Gordon, convinced the organ maestro she was thinking the very same thoughts.
"I hope you won't think me immodest, Dean Flambeau. It isn't my dress," she apologized when he helped her from the cape. His startled glance had lingered a second too long on a decolletage that exposed her superlative breasts nearly to the nipples. "I'm playing with the chamber group at an afternoon lawn party and they asked me to wear this. The hostess sent it over." Her pretty blush told him she wasn't used to such exposure. Ulrich should know. He had been near her almost daily through sixteen years.
She sat confident and cock maddening, staring at the music on the rack of the four-manual organ. The console, mirrored across its top, was a monstrosity fronting her with row on row of ivory, flanking her with massive panels of stops and beneath her feet dozens of foot pedals. And there at the center of the complex organ she had mastered so completely sat the loveliest thing Ulrich Flambeau knew he ever would see in all his lifetime.
"You may play," he said quietly.
The music flowed gently... firmly... superbly from under her fingers, reaching into the heart of the instrument, soaring through its myriad pipes out into the great practice room. This day Ulrich heard none of her genius. Only the sound of his soaring want of this precious girl he had turned into a virtuoso.
From his vantage point behind her he looked down at the casual tumble of rich dark hair framing the beauty of an angel face. That had always been what deterred him before. Large dark innocent eyes, sweet chiseled delicacy of cheekbone and nose and soft satin rich lips. This disarming combination that topped the voluptuous body of a now ripened love-ready girl had awed the man more and more in these last years. And it was soon all to be lost to him.
He stared at nipples clearly urgent against the satin cocktail sheathe, then at the dramatic curve of firm and thrusting milk-white orbs cleaved deeply at their middle. His penis was rigid and painful and the back of her head not two inches from his trouser's front. As she tilted to look down at the pedals, Flambeau had his chance.
His hand darted quickly and the whisper of his zipper was lost in the notes of the organ. Just as his hand was about to release the frenzied excitement from the gaping of his fly, the music stopped.
"You said something, sir?" Her head turned as she glanced in the mirror and smiled quietly.
About to deny it, Ulrich decided it was time to make the bold move. "Celeste, my dear, you have a beautiful body."
"Thank you, sir." No one ever addressed the dean of the conservatory in less formal terms. "Shall I play for you now?"
"You have magnificent female attributes." He seemed not to hear her question and the first-time-ever praise from her idol continued. This was Dean Flambeau of the dancing fingers and the fabulous baritone voice.
"Thank you, sir." She colored prettily and stared down at her hands resting lightly on the ledge of the keyboard.
"There's one thing you must overcome. You are shy about your breasts. Your posture is atrocious. May I tell you what I would do, if I were a woman with your attributes?"
"Please, sir?"
"I would wear dresses like that, but with a decolletage even more daring. I would present my concerts, shoulders back, breasts brazenly displayed. I would show all the endowments the Lord gave me."
"Thank you, sir. I think I'd be self-conscious. But... thank you." She shivered inwardly. She had heard the word from the maestro himself. By the throaty sound, he was preparing another word.
Labored breathing caught her ear. Uncommon in Dean Flambeau. "You must always be in command, my dear. You are a great talent. You are the Goddess of great music. The people expect you to be different."
"I don't think I understand, sir."
"Your personal life, child. Your sexual life, if you will. That is totally yours to choose or reject. But if you choose it, use your admirers at will and never demean yourself to be grateful for what is yours to take."
"Do you mean that, sir?"
"Posture, child! Sit straight and proud!"
He caught her shoulders and drew them back. Demanding, delightful sensations flooded him at the satiny feel of her flesh. Tendrils of dark hair brushed his trouser front and he went weak to the sensation of light bedeviling tresses drifting through his opened fly.
"Now, for this exercise at the organ today, I am going to insist on that posture and bring it about!"
He bent unexpectedly and planted his hands at both sides of her rib cage. "As you play, my dear, I shall compel your best posture. Proceed!"
Her body stiffened as she felt the gentle hands at her midriff and knew the man looking over her shoulder was staring directly at her daring boob display. Just the knowledge sent tingling excitement to the already taut cones, and at that instant he cupped firmly upward to force the globes into even greater prominence.
"Posture, my dear. Show the world your magnificent body profile."
Now his palms were directly at the curve of her breasts and hefting lightly.
"That's what I mean," he said, breaking contact with one hand which in the mirror she saw disappear behind her head.
His phallus was a possessed animal surging for freedom against his pants and he blessed the position directly behind her that let him dare so great a risk. Those breasts! After all the years, he had at last touched her breasts and that touch blasted all controls.
"Play, Celeste," he urged, bending low over her shoulder and slipping a hand inside his fly to free the feverish hardness from captivity. It bounded huge and grotesque, its tip only inches from touching her shoulder! "I'll mind your posture," he croaked in a thin, brittle voice.
One of his hands cradled under a breast and Celeste let her fingers wander aimlessly through the simple harmonies of a popular tune. The inconspicuous mirror on the console, somehow forgotten by the dean, revealed the drama storming in rigid nakedness at the back of her head. Celeste, totally familiar with the music, was able to focus on the passion in the hand of this beautiful man who had been her coach and teacher of all the many instruments she had learned at Gordon.
It seemed incredible that after all these years, tightly controlled Ulrich Flambeau, who had so repeatedly stressed self-discipline, had at last lost his. And he had! She studied the bared and pulsing erection, gripped in his fist and fierce in the mirror's reflection. Not the first she had seen, but the most wanted. How was it possible that so observant a man could fail to observe the side angle mirror which periscope a perfect image of what he was doing?
Reacting to the urgency of his hand on her breast, a hand meant to appear paternal but now stroking seductively, Celeste straightened abruptly. Her animated cream-ivory breasts jutted explosively now and from his angle over her back shoulder, Ulrich could see rigid nipples taut against the translucent cup which served as a bra.
There was no way he could resist doing what he had long wanted to dare as she practiced before him. She could play her organ while he played with his.
Blessing the privacy he thought he had and the preoccupation he was sure she had with her soulful rendition of the music, he began to masturbate.
Not confidently. Not brazenly. An uncertain stroking, pumping erratically and stopping when he saw her hand reach suddenly for the master stop to lower the music to a whisper.
"Put it on my shoulder and do it," came the quiet command. She paused a heart-stopping instant, then added, "Tangle it in my hair while you play with it."
A strangled gagging sound broke from the lips of dumb-struck Ulrich Flambeau. How had she known? He clutched his bared erection and stared at the motionless figure seated on the console bench, pointing her index finger at the base of her neck where she wanted to feel his penis.
"Celeste... I..." He gawked down at the calm, yet passionate beauty of her face, head turned slightly to let him see the princess-like regality of every chiseled line. Dark, dramatic thin-line eyebrows, and underneath, long curved lashes. From his position behind her he couldn't see those sparkling, wonderful eyes. But she had seen his lust. Oh, God!
At that second he caught sight of the built-in, nearly hidden mirror. She was openly studying the display of his erection, brazenly exposed by the glass. Just as he quailed completely from his carefully worked out plan for private play, she slammed two angry fists on the organ manual, sending a brief crescendo ricocheting against the studio walls.
"Do as I asked you to!" She hissed the words, fingering the snap at the vee of her decolletage and spilling the bodice of her white cocktail dress still wider. Now clearly visible was the taut transparency of her nipples.
She saw his violent tremble and her voice was as low as the music when she spoke: "You needn't be embarrassed. I've wanted to see it for a long time. Please, place it on my shoulder and masturbate it over me."
There was no way he could avoid those wonderful, dancing eyes turned suddenly upward to meet his. Pupils dark with excitement, even as she continued to play. His heart raced madly as awareness dawned. She had taken his advice precisely. He had said she should ask of the world what she wanted sexually. He was her first want. Now as he moved close to her and placed his horny cock on the silken sleekness of her shoulder, he was hers.
"Nice." She squirmed on the console bench and turned back to face the keyboards, her flesh moving maddeningly under his phallus. "You smell very nice. Do it at me!"
His fist tightened and the thin foreskin slithered back to expose a broad, vermilion cap. With slow deliberateness he straightened, drawing his hand from her breast and seizing the long shaft fiercely in both hands.
"Jerk off over my pretty body," she said softly. There wasn't a hint of egotism to her words. It was a statement of fact accepted. "Push your penis very close to my throat, then aim it straight down my decolletage." Dark brunette lengths bounced lightly as she tossed her head impudently, making some of the hair cascade across his bonewhite prick and partially obscure the now nearly purple cap. "Wrap it with my hair, if you're afraid to have me see it all. That'll feel good to both of us. Nice!" she murmured when he obeyed impetuously, sheathing part of the barrel with long tresses.
Her nipples, wild points of desire against the soft bra, were the only giveaway of her personal frenzy for his exhibitionism. As his stroking rhythm intensified, Flambeau had the odd, almost detached certainty he was about to soak those nipples with flying semen. But he never would... never could.
"Aaaahhh... eeehhh...!" His orgasm cry burst helplessly at the sight of sparkling come spraying furiously. It dashed into the wide cleavage of her cocktail gown and, splattering against that unblemished breast flesh, dripped and drooled to the most intimate reaches of her body under the dress.
The storm of his desire was hardly gone. To see his ejaculation splatter across her front whipped Flambeau with a reality that had long tortured him. He had to have his organ inside this sweet body! He must blast sperm deep into her vagina. But how? First fire her with frenzy for it. She had reached to tilt the mirror just before he came and her face was fully visible to him when his cock discharged. Her mouth had opened in startled excitement as he ejaculated over her shoulder. No sign of joy. Rather the look of one cheated.
Celeste accepted his hanky and touched her throat and bodice where there was a glisten of semen, then handed the damp cloth back to him. "Put it out of sight," she said softly, staring calmly at the collapsing penis. "Don't close the zipper."
Flambeau pressed the limp flesh inside his fly, determined to be as cool as his pupil. "More definition as you play," he said, nodding toward the book of music.
Her fingers were delicate on the keys and her voice lovely as she sang her accompaniment. No break in her tone as she saw the grotesque crown of a reawakening penis crawl from the dark cave of the trouser fly. His hand caught the creeping, stretching cock and guided it to its cradle at the hollow of her throat. There they both watched the erection swell.
She sang with unfaltering ease, even as she watched the blood-swollen barrel fill and stiffen, then quiver directly along the delicate femininity of her jaw line. The mushroom-shaped cap had a formidable threatening quality. She seemed unimpressed. The last words of the song whispered from her lips and her fingers lay quiet on the keyboard.
"I want to kiss it," she said, tilting her face upward and looking over her shoulder at the inflamed erection. No hint of mirth or mischief. A kind of bright-eyed fierceness that dared him to obey.
"Wuh... would you... Celeste, would... you?" His whole frame trembled with sheer yearning for what he so often had dreamed. Celeste, gorgeous Celeste of the sweetly innocent heart-shaped mouth, wanted to close those sensuous lips on his need-filled prick! She was inviting him to meet her thirst with his come.
It was at that instant Dean Ulrich Flambeau saw the passion clear and transparent in the expression of cock-driven Celeste. The mask she wore so well, pretending to be detached from desire, was only false front. Her lips puckered silently at the very tip of the phallus, then only briefly nibbled a tiny, electrifying message.
She was totally professional at the organ keyboard, but now as he gaped at her femaleness, he saw a different organ was more interesting by far to her -- his sex organ. She never would give away her cock passion. Always be the Goddess who would take the male as she willed. She could use and spend and perhaps even destroy those whose lust she allowed to bring tribute to her. But never -- ever -- would Celeste Ann Dantrelle let her personal phallic frenzy show.
Always on a pedestal above mortals.
Always the bewitching, voluptuous prick-tantalizing princess. Never revealing her sex passions until the instant of claiming the desired one. Like this moment!
Her eyes told him she was losing control. Dark turned to violet and predatory glitter showed the deep well of wanting. Her hair moved lightly as she shook her head, tumbling sexily across the sleek taut sloping of her shoulders. She straightened as if striving for self-control and the action forced the hard-nippled globes into dizzying prominence against the widened decolletage.
With only the slightest trembling, her exquisite fingers reached, touched the phallus of her desire, then clamped possessively around the gristle of his horny cock shaft. In that moment Flambeau saw yearning out of control in her expression. A want to be the conquering male drove him. Bracing on the balls of his feet, he rocked arrogantly, urging his pelvis to force the ramrodding prick through the funnel of her fingers against her lips.
"Kiss it again!" he hissed, not daring to command what he knew she really wanted. She was the Goddess. She chose.
Her fingers were a fierce vise as she felt the demanding wildness in the man and her squeeze forced the glans crown to balloon dark and huge.
"Be nice!" Urgent plea spilled breathlessly against his penis cap. She was female paralyzed with need. "Shove your cock in my mouth!" Murmured, maddening word he never imagined she knew. "I want to suck it... I want to eat it and stick my tongue in its eye... I want your love squirting down my throat! Jam it in me!" Her pupils dilated wildly as she propelled the hypersensitized erection to her mouth.
"Oh, my God, Celeste... yesss!" Flambeau rocked helplessly to the urgent siphoning, feeling the welling surge almost instantly.
His ejaculation stormed crazily into her lips and the first blast of it triggered a shudder that raced through her bod. The girl was in spasm, visibly coming herself, barely able to keep her seat! He could feel the orgasm tremors pass between them.
And abruptly it was done.
With incredible poise and pride, she let her fingers drift from his cock, straightened, tossed her head to shift the dark shining tresses across her shoulder. Oddly, her hair seemed hardly disturbed. And Flambeau had minutes before clutched a handful of it around his organ when he jerked off!
She smiled up at him. Pouting, tantalizing lips puckered and she lifted her chin proudly without the least hint of embarrassment. He gawked like a schoolboy as he saw the slight movement. Beautiful neck that he had studied in awe for years. Only a hint of throat muscle movement, but definitely it happened. She had swallowed his ejaculation!
Her eyes danced mischievously and he saw the tip of her tongue snake to her lower lip to check for any errant drops.
"I want to do Bach's Fugue in D for you." She was facing the keys again and he was her audience now, not her teacher. "I feel differently about it today."
The music moved in a way Flambeau never had heard. It had a new mood, a new pulse and a heartbeat. Her execution, always perfect, now was perfection with a soul. She was telling him what their sex play had done for her. His cock stuffed into her mouth had filled a deep need in her genius. Already he felt the stirrings of new lust for this angel of keyboard and song. Was this what made great talent greater?
Flambeau had told her she was the genius and her sexual wants were hers to claim. Now he knew he hadn't needed to give her the advice. She knew her rights innately.
He slipped quietly to the edge of the bench to watch. No effort to conceal the awakening penis as it climbed in reawakening urgency from the gaping of his fly.
Only a slight tilting of her head indicated her awareness. Little half smile as she shifted to contemporary Bacharach, lingering over the melody of "Raindrops Keep Falling".
"Let me hear you sing it." He was her worshipping audience of one and the years of her training were behind them. "He must have written it for you, my dear."
She sang in a sultry whispering mood and again seemed in her own world, far away from all around her. Till she turned directly toward him to stare deeply into his eyes.
"I've always felt frustrated at this organ." Her toes moved listlessly across the foot pedals. "My legs are too long but my arms not long enough. On this bench I'm right on top of the pedals. Look. My fingers can hardly reach the Swell Manual. Isn't there some way you can make a higher bench?"
Flambeau's head swam. He had been nearly overwhelmed at his first indiscretion with a student of the conservatory. No matter how special the student, he'd already gone too far. Now, undeniably, she was asking for the ultimate!
"You needn't look astonished." Her eyes were steady and penetrating as they searched his. "I have wanted you to do it for as long as I can remember. You know what I want."
"Why, no... I... think you should... tell... me..." The words walked robot-like from the man's lips. He knew exactly what she wanted, but had to hear it.
Dark pupils turned deep violet again and there was that jungle fierceness in her expression he had seen just before she fellated him.
"I want you to take me in intercourse while I try to play. I've always wanted to sing with you inside me."
As though it was the most natural thing in the world, she scooped her skirt from under her thighs, then carefully avoiding the pedals of the foot manual, shifted across his lap. Flambeau couldn't believe it was really happening to them. Celeste was spreading her legs across his thighs, then pressing up and hovering there in almost-not-quite-contact of tender labial lips and rock-hard cock. No underpanties! He felt the warmth of her darling pussy flesh nudge his needy glans.
Very carefully she settled down on his erection and he felt the sweet yield of the most beautiful harmony in flesh he ever had known give before his impaling prick spear.
"Ohhh... you man, you!" Her frenzied spasm as he impaled her deep and fully almost brought him on and Ulrich steeled against the want to climax. "Ohhh, I... I want... want you to come!"
He fought it, felt the rapture-driven clutching of her vagina as she was claimed again and again in rippling non-stop orgasms. "Play!" he demanded, urging against the snug cunty tunnel that now clamped tightly in fierce effort to slow his penetration. He was fully into her and the warm firm cheeks of her ass were firm against his thighs. "Can you reach the upper manual now?"
"Fuh... fraid to try!"
"Try!" He rocked against the taut buttocks and his phallus drove still deeper into her vagina.
Somehow she played, the haunting notes of "Ebb Tide" coming jerkily at first, then smoothing. Seconds later she was singing softly to the sound her fingers created of waves moving and flowing in and out... in and out... Sweet angelic voice with a quality of sensuality Flambeau knew had never been heard -- might never be heard again.
His hands moved around her waist, then up to the thrusting prominence of her breasts. The bra cups that were only a frail cover for the drama of her bust, gave way easily. He covered the rich swelling of her boobs with gentle, worshipping fingers. Turgid cones met his touch when he reached the centers of her breasts.
The girl seemed in another world as she continued to play and sing the melancholy words of the song. Her head drifted back and Ulrich pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. Then the phallus, which had softened slightly to the magic of her song, grew steel hard inside her and he heard her gasp. "It's thicker than before!" she whispered.
Neither moved, but inside her vagina Ulrich could feel clutching cunty muscles grabbing frantically at his brimming shaft. He answered with little cock convulsions of his own and felt her nipples burgeon under his fingertips as her crest drew near.
"I... I can't help myself!" she groaned. Her hips began to writhe in anticipation of the man's coming and their movement brought on his crisis. In a frenzied cresting chorus mingled of flesh and music, they orgasmed once... then once more.
Very gently, very tenderly, he eased her from his softening penis and she slipped back to the position she had before it all began.
Shortly she was playing again, singing as she played, lost in a world of her own creation. An angel Goddess with a heavenly voice and an incredible talent. She was woman with a special quality now. There was a sensual, indescribable something in the way she played and sang. Without her saying it, Ulrich understood. Celeste had a talent outside the reach of earthly beings, but it was a talent best displayed moments after she had been engaged in earthly sexual encounter.
"Always remember, my dear..." His fingers touched hers as they stood by the door an hour later, "...always, you are the Goddess. And a Goddess with such gifts for the world must take what she needs from the world."
Celeste smiled quietly, then stretched tiptoe to kiss him. Brief, fleeting kiss. How quickly passed their too short time together, thought Flambeau.
"Thank you," she whispered, hurrying out into the hall, suddenly the school girl again as she saw her friend waiting. "Hi, Jennifer!" The two locked arms and danced away to other girl things.
The last words a dazed Dean Ulrich Flambeau heard as the girls hurried down the hallway, were, "Jenn, can you believe it? One more week till we all go off in sixty separate directions."
"I can't stand it," wailed the other.
Flambeau, watching the rear view disappearing around a corridor corner, remembered that impudent tail grinding his rampant phallus deeply into her gorgeous body. "God help me," he muttered, wondering why this day couldn't have come a year earlier. "She really is a Goddess!"
CHAPTER TWO
Jennifer Quinby opened the letter excitedly, pausing to exclaim over the light fragrance of Joy that clung to the envelope and declared its writer was long-lost conservatory friend Celeste.
"She can come!" squealed an ecstatic Jenn, hurrying to the bathroom where her husband was toweling from his shower.
"Who?" growled Frank, glaring at the early morning stubble on his face. "And why?"
"Celeste! My bosom' buddy from Gordon. Fifteen years, Frank! I don't believe she's finally coming."
"For how long?" His expression showed the excitement wasn't shared.
"At least a week. Maybe two. She's in the music circus at Fairfield. She's Carmen. Then she's doing a concert in Stamford and another..."
"Okay... okay." Frank slapped lather on his face, annoyed that he'd forgotten to shave before his shower had softened his whiskers. "So, it's old home week. Where you going to sleep her... I mean, two bedrooms. Bryan goes on the living room couch, or what?"
Jennifer giggled happily, not put down by the grouchiness. "One look at you and she'll beg to share the wealth. Honestly, Frank, I'd think you'd show more self control, after last night."
"Hmmmmh... we make out last night? Forgot already." He strutted from the bathroom sink for the handtowel on the rack, arching to accent his elongating penis. "Think she'd like what made you quit the music career, eh? L'il Celeste's probably a manhater after fifteen old maid years."
His wife shrugged in pretend disinterest. "She'd have been able to marry a dozen times. It's just that she's having too much fun and making too much money to give up her career."
"S'pose she looks like her publicity pictures?" He whistled remembering. "Probably she's an old hag. Let's see, she'd be your age... thirty what...? Thirty-five?"
"And that makes me an old hag," pouted Jennifer, preening her pixie cut of silver platinum hair behind his shoulder. "I'm going to give her Bryan's room and he can use the den sofa."
"He'll love that," chuckled Frank, spinning suddenly to wrap his towel around his wife's waist and drag her close to his naked front. "And it's okay, kid. You know I'm just teasin'. Be nice to have your conservatory friend here."
Languorous arms circled his neck and Jennifer ground a suggestive bump against his nearly fully developed erection. "I'm happy I quit the rat race to marry, darling. She'll be jealous as an alley cat when she sees you. You know, she's never been East since we graduated. And here's her latest picture to stop your old maid talk." She waggled the snapshot Celeste had included in her letter and Frank ogled the statuesque beauty in bikini nothings. "That her concert gown? Ye Gods, Jenn! You can bet she's havin' a ball with a body like that. Those boobs didn't get that way from singin'!"
"Frank, you're awful!" Jennifer detached her arms from Frank and walked to the bathroom door. "I'm going to tell Bryan."
"Yeah, tell him to shag his butt outta bed, too. Denny wants him to do her lawn today."
"Frank, we've got to talk about our gay divorcee and her two terror daughters soon." Jennifer paused at the door and frowned.
"What's to talk?"
"I'm not happy about the way Denise looks at you, or the way the girls dress for outside. They may be neighbors, but they don't have to make it into a nudist colony. Honestly! I don't really think Bryan is happy working in their yard."
"Hah!" Frank dragged his pants on. "Baby, they're okay. I'm telling you Bryan and me are the only guys around, so maybe they like to show it off a little, goin' to their pool. But Denise Pritchard or her kids haven't designs on a soul. Relax."
"I hope you're right." Jennifer closed the door quietly, quickly forgetting her next door neighbor, eager now to tell her son about the coming of her best friend.
At the closed bedroom door, she paused, then knocked softly, knowing a two-by-four would make more sense, the way her son slept. A second of no response and she knocked more loudly. "Bryan... wake up time, dear."
With a sigh, she eased his door open, started to call again and stopped abruptly, almost pulling the door closed in her embarrassment. Her fifteen-year-old was still sound asleep, but he had wriggled from under the sheet and lay starkly naked and obviously in the middle of a happy dream. His penis, looking top heavy and threatening in its over development, soared stiff and free at his groin. One hand lay limply across his stomach and the fingers coiled loosely around the base of the impressive cock shaft.
Marveling that her son could already have so much when he had only a hint of pubic hair, Jennifer cleared her throat and called a little more stridently, determined not to leave just because her boy's arousal was showing. It was all in the family, she reasoned, even though she felt a little storm of lust to play with that trembling tower of mature manflesh. Only a groan answered her call and she caught her breath when she saw his fingers tighten slightly around the stiff barrel.
A second later, perched saucily on the edge of his bed, she stared down at his naked frame. Very much mature, she decided, studying the athletic tautness of torso muscles and the sleek trimness of his legs and arms. Carefully she slid the sheet over his nakedness, then shook him with maternal determination to force him awake.
"Huh... whuzzat?" Bryan ground a fist into his eye and slowly focused on the morning and on the figure seated beside him on the bed. "Oh... hi, Mom." He squirmed quickly to his side, sensing his condition.
"Time to wake, honey. Mrs. Pritchard expects you to come do her lawn this morning."
He groaned protest, then suddenly was wide awake. It was that day. The one of the seven days of the week when he had legitimate reason to be near his tormentors next door. Bryan couldn't decide which of the three drove him the nuttiest -- Denise, as he privately called Mrs. Pritchard, or her two sexpot daughters, Sandy and Pammy.
"Okay, Mom, I'm awake," he yawned in pretended nonchalance. "Hey, you look sharp today." He stared brazenly at her open-necked shorty gown which hid little of the shapely nude under its peekaboo pastel blue.
"Thank you, dear." She leaned to kiss her son. "You're going to see someone your mother went to school with back in the dark ages. And she's going to put your old mom to shame for looks. Celeste Dantrelle is coming to visit and stay awhile."
"Hey, no stuff? Man, that's tough! She's the superstar you keep talkin' about, right? Neat, Mom!"
"Do you suppose you could let her use your room for the time she's here, Bryan? I hate to ask it, but we've no place else for her."
"No sweat! Hey, how about that? A big star in our house! Wow!"
"Hurry and dress, dear."
Jennifer felt the little shiver of excitement as she left the room, wondering why the sign of Bryan's erection, unrelenting even after he woke and saw her, should bother her so.
Bryan sauntered through the back lot gate into the high-fenced backyard of the Pritchard property. It was treat and torture to try to imagine what the two wild twins would do during his lawn trimming today. He'd heard some pretty hot tales about their mother, but Mrs. Pritchard would have a cow if she knew some of the carryings-on between her seventeen-year-olds and the neighbor boy.
He slipped into the barn-garage to get the lawnmower, relieved and disappointed when a glance at the second floor showed the shade in the girls' bedroom window still drawn.
"Hello... who's there?" called a distant muffled voice deep in the barn's recesses. He recognized it as Mrs. Pritchard's.
"Me... Bryan, ma'am. It's your lawn day." He shuffled around stalls, no longer cattle pens but catch-alls for house castoffs. "Want me to go ahead and get mowing?"
"Maybe you can help me first here... back by this darned hose line. I'm just not strong enough and it needs to be attached."
"Here... let me..." His voice trailed to zip at the sight of the mother of the mischief twins. Denise Pritchard, her brilliant auburn hair tumbling sexily across golden shoulders, was kneeling on her hands and knees, her back to Bryan. For an electrifying second he was sure she was nude! He could see her tail cleft clearly, then he saw the nearly transparent panties and bra. Fantastic sun-tanned curvaceousness... shoulders and hips and fabulous ass!
Bryan shuddered to the storm of fifteen-year-old runaway libido and knew too late he had been stupid to come to his lawn work morning at the Pritchard place in bathing trunks.
Partly for comfort in early morning summer sun, but mostly for wanting to show off a bod that his fetish for conditioning had made sleek, he had come clad in nylon blue and white striped and too small swim trunks. One stripe now stood in a bold vertical as he gaped at cock-crazing Mrs. Pritchard.
A major problem Bryan had had for the years since his adolescence began was a lightning sex response. Instant erection! Not a gradual, creeping, stretching thing like he read other guys had. Bryan's penis stormed to total hard-on as if someone had flipped the taut string of a bow and sent the arrow flying. His cock was a fierce and rigid pole against the dangerously thin trunks.
Frantic panic swept him. What would happen when Mrs. Pritchard uncoiled from her crouch and faced him with all her goodies on display under those see-through undies? Bryan, you dumb-ass! His fright at exposure doubled when he realized how dependent he'd been on a way to relieve his sex fever over the three females of 106 Coral Way. How many times he blessed this very barn garage as his escape place to relieve himself when one or the other girl, in various states of undress, had stimulated him by strolling by his mowing en route to the pool. Inside Bryan had a curious warning that gave him a fast tingle just before his penis shot to hard. Always before he'd made it to the barn garage in time and gotten it off in private.
None of the Pritchards had ever came into the barn... till now. And this was the one he thought least bothered him. Denise Pritchard had to be in her thirties, he'd decided, and while she was a beautiful woman, thirty was way over the hill, which accounted for the fact she always wore dresses. Probably to hide the wrinkies, he had suspected. Her daughters in their string bikinis were the stuff of his sex heat and from his bedroom window next door he'd masturbated at them hundreds of times as they walked outside or were careless with the bedroom or bathroom shades.
He'd suspected them of staging the forgetfulness to give him a show, but dismissed that. His room and bath faced Mrs. Pritchard's room and bath. When Sandy or Pammy were visiting in that room, he could see them, usually in undies.
It was an uncomfortable stimulus for Bryan -- his girl undies excitement. He'd heard olders make cracks about perverts and their arousal over intimate garments and always squirmed. Girls in scanty panties and peekaboo bras were absolutely maddening. Lots more so than the babes who thought they were so sexy without anything underneath. A woman with barely enough cover over her goodies -- even in a lingerie catalogue -- sent him up a tree with excitement.
Like now! He dropped to his knees at Mrs. Pritchard's side, pretending concern but almost overcome by his discovery of the hidden beauty that had been there all the time in the grown-up lady next door.
"What can I do to help?" His voice was brittle with tension as he gawked at her torrid body profile stretching to try to make the garden hose attach to what appeared a small water wheel.
"Why... Bryan, how nice of you to offer!" Her face smiled into his and she caught his flush. "You don't mind me in this get-up, do you? The girls got it for my birthday and I just love it. It doesn't have many secrets."
"Looks neat!" choked Bryan, overwhelmed with frantic fear that his hard-on nudging against the trunks top was about to leap into view. "Lemme have that!" He reached for the pliers she held. "Man's work."
"No. Tell you what, Bryan. You go back over by the faucet there on the wall and while I twist this coupler, you turn the water pressure up... okay?"
Better than okay! "Sure, Mrs. Pritchard!" He almost ran, relieved to escape to the assigned task that would put him behind her again and able to do what he had to do... FAST!
His erection was out of his trunks and hot in his hand when he reached the wall five steps away. His back to her, he looked over his shoulder. "Tell me when," he said.
"Just give me a little bit now," cooed the flame-haired, sun-burnished sexpot, never moving from her maddening crouch.
Oh, God! To have that gorgeous female stack of wriggly body and super boobies crouched over his naked body like that! Bryan's imagination fused with his tortured libido and he took the chance. Holding the faucet with one hand and his prick with the other, he spun around and stood spreadlegged and brazen, masturbating himself at the dazzling female five yards away.
"Eeeeehhh... we've got him!" A flash bulb flared simultaneously with the rope swirling down from the overhead loft. With gymnasts' timing, the twins somersaulted from overhead to the straw-covered floor, Sandy holding tightly to the end of her lasso and Pammy happily waving her camera.
"We got him, Mommy... lookee!"
They had done exactly that. Trapped painfully in a savage rope knot that clamped his arm in place at his hip and binding tightly at his wrist to force him to continue gripping his bared cock, Bryan was horrified captive.
Fear and shock at his exposure racked him and even as three mercilessly staring females watched their prize of war, his hard-on began to fold.
"Mommy... look! He's losing it!"
Brayn knew he would never forget the performance of Mrs. Pritchard as she straightened from her crouch, stood slowly and confidently, posing to give him full impact. Transparent panties and bra, only the hint of their edging visible, accented her ripe, wonderful lines. Hard and bold against the centers of her bra stood taut nipples.
"Look at my daughters, young man! Don't look at me!" Her manner was no longer kindly Mrs. Pritchard. She was devil witch in charge as she strolled casually to where he trembled against the wall, still trapped with his now softened penis in his hand, the rope grating warningly when he squirmed.
She was a man-crazing female. Red hair lay across her shoulders and curled along the curve of her breasts, as if planned to accent their thrust. The wild nipples stood like bullseyes in the center of the flame-scarlet tresses. But it was her pubic mound that Bryan couldn't escape staring at, in spite of his terror.
Denise Pritchard had no triangle of dark hair. Even her daughters had that, Bryan knew from glimpses of the girls in their mother's bathroom when the shade had been forgotten. Mrs. Pritchard had a flesh triangle that was a lust center. Her mons rose like a tiny hill under her panties. Her cunty cleft was a clear dark line barely visible before it disappeared with the inflaming curvature of her pubes into her crotch.
"Look at it, Bryan!" taunted Sandy beside him, frustrated that her mother had center stage. "Doesn't bother you at all, does it?"
"Whuh... what's goin' on... hey... please!" pleaded the captive sagging against the barn wall and straightening instantly to the prick of splintery wood on his ass cheeks.
"You are in a medieval dungeon." Mrs. Pritchard turned, pointing to the barrel wheel she had been attaching the hose to. "This is where we punish prisoners with a potency problem."
"Aw, hey!" No sensible word wanted to form as Bryan tried to absorb her meaning. Instead, he was feeling those violent inner vibrations that warned he was losing control. Last desperate try to make sense out of what had overthrown his private world of girl lusting for the next door neighbors. "I don't... guh... gosh... understaaannnn..."
"You don't have to!" giggled Pammy, the plight of super-body Bryan delighting her. "You know what we want to see."
"Bryan." Mrs. Pritchard was directly before him now, her luscious breasts jutting not an inch from his trembling chest. "The girls... my daughters... tell me you hurry into this barn at least four times on your mowing day."
"Six last week," corrected Sandy. "Always when we're in the yard or by the pool."
"And we know what he does when he sneaks out on his job. He peeks at us and plays with it." Pammy was ecstatic at the guilt in Bryan's face.
"With what? This?" Mrs. Pritchard backed half a step away and looked skeptically at the rubbery length curled over the edge of his trapped fist. "That? But how?"
Three pretty faces, smiling and mischief-loaded, were at waist height, kneeling before his trapped body. "You'll see how," promised Pammy. "I saw it just when it went hard under his show-off trunks last week once and it's really unbelieva -- wow! WOW! Look!"
No way that Bryan's psyched penis, starved by a three-day famine from any frig play, could hold off any longer. He felt a kind of quicksand sensation deep in his testicles. Then the elastic snapped. Helpless in the snug grip of a bowline hitch behind his waist, Bryan Archer Quinby was on naked and devastating display to three intoxicatingly stacked females. Feeling like the end of the world, he gawked at their staring faces, inches from his hard-on, trapped by the rope laid across his wrist. Compelled to grip himself.
"I do not believe it!" exclaimed Denise Pritchard, inching closer than her daughters till the tip of her cute pug nose nudged the bulbous crimson crown. "You said it leaped, Pammy, but this has jet power!"
"Mommy... you promised," whispered a suddenly awed Sandy, reaching tentatively to touch the swollen cap and snatching her hand away when a maternal slap stung her fingers. "It's ours to learn from, right?"
Mrs. Pritchard looked casually up Bryan's muscular front. "You admit my girls have aroused you?" No harshness in her demand.
He fought for air and felt the warning urgency bubbling far off that warned of a growing spontaneous combustion in his groin. "Sure... you're, gee...!" He felt the friendliness behind her voice. "You're enough to drive any guy bananas."
"Go bananas, Bryan Quinby." Matter-of-factly she kneed forward. Now her boobs were at his thigh level. "Lower our sex slave," she ordered Pammy holding the rope. "He will jerk off at our breasts. He wants to."
It couldn't be happening to him, Bryan told himself as he felt the rope lower him till his legs bent and his cock brushed directly into Mrs. Pritchard's deep booby cleavage.
Something happened when she felt the contact of his aroused flesh. Her fingers clawed behind her shoulders to release her bra halter. Rich and jutting, the bared globes leaped for freedom.
"First demonstration, girls." She wormed closer and now her boobs framed his helpless phallus, its red cap actually nudging into the warm breast valley. "The male loves this feeling. You can make a vagina sensation with your breasts. Aren't they lovely, Bryan?" Her hand darted to both girls' bikini halters, spilling the cover from boobs as excited as her own.
"Do it, Bryan," demanded a breathless Pammy, unlike her twin sister never having seen or touched a boy in her fourteen years. It was a promise they'd made to Mommy, who had in turn, five years earlier, made the promise to them she would lead them into womanhood when they were fifteen. "Show me how a boy does himself." Pammy's eyes sparkled in expectation.
"Loosen the rope so he can move his arm," ordered Mrs. Pritchard, her head swimming to the delight of educating her two made-for-loving daughters. "Now... Bryan! Show us."
In mixed anger and lust he stared directly into the three faces, then down their curvaceous fronts at six equally staring nipples. His focus centered on Mrs. Pritchard's and the way her cleavage held his cock so naturally. Go with their game, his dazed mind urged. "So you gotta make 'em tight for me?" he croaked.
Denise Pritchard clutched her middle as the laughter bubbled. "He wants you to squeeze my breasts together over his penis while he does it. You want to feel what a pretty pussy grabs like, Bryan?"
"Sorta." He gasped the admission. "Golly, I got to!"
His fist tightened white-knuckled on his prick and he began to stroke, feeling the sweet warm clasp of the pressed-together breasts. Wild sight. Each girl tenderly gripped one of Mrs. Pritchard's ripe boobs, forcing them snugly against his cock. He'd had wild dreams about the three of them, but never this wild.
The build-up was slow coming and he knew it was a mixture of shock and the lack of traction for his feet barely touching the floor boards. The imprisoning rope was unnoticed pain on his upper arms. He would have stayed right where he was without the rope. Sudden arrogance took him as he saw the entranced stares watching him drive his cock into Mrs. Pritchard's breast cleft.
"Yahhh!" he growled, ripping his turbulent cock into view and brandishing it before three startled faces. "You want to see a man do it, do you? Well, stay right there... I dare you! You'll see!"
"See what?" Contempt dripped in Sandy's question and she leaned closer.
"This... and this!" Bryan flailed his hard-on in impetuous swipes across her cheeks, then pumped feverishly, directly into their faces.
"Look... look at the eye wink! That horrible red head jumps in and out of his fist!" shrieked Pammy.
"And something else jumps," squealed Mrs. Pritchard, sensitive to his climax nearing and seeing orgasm paralysis stiffening his frame. "Watch out!"
The seizure of his orgasm snatched all reason from Bryan. Before him three gorgeous girls with golden glorious bodies were on display. Tumbling red hair, boobs bouncing with excitement, and pink, almost transparent nipples reaching for him from each girl, forced a cry with his ejaculation. "You want to see it jump?" he shrilled hysterically. "It'll jump all over your tits!"
Milk-white and rainshower-wild, his semen shot at the eager expressions, splashing out of control into dancing eyes and open-mouthed excitement, dripping down onto three animated torsos. The three were suddenly savagely changed as they took the warm spray of his come. It was Mrs. Pritchard who seemed most jolted by the sensation.
"Oh, how it makes you feel to be masturbated at!" Her hands massaged urgently across tenderized boobs. It was follow-the-leader as both girls caught up in their mother's spell, rubbed Bryan's glistening semen into their breasts' cleavage and across their middles.
"I can't... oh, I can't stand the feel... it's so nice..." wailed Pammy, writhing to her back before an astonished Bryan, almost in the grip of her own climax.
Somehow, some way, the girls -- now even Mrs. Pritchard could only be thought of as girl -- shed their panties and to his disbelieving eyes, tumbled and tangled in a luscious bundle of female flesh. No words, only panting and groaning as they spread the residue of his ejaculation on the others' bodies, then wriggled wildly in their own self-stimulation.
Uncomprehending, but captivated, Bryan watched an old patchwork quilt he hadn't noticed before twist and bunch under the interwoven legs and arms.
It was Pammy's sex center, facing directly toward him in the midst of sunshiny pink flesh, that caught his attention. The girl was possessed as she drove two, then three long, lovely fingers into herself. He gawked in fascination. Not only was it his first time to watch a female stimulate herself, it was his first close view of a girl's most personal self.
Denise Pritchard swirling out of the clouds of her own erotic self-play, saw his fixed gaze on her daughter's aunt and knew. Bryan Archer Quinby never had seen a female like this before. It was a crazy/wonderful opportunity.
"Show him, Pammy," she hissed. "Let him see your pretty love trigger."
As though hypnotized, the fingers stroked open the labial gates and exposed the nubbin of the girl's clitoris. Taut and trembling, sheathed in its darkish almond-shaped cover, the clit stood proudly. Pammy attacked it savagely with her fingers. In wild surrender to her sensations she let go, writhing and arching. Lifting her nubile figure in a crescent from the barn floor, she let Bryan watch her climax.
And then it was done. The girls lay in a breathless tangle of happy bodies, staring up at a still roped Bryan.
"You are bothered again!" Mrs. Pritchard accused, glaring meaningfully at his groin. "It's just as the girls said. You haven't any limit."
"Yeah... hey, lemme down..." he begged.
"You are to be tied a prisoner till we are through with you or till you die. Do you hear me, Bryan Quinby? You are our sex slave and you are the tool for my daughters' learning."
"Hey... look, Missus."
She waved imperiously to her daughters and on pre-arranged signal they cut him down from his suspension and dragged him to the strange appearing wheel she had been working on when he arrived.
He made no resistance, too enthralled by the feel of warm hands clutching under his arms and the delicious rub of hips and boobs against his body as they dragged him. "What's this thing?"
"This ancient water wheel, dear boy, is your sex torture rack. Strap him to it, girls." Denise pointed to the oak-planked barrel-shaped rack.
The girls dragged his naked form, still bound, still fiercely aroused, to the step-up onto the formidable Middle Ages-looking instrument of torture. Abruptly Pammy broke away to run to a wall closet.
"What are you doing?" It was obvious from Denise's question that this wasn't part of the plan.
Silence answered for long seconds while the twin busied herself, back to the others. Then she turned and walked slowly and purposefully toward her mother, wearing a long silver fox neckpiece and carrying a cat-o'-nine tails in each hand.
"Whatever..."
"Mutiny, mother. That's whatever. Your lovin' daughters have decided to take over their own education and use you and Bryan here to get the answer." Pammy tossed a thin thonged whip to Sandy.
"See, we read this neat old-fashioned sex torture bit in your hope chest, Mommy. Venus In Furs. All about how men and girls go nutty to whipping while they think about sex. So we're going to do that on you and prove something about Bryan. Get her, Sandy."
A squealing, but not too violently protesting Denise, was dragged unceremoniously over the carpeted step-up, past a boggle-eyed Bryan. Her nude wantonness looked deliciously fragile in the grasp of two determined daughters. He never had been aware before of the predatory nature of the female. Now, seeing their glittering stares at his hard-on as they brushed past him, Bryan knew he was to be center stage before long. It was frightening and alluring, at the same time.
"Mommy, it's sinful for you to be so stinking beautiful at your age!" stormed Pammy, dragging one of Denise's arms high over her head and to the side, to be held in the wrist trap of the rack.
"Sandra, you're hurting my ankle!" Denise strained furiously against her ankle and wrist snares, but obviously enjoyed her captivity.
At the side wheel control, Pammy ignored cries to be careful and cranked the ratchet to bend her mother's body to a deep arch. Spreadeagled, her sleekly tanned arms and legs wide stretched and torso convexed, Denise's already outspoken breasts were now an explosive display, leaping from her chest as though trying to separate from her body. Low on her tummy her vee mound was an urgent hillock of wanting.
From his crouch against the steps, Bryan felt the heady delirium of the sensuality. The girls, high heeled and nude, except for the fur neckpieces that reached nearly to the floor, now circled their prisoner warily. The tables were turned and the unexpected had taken command.
Splaaatt!
The deviling sting of the cat o' nine tails laid impudently across Denise's bared front, forcing a reflex to its nerve-tingling slap. Just enough bite to the thin strands to evoke a sizzling erotic response deep inside Denise's hyper-sexed frame.
"Girls! Please... you must know what you're..."
"We do," crowded a triumphant Pammy laying on stroke after stroke of the love whip. "We've seen you through the tiny peep hole we made into your room. You love it from your men. Do girls turn you on, too?"
"Ahhhh... oh, do it! Harder!" whimpered Denise, her body a cacophony of sex chaos, the gorgeous muscles that knit her trapped torso together straining against the whips. "Some one please, anyone... love me while I die!"
It was the need in her mother's voice that tore Sandy's will to punish her more. With a little cry of desperation, she flung herself past Bryan on the steps and fell across Denise's sleek legs. "I'll protect you against that old whip!" she screamed, burrowing eagerly into the valley between the sleekly molded thighs and kissing frantically along the inner muscle till she came to where the magic was.
"Ohhh, Pammy... you're right... Pammy, she's sweet as honey."
"Traitor!" shrilled Sandy's twin, strutting in intriguing display of nudity in witch heat. Pammy's red hair was in flaming disarray, breasts high borne, thrusting through the silver-gray fur piece, body proud as she pranced to accent impudent buttocks and gorgeous legs. "I shall punish you both, then!"
Pammy circled the embracing pair, whip flailing but only intensifying Sandy's passion at Denise's pussy center. Arriving at the steps where a naked and feverishly aroused Bryan crouched watching, Pammy sprawled in nude voluptuosity across his bound form, grinding warm curves against his trembling frame as she whipped at the two above them.
"You better get ready, big cock!" she hissed in his ear. "You're next!"
"Hey... geez, lemme outta this!" howled Bryan, panicked by the desire driving his thoughts and his awareness of his naivete in lovemaking. Pammy's lush female wonders seemed to envelope him as she wriggled and squirmed across his taut torso while striking at the others. In one frenzied twist she had him driven back against the steps, his cock caught between her thighs so close to her crotch he could feel the heat. He barely extricated before his orgasm build-up began.
"Those crazies!" screeched Pammy. "They're both coming from whip whoopee!"
It wasn't from the whip nearly as much as Sandy's busy lips on Denise's cunty cleft. Her tongue spearing through the palpitating quim, stirred the tumid clit and the climax that stormed Denise swept Sandy simultaneously. No neophyte to lesby play, Sandy knew the way to prolong girl-to-girl orgasm. Nights with her twin, as they lay planning their someday love life, had taught her the play ways with another female.
And now it was quiet on the rack, except for the sobbing happiness of Denise who never had had such intimacy from either of her daughters till now. Her superb body, perspiring lightly from her passion, no longer fought the wrist and ankle grips and she lay still, eyes closed, waiting.
"Bring him," she said quietly to the girl still curled at her crotch. "It's time for his torture."
"You know it!" exulted Pammy, squirming down along Bryan's side and bending to kiss impudently at the desperately inflated cock crown. "Come, Sandy, 'nuff play with Mommy's pussy. Let's see if Bryan has any better self-control than you did."
"Pamela! Where did you learn that word? Undo me this instant and put Bryan down!"
"Ohhh h, no, Mommy. We'll show you where Bryan goes. Mutiny, remember?"
"Dear God!" moaned a delighted Denise as the girls dragged a willing/unwilling Bryan, spread-legging him over her opened thighs and irreverently jamming his monumental erection hard against her soft labial flesh.
"Now we're going to see," Pammy danced away from the dazed Bryan, pausing to admire his position. He was still a prisoner, his hands bound behind his back. His powerfully muscled body looked both threatening and helpless, kneeling astride Denise. One move downward would drive him into her vagina, or a pelvic thrust upward by the outspread victim beneath would lock them in coitus.
"Help!" Denise was outwardly determined not to yield, but inwardly her body burned for Bryan's impaling. "However did you learn..."
"Peeking through our peephole." Sandy, enamored of the taste of Denise, crept across the curve of the wheel rack and flung herself across her mother's upper body, twisting to turn her own front outward as she heard Pammy slash at Bryan's muscular back with the whip.
"Whip him -- not us!" she cried warningly when the thin thongs whistled too close to her breasts and splat across Bryan's front.
It was a weird, wonderful first for the captive male. He felt no pain from the thongs, but a maddening tingle deep inside at each blow. And flush against his ballooning prick was the gateway to sex heaven. He had only to urge his buttocks in response to the swatting leather and he would fuck his first woman body.
Fierce and frenzied deep within was the strange want to wait. A pledge to his own mother's nosiness about his sexual maturing was needling and it wouldn't let him go. He had promised he would remain a virgin till "the girl of his dreams" came into his life. No way to pretend to his conscience that wanton, wriggly Mrs. Pritchard was that girl. If she was divorced or not, his lust frenzy for a once-married seemed illicit... a battle against something like adultery.
He was losing the battle! He could feel her cunty lips trembling and warm against his cock crown. Gawking down, he saw Denise's labia had dilated. Her pussy cleft was already spreading to welcome his cock. Cockflesh against cuntflesh -- so near -- so far! He fought a hopeless battle to keep it that way.
Slaaappp! The thong whizzed past his chest and he saw the love whip snip teasingly at Sandy's pert breasts.
"Don't Pammy... don't!" Her terror sounded real, but the sparkle in her eyes as she shielded her mother, told Bryan Sandy loved it. "You know it makes me come!" she shrilled.
"So, come!" Pammy doubled the assault on her sister and as she did, Sandy began to vibrate and convulse in the clear grip of orgasm. Wriggling over to her tummy to escape the torture, she burrowed into Denise's breasts moaning and groaning, and began to milk and siphon at the taut nipples.
"Omigod, yesss!" Denise, electrified by the thirsty lips, was determined it was going to be Bryan's own doing that took her in copulation. Wiggling and straining, but never losing control of her lower body, Denise gave herself over to a lip-stimulated climax. It turned Pammy loose to focus on Bryan's back.
Thwaaaccckkk!
"My gosh... please... I..."
Thwaaaaccckkk!
Body-riding shudders swept Bryan as he felt the erotic lightning of the whip. His hips felt a relentless pressure, forcing them to move uncontrollably in a rhythm, mounting with each stinging swipe. He felt the compulsion to let go and drive himself downward to escape the whip. It meant one thing...
Thwaaaaccckkk!
"Ah... ahhh! Oh, geez, gotta... I gotta!"
His phallus was suddenly inside a tight vise. Its maddened crown was already almost out of sight. He was in the middle of wide-stretched cunt lips. Denise Pritchard's!
In total disbelief that it was really happening, Bryan gawked at the onset of his first act of copulation. Only the dark protruding glans ledge was still visible at the very edge of her labial lips. Then it was gone and he was rocking... driving... urging himself deeper and deeper.
"Bryan, my God, there's so... so much of you!" Denise was a struggling wanton, welcoming the impaling manflesh, long-gone in end-over-end orgasm.
"Yeah... oh, gosh... awwwhhh!" He was a male to behold. Arms lashed behind his body, athletic frame tensed and arched astride Denise's lovely woman form, he pumped himself helplessly into the tender clutch of the vagina. Pulling quicksand muscles dragged him deeper and deeper.
The whip was discarded as Pammy tumbled to the side of the two and watched Bryan's climax nearing. Passion-driven rapture cries sprang, inarticulate and bullish, then his tanned and tortured frame stiffened as orgasm paralysis took him.
He was pumping... driving... thrusting... then done!
With a cry of ecstasy and defeat mixed and mingled, he toppled to his side almost falling over the edge of the rack.
"Bind him in my place. Hurry!" Denise was loose and the three females splayed the naked Bryan across the curve of the wheel. "Now, he's our slave! Sandy, darling, you're first... what have you always dreamed of doing with a man?"
"I know," giggled Pammy.
"Wait a minute! No one's going to do anything with our fallen hero." Denise pointed contemptuously at a shriveled penis lying limply at Bryan's groin.
"I can change that, betcha." Sandy wormed and squirmed her way across his chest and down over his middle, making sure her breasts and her vee mound ground against her intended victim as she moved. Ready, she cradled his penis in her palm.
"I've always wanted to take a man just like this and turn his penis into a big hard cock. Then drink his honey."
"So?" Red hair flashed defiantly as Sandy tossed her head and bent to her target.
"Ohhhh... hey!" Bryan strained frantically against the ankle and wrist band and his body arched furiously as he felt warm moist lips trap his flaccid cock flesh. She engulfed the rubbery length and now whirlpooled it in a maddening saliva bath as she munched and chewed.
"Maybe Bryan-baby likes honey, too," cooed Denise, intrigued by Sandy's oral preoccupation, fascinated to see if she liked to be played with herself.
"Try her!" hissed Pammy, twisting her sister's hips to position Sandy's cunty cleft inches from Bryan's face.
He gaped in helpless enchantment at the magic of a girl's pudendum. Never in his wildest imagination had he known how it would look close up. Gross locker room tales had made it a thing to fear. Wrong, Bryan, wrong! Sunshiny pink flesh framed the dark cleft and hid the mystery beyond. His tongue wet his lower lip, even as he felt the stirring begin in his groin to Sandy's lip love of his phallic flesh.
"Kiss her... it's sweet..." urged an awed Pammy, watching enviously as her sister gave and got what Pammy was nearly out of her mind needing.
Bryan was desire-driven automation in his response. It was as if he had no control over the need to explore inside a female sex center and his tongue speared tentatively through the vulva into the vagina threshold.
It was love at first taste. He savored sweet and slightly tart, intimate and mysterious, compelling him to lick and to tongue for more. Even as he did, he felt the erotic lightning sizzle into his groin and heard Sandy's cry of delight. He was hard and erect again, driving through her lips as she continued to siphon thirstily at his inflamed cock.
They locked in mutual suck passion and it was another strange first for Bryan. Wild for his initial experience at fellatio, he was even more driven to taste her come frenzy. Even a neophyte could tell those convulsions meant her climax was near. And while he maddened her quim with lips and tongue, his own orgasm stalled to let him drive her totally over the crest.
Throaty moans told the audience of Sandy's coming and a moist bath wet Bryan's eager tongue, spearing, stabbing feverishly as the first spasm tore Sandy's lower body. When her climax slowed, her lips were munching, maddened for the taste of male semen. Unlike Pammy, she never had violated her promise to Mommy to wait for this appointed moment. Now, yearning and passion swept her as she sucked her willing victim.
"Ah, yeah... YEAH!" His semen barrage blasted the roof of Sandy's mouth and she was female on fire. The come raced furiously and she gulped it, gagging but wanting to swallow as she continued to suck.
"He's a maniac!" exclaimed Denise when the glistening organ slid wetly from Sandy's mouth. It was still bent in an ominous half-hard curve up and away from his groin.
"He's my maniac this time." Pammy scrambled across his thighs and positioned herself.
"One thing I want promised by superman here." Denise hovered directly over Bryan and stared unblinkingly into his passion-driven face. "I want you to promise never -- not ever! -- to come over here for sexy seconds without my specific invitation."
"Mommmmeeee... that's cruel!"
"Bryan, do you hear?"
"Oh, look... wow...! I promise."
Denise leaned very close and kissed him tenderly on the lips. "Then will you please have intercourse with my daughter? Be very gentle. You're a big man."
Denise followed her invitation, stretching across Bryan's eager frame to help him in. His prick split Pammy's quim lips and as she took his thrust, she squealed happily in rapture agony. Her mother crouched across their captive male, insinuated herself closer and closer till she could kiss and lubricate the snug union of cock and cunt.
Fire seared his mind as Bryan took the love of two women; one tongue licking feverishly at his shaft while the other drove herself onto his penis and pulsed in savage convulsions as she took him deep into her body.
With an expertise that told Denise this boy was no first timer, Bryan pumped into her daughter's vagina. His maturely tapered, narrow-hipped frame made it hard to believe him an adolescent. Even as she watched, Denise knew her neighbor posed a major threat to her plans for her daughters. Bryan was too good too soon. His amateurish coltishness in coital thrusting was the only thing that made her think he could have been virgin when he came into their trap. But now he was going to be an object of constant want by her daughters. Even wanted by her, and that could spoil her campaign for Jess Mallory. It could even ruin Sandy and Pammy, if the word was leaked by this young Adonis that he had easy play with the girls next door.
She had to hard-nose him out of their sex lives when this morning madness was finished. Keep him hopeful, but keep him a lawnboy. Give him kicks with near misses, but keep him in suspense.
"I do not believe you, Bryan Quinby!" Denise declared when a spent Pammy rolled from her prisoner. "No man can go through a trio of females, come seven times and still be half hard!"
The girls were at his ankles and freeing the clamps that had held him through their romp. When he was released, he straightened slowly and stiffly, saying nothing as he moved to the floor of the barn and turned to face his captors. Three gorgeously stacked nudes, clustered close together in arm-locked wonder, watched and waited for him to speak.
"No more?" He looked painfully at Denise, trying to fathom the sense of that order. "You mean, only this time and never, ever again?"
"Maybe ever again, but only if I give special permission and that isn't likely."
"But, why?" He was clearly hurting at the thought that one time in paradise was only a start. "I would never say a word."
"Too much dynamite for any of us to handle, Bryan. You could be hurt... my girls could be... it's a small town."
"Come here!" He grabbed impetuously for Denise's wrist and wrestled her quickly to the impromptu mattress on the quilt. "And you!" He caught Sandy's arm and with his other hand seized Pammy, spilling the two girls in a happy, squealing tumble across their mother's willing body.
"I want something to remember." His strength and the cooperation from the girls caught by his desperation, made lining their bodies and their three cunty centers one atop the other no problem.
Cunnilingus hopscotch. Thirst wetted by the magic found earlier at Sandy's quim gates, he drove the three females to gasping, screaming climaxes.
"More... please, Bryan, more!" cried Sandy after he had tongue-whipped each through two orgasms and suddenly broke from the play.
"Don't go." Denise grabbed and missed as he slipped past them and snatched his bathing trunks from the floor. "Look at yourself! You still need it."
"I know. And it's going to get lots worse." Fully freshened and horny wild, his erection bolted at his front in outraged want. Purposefully he strutted to the barn door, determined to let the three see what they were driving from their lives. There, flinging open the two-sided-door, he calmly bent and dragged his swim trunks up his legs till they were directly under his genitals.
"So, if I'm out, I'm out!" he snorted, grabbing his stiffened cock and stroking himself suggestively. "This is how you caught me and this is what I'll go back to."
Furious as he was, Bryan was entranced by the trio of females embracing each other and staring at his masturbation. Forgotten by him in his frenzy to try to make Mrs. Pritchard retract her ultimatum, was that he was visible to a second floor window in his home next door. At that second in that window appeared an astonished face.
"Dear God! Bryan!" Jennifer Quinby, dumbstruck by a performance she never believed possible in her fifteen-year-old, pressed her fist against her lips. There before her incredulous stare, was a possessed son, facing back into the barn garage on the Pritchard grounds, obviously masturbating.
Was someone watching next door? Surely with three women around that house! In sheer terror she scanned first the downstairs, then the upstairs windows of the house. Not a soul in sight. Whatever possessed her boy, wondered a spellbound Jennifer, horrified and entranced simultaneously as a stream of silvery spray shot from the tip of his cock and splattered to the ground.
Almost matter-of-factly, he restored his modesty, stepped back inside the barn door, and a moment later reappeared with the lawnmower. He had done it, but there wasn't a guilty sign in his expression. Jennifer watched unseen behind a drape as he mowed along the hedge line.
That evening at supper table, strained and uncomfortable, she studied him covertly as he sat nonchalantly at her elbow. He talked animatedly about his chance for the first string football team in his first year of high school.
"Bryan, I would like to see you clean up your room tonight," she interrupted finally, exasperated by his cool. "You know Celeste arrives in a few days and it's a disgrace."
"Sure, Mom, glad to." His thoughts were where they had been all through the day after leaving the three temptresses. Three wonderful females had led him into manhood and set him on fire for sex. It was beautiful and it was beastly, at the same instant. Just as she paid him for the lawn work, Denise reminded him a final time, "Once is once and no more. Understood, Bryan?"
"Sure... yeah, guess so." He had left in ecstasy and in misery. Now as he headed up the stairs to clean his room, the misery deepened. All that remained was to busy himself in football and try to endure the old maid prima donna his mother tried to convince him would be fun to have around. Fun, hell! Even her name, Celeste, sounded sort of like the end of the world to a frustrated Bryan. Why couldn't they park Celeste next door and bring over Denise... or Sandy... or Pammy?
Deep in gloom that Mrs. Pritchard was completely serious in her warning to him to keep hands off further adventures next door, he dropped exhausted into his bed and promptly fell asleep.
CHAPTER THREE
The Quinby home was terribly quiet. "Any decent household should be at two a.m." Frank muttered to a restless Jennifer.
"But something moved somewhere," she complained. "Maybe Celeste is trying to find the kitchen for a snack. It's black in the hall, Frank."
Her husband groaned and shifted to his elbows to glare sleepily at his wife. "Look, if I check it out will you let me go to sleep?"
"Oh, thank you. If it's Celeste, maybe you can help her. She likes an after-show nibble and I forgot the kitchen night light."
"Probably Bryan," grumbled Frank, groping for his robe, then remembering. "Wrong. He's on the all-night bus run back from the game."
"Thank heavens he made the team," murmured Jennifer. "He's a worry. So much boy and so anxious to be man."
"I'll be right back," Frank sighed. "I'm awake now. Probably make myself a sandwich."
"Be careful," an anxious wife whispered after his departure. Her happiness was complete, she told herself. She had been loved wildly by Frank before he fell asleep; her home was safe in his protection and to make life sheer joy, her best friend was with them and staying on longer than planned.
Now one more thing remained to complete her joy. Jennifer thought of Celeste. Sweet, gorgeous Celeste, looking more vibrant and beautiful than in conservatory years, had taken her family by storm.
She was the perfect house guest, making herself at home, slipping in quietly after her evening performance, remembering there was a man in the house who had to go to work early. To crown her happiness, Jennifer had watched Bryan make varsity football. That, more than anything, should get him away from any preoccupation with himself or with girls. But she knew it wouldn't. He seemed absolutely in awe, almost afraid of Celeste, and smitten as his eyes said he was with her beauty, he was rarely near her. Sighing contentedly at the new prospects ahead, Jennifer leisurely stretched, then sat up in bed.
Downstairs Frank felt his heart race as he moved through the dining room darkness toward the kitchen. Not from fear of an intruder, but hope that it might be Celeste on a snack-prowling expedition. He paused by the table as a light flared low in the next room, then went out. Must have been the refrigerator light, he decided. At the door into the kitchen he waited and listened, identifying first the lightness of footstep and then the fragrance of perfume as belonging to their house guest. Jennifer rarely used perfume.
"Celeste?" he called softly. "It's me, Frank. You all right?" he asked quickly to wipe out any fright.
"I'll be fine if you don't turn on the light," came back the low voiced response. "I'm practically in the buff."
Violent heart race now and with it a surging charge in his loins. He had already seen a nearly nude Celeste at their pool and also in her latest contemporary Carmen concert. She was pure man-maddening wench. Someone really screwed the calendar when they tried to make her in mid-thirties. Youngish Jennifer had faked out the years with her fabulous figure. But Celeste was like a girl who stayed a girl in every way. And she was also slightly terrifying. So real and so genuine and so all woman -- but so famous and so talented she was like someone unreachable.
"Just came down for a bite myself. But I'll come back later if I caught you naked as a jay-bird." His humor sounded an empty nothing to Frank.
"Come in. It's fine. I'm not really, naked. Besides, you're the master of this house, right? So join me. Just keep the light off."
Frank poked about the fridge, finding the bowl of cold chicken and the milk. She was standing facing the sink, looking out into the moonlit night as he placed the bowl on the counter. "Like a piece?" he asked, feeling the wild tremor at the double entendre and leaning close against the counter front to keep his thoroughly aroused cock from bursting through the folds of his robe.
"Thank you." She reached daintily into the metal bowl and he studied her unashamedly. "I'm too piggy, but my figure doesn't seem to hurt from it."
"That is for sure!" He saw her glance at his staring but didn't care. "Say, we're surely glad you're staying with us for your Connecticut performances."
"You aren't thinking about my performances at all, Frank," she accused softly. "But, thank you. I'm thrilled to be here."
In the filtering moonlight her magnificent breasts rose and fell evenly as she returned to her study of their back yard. He watched her finger the drumstick to her lips, pucker and nibble sensuously at the flesh... lick her lower lip and give him privacy to inventory her body profile.
Fabulous classic Grecian beauty to her dark hair and ivory skin. Chiseled perfection to the line of her slightly tilted nose, to the angle of her chin, the smoothness of her sleek throat. Her body, visible through the translucent pink of her shorty gown, was that of woman made for loving. Her nipples, unguarded by a bra, were hard points against the chiffon.
She finished the chicken leg and every bite was an agony for Frank. It was his cock she could be munching and it was his cock she was missing! Any cock, for all he knew of the manless career she had chosen, but for the moment, his cock.
"I can read the dial on your clock radio, Frank. Can you... from here?" She had turned and leaned back against the counter as she stared across the darkened kitchen toward the breakfast nook.
Trapped! The instant he turned, his frantic erection would lose the protection of the wall of the sink counter and leap through his bathrobe. Easily seen in the moonlit kitchen.
"Frank... didn't you hear me? Or are your eyes too old?" She caught his wrist with a little giggle and spun him around. "What does the dial say... oh... oh!" With a sigh of affected dismay, Celeste reached quietly across his front and clasped the great white phallus, ramrodding from the dark folds of his robe.
For a breath stopping second she fondled. "Has this made love to my long-ago roomie today?" She pulled impudently at the horny gristle of his cock shaft. "Tell me, Frank, was this inside Jennifer tonight?"
Momentarily speechless at her utter calm and her directness as she fondled the erection and looked into his eyes, he nodded. Just as though Celeste was the one person in the world who had a right to know.
"Does my openness upset you?"
"No! Good gosh, but you're different!" That was the whole clue, he knew. This brilliant talent, this magnificent female with the stacked chassis that bad to be love starved was really no brazen hussy. She was a beautiful, considerate house guest from the moment she walked through their front door, and she had a tremendous love for Jennifer, as alive now as when they'd been roommates at Gordon. House guest was just what Celeste wasn't. To all of the Quinby household she was now family and she could do no wrong. Least of all this very personal touch. No wrong, Frank reminded himself, nothing but openness. So his lust burned for Celeste. It was plainly welcomed.
"Tell me how you made love to her tonight." The fingers became a fist clutching his cock.
A mad irrationality spilled all common sense from Frank's brain and words tumbled as if he was talking about the weather. "Rather show you than tell you." Last stabbing grab for reason as he saw her eyes glitter. "So, go on, Miss Cute Ass Celeste Dantrelle. Get mad! You asked."
Braced for her outrage or her slap or almost anything, Frank spun her around against his front, grinding his hard on into the thin chiffon as he kissed her lips.
Suddenly the hot hard flesh of his penis was through her frilly pink peignoir, its knobby cap urgent and rude against the soft undercurve of her vee mound. The heady wildness of his sex flesh rubbed against her pubic down, slid over warm pussy tissue and tore all the controls from Frank. Not daring to look into her face or wait for a sign of her wanting, his arm cupped tightly at the upper curve of her tail, he bent Celeste back. Far back.
Startled as she was at his incredible behavior, she arched deeply to his pressure, her head tilted to stare at the tumult-driven prick jabbed against her crotch. Then her head lolled back in limp surrender, eyes closed, lips parted, her body taut but her arms loose at her side. The peignoir spilled open and nearly left her shoulders, but Frank was unaware of it. In totally exposed voluptuosity, her nudity was before him. In what couldn't have taken five seconds, she had opened to his will, her sleek thighs slightly parted to offer the ultimate prize.
Frank took. Hands cupped at her buttocks he bent slightly at the knees and thrust upward as he straightened, impaling Celeste's torrid femininity on the end of his phallus. A sharp intake of air and a momentary stiffening as she felt his first demanding thrust. Then the passion was on him. Her body, animated even in standing coitus, seemed to envelope his and he was going... going... too soon! He fought to hold it back. Lost!
Hot, spraying darts of semen raced into her barely penetrated vagina.
It was over.
That fast it was over and done with and a wilting, glistening cock slithered from her cunty cleft. Her arms crawled sensuously over his shoulders and around his neck and she was leaning silently against him. For long moments no words.
Frank, frustrated that her body wonders had forced him to climax before she had begun to build, hugged her tight and searched for words. None came. The great chance to really make it with Celeste was blown. It was a want that had burned feverishly from the first sight of her. Now it was gone.
"You don't give a girl much chance, do you?" Her eyes were full on his face. "Is that... what do athletes call it...? Your best shot?"
"But gosh, Celeste... I don't..."
"Must be more." Sultry, whispered taunting! "I'd like to know why Jennifer chose you, instead of her career. Could it be this?"
One savage squeeze forced him hard again and he caught her hand and ripped it from his erection, pushing her toward the back door. "The cabana... out by the pool. You'll find out what she got instead of a damned music career."
Nothing short of earthquake could have stopped Frank Quinby as he tiptoed from the kitchen out onto the dew-dampened grass and across to the swimming pool. Just as they slipped from the screen door to the flagstone patio, Celeste squeezed his hand fiercely. Her pink shorty gown slipped from her shoulders.
Something tore inside Frank at the sight of her total nudity in the night. Dancing away from him, arms wide flung, breasts happily thrusting, she was a nymph of distant legend. The brightness of a full moon gleamed across her front and accented hills and valleys of incomparable splendor. Her ribcage concaved deeply into her waist and satin smooth flesh plateaued to the wild width of her hips, curving back into the prominent vee mound that topped her love center.
He strutted proudly before her, naked himself as they reached the safety of the cabana. A potent man, vain about his overdeveloped genitals, Frank grabbed the opportunity to show off as he hefted a mattress over his head and strode brazenly to the double size chaise lounge.
This time it was right. No hurry. No impetuous schoolboy in Frank's lovemaking. No premature ejaculation. He molded her fantastic curves across the chaise he'd had specially made for sex. Resisting inner springs gave a kind of surprise reflex to his thrust as he drove his phallus into her, giving each spearing stroke a whip snap when he ground her taut buttocks hard against the mattress. Passion agony was on her lips as he withdrew with tortuous deliberateness almost to the tip of his cock after each thrust.
The cabana became an isolated world apart from reality as he rode and conquered and heard her sweet screams of fuck need. She was finding what she wanted to know -- why his Jennifer wanted man instead of music for a career.
JENNIFER! His bold betrayal splashed like a brief rocket before his fevered thoughts as he felt himself hurrying toward long delayed orgasm. Frank hadn't been that great in fidelity to this wife. Not at the office and not at the annual convention of dairy products distributors. He had his fun, but never, ever in their fifteen years of marriage, had he ever been unfaithful in his own home. Something had torn inside with the coming of Celeste. Something whipped him to have her once, to prove a wild premise that he could in one act of love, get closer to Celeste than all their long friendship had ever brought the girls.
Clasping and clutching, hearing the throaty moans of her ecstasy, his climax built and built but didn't let go. Couldn't let go till it forced her on to her wildest orgasm ever. Frank had the weird, wonderful awareness that he had achieved heaven and hell simultaneously. He had acted on his impulse to try to seduce Celeste, only to discover it was Celeste granting him her body. Even as his orgasm rippled through his loins, he was into her because Celeste wanted him there. Not because he was the world's greatest lover.
Then the climax was on him and he was ejaculating into the devastating glories of his wife's best friend.
"Awwwhhh... Celeste, yuh... tuh... take it... TARE IT!" Frank's come was a hot barrage, leaping and racing just as a banshee scream coming from the threshold of the cabana pounded and reverberated across the two bound-together bodies. Jennifer flung herself across their final punishing, writhing thrusts as climax slowed.
"Ayyyeeehhh!" Frank's roar of pain and surprise sprayed at the night as he tumbled in a mishmash of arms and legs to the not soft flagstone of the cabana.
Hands wild before his face to protect himself against raking fingernails that tried to ravage a shoulder, he spun away from the assailant, then cringed behind the tilt end of the chaise, gaping in disbelief. His wife! And such a wife! Rage and animal lust for what she had obviously watched stolen from her, whipped the smaller Jennifer to a fury of strength beyond any that Celeste had to repel the initial assault.
Sprawled across her former roommate's striving curvaceousness, Jennifer was almost fragile in comparison to Celeste. But there atop the explosive breasts; straddling the more succulently muscled body of superlatively endowed Celeste, Jennifer was a fierce sex kitten in her own right. Feline, sleekly turned arm and thigh muscles, a taut trimness accented by the pixie bob of her platinum blonde hair and the perkiness of small breasts, Jennifer had a terrifying sensuality of her own.
Frank gaped as if seeing his wife for the first time, then bellowed helpless protest as she poised tensely over the spread-eagled Celeste, arms straight as she gripped jutting boobs. For a mad moment Frank was sure he was going to witness to the mutilation of the most glorious breast over development he ever had seen, then Jennifer's shrill cry ruptured the electrified silence.
"You Amazon witch! How dare you!" She was in a world alone with Celeste, no longer aware of Frank's presence. "Like always! You helped yourself." Outrage in the words, but not in Jennifer's tone or her expression. Fingers that had been clawlike when they first grabbed the milk-ivory globes, were now cupping the magnificent orbs almost tenderly.
"Like always!" breathed Celeste, visibly aroused by the nubile nude astride her and never from the first even mildly frightened. "Like always, Jenny... and... and you were right."
"Was he?" panted Jennifer, breathless now at the brazen finger play from her "captive" that toyed boldly at her crotch.
"Oh God, he's good!"
The dawn sprayed across Frank's tumbling thoughts as the impact of it all smashed home. His great spontaneous seduction scene in the kitchen had been a sneaky mischief set up by these long-time friends. Relieved and turned on by the sight of his wife now in passionate clutch with Celeste, he crawled over the edge of the chaise, stroking and fondling one and then the other as girl play erupted.
No longer was Frank out of it as the two cuddled and clasped in happy reunion with each other's bodies. It was plain their intimacy had gone far beyond the side-by-side music study at the conservatory. To Frank, insinuating himself close to feel their pulsing delight in each other, it was like finding a new woman in the girl who had been his wife of more than a decade. Never the least hint of lesby interests before and now not the least self-consciousness in her play before him.
Little out of breath screams darted from each as they fingered, then kissed the other's most erogenous points. When Celeste curled in the bend of Jennifer's deeply tanned leg, she was a stunning contrast of buttermilk satin against deeply tanned skin.
"I want Frank to see how we made nights happy at Gordon," she murmured, nuzzling suggestively along Jennifer's inner thigh. "And I want to see if he has destroyed your pretty garden."
The spellbound audience of one gaped at the way a kind of delirium possessed Celeste as she kissed along the dark cleft, then tongue-speared deeply into her playmate's pussy. Jennifer, dissolved in instant orgasm with the first pressure of tongue on clit, was a wriggling demon-driven nude when Celeste literally commandeered her body.
Thirsty lips suddenly abandoned the tender cunty flesh and she raised her head to look Jennifer in the eye. "I love it... he's made your garden even more beautiful; your ditty's bigger and your vagina... oh, my dearest, has he taken you hundreds of times?"
"Thousands," panted Jennifer, writhing against the hands cupped beneath her buttocks to urge herself upward for new play. "He's pretty nutty about sex."
"I noticed. Beautiful." Celeste's hand was possessive and demanding as she clutched Frank's cock, nudged impertinently against her tail, forcing him, like it or not, to lie side-by-side with Jenny. "I want to kiss two sex nuts to distraction. Then I want you to do it in front of me."
A strange aura came across the threesome there on the double-wide chaise longue. Frank and Jennifer, unable to help their intense feeling for the magnet of Celeste, hugged each other as they stared down at the beautiful creature claiming total rights to phallus and vagina. Dark hair swirled and darker eyes sparkled as she sampled and sucked and kissed from cunt to cock. There was only beauty in her act. Nothing cheap or wanton. Something regal and worshipful of the sexuality of her friends.
In happy moaning delight she brought Jenny to peak and sent her in writhing orgasm frenzy over the crest, then shifted to a brief maddening fellatio of Frank's hard-on, licking and juicing it nearly to completion, but spewing it dripping and saliva-soaked from her lips at the last torturous instant.
"Good Lord, Celeste... finish me!" groaned Frank.
Even Jennifer wanted it. "He's my husband and I want you to make him come."
"Nuhunnnhhh!" Brunette lengths tumbled crazily and her body pretzeled in frantic contortions as she hovered possessively across their trembling bodies. "I want to watch you together," hissed Celeste. "Do it for me, sweet Jenny!"
An odd turnabout stormed Frank Quinby as he felt the arms of this near lifelong friend of Jennifer's yearning and tight around his waist, tugging to urge his copulation before her. It had been a long-time lust burning in the man to act out his passion for Jennifer before an audience.
"Gotta have you, kitten!" he exploded, throwing himself across the diminutive figure of a cock-maddened Jennifer and spreading her legs to his will.
"You'll kill her with that." Crouched beside them, eyes saucer-wide in fascination, Celeste watched the love organ pierce the needy pussy lips and move with practiced boldness deep into Jennifer's clutching cunty center. "Isn't it too much, my precious?" moaned the voyeur, leaning impulsively to kiss and fondle Jennifer's perky breasts.
"Course!" gasped a sex-driven housewife, feeling more courtesan than married as Frank came alive with a fever she hadn't felt for years. "He's killing me with it. I love it! LOVE IT!"
And then the cabana quieted. Beyond the entry the sound of distant locusts. Inside, the soft breathing of a spent and happy threesome was all that could be heard. Delicious moments of afterglow.
"You two are very precious," murmured Celeste as she rolled away from the hands that stroked and tugged to try to urge her to a more intimate embrace. "I'm going to bed."
"And so are you, dear heart." Jennifer's happy face lifted above Frank's shoulder to follow Celeste's departure. "And you're never going to tell us, are you?"
"What?"
"Whether our way is better than your way."
At the exit from the cabana, Celeste looked thoughtfully at the pair snuggled on the chaise. "If it's a Frank with a Jennifer, no contest." A special kind of radiance mingled with an eerie aloneness in the nude slipping into her pink peignoir. "But I haven't met a Frank... and I wouldn't try to steal a Frank even if I could. So, for me it's right the way I am." She tiptoed out into the night.
Alone in the cabana, Frank clutched his wife tightly and nibbled sensuously at the soft tissue of her earlobe. "You set me up!" he accused. "You knew what that noise was in the kitchen all the time."
Jennifer's slim figure was cemented fiercely to his. "Guilty." Her mound was restless against his and he lay unresponsive, letting the sexuality of her smooth satiny feel get to him. The memory of the kitchen and the play that erupted in this cabana tortured him to a freshening erection.
She felt his stiffening flesh and trapped it mischievously between warm thighs, forcing the burgeoning cock to stay motionless while it ballooned. "Want to take it to her?" she cooed. "I won't stop you. We promised way back when we were girls what belongs to one, belongs to the other."
Frank's answer was in the arching of his body against the vise of her thighs, kneeing an opening between her legs and stuffing his phallus almost brutishly into Jennifer's snug vagina.
"Doesn't work that way, baby, and you know it," he murmured softly as their coital rhythm began. "I'd like to fuck hell out of both of you... tonight... tomorrow... every day. Hell, yes, I admit it!"
"So, maybe you ought to while she's here."
"That's what I mean by female smartass talk!" His buttocks cheeks tensed as he ground impatiently against the cuddly form under him. "She's not up for grabs."
Jennifer, rocking in the slow familiar copulation pattern she loved to use to protract their intercourse, kissed him impulsively. "You saw what most men don't," she whispered. "She's in a world her talent has her locked into. She looks like everyman's dream of mistress and plenty have tried."
"But she does love it," interjected Frank. "She loves it every way. With you as much as with me."
"And she chose it." Jennifer was pumping now in the spell of the indriven organ, rapidly losing control to runaway passion.
"You chose, baby. Glad?" growled her man.
"Ohhhh, Frank... Frank... my beautiful ohhhh, yes!"
CHAPTER FOUR
The double-tiered bus, Charter Special from the Baltimore game, was an hour out of destination when Pammy Pritchard made her move. Everyone of the football team and the cheerleader squad was obviously zonked from the two hundred mile ride back from defeat.
"Just want to ask my neighbor, Bryan Quinby, something," Pammy whispered in Coach Jeff Taylor's ear, pausing by his seat.
"Okay, Pam. But don't wake the others." Taylor had his suspicions, but it was no time to enforce a separation that kept the males on the bus's lower level and girls on the top tier. Despair over the game loss was too great to get sticky about playing chaperone. Coaching was his job and at the moment Jeff Taylor felt pretty much the half-assed coach. They should have beaten the Terriers, if he'd done his job.
Pammy couldn't care less about the loss of the football game. What bugged her and had since the day in the barn, was that her mother really meant it about Bryan. He was not to be the sexual plaything for herself and Sandy. Mommy had been adamant. It was okay for the twins to get him hot and bothered and okay for Mommy to give him cute little shows with her bedroom drapes open, or the bathroom venetians forgotten, but no more real fun and games. So they turned him into a kinky freak. As far as her mother was concerned, that was his problem. Bryan had served its purpose of studding the girls' sex education.
It wasn't how Pammy saw it, even if twin Sandy agreed. Bryan was a human being. Bryan could never mess up their lives by ratting anything about sex between them. He was a nice guy, maybe a little gullible, but at fifteen he had a right. And he had more. He had a beautiful bod and an unforgettable cock. Even as she walked toward the back of the bus where he slept, Pammy felt the goose bumps of excitement remembering.
A little sigh of relief escaped when she saw he was seated where she guessed he'd be. Two rows away from any of the other footballers. He was a frosh, the only ninth grader on the varsity, and the older guys hadn't accepted him. After his fumble today at the big moment when he could have won the game, he'd really be down. It was Pammy's big chance. Sandy hadn't wakened when she slipped from their seat and she knew Coach Taylor wouldn't come to check them out.
"Bryan?"
He was a dark shadow in the blacked-out rear of the bus and he was either asleep or not up for a visit from his neighbor.
"You played very well, Bryan."
"Uggghllll... sure." The figure stirred, proving it was alive.
"I mean it." She slipped into the empty seat beside him. "So you dropped one football. There were three other fumbles, besides yours."
"Yeah, and mine lost the game."
She rode in silence beside him, studying the way the telephone poles stormed past the bus windows and recognizing lights in the little town they were passing through. Forty-five minutes from home. If she was going to make a bid for play, it was now or never.
"I don't like Mommy's rule, Bryan," she whispered, curling toward him and resting her head on his shoulder.
He grunted and shifted to make the fit more comfy. Good sign, thought Pammy. At least he wasn't throwing her out. The last poles with lights were passing as they left Wetherwood and the glow through the window gave her the glimpse she'd hoped to see. Bryan was mounting a hard-on against his slacks and there was nothing to stop her, once they were back out on the country road.
Her hand crept boldly to his lap as the bus went totally dark and she found the zipper lock quickly. His fingers were fierce at the back of her hand, then abruptly limp. He was hers!
With quick deft strokes she brought him to a head and with a bored sigh as she tongued into his ear, she whispered, "Want me to do what you do for yourself?"
"Huh!" He stiffened resentfully at the accusation.
"I mean, I hope you do. All three of us hope so. Least that's why we give you a show most every night from Mommy's bedroom."
"So, why'd you quit?"
Pammy giggled. "Because you have all that big name company. Bet you wish you could be sleeping in your bedroom while she's stayin' with you."
"Maybe I'm doin' just that."
"Huhunnnh. We saw where they dumped you. You're all by your lonesome down in the TV den. Who do you dream about, Bryan? Us next door or your pretty Celeste?"
"Shut up," he groaned, slapping her hand away from its play with his cock. "You're not going to sucker me to be a fall guy again!"
He hunched over against the window and dragged angrily at his zipper to close his fly, but the twist of his slacks kept the zipper separated. Frustrated by his wants and his lack of courage to dare with this cockteaser, he pulled the pillow partly over his head and pretended to sleep.
Pammy let him alone for fully two minutes; just long enough to make him think she had given up. Then she reached across his hip. Long, warm and trembling hard, the penis jutted across her palm. This time she said nothing. Simply clasped the shaft, but held her fingers motionless while her eyes accustomed to the darkness in the seat well. By the time she could make out the cock's white gleam against the shadowy black, Bryan's need was fierce. Pammy could feel a slight involuntary pulsing at his hips to the demand his prick was sending, to every erotic pore of his body.
Tilting the needy barrel backward toward her pursed lips, Pammy tongued the ballooning cap lushly and slowly.
She heard a moan stifle in his throat and felt his pelvic muscles urge in response to the licking. With a delighted under-her-breath cry, she took the thunderous glans fully into her lips and began to milk the spongy tautness of the crown. Her saliva washed freely over the organ and down the cock shaft, wetting her fingers and drooling onto his loaded balls.
Her siphoning was silent and possessive, drawing and sucking with a fierce intensity that gave Bryan terror, then hope, that she was going to engulf the whole of his sex assembly. He fought to stay motionless as his orgasm grabbed. Bless the distance between his seat and the nearest of his teammates!
His ejaculation leaped in frenzy and at the first drops Pammy gave a little gasp and spat the discharging prick from her lips.
"Ohhhh, nice!" Her hanky covered his spewing cock, catching his spraying semen as she masturbated him furiously to bring out the full load of come.
"Geez... thanks!" A changed Bryan, face glowing happily in the shadows, turned toward his temptress and pawed eagerly under her mini. "My turn."
His fingers were tender and determined as they toyed at her vulva lips. She wanted to beg him to kiss her and tongue her as she had done for him, but this had to be a silent trip. Her hope to make him her secret lover, secret from her mother and even from her sister, hinged on patience. Besides, even his fingers were something that would help her heat.
With hurrying rhythm, he strummed round and over her clit, finger-whipping the hyper sensitized flesh, and forcing the clitoris to fluttering, tingling madness.
"Good! Bryan, it's so..."
"Shhhh!" he hissed the warning just as she hit climax and spasmed violently against his devilling fingers. It came and went quickly and the aftermath was a needling frenzy to want to drag him to the floor and rape this shy, sweet neighbor boy, then and there. Instead, she cupped his face in her hands and leaned to press a long and lingering kiss.
"You are quite the guy," she whispered. "Thank you."
He was strangely silent and she cuddled against his shoulder, wondering if she was anywhere at all in his thoughts.
Bryan stared out the window at the night rushing by, his mind a hundred miles away from his goal line fumble that afternoon or his just finished play with Pammy. He could think only of that fabulous house guest at home. Celeste Ann Dantrelle. Not just pretty Celeste, as Pammy had called her. She was love Goddess Celeste, princess of the heavenly body, woman among all the women of the world, and tomorrow he was going to do something about it. Maybe even tonight, if the bus didn't get them home too late.
When the folks had asked him if they should meet him at three a.m. at the school, he had told them not to bother. He'd get a hop home with one of the guys who had his car in the school lot. Motive to that madness. The house would be dead to the world in the wee hours and he'd have the perfect chance to steal into his own room for a sneak look at the body perfect.
Celeste had joked, when someone asked at dinner table what she slept in, that she slept in her perfume. Maybe nothing else? Bryan shivered at the potentials. Steal into his darkened room, creep to the side of his bunk and then... geez... then, he'd do something to let her know how he felt.
The tremor pinpricked to every nerve. What if she should wake, this Goddess? She embodied everything sexual, but she was a million miles away from such as he. If she opened her eyes and saw, everything would come to a smashing, screaming finish. He had to be out of his skull, even to think of a kooky caper like this. But the idea had needled him night after night as he lay wakeful in the den. He'd gladly given up his bed for the makeshift cot downstairs and now he wanted the sight of her sleeping on his bed to remain with him always. At least, he could have that to remember! Just ahead were the lights of Palma Hill. Home!
When Bryan eased the bedroom door open, its soft whisper on the rug sent a chill racing. It was his room and he had forgotten the giveaway sound of the deep pile carpet. Across where she slept, the filtering moonlight sent an eerie pattern of light and shadow from the pines outside.
He waited, holding his breath. No sign of stirring to the shapely form lying under only the thin cover of a sheet.
Moving more confidently, he neared the edge of the bed, clutching his terrycloth robe tightly at the middle. He stared at the outline of her body clear against the cotton percale, then his glance darted nervously to her lovely face, visible now as his eyes grew accustomed to the light from the window. No flicker of a lash or movement of a muscle to hint she had wakened.
But she had.
It was the soft noise of the door swishing on the carpeting that brought Celeste fully awake from what was yet only half-sleep. Her thoughts had stayed with the pair she had left at poolside and she felt the grind of envy of the girls with guys and homes and gardens. She'd love marriage, but her music had ruled otherwise. At the first sound of the door she wondered if it was Frank or Jennifer or maybe both.
From under lowered lids she watched quietly as a white robed figure advanced across the room.
Bryan! The awareness came with a stunning shock. Bashful Bryan who stuttered whenever she surprised him with interest or a question.
Beautiful Bryan of the Adonis-like body and the boy-man maturity to his frame. What a totally insane thing for him to do -- to come to her like this and risk parental discovery and certain fury. She knew there was only one emotion powerful enough to override even fifteen-year-old judgment.
As Celeste watched unseen, he reached her side, paused, and she could feel his intense gaze. The sound of his breathing was even and slow as he bent to study her form nearly totally concealed by the sheet. He didn't have the air of a panicky voyeuring adolescent.
"Thank you," he whispered softly, almost inaudibly as he kissed her forehead lightly, then quickly straightened. He remained motionless for long minutes, his knees touching the edge of the bed. No way she could steal a glance below his waist without a giveaway movement of her eyelashes, but she could feel a strange warmth and caught a sexy fragrance.
His next move was daring and dramatic. As if some demon had taken him, Bryan stiffened, stretched his arms high and wide above his body, letting the terrycloth robe spill open, then tumble from his shoulders. In one fractured second he gave confirmation of all Celeste's estimates about his naked body. Able to look as Bryan backed a step from the bed, she drank in the taut muscles, the powerful chest, the rippling strength to his midriff, and there -- bold and bursting -- that grotesque over development of bristling erection, dark capped and threatening.
Incongruous in its size against the lightness behind that showed he was still without pubic hair. So young, but so long! So young, but so thick! So young, but so hard and eager that the horny shaft leaped dramatically beyond a right angle from his body, its mushroom-shaped glans appearing top-heavy in the glow of the moon.
A smothered sound of agony slipped from his lips and even as she heard it, Celeste saw his hand circle the cock stem. He moved knees tight to the side of the bed and his pelvis thrust forward so that his prick actually jutted across her face, not more than a foot above her eyes. Fantastic wealth in those loaded testicles! Incredible power in that flesh spear!
Certain he was going to masturbate and leave, Celeste watched from under long lashes. His stroking started... intensified... then stopped!
There, starkly white and massive in the moonlight, ramrodded the bared cock, gripped by a young man trying to fight the impulses sweeping him. Now he stood there, brandishing his sex indecisively, almost unable to contain the want cries trying to break from his lips.
It was time to tilt the action.
Bryan gaped at Celeste's slight movement under the sheet. She seemed to be shifting her leg. Heart-stopping fear swept, nearly driving him to terrified retreat from his crazy caper. Then the even movement under the sheet near her chest slowed his terror. She was breathing evenly again, unaware of his presence, lost in slumber, he reassured himself. Breathless from his buildup to near orgasm, but gutless to go on frigging for the moment, his curiosity grabbed.
Did she wear pajamas or nightie? Her shoulder showed bare. She could be naked underneath the sheet!
And that kooky turn of her leg. Looked like she had bent her calf up under her thigh as she slept. Looked like the thighs were slightly separated!
You're nutty, Bryan. Nutty! She's Celeste, your mom's best friend, superstar of concert stage. The lecture inside went on, but his curiosity was now runaway wild to steal a peek.
He reached very gently to the sheet, not daring to breathe, and tugged the edge carefully away from her chin. Slowly exposing her nudity, his chest thundering to his boldness, Bryan slid the white sheet downward.
The tease of the cotton percale moving against her breasts sent the nipples to rock-hard points and sensual electricity rifled to every erogenous tip of Celeste's body. He saw one arm move, then the other, but now he was unafraid. She had to be in a deep sleep and he was lost in total worship of the phenomenal body he was exposing.
The luscious breasts leaped from their hiding place under the sheet and that startled him, for breasts, he thought, always lay in repose when a woman lay relaxed. But like every other stunning thing about Celeste, her beautiful boobs jutted full and firm and hard-tipped. God, to kiss those sweet dark aureoles... to suck and lick there... and there... and down there!
His hand drew the sheet rapidly now, down over the indentation of her navel, across the flat smoothness of her tummy to the rise of her pubes. The provocative lift of her mons stopped the sheet's movement and he straightened, gawking at the partially uncovered vee.
A fringe of dark pubic down showed. Clearly and undeniably he could see the rise and fall of the love hillock. A pulsing urgency made the edge of the sheet ripple and impetuously he dragged the cover down the full length of her. Perfectly tapered legs! All that wonderful female now exposed. Her magic center was shadowed by the half-light and the torture of seeing her thighs parted, one leg turned under at the knee, was almost too much.
He dropped to a knee and leaned brazenly across her thigh and stared, his eyes trying to penetrate the dark valley of her crotch. Frustration! All it gave him was a hint of lightly fragrant perfume. Strange, he was almost sure he caught the suggestion of a sexy smell mingled with the cologne, or whatever it was, but no way could there be that. Bryan knew. This Goddess of super body perfection must be without sex in her life. It was the price of fame.
A sweeping headiness took him for an instant and he fought the frenzy to burrow into that shadowed cleft and kiss and love the need that must be there. Then... all unexpected, totally terrifying, he felt the brush of her fingers across his hair as her arm drifted down across her tummy plateau. Her hand lay cupped across the curve of her pubic mound!
Stunned and enchanted in the same frightening second, knowing it was an unconscious act in her sleep, he didn't dare move. The back of her hand actually touched the side of his head and any movement could wake her. He was trapped within inches of her most personal self.
"Mmmmhhh..."
A low, inarticulate moan slipped from her lips and he saw the movement of her fingers as her hand slipped further over the curve of her pubes. The fingers must be penetrating her pussy slit, even as he watched. Damn the darkness! A once-in-a-lifetime chance to see what a girl did in her sleep when she didn't even know it... like a guy with his wet dreams, maybe... and he couldn't see! He stared feverishly at the dark triangle and felt the mattress under his elbows quiver in a kind of electric pulsing.
Now Celeste's lower arm was moving in a kind of urgency and he could see the hand bent more dramatically against the vulva. She was playing with her vagina as she slept!
Fantastic first for any man, Bryan was sure, to be stealing a peek at the Goddess' most intimate behavior.
His cock was rock-rigid as he dropped by the bedside and began to masturbate in quick, urgent strokes, letting the want mount in himself and seeing it even more pronounced in the curvaceous nudity, writhing and straining now against the mattress as she strummed herself.
"Uh... uh... uhhhh!" Little cries burst half-muffled from her lips and as he gawked at her passion, Bryan was driven to his feet, pumping in frantic need to match her climax with his own. And with lightning swiftness, her hand shot to his cock. Fierce fingers circled the steely shaft, clutching possessively... taking over the stroke... dragging demandingly even as her other hand continued to grind at her own sex center.
The heady, runaway thrill of imminent orgasm stormed Bryan. A gagging cry of disbelief broke from his lips as her pretty little fist ripped the prick stem in violent up-and-down frig madness. Her shapeliness was on full nude display, every curve straining, breasts jutting explosively to the emotion, tearing her from her own self-play. She writhed against the happiness her fingers were giving her pussy flesh and as she wriggled against the sheets, her head turned and the light of the moon was full on her face.
Her eyes were shut. She was still asleep! Bryan, sure till that instant that she had awakened, gawked at the closed eyelids and the curve of dark lashes that announced the miracle. She was playing with herself and playing with him while she slept! Goddess of love so highly sexed that she could go nutty with herself and with a man's erection and never know it was happening.
A certainty took Bryan. Celeste, unlike married women, manless and constantly on some music tour, was reacting to girl instincts. Anyone that sexily stacked was built for cock around the clock. It came naturally. And she must starve for it with her damned career. But it still bugged her, psyched her for sex maybe, especially when she slept.
"Oh... guh... golly!" His cry rasped low in his throat. Her fist, clenched around his prick, pistoned furiously now, keeping time to the frenzy of the fingers she had driven into her cunty lips. He tried to angle himself away as he felt his climax soaring, but she gripped him even more fiercely.
The spray of his semen was a splattershot shower of sparkle joy, leaping from the tortured glans tip and squirting into her face and across her spasm-whipped body. It was unbelievable ecstasy to Bryan to gape openly at a girl he believed totally unconscious to her actions and to let his sperm shoot freely at the lovely inviting flesh. The come hit Celeste on her vee mound, sparkling into the dark pubic triangle. It splashed across the contours of her brazen breasts and a few drops went directly into her parted lips. Some of his semen had gotten into that pretty mouth!
Even as her hand drifted from his outrageous prick to fall limply to her side, Bryan was swept by the magic of what had happened. She had masturbated both of them! Never known it! Never knew even now as the milk-white residue of his discharge puddled at the low points of her gorgeous hills and vales. He saw it glisten at her navel and in the cleft of her boobs... even one droplet sparkled in the corner of a closed eyelid.
Staring down at his unrelenting erection, stiffened again almost immediately after a momentary sag when his climax ended, he was driven by a new thought. She was deep in sleep, but still so psyched that her body quivered in light, involuntary spasms. It was time for more.
And something much more daring dogged his possessed thoughts. Why not give her the ultimate in sleep sex? Fuck that torrid, desire-ridden body of hers right as she slept!
The impulse swept and commandeered Bryan, driving him over the edge of the bed and into the valley of her legs before common sense could stop him. Suddenly he was there, on his knees between her parted thighs, one palm resting his weight as the other hand steered his formidable cock into the shadow at the meeting place of her legs.
Celeste felt the delicious pressure of the determined prick nudging her labia and already spreading the pussy tissue open in bold intrusion into her vagina. With a barely perceptible thrust of her pelvis she urged upward at the hungered-for man spike and drove herself onto its darkly swollen tip just as Bryan's courage began to fail.
He was mounted before he knew it. Inside the most gorgeous girl in the world. Fucking into her tight snatch. Feeling the grabbing quim muscles clutch at his cock as he ground himself deeper and deeper into -- CELESTE!
Every raw nerve in his body was part of their copulation. He stared into the beauty of her face, clearly visible as she twisted under his thrusts.
Still her eyelids never fluttered to give a hint that she was awake. That she was going wild inside to his plunging prick was plain from the ecstasy in her expression. Even asleep, her eyebrows arched and her nostrils dilated and cute crinkles marked a furrow in her brow as climax neared.
Her lips were the giveaway her orgasm was near. Their dark satin richness was a pretty pucker at first as she tried to contain the emotion she felt far down. Then all at once the lips parted prettily... a little... then a little more, till they were almost wide enough to take a cock's head, thought Bryan, feeling a weird momentary detachment as he watched the phenomenon of a girl about to come.
Her head strained back, forcing deeply into the pillow. One lock of her hair tumbled over an eye and the rest was in sexy disarray across the pillow behind her. Parted lips were letting little cries of desperation through and the sound grabbed and tore what self-control Bryan had managed for the first moments of their coital binding.
"Ooohhh... yess!" moaned Celeste in a husky whisper that pierced to the marrow of his tortured emotions. "Oh, do me... do me! It's... beautiffuuhhlh... oh, fuck, fuck!"
Her lower body was a sizzling, writhing assault on Bryan's phallus... siphoning... clutching... dragging... taking full command of an instrument of love that no longer was his own possession.
"Wuh... wait!" The useless plea spilled from a paralyzed sex slave to the Goddess. His head was spinning happily and a blinding euphoria took command of all his senses, whirlpooling his thoughts to oblivion. Abruptly, just as the orgasm ripped him, everything around him went rainbow colors -- then black and formless. He was in another world... another sphere... something had him out of his own control.
"Ahhh... yeah... yeah!" His body was humping in frenzied reflex when the faint took him and as she felt his body start to fold, Celeste ground herself against his ejaculating cock, giving vent to the convulsions of her own coming.
"Bryan?" she whispered to the figure lying inert across her front. "Bryan... do you hear?"
No answer.
Only the deep-throated rasp of a male reflexing for air and finding it in some far-off orbit.
Carefully she extricated herself from under the body enveloping hers, catching her breath at the unrelenting determination of the glistening cock that snaked from her vagina. A moment later she had him lying on his back at her side and she crouched across his hip, staring in admiration at the banana-shaped curl of the bent phallus.
Even with its hardness diminished, the boy's cock was a heroic love weapon. Celeste fingered it thoughtfully, watching his face for any hint of his return to consciousness from the faint. No way. His expression, as taut and expectant as it had been when the orgasm seized him, was unchanged.
She bent to the swollen darkness of the glans tip and began to lick. Slowly, deliberately, savoring the tarty sweet mingling of her spunk flow with his semen residue, she tongued Bryan's puffy but flaccid sex flesh. Then she felt the quiver. A slight tremor at first; suddenly, a ramrodding leap of stiffening shaft that brought an involuntary gasp to her lips. There in the moonlight, all unknown to its owner, quivering and fully hardened, was a superior work of overdeveloped cock art.
Celeste was almost casual in her fellatio. It was as though she knew the time schedule of his return to consciousness. Kissing the wide crown of the prick, licking under its protruding ledge, then guiding the cap to her nipple to wipe off a drop that oozed into view from the eyelet, she played.
Mouth open, she dawdled the dark tip inside her oral port, seeming to be undecided as she felt its electricity against her lips. Impulsively changing her mind, she swung astride the hips of her unaware lover and lowered herself onto his spearing cock, letting the cramming thrill of it fill her frame.
As the ballooning ripeness rammed to what felt deliciously more than her vagina could take, Celeste was whipped with the uncontrollable urge to impale herself totally on the maddening organ. She drove downward, feeling climax storm as she did. For wild orgasm-ridden seconds she swayed in a paroxysm of come emotion, neither conscious nor unconscious. Any voyeur would know she was in climax heaven.
Her lush, straining torso arched in a deep crescent as the semen charged from her unaware lover. It seemed to blast to the very tip of her head, trying to spurt from her breasts as it shot, dizzying her beyond all sanity as it reached her brain.
Then the frenzy passed and as she slid from the statue-like stillness beneath her, the erection began to topple. By the time she was quiet at his side, drawing deeply for air and settling to the same position as when he passed out, his penis was a limp coil at his crotch.
Moments passed before the silence in the room was broken by Bryan's groan. He stirred, propped to an elbow and looked in dazed confusion at the female beside him. Comprehension came suddenly and he slid quickly from the side of the bed, feeling shock vibrations ripple his spine as the awareness of what he'd done and where he was came home.
Stumbling away from the bed, trembling uncontrollably, he grabbed for the tumble of his terrycloth robe.
A second later Celeste heard the door swish softly over the carpet, followed by a light click as he shut it behind himself. "Thank you," she whispered.
CHAPTER FIVE
It was two days later at the Quinby poolside and Celeste lay sunning on a patio lounger. The shadow of a new arrival fell across her face, waking her.
"Hello, Bryan."
"Oh... hi, Celeste. Didn't know you were out here," he lied. "Mom's off for the grocery. Thought I'd take a swim."
He dropped to the deck chair beside her and she eyed him smilingly.
"Haven't seen you for a few days, Bryan. You're always off to school when I get up, or still at football practice when I have to leave for the music circus."
"Yeah. Has been a couple of days, hasn't it?" He knew exactly how long. Two days, thirteen hours since he made that madcap visit to her room, saw what he saw and did what he did. At any second since, he had expected either her or his dad or mom to say something, but no one had. He had gotten away with it completely.
Now, looking across at the barely covered figure, he caught his breath, wishing he could dare something again, knowing it was out of the question. What he'd tried was first and last and end of the line.
"Wanta take a dip?" He jumped from the prone and stood staring down at the body he felt he knew so well, yet didn't know at all well enough.
"I'd love to, but sun's all I can have, I'm afraid. Can't get my hair wet..."
"Oh, sure. That's right. You're onstage tonight. Hey, that's really fantastic, the way you sing to your own playing. Don't most... you know... concert singers usually have an accompanist?"
"Most. That's where I'm different. I do light concert and like to keep it informal. Your mother tells me you started piano yourself."
He shrugged, feeling pinpricks in his groin and knowing the conversation had better end.
"Yeah... I'm not much good yet. Sure do want to learn to play boogie or some of that great jazz."
"Maybe you could show me how you're coming," suggested Celeste, wriggling over onto her tummy and cupping her cheek against her arm. "I'd love to hear. Maybe I could even give you some ideas. I love jazz piano most of all."
"No kidding? When can we do it?"
She squirmed sensuously, obviously happy to be lazing in the chaise. "Ummmhh, you swim a few minutes. I'll sun a few minutes and then let's do it while we're thinking about it."
"Great!"
Stirred to furious erection against snug white rivieras, Bryan lurched to the tile edge and dove into the pool. No way he could let her see what lack of control he had. He trod water and pretended to clean the pool's side filter while he's red over the edge at the beautiful female. Sleek curvature of tail and back, sexy spill of dark hair draped over the side of her deck chair. He frigged quickly underwater, then tucked his softened cock under cover. For a few moments he swam vigorously to and fro lengths of the pool, then climbed the metal ladder to go sun beside her.
"Let me know when you're dry," she murmured from under her arm. "I'm ready to go in any time."
She sat at his side on the piano bench, still in her bikini. Already Bryan wished he'd changed to better cover. For frenetic minutes he entertained with what he knew, lost in preoccupation with the keys and driven to perform well for the ears of the fabulously talented Celeste.
"Very good!" she enthused as he finished an enthusiastic, if imperfect, "Slaughter House Blues." Her eyes danced with appreciation and he saw the sincerity of her praise.
Unexpectedly he caught the drama of her bust contour. Engrossed with his playing, there was no problem, but when his glance wandered below her throat, he was in trouble. The swelling stormed instantly and painfully against the front of his trunks and Celeste saw. She glanced, then stared. His penis, quadrupled and steel hard, ramrodded vertically against the white elastic. The fat crown trapped and contorted under the edge of the suit, threatened to burst free of the restraining cloth at any second.
Celeste could even see the hint of the trunks bulging away from his gut and a start of crimson flesh beginning to ooze through. Bryan was in obvious agony.
"Play some boogie with me," she said softly, fingering the base keys and shifting closer to him oh the seat. So close their thighs touched.
"Shucks, I only know two finger melody. Nothing interesting." He squirmed, but didn't dare move for fear of triggering the escape of his cock.
"Let's make it interesting." Celeste's fingers traveled the base notes and the boogie rhythm was set. "Come on, Bryan. You can do it."
Somehow he managed to pick up the beat and finger through a few bars of Blue Boogie, then inadvertently his eyes drifted as he played. Devastating curvaceousness in polka dot bikini.
Nudged against him on the piano bench. And taut against two perfectly placed polka dots of the halter, urgent nipples were thrusting. The teeny halter was virtually no cover to her sunburst beautiful breasts.
"Play, Bryan!" she urged when he stumbled on a note and hesitated. "You're good... good!"
He caught a glimpse of her shifting from right to left hand on the base and her right arm dropped from sight. Only for a moment. As he played familiar bars, he saw the lovely femininity of her hand, stroking lightly, high on her thigh as she accompanied him with her left.
The simple innocence of the act was in his eyes dramatically sexual. It was the way she had stroked herself the night of his surreptitious visit to her room. Then it had been several inches up and in... inside that magnet of her sex.
Suddenly it grabbed and forced a new ballooning of his already feverishly swollen prick.
The bright red glans tip squeezed into view above the top ledge of his trunks, dark and grotesquely distorted as it slithered into full view, followed by an inch... two... then three inches of visible bone-white shaft. Run, Bryan, hide! Panic stormed, but something overrode panic and held him.
Perspiration dotted his forehead as he struggled on with the boogie. She fingered the base notes effortlessly. Like the incredible dream he had masturbated to only the day before, her hand moved from her right thigh to his left thigh, paused for a minute, then fingertip walking, the hand moved up and over his spearing prick. When her fist closed on the erection, the boogie beat stopped. So did the pounding in his head that had thundered at him to run.
His eyes, bright and panicked, were on her face as her hand moved downward to force his trunks lower and expose most of his hard cock. She never lifted her glance, once her eyes focused on his penis, and her attention on his sex inflamed the prick still more.
All that was now visible with her head turned down was dark cascading hair, tumbling loosely across ivory smooth shoulders, curling, some over the front to partially conceal one breast, and some over the back, drifting almost to her tail.
She bent silently across his front. Incredulous that it was really happening, Bryan felt lips nibbling at his grossly swollen cock crown. It was her rightful due. She was the Goddess!
Moist, thirsty lips siphoned and munched. He could barely see the corner of her eye, then her face turned slightly and he was given full view of her profile.
A million years of living never would erase the memory of those eyes. Dark, bright and staring at his prick, now totally out of his swim trunks. He gaped at rich lips puckered to the tip of his penis. Lips of a princess licking the prick of her prince.
Bryan's fantasy flew wild, but reality was even better. He watched her tongue snake thirstily across the glistening thunderhead, then her mouth opened wide and a hint of lovely ivory was visible. What if she completely claimed what was her own? That was the mood of surrender that was his as she propelled the crimson corona past the gleam of her teeth, deep into the center of her mouth.
It was a fantastic sensation to the enchanted fifteen-year-old. No longer mere man. He felt total prick! His erect love organ was all he had to offer this darling princess of everything sexual. She could have his penis as her royal plaything. No longer was his cock an IT. It was a HIM! She could chew him with those beautiful teeth or whip herself with it like the girls next door had once done with the cat o' nine tails. Whatever Princess Celeste wanted of her slave prick was hers to do.
The passion in those puckered lips, now tight around his soaring penis, tore controls completely away. A fleeting memory of the last mouth that had sucked it came just as his ejaculation stormed up the tingling length of his erection. Pammy on the bus hadn't fooled him. His discharge into her lips had been too much and she'd grabbed in mid-climax for a hanky to take the full blast outside her mouth.
Even as his semen shot, Bryan knew Celeste was different about fellatio. She wasn't doing it for him alone. She wanted his offering.
Frantic little suck-thirsty sounds could be heard. Her lips clamped even tighter when his first drops flew. He knew Celeste loved the taste, that she was inflamed by the spray darting against the roof of her mouth and dripping to her throat. She milked and munched and siphoned, clearly in need of every drop he could offer.
Tiny rapture moans of her own coming synchronized with the height of his ejaculation and Bryan, eyes blurred with passion, saw her hips in urgent motion, her tail impatient on the bench. It was too much to ask of such a body to be still.
Celeste straightened suddenly and face profiled to him, she tilted her head upward and stroked the delicate loveliness of her throat as she swallowed. Fantastic thrill to know his semen was slipping down into her body! Different than if he had put it there in coitus. She had milked it from him of her own wanting.
She had a radiance even more breathtaking to Bryan than seen before in her lovely face. Dark hair lay softly now in repose across her shoulders; her breasts seemed momentarily quiet; even the centers against the polka dot cloth were flattened.
"Undo the bow of my halter." Softly spoken command, not wanting a response.
His hand moved robot-like under beautiful hair to find the bow.
Without a sound, the twin diamonds of the polka dot cover drifted from her front. She was on bare display to his hungry eyes. Seeming not to notice his lust, she stood gracefully from the piano bench and her fingers found the thin nylon string bows at her hips. With a casual disregard for what she had done, Celeste extended her hand to the dumbfounded Bryan.
"Come." It was an order from Eros, not an earthly invitation. Bryan stood from the piano bench.
"Show me all of your body."
He bent to peel the rivieras and his cock was long and jutting, standing stiffly from the front of his frame.
When they stepped from the living room into the paneled den, walking hand in hand across the soft, yielding green carpet, Bryan felt he had stepped into the world of the Gods. She had chosen him from all mortals to be her lover.
As she pushed him gently to the edge of the cot, her eyes were intent on his. "Is this our secret, truly our secret, no matter what happens?"
"Honest!" he gasped. "I'd never tell a soul. No matter what!"
"My body needs yours today."
Like some dancer performing for her king, Celeste spun away from a spellbound Bryan, sank to her knees, writhing and twisting and contorting, her intoxicating shapeliness in a fantastic drama in erotic choreography. Explosive breasts leaped high in response to the arching of her body and stood in jutting brazenness from her front. Taut nipples, almost translucent, rose crimson and hard, like tiny penises, from the centers.
Some deep primitive emotion seemed to grip her far inside as she undulated slowly, knees pressed together, calves flattened under her thighs, as she had been under the sheet the night before. This time on nude display and seeing Bryan's fixation at her crotch, Celeste squeezed her thighs tightly to force the pubes into even more dramatic prominence.
She seemed oblivious to her spectator as she performed before him. Her long dark lashes were lowered but he could see the hint of dark pupils just beneath and knew she was watching him, staring at one point on his body, always staring. Never wavering. As she focused on his erection she knelt like some ancient dancer before some royal court. Before some royal court? She was the royal court! And he the slave. By some fabulous turnaround, the princess was performing for the slave.
He gawked openly at the sleek molding of her lower body from waist down. Her midriff tapered to an incredible narrow waist. Satin smooth flesh flared to the wide rounding of her hips, then flattened down over her tummy. The triangle of dark hair seemed to point to the magic where her legs pressed tightly together. But there was no seeing the magic place.
Frustration tore at Bryan. In the bedroom two nights before he had burned to see what the night shadowed between her thighs. Now she seemed to sense his heat for full disclosure of her most secret place and was shy to show it. God, if she knew that as she slept two nights before he had fucked into her darling cunt!
Thwarted by Celeste's refusal to grant even a glimpse of her sex center, he concentrated on the erotic messages the woman's beautiful arms and exquisite hands were sending. Long, perfectly kept fingernails, delicately graceful fingers wove a pointed message of want.
As he watched, her arms stretched longingly toward him, then reached toward heaven. He wished she would lose control and leap at him to rake and claw with those ten restless stilettos give him an excuse to defend himself. To counterattack and drive her to the deep pile carpet on which she knelt. A mad feeling! He knew he had to make some move. The princess was daring him.
"Do!" cried the ravishing figure before him.
"What should I do?" he croaked helplessly.
"Anything you have to." Low and sultry, it was the voice of royalty.
Her hands dropped to her breasts, pressing the boobs to even more startling prominence, then tweaking suggestively at dark, turgid cherries. Her lower body, fixed in one position, moved in slow, snakelike rhythm that seemed an echo of the movement of her fingers. A barely audible moan slipped from her lips as she massaged the globes more excitedly -- then stopped abruptly.
Slowly the long fingers crept down across her midriff, slipping over the silken tautness of her tummy to find the rise of her mons. Oh God, that hillock was actually pulsing to her stroke! She slid her hands beneath her hips and urged upward presenting the love mound even more dramatically, but still the ultimate secret of his princess was not visible, except for the hint of the start of a cleft as the pubes curved under.
It was then that Celeste did the unexpected. Legs still tightly pressed, she forced two fingers through the crease of her thighs and as Bryan gawked hungrily, trying to see what she wouldn't reveal, she drove her fingertips through the snug labia. Back and forth the fingers plunged, pushing violently into an invisible mystery. She was for one last moment completely aware of her spectator.
"Bryan, do you know what I'm doing?"
"Gosh... you're... you're..."
"Tell me, am I doing a wrong thing?"
"Aw, wow...! No...! You couldn't!"
"Why?" Her eyes were fierce and glittering as they fixed on his.
"Wow! You're... aw, you're special."
"How?" Her fingers were a strumming frenzy beyond the curve of her vee.
"You're... oh, hey! Hey, what's happening to..." His words trailed to stunned fascination as a deep orgasm shudder swept her. A woman possessed, she was in the grip of overwhelming climax. He watched her lovely face turn in happy agony, twist from side to side and he stared at the countenance of an angel, jet-black hair framing the incomparable beauty of her expression, dark eyebrows arched, lush ruby lips parted, as though waiting for something to fill them -- or kiss them.
Impulsively he dropped to the rug and pressed his mouth against hers. As he did, she grabbed below his waist and squeezed his tumult-driven cock fiercely. Her mouth was hot and moist against his lips and her tongue stabbed against his teeth... then beyond.
Celeste was beside herself. Fingers buried from his sight between her legs, strumming herself feverishly while her other hand pumped him, she kissed and tongued him, passion running wild. It was almost exactly like the other night as she slept. But this time she was wide, wide awake and wanting. And at the very height of it, her hand snatched from his prick and her body quieted its frantic writhing. Stopped completely still.
Calm eyes looked into his. Bryan's wildly excited expression said it all. Before his eyes Celeste Dantrelle -- and this time she was awake -- had masturbated herself. It was a stunning awareness. All his life Bryan had thought of adults as tightly controlled individuals, contemptuous of youthful passion, making fun of puppy love and most of all, having only disgust for any sort of excitement of self. In one smashing moment here was one who, for all her thirty, maybe more, years, liked to excite herself. And this wasn't just anyone. This was her royal highness herself.
"Do you think of girls when you do that to yourself, Bryan?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah... golly...! Yeah!" There was a bond of understanding he'd never felt toward any grownup, between them.
"Have you ever gotten off thinking of me?"
"Wow! Like every day since you came to visit."
"Really?" Her eyes danced with delighted surprise and he noticed the softened nipples tightening again. "Show me."
"HUH?" His heart stuttered with excitement.
"I want you to show me what you do when you think of me." She caught her arms across her waist and shivered happily. "Don't you ever dream what you'd like to do when I'm like this?"
In spite of what he'd watched the gorgeous nude just do to herself, Bryan flushed at the bid for his exhibitionism. "Gosh... I..."
"I command you to do it!" Fire sparkled as she gave the order and she wriggled impatiently against the deep pile, her luscious breasts leaping as her saucy tail cheeks ground against the carpet. "You do the wildest things you ever dreamed of... I want to see a man do it!"
A man she'd called him! It was the magic goal of every fifteen-year-old and his Goddess had just knighted him with the title.
"Anything, sweet Bryan." She could as well have called him Sir Bryan. "I dare you! Make me a happy girl."
He glared down at the cameo perfection of her flesh, the caressible succulence of her figure. Behave against... however he wanted... this tantalizing female had invited him to work his will.
"Hah... yah!" The cry burst from his mouth. "I beat you with my big cock prick, y'hear? I punish you for what you did in front of me, see?" His own words echoed wildly inside his head as he threw his leg across the wide hips of a suddenly quiet female form.
He dragged her arms high to either side of her head and the action forced him across her tiny waist so that his cock and balls were flush against the sharp upslant of her midriff. He whacked furiously at her gorgeous breasts, slapping from one to the other with his horny penis, feeling the devilish wonder of satiny skin yield under the love assault of his phallic flesh.
He remembered the crazy play with the twins holding Denise Pritchard's boobs while he fucked into them and for a second thought to repeat that wildness. Seeming to read his mind, Celeste caught her deliciously abused boobies and forced the full globes into a snug tunnel around his phallus. In humping reflex he was caught with the urge to rip his cock from the sweet trap and go a different route. Then the savage response of her nipples held him. Their pink tumescence bulged, darkened and grew even more outstanding as he stared. Need-to-be-loved fired the cherries and deepened them to bright crimson as tender nipple flesh distended and stretched. He gawked at the turgid cones and at her index fingers toying impudently over the outspoken tips.
An instant later, pumping furiously, a long cry of rapture leaped from his lips as bolts of semen charged into her breast cunt and spat through the top of the cleavage.
"More! More!" gasped Celeste, her body an animated fury under his tail. "You didn't punish me enough. I was naughtiest down below."
"Yeah! Yeah!" Wriggling eagerly down her hips and positioning atop her thighs, he flailed mercilessly at the saucy prominence of her mons, his undiminished erection electrified with erotic bolts of lightning at the punishment its owner was giving it.
"Beat'cha! Beat'cha!" he squealed, banging the cock from side to side at the top of her thighs, then sliding farther down almost to her knees. All the while Celeste held her legs pressed tightly together and she had yet to open the magic. With a cry of desperation mixed with determination, he drove a knee between her legs, forcing her thighs apart.
For one stunned instant he gaped at Celeste's exposed cleft. Thin, dark, slightly wrinkled line in the center of baby pink, very soft sex flesh. It was like Denise's or Pammy's or Sandy's but it was more. It was the love center of the Goddess who had come to his house. The dark soft line carved in the heart of that rosy pink play center was like no other in this world.
"Bad... naughty!" he choked, slapping her thigh as he kneed closer to the target. "Punish you! Gotta!"
No attempt by Celeste to conceal her vulva now. The pussy center seemed to invite the weapon he had held in his fist and she watched and waited for what he might do.
In a final frustration of indecision that he would dare go all the way, he flailed across the tender folds of her vaginal lips, then slammed his cock tip almost hysterically against the palpitating labia, shoving forward as he did. Suddenly, unexpectedly, they were one body.
"Oh... oh, Bryan! Yesss!" She ground upward in rapturous reflex. "You're inside me! Oh, I'm going... go... eeehhh!" The warm lubricant of her come frenzy enveloped his cock shaft and he was aware of wonderfully clutching muscles.
Her long legs reflexed to the fever of her coming and to the deep thrust of his cock and snaked up and around his waist. The orgasm-wracked quim tunnel clasped and squeezed his wild penis, trying to forbid his going deeper. With a shout of pure joy, he thrust feverishly to force the yielding and with the thrust he was in climax. Their bodies, vibrating in helpless come craze, locked and cemented as they let the passion take them.
Jennifer Quinby couldn't shake the thoughts plaguing her as she moved along the aisles at the A&P. She made her selections of the week's groceries, not really interested in her usual comparison shopping. Little needling uncertainties pin-pricked her thoughts as she reviewed the two weeks Celeste had been with them.
Her conservatory roommate was an absolute doll for a house guest. And the fifteen years since they'd shared room and board were like fifteen minutes, never fifteen years. They were as close now as then. In fact, much closer.
Jennifer shivered at the intimacy between herself and Frank since that one night of menage-a-trois when Celeste had been part of their marriage bed. The shiver was more from the persistent feeling that bugged Jennifer that Celeste should herself be having regular all-the time love from a man. She was too much woman. Both of them were. It worried Jenny to remember how she'd let herself go again after so many years in that intimate girl play when Celeste was in their bed.
Frank had loved it. Brought it up night after night since. The lesby in his wife seemed almost as exciting to him as the hetero. In fact, the very mention of how he liked seeing her love Celeste's breasts and other places always drove Frank to wild hard and the need for quick copulation.
When she'd tested the waters of his lust with a tentative suggestion that it might be nice to get Celeste back for round two, he'd enthused over her suggestion, then dropped it like a hot potato. It wasn't what he felt would be good for any of them, he had grunted, closing the subject.
Jennifer moved to the checkout counter, glancing at her wrist watch with surprise that she'd taken so long in shopping. The frustration of wanting Celeste to have so much more in sex and knowing that wasn't likely to happen, had preoccupied her. The time had flown.
She drove slowly home, not really caring that she'd taken so long. Celeste had said something about talking with Bryan if he showed up while she was sunbathing and Jennifer liked that idea. Bryan had been in pure awe of their guest and with only a week remaining of her Connecticut stay, he could miss the chance of a lifetime to get to know Celeste.
Wondering if the two were out back at pool-side, Jenny left the Marquis outside the garage and circled the house. Just as she was moving across the lawn, a little cry inside caught her ear. Celeste's!
A suddenly alarmed Jennifer, remembering Bryan's strange behavior at the Pritchard barn door a few weeks earlier, was in panic. Fighting the urge to call as she hurried through the kitchen, she moved quickly toward the sounds in the den. Apprehension... fear... her heart racing with near terror... she heard the cry beyond the door.
Head spinning, Jennifer reeled against the wall of the dining room, almost colliding with the mobile cart on which Frank kept his liquor. Her brain refused to accept the passion she heard in Celeste's cry and even as she rejected it, the bullish roar of her son stung her ears.
"Yeah... yeah, take it! Gonna fuck you. Fuck you!"
"Come, Bryan... come!"
"Gonna never come!"
"You must! Give it! Give it to me! Harder!"
"Gonna stay hard inside you forever!"
Fighting for air that refused to pass to her lungs, Jennifer pressed the den door slowly open.
CHAPTER SIX
"Buh... buh... Bryan!" The writhing, contorted shapeliness of her best friend was the first thing Jennifer saw. Celeste in the midst of copulation... with Bryan!
Grinding upward from the dark green carpet, forcing her totally inflamed lover to support her body as her legs wrapped in a delicious scissors at his waist, Celeste was long gone in orgasm.
And then the climax grabbed Jennifer's son. Jenny saw the humping excitement suddenly freeze and his frame stiffen to the ecstasy. A strange look swept his face as his loins pumped and the ejaculation roared.
Then before her eyes at the height of his coming Jennifer watched his head loll backward and his frame start to fold. He was fainting!
Without a word he wilted across the convulsing body under him and as she felt him falling Celeste grabbed his arms, easing him down even as she ground against him, taking the final spurts of his semen.
All at once the den was completely still. Celeste lay quietly under the boy, her arms wrapped around him. Her head swung toward the door from the dining room as Jennifer entered.
"He's absolutely precious, Jenn." Not a hint of embarrassment or wrongdoing in her eyes and the mood was instantly communicated.
Moving to where the two lay entwined, Jennifer sank to their side and reached to press fingertips under her son's chin. The pulse was very normal, but he was obviously in a deep faint.
"It happened the last time we were together." Celeste said the words slowly and thoughtfully and seemed unaware of their impact on Jennifer.
"The... last... time?"
"Two nights ago. He came to me and he thought I was sound asleep through it all. But Jennifer, darling, no girl will ever sleep when your men are around!"
"What happened?" It seemed to Jennifer incredible to feel so natural. This mad conversation! Here, inches away, Celeste's body was bound to the body of her only child. Bryan's phallus was buried in the vagina of the first woman he'd been intimate with. It was a scene to rip the heart from the overly motherly, but as she shifted her glance, Jenny felt a quivering curiosity to know how that instrument of love sunk far from sight in Celeste's wonderful nudity must feel.
"He is a gorgeous boy," murmured Celeste, not elaborating on the first time she had been with Bryan. "Did you ever know any man who fainted in orgasm?"
"It's because of who he's with and because he's so young."
"I don't think anyone fifteen ever had this much. Look at how he stays!" Celeste writhed free of the coital embrace, the glistening prick spilling from her cleft. She slithered around as she tugged Bryan to his back and the cock flopped from side to side in half-hardened impudence. The last of his discharge dripped in stringy sparkling weariness from the still thickened head.
"It feels like a volcano exploding when he comes," said Celeste, fingering the bent penis. "Oh, he's absolutely darling, Jenny! And just to think you made him inside beautiful you!" An arm crossed across Jennifer's shoulders and tugged her in an impulsive hug.
"I really did, didn't I?" Jennifer crouched across Bryan's hip and stared closely at the semi-inflated cock and the well stocked balls. "He looks as if he must be nine inches when he's erect and he doesn't lose much like this."
Celeste stroked the pubic flesh under the puffy cock and the penis trembled slightly. "So strange to be so much man and no pubic hair yet."
Jennifer caught Celeste's fingers fiercely and stopped the seductive stroking. "Celeste! Would it... do you think I'd be terrible if I maybe kiss one little kiss on his... you know?" Her eyebrows arched worriedly and light silver platinum hair tossed prettily as Jennifer tilted her head to look anxiously for Celeste's reaction.
"There's an old saying, 'It's right for you to do what you will with your own.' That's right now," said Celeste, her hand stroking lightly down Jennifer's shoulders and across her back. "Maybe you should do more than kiss..."
"Would it be...?" Without knowing how to word the question, Jennifer pressed across Bryan's thigh and, catching his bent cock between thumb and forefinger, straightened it, then aimed it toward her lips. "I'd love to see it ejaculate semen," she whispered. "It would be almost like me ejaculating, 'cause he came from me."
"Do it!" exclaimed Celeste, fingering the buttons at the back of Jenny's blouse and slipping the white satin and the bra beneath from her body. Her hands clasped eagerly at the perky breasts. The nipples were very hard.
"Don't!" protested Jennifer when Celeste's fingers found the snap at the side of her wraparound mini. "I'm naked underneath." It was already too late, the red mini dropped silently from her hips and she was nude.
"Taste him, Jennifer!" urged Celeste, cupping her body in a warm, intimate foetal curve to Jennifer's back. "He's honey sweet."
"I'd be frightened," whispered Jenny. "He's so young and he's my son and..."
"...and he'll never know," interrupted Celeste, reaching under her friend's lightly trembling frame to grab the unchanged half erection and slap it impudently against Jennifer's cheek. "We'll both taste him."
With an impatient wriggle she adjusted her position behind and over Jennifer's right shoulder and propelled the gleaming cap, its light coating of semen beginning to crystallize, directly to Jennifer's lips.
"Mmmmmhhhh... sweet!" The shyness was suddenly gone as the youthful baby-pink flesh teased into the oval of her mouth.
"Lick it nice and shiny fresh," urged Celeste, feeling the first signs of stiffening on the organ she still fingered as Jennifer mouthed.
"Ohhhh... guh... golly!" Jenny pulled her head back abruptly as erection elastic, deep inside the unconscious Bryan, snapped and his penis stormed to total hardness.
"Isn't that a miracle?" demanded Celeste. "He doesn't know a thing that's happening, but he needs you to suck him just the way he used to suck at your breasts when you fed him."
"Oh, Celeste." Jennifer's eyes were wide and frightened as she turned to look at her friend. "I'm scared. I don't care about any of those mother things... I just... I just want to suck him. Am I awful? I want to suck that beautiful cock and then I... I want to fuck it... and I'm so scared."
"But, why... why, darling?" The hand caressing Jennifer's back insinuated itself boldly under her hip and crept quickly to a furnace-hot vulva.
"He... oh, if he ever should come to and see."
"Not a word!" exclaimed Celeste. "Not one more word. You love his body any way you want. I'll fix it so he won't see, if he does happen to come to. Not one more word!"
Pressing a finger to her lips, she darted to a scarf lying on the davenport and by the time she dropped to her knees at Bryan's head, Jennifer was loving in one way that she wanted. The rigid burgeoning prick was grotesque in its stallion hugeness stuffing into widespread lips.
With eyes closed, lest she lose her courage, Jennifer performed fellatio with a vengeance on her son's helpless erection. At his head Celeste was busily snugging the knot of the blindfold that would guarantee the secret, if Bryan woke.
Wild glitter as Jennifer's eyes suddenly opened. Celeste knew she felt the quivering alert that his cock was going to erupt. It came... first, cannonading deep into the sucking lips, then spraying in silvery glory across both females as Jennifer spewed the prick cap into the open. Without the donor being the least bit aware, Bryan ejaculated his wealth of semen high and wide before Jennifer's worshipping eyes.
"It's beautiful!" she breathed, straightening unsteadily and staring down at the blindfolded figure spreadlegged naked before her.
"It's your own." Celeste crawled to Bryan's feet and tugged the legs together. "You've made a lovely man for the world. You should feel him."
Jenny gave a terrified little cry of last resistance overwhelmed by driving desire.
"But you know what I'll be doing if I do it?"
"You'll be satisfying a curiosity that won't let you go now or ever, if you don't." Celeste was sprawled across Bryan's hip, licking happily at the resurgent cock. "It only went down a little after it came. He has so much and to spare... not another word now! You're helping him." She aimed the cock suggestively at Jennifer's crotch and the pull was like a great magnet.
Moving automaton-like, out of all control to stop even if she wanted, Jennifer straddled the powerful thighs and inched to the critical position. Her son's cock was bold against the very flesh through which he had fifteen years before come into the world.
Now all thought of this male wonder boy as her own flesh and blood was gone. She eased down and her pussy cleft spread wide to the gentle onslaught of the broad glans tip.
"Ooohhh, Celeste, he's so big! BIG!" Jenny was in obvious passion agony. Wanting to take her son's erection totally and even as the thick crown stuffed its way into her vagina's threshold, knowing he was the biggest organ she had ever taken.
"I'll help... let me lick it with love lube!" Celeste sprawled on her tummy, rested her chin on her elbows close by Bryan's hip, and stared in fascination. Jennifer's petite body mounted atop his hard-on was as youthful in appearance as his own fifteen years and her small size made Jenn seem even younger.
Her labial lips wide stretched, distended to the outer limit as they spread to welcome the stud she had once given birth to. That was an incredible thing to Celeste. Through pussy gates now trying to accommodate a hungry cock, once exited the owner of that monstrosity.
A glow of excitement tingled through Celeste at the awareness of the feeling Jennifer must be experiencing. She wanted to share it and stretched eagerly across the pulsing bodies to kiss fervently at the meeting place of cock and cunt. "I'm your maid-in-waiting."
"Oh, Celeste... that's soo... so good!" Jenny's lithe body writhed ecstatically to the tongue probing the thin stretched flanges of her love lips.
It was all the encouragement the maid-in-waiting wanted. Licking from the naked curve of Bryan's pubic mound up the spearing cock shaft, then around the circumference of the merger of penis with vulva, she wetted the friction-heated flesh of both with lips and tongue and saliva.
Jennifer stared entranced at the passion in Celeste's assault on Bryan's prick. Her mouth circled only half the width of the phallic barrel and she munched the swollen hardness like a child with her first candy apple. Ruby rich lips, wet and wild, nursed the washboard ripples of the hard-on and the lubrication of the saliva eased the friction of the cemented male and female flesh, letting Jennifer lower onto the cock inch by inch.
"Oh, Jenn, you're beautiful!" moaned an ecstatic Celeste, watching the coital union gradually... totally engulf Bryan's erection and take it from sight in the tight cave of Jenny's cunt.
Bryan's groan abruptly stung two preoccupied females with the presence of a male. Doubly jolting to both. So immersed were they in cock play, they had completely forgotten his organ belonged to a total human being. One who might well be horrified by the act he had been forced into while unconscious.
"Whu... what...?" Bryan's hand moved toward the blindfold covering his eyes and Celeste's hand barely reached the cloth in time.
"Leave it, dear Bryan." She squirmed to position beside Jennifer as the boy's quivering frame announced full consciousness was back.
"Wow... tight!" He arched against the rug and Jennifer, eyes terror-filled with awareness of the disaster if he saw, responded with the only tool she had. Force him to fuck fury!
Writhing and grinding on the impaling prick, managing silence even when she wanted to scream, she rocked and pulsed in copulation frenzy. Suddenly it was no charade! The cramming cock, threatening to split her into ten women, crushed her clit in rabbit punch urgency and a hyper-sensitized sex trigger was pulled. Fighting the want to cry out in rapture, Jenny rode her orgasm through reaching crest after crest before feeling the start of Bryan's climax.
"Omigosh! Guh... golly... gotta! YEAH!" He was a thrashing, driving stallion, flat on his back and grinding upward into a strange hitherto unfelt new paradise.
His ejaculation shot and it felt as if it was torn from his depths. The feverish tightness was pain and pleasure and at the height of his orgasm it didn't matter which was which.
And it was gone almost the instant he completed.
A sensation that would bug Bryan for nights afterward was that three of them seemed to be there in that den. Celeste didn't say a word for long minutes after he had finished. Her body pressed motionless alongside his. But something needled Bryan that the woman he had just made love to and Celeste were two different people. Impossible! No sense to that at all, he knew!
"What's the blindfold for?" he demanded, feeling her lips at his earlobe.
"No reason." Celeste sounded noncommittal. "Some men like to feel trapped and forced into making love. Like a prisoner. Did you know you fainted?"
"That's what it was!" He rubbed his eyes as she took away the blindfold. "Everything seemed different. You even felt different."
"What did it feel like just before you fainted?" Celeste smiled at the expression of sheepishness in his face. "Don't be shy. I want to know. Maybe it isn't good for you to do this."
"Maybe it's just because it's too good! I got a feeling I was caught in a whirlpool inside you. Like it was swirling me around and around and every bit of me was spunking. Wow! Then right when I was squirting into you I felt my head spinning and I just blacked out."
"What'd you feel just now when you came to again?"
Listening just beyond the dining room door, Jennifer shivered at the unrelenting after-pressure of Bryan still filling her vagina. Had she really been so bold? she wondered...
It was time to end the romp in the den and she tiptoed through the kitchen, wondering how far the play in her home would run from this point. In the kitchen she felt a tremor of fear when she remembered that her flight from the den had been so fast she had left her clothing. Little danger of Bryan's noticing, the way he left his own things scattered, but it left an after-taste of the risk she had run.
"It has got to stop right here, Jennifer Quinby," she scolded herself aloud as she pulled on the only outdoor wear she could find in the laundry room. Bikini clad she stepped outside to the car and hurriedly backed to the driveway entry, then drove back again to the back of the house, giving a blast of the horn to announce her "arrival".
Next door a curious Denise Pritchard studied the cute teeny bikini on the trim body of her neighbor. From the second floor landing of her home, Denise had seen Jennifer's return from the grocery and puzzled when the station wagon, loaded with groceries, stayed in the drive for almost an hour. The horn brought her running to a window and peering from behind a drape, a fascinated Denise wondered at Jennifer's change to bikini and her behavior with the bags of supplies. It had to have something to do with sex, guessed an intrigued neighbor, and it must have something to do with Bryan.
Even as she thought it, the fifteen-year-old burst from the kitchen, visibly flustered. His hair, usually in place, was ruffled. His rivieras, always showing an impressive bulge, now revealed that if he was seen by a stranger, he would be suspect of mounting an erection. Under tight white elastic was the clear outline of the boy's man-prick, so visible that its dorsal funnel was evident. He had either just shot or was building for it in his mind. Denise shivered with want.
Bryan was shaken by the sound of the horn. Impatient to have Celeste again as soon as her fingers had resurrected his hardness, he had barely entered her body when the horn blast announced his mother's return. In a flurry to dress that amused Celeste, he had dragged his snug trunks across a determined erection.
"Thanks, dear." Jennifer tried to sound house-wifely routine as she dropped the tailgate on the wagon. "Some of the bags are heavy and need a man's hand."
It was a stinging provocative word to a psyched young male. He was a man! He followed Jenny to the steps into the kitchen and as she walked, he mulled the fact that his mother would know about a man and not just about his hand. A man's cock was something she'd also know about.
His thoughts were sex and more sex. He couldn't shake the remembered sensation of incredible tightness locked around his cock as he recovered from fainting. It was why he'd wanted to take Celeste again... fast... to see if he'd faint for one thing. That had to be damned unmanly, he was sure. And more, he wanted to see if she felt that tight the second time around.
Impossible! He was sure he had been loved by a second female. Maybe another Goddess called in by Celeste to share the play with her passed out lover.
Lord! What she must think of his fainting over orgasm! Maybe she changed her cunt size to squeeze him awake!
Before him, stepping into the kitchen, was the impudent petiteness of his mother's bod -- cute -- sexy... SEXY? It was a label Bryan never had hung on his mom, even if she always had been there for him to see. Often as scantily clad as right now. Bet she'd have felt about the way that tight snatch felt on his dick, he thought, and winced even as he toyed with the notion.
Mother fucker! It was a crack one of the older guys on the football squad had tried to lay on him at practice only a week before. Bryan had come unglued at the insult to his mom. Coach Taylor had had to peel him off the guy.
Now at the kitchen sink he was uncomfortably aware of the sensuality of the female next to him. His own mother? But there was an aura about her... a sexy kind of fragrance, too. He saw the pert thrust of bare breast flesh under a not large enough halter and he spun from the counter quickly.
Hurrying from the kitchen for the rest of the groceries, he saw a drape move in the Pritchard window upstairs. Everywhere! Just everywhere he looked there were females staring and females seducing guys and guys getting hard-ons because of these kind of thoughts.
The surging column of flesh in his trunks was rampaging for freedom when he straightened from the tailgate of the wagon and headed for the kitchen, arms loaded with two heavy bags.
Jennifer saw the pole hardness rigidly vertical against the white trunks. Her son! In erection and in imminent danger of popping out on bold display. Her glance darted to the Pritchard windows and saw no sign of anything moving in that house. With a sigh as the screen door slammed behind his return, she pretended preoccupation at the sink when he reached her side and eased the bags to the counter.
What possessed her, Jennifer knew she'd never understand, but something needled her to dare. As he lifted the box of eggs from the top of one bag, she said softly, "Take it out, Bryan, before it kills you."
"Huhwwwatt?"
A box of eggs almost spilled open in his hand and he made a last ditch grab and prevented the disaster. The big disaster was already alive in his mind.
"I won't look. You are about to ruin a perfectly good bathing suit. Are you bothered by me?"
"Aw, hell! Look, you're my..."
Jennifer waved him to silence over her shoulder. "I know, I know! I'm your mother. And if I didn't ever give you sexual thoughts, I'd be a flop as a female. Am I a flop?"
"Gosh... anything but...!" Crazy vibrations spun through Bryan's brain. Right on top of the games with Celeste and that wild sensation of tiny cunt riding his big cock, the words he was hearing were wildly inflaming.
Truth sizzled home. He had a long burn for this cuddly caressable bundle beside him. She must have had her own burn to even begin to talk like that. Dizzying as it was, to Bryan it was a breath of fresh air after months of wondering.
He stepped quietly close behind her lithe, lovely petiteness, ogling the platinum page boy styled close to her head to accent her littleness. When he pressed forward against the impudent curve of her buttocks, she caught her breath and gripping the sink edge, waited motionless.
"I took it out," he whispered through the silver lightness of her hair. "Gotta do something with it. You scared?" His voice was brittle taut.
"I'm scared of only one thing, Bryan." She swung slowly around from the sink and her arms reached high to circle her son's neck. "I'm scared of secret feelings. I don't think anyone in a loving family needs to have them, do you?" She clutched the shaft and fought the swirl of desire that whipped her to drop before his cock in suck frenzy. "Are you scared to be yourself? Be what you feel!"
He grabbed the erection impulsively. "I feel like this so much!"
He aimed the want-ridden cock directly at her crotch and began to pump himself frantically. "I got so much to give and... wow! I got hots for you and for Celeste and for the twins and Denise and..." He was masturbating and grabbing at the same time. Tearing and pulling at Jennifer's halter! Shredding her bikini panties from her body!
"Gotta love... gotta love!" he panted frenziedly, feeling the soaring of his ejaculation and letting the passion take command.
Splattering semen, warm and wonderful, slapped Jennifer's front and stung her to reality. The boy was fantastically oversexed and deep in needing expression. He had better be helped.
"Celeste?" There was no answer from the door where Jennifer was sure the scene had been watched. "He's gone, Celeste," she whispered urgently. "He's out by the pool. We've got troubles."
"Only if we let them be troubles." Celeste sauntered into the kitchen, clad in her pink peignoir. "You did the right thing. He's looking to see if sex is sneaked or open. You did right."
Jennifer threw her arms around her onetime roommate. "Oh, I wish we were back in Gordon together without all these decisions. It's scary. What would the neighbors think?"
Celeste aimed a contemptuous glance toward the kitchen window. "What do you care? They'll think what they please and from what I saw last night over there when I came in, you're practically puritan."
"Tell me... tell me...!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Hello. That you, Jennifer?" asked the familiar voice when Jenn answered the fifth ring of the phone.
"Who else, Denise?" she answered dilly. She was irked by the phoney coziness her next door neighbor had shown since a celebrity came to the Quinby house. Irked too that Celeste had accepted the invite to coffee when she called Denise to see if she could come by.
"We are just so thrilled. Did you know Celeste has offered my baby a role in Carmen? She's sitting right here beside me and I could just hug her for being so nice!"
"Which baby?" Jennifer didn't like Denise. She liked her even less after hearing Bryan's admitted passion for the woman and her twins. Nothing but Denise's deliberate teasing had gotten her son that hot for the neighbor trio.
"Pammy, of course." Denise's voice was saccharine. "She's the musical one of the twins. It's only a choreography bit behind a see-through scrim curtain, but it's a fabulous idea. Especially using Bryan. So daring!"
Jennifer couldn't agree more. But it was a must to divert what had mushroomed to repeated home crises of Bryan's youthful passion. Celeste had stayed perfectly calm as repeated incidents occurred. Somehow she assumed the fifteen-year-old would flip out and if anything, at times encouraged it.
"You don't mind her doing the dance with Bryan... in a bikini?" Denise arched worried eyebrows at her coffee kiatech guest, casually studying Celeste's fabulous figure, dramatic in the scanty sunsuit.
"Heavens, no!" Jennifer was impatient to end the conversation.
"I hear Time may even cover the first contemporary version of Carmen." Denise sighed enviously. "And that Mister-Atlas-bodied son of yours is just gorgeous. He's got an absolutely natural rhythm for the dungeon dance with Carmen."
"I think he makes a nice Don Jose," agreed Jennifer. "But I didn't know they had rehearsed yet."
"Over in our barn last night. I meant to call you. Old place looks like a prison dungeon and we have the music from Carmen for their dance while Celeste sings 'Pres des ramparts de Seville'."
"Good." Jennifer didn't like Denise for another reason. She liked to parade her culture. She liked also to parade her body in front of Frank Quinby and that was the beginning of other problems, unless Jennifer was naive. Blind was the last thing she was. "Will they rehearse there again?"
"Yes, tonight. Celeste said she'd come check their dance before going for her evening performance." Denise adjusted the halter of her bikini top as she spoke, knowing why it itched. She caught Celeste's smile and her voice was animated as she continued. "Why don't you and Frank come watch? Those kids are a pair! So sexy it drives me woolly."
"That's perfect for the scene then." Jennifer got her own chance to parade culture. "That's where Carmen seduces the corporal Don Jose and he lets her escape, isn't it?" Affected nonchalance. Jennifer knew exactly Celeste's plan. They had worked it out together.
Denise seemed barely to have heard and broke in excitedly. "Those two are so expressive. Maybe we two mommies ought to set up ground rules. Your son is very responsive to Carmen's wiles and he's holding my daughter."
"I don't understand," lied Jennifer. She was sure she understood all too clearly.
"Well, you know what Celeste wants is one scene straight dancing in the most intimate 'old fashioned' way... two-four time. The old fraternity clutch, as they swing and sway behind the peekaboo scrim. It winds up in simulated you-know-what. Pretty shocking stuff, but..."
"But nice," interrupted Jennifer. "Of course, having a son, Denise, maybe I don't have as much to worry about as having two daughters. But it's a new day and if you don't think it's offensive, I really don't mind how earthy or sensual they get. Isn't it nice they don't try to hide it from us?"
"I agree." Denise Pritchard sounded subdued. "And I'm really glad to hear you say that. That's why I called, to be sure it all had your permission. You know, watching those two pretend making it all the way at the end, is truly beautiful."
"Did you tell them that?"
"Mmmhhh, no. I kept thinking of your reaction. Bryan gets quite excited. And tonight they run through the really big scene where Carmen seduces Don Jose and runs him up the yardarm, tortures him and makes her escape."
"I'm familiar with the scene." Jennifer knew Celeste wanted that as her second behind-the-scrim eroticism. The private audiences for the weekend Carmen shows were the Chowder and Marching Societies of Boston and Hartford. Known for their earthiness and for their uninhibited frolics. Jenny quailed when Celeste broached the dance idea, but she agreed. One way to bring a lot of relationships to a head.
"Well, you're invited to come watch from our barnyard balcony," said Denise, fascinated by her neighbor's willingness to allow her son's libido free rein. "I'll be coaching those two through their dance and you can slip in to the upper deck through the south entry of the barn."
"I have an idea." Jennifer felt goosebumps of daring. "You know they'll be behind the scrim and Celeste will be singing center stage. Why not let them dance in the nude?"
"Jennifer!" Shocked seconds of silence followed. "Oh, you're thinking the magazine coverage might really get turned on by that, aren't you?"
"Partly. But I think it's a different age, too. We know our kids have it big for each other. Although Bryan isn't sure Pammy's mother approves of him."
"Whaaatt? Why, I love that boy!"
"Good. We love Pamela, too... and Sandy. If you don't object, I think it would be quite a wholesome step to treat the male/female relationship very naturally. And your Pammy has a stunning body. Just perfect for a nude dance sequence."
"One problem. There's that capture scene where she hoists Don Jose on the rope and whips him before she skips the prison of Seville. It'll seem a little anti-climactic, if they're clad for that."
"Has Bryan been told about Scene Two?" Jennifer felt her pulse quicken just to imagine her young Adonis dangling by his wrists before a whip-bearing nude. It would be quite the scene to see.
"Not yet. We're going to spring it on him when Celeste drops by and play it by ear. You really think in the buff is wise?"
"Of course. They can heighten the footlight power out front and that'll turn the action back of the scrim into a kind of mirage effect. Audience will see, but not be sure."
"Okay. We'll play it by ear. Jennifer, be a dear. Come watch from behind the scenes and give me the sign, if it goes too far. I'll break it up." Denise was the sweetest when she was most dangerous, thought the listener.
"I'm sure it may go too far," murmured Jennifer, stirring the drink at her elbow on the breakfast counter. "But I'd rather let the kids find their level, if you're willing."
"So be it, neighbor. Ta-ta."
Jenny replaced the phone carefully on the wall hook and nursed the before-noon Seagrams and Seven thoughtfully. A drinker she wasn't, but the week since her intimacy with her son had made it a fabulous comfort.
Picking Pammy Pritchard had been Jennifer's idea. So had been the proposed seduction dance and simulated torture scene. There was little doubt in her mind that it could trigger a lot more than simulated sex and she shivered at the thought. She knew she hoped it would. Ever since her incest with Bryan, she had lectured herself against the lust that continued needling her.
He belonged to some one else someday. He was a different generation. She was his mother. Everything added up to disaster, if she didn't stop the relation he never knew they'd had. The tremble became a shudder at the thought he might one day learn she had copulated with him while he was unconscious.
"Good!" she exclaimed half-aloud, thinking of Denise Pritchard's warning that it might go too far. Something dramatic like that was about the only way to shatter Jennifer's private lust for her son. But she didn't want to see it happen.
She had seen enough already around this house. Bryan was hardly believable in his heat for Celeste. For three successive nights he had made his stealthy way up the stairs and Jennifer had known it by the creak at the landing. She felt a mingling of jealousy and pity for Celeste, but there never was a hint in conversation at brunch that her house guest had had a nocturnal visitor.
An odd sort of uneasiness had crept into Jennifer's thoughts at the way her best friend kept the play between herself and Bryan out of their conversation. Not a hint of clandestine or of sneakiness or shame. That was what had Jennifer uptight and why she welcomed shifting the action over to Pamela Pritchard. She, at least, was one of Bryan's generation. And she lived next door.
A little more fire like last night's frolic and Jennifer could see her son leaving home to pursue Celeste wherever she went. That tragedy she was determined to prevent at any cost.
"Gracious, what next?" she moaned softly under her breath as she thought of the potentials of the upcoming play. It was both frightening and fun to anticipate.
At times she thought maybe it had been the worst thing in the world that Celeste had come to visit. But she knew it was overwhelmingly good. Good for her wife role with Frank. He'd become a wild love animal with her, unable to get enough. Sometimes two and three times a night. And for all the slightly uncomfortable worries about what happened with Bryan's frenzy for Celeste, Jennifer knew that was a good thing, too.
Her son had exploded into manhood and he was being taught by the one woman Jennifer knew she could trust. A female made for love. A girl with no inhibitions leading Bryan into the world of adult manhood without hangups.
It was a good thing, this dance and dungeon scene. It was Celeste's way of cutting Bryan loose on his own, breaking the closeness between them before she moved out to her next concert stop. And turning Jennifer's son into an accomplished lover was a very special gift from Celeste.
Jennifer knew she would have to be a hidden witness to the practice session in the barn. What it would be like to be that sexy thing next door and have the chance Pammy was going to have!
Unknown to Jennifer Quinby or Pammy Pritchard or Celeste, the choreography practice in the barn was perfect, as Denise Pritchard saw it. The chance to score a once-for-all wipe out of Bryan Quinby in daughter Pammy's eyes.
If there was one thing Pammy was, it was Now Generation. Denise knew she had hypersexed tendencies, but exclusively for her own generation. From Pammy's taunting of Sandy's sexual interests for older plus-thirty males, Denise was sure she would be vicious toward any male showing an attraction to females older than thirty.
That, suspected Denise, was just one more of Bryan's sexual problems. A nearly out-in-the-open incestuous heat for Jennifer by Bryan already had beep spotted by Denise. She knew from watching that Celeste had him turned on and Denise herself could turn the boy on at a glance. It would finish Bryan with Pammy if Celeste and Denise both got him on fire. Meanwhile her tacky nipples made no secret to Denise that Celeste was a turn-on for the lesby in herself.
The stage was set, thought a delighted Denise, showing an admiring Celeste from the first floor to the stairs of the second floor on a leisurely tour of inspection.
"I just love your home," praised Celeste.
"Oh, thank you." Denise's pat was casually open on the curve of Celeste's sleekly cushioned tail as she steered her guest toward the stairwell. "We're sorta functional, but we like it living here, too. Kind of an old farmhouse converted."
Celeste eyed her hostess quizzically. "Converted to what?"
"Everything three bright young girls of 1975 need. See, I include myself as young as my daughters." She laughed too brightly at her humor. "I want to show you the second floor. We even have a gym up here to keep toned up."
"How clever." Celeste followed the superbly stacked redhead into the converted guest room. "I would say the girls' mother keeps herself beautifully toned." She sighed enviously. "You and Jennifer! No one would believe you each have adolescent children. You look like adolescents yourselves."
"Oh, what a doll!" Denise flung grateful arms around Celeste's waist and hugged her close. "For that remark you can have anything in the place as my gift." The urgent grind of her vee against Celeste's pubic mound gave the word of the gift she most wanted to present. No reflex response from Celeste to the intimate hinting, and suddenly sure she had misread the vibrations between them, Denise hurried into the exercise room.
"Got everything here to trim down and shape up." She waved at the assorted exercise paraphernalia and watched the cuddly shapeliness of superstar Celeste as she moved nonchalantly from exercise horse to parallel bars to pull ropes attached to the walls. "None of it could improve your figure one bit," she said sadly, seeing play time evaporate.
"What do you keep in these drawers?" Celeste asked, turning to a built-in wall dresser.
"See for yourself. All kinds of things. Smart Belles -- that's girls' dumbbells, and stuff like that." Denise felt her heart skip as Celeste bent to the bottom drawer. "Oh -- oh! You would choose that one!"
Celeste looked up curiously. "You don't want me to open it."
"Go ahead. But it'd look strange to some. That's our sexercise equipment."
"What a cute name for it." Celeste opened the drawer and stared for a silent moment at the array of play penises. Half-a-dozen dildos in varying lengths and thicknesses, some erect with large dark crowns, others smaller -- all of them stiffened neoprene flesh plastic, ready to entertain.
"Are you shocked?" Denise watched her guest's eyes.
"Of course not." She selected one pretend cock of twelve fleshlike inches rigged with a thin harness. "They look like fun."
Fun was the word Denise had been waiting for and she darted to where Celeste still bent to the drawer. Cupping an arm across the small of her back, Denise fingered the snap of her guest's sunsuit briefs suggestively. "Try one on! I'll show you how my two girls shocked me the other night. They pretended they were professional male wrestlers."
Celeste giggled happily at the ridiculous picture of wrestlers in an arena wearing erections. "You'll have to show me how it goes on. I've never... it actually feels like flesh."
Denise's fingers trembled when she released Celeste's panty snap and drew undies and sunsuit panties down across the smooth thighs. There was absolutely no self-consciousness in Celeste and it was a disarming sensation for Denise who usually found the females she wanted reticent at first. Still nothing in Celeste gave away an innate lesbian nature.
"Now, Pammy put hers on like this. Fact, this is the one she used." Denise attached the thin belt around the hips and through Celeste's thighs. When she tightened to snug the dildo in place, she was sure there would be a gasp at the intimacy. None came. Warm, soft pussy flesh yielded to the light pressure of Denise's knuckles as she adjusted the realistic cock low on Celeste's vee mound. Tempted out of control, she pressed lightly under the dildo, depressing the cunty cleft slightly.
"Nice," murmured Celeste, watching the top of Denise's flame red hair. Her voice was tense. "I've often wondered how men felt wearing one of these."
"Go look at yourself." Denise nodded toward the full-length mirror along the wall. "But first you have to take off everything to get the full effect." She tugged the halter bow and abruptly Celeste's magnificent breasts were bared as their cover drifted to the floor. "You are gorgeous!" breathed an awed Denise, staring at the carved perfection of the cream ivory globes.
"Let me see you in one." Celeste strolled in brazen exhibition of her torrid nudity, sensing the fierce animal lure of being a cockswoman. In the middle of the room she walked the length of the exercise mat, watching wide-eyed as the frighteningly real cock mounted atop her pubic mound swayed awkwardly to each step.
Denise stripped quickly and mounted a smaller version of the phallus, then hurried to join Celeste now studying herself quizzically in the mirror. "Aren't we beautiful?" demanded Celeste, catching an arm around Denise's waist to hug her close, then staring at the weird attachments to fantastic female bodies reflected in the mirror. "Did you say your girls wrestle wearing these?"
"They do till one or the other of them is overcome -- either shoulder pressed to the mat. Or else dildo pierced. Now are you shocked?"
"I don't understand, shocked. It sounds like a nice game between girls. Show me." Dark hair tumbling across one shoulder, nipples hardened with excitement at the way the two of them looked, Celeste was obviously ready to be shown.
"Anything goes!" Denise circled her curvaceous adversary warily, one arm reaching tentatively for a hold while Celeste tried to copy her wrestler's crouch. "You can wrestle legally, hammerlocks and all that. Or you can use anything you've got to subdue your opponent." As she said it, she kicked suddenly, spilling Celeste in stunned surprise to the mat and falling quickly across her wriggling nudity to spreadeagle her in instant near victory.
"Ohhhh... dirty tricks!" screamed Celeste, grappling for an armhold and coming up with a handful of red hair which she instantly released.
"You make it too easy to beat you!" squealed Denise, grabbing an exposed arm and dragging a wriggling make-believe man back from near escape.
"Just to get you off guard!" Celeste's hands planted boldly on two vulnerable breasts, fingers squeezing the firm boob flesh with just enough authority to instantly terrify Denise. Her one fear in wrestling play with her daughters was assault on her front. Almost like male castration fear, she was traumatized by any threat to her explosive globes. She gaped now in genuine fear at the clawlike femininity of the fingers clutching her tender ripe titties.
Celeste caught the alarm in the other's expression and capitalized instantly. Squeezing the tempestuous targets and letting two over stimulated nipples creep into view between her fingers, Celeste drove her hostess back, almost ruthlessly deepening the arch till Denise's long hair spilled in disarray on the mat behind her. Violent spasms were quivering through Denise's straining body, telegraphing she was on the edge of orgasm.
"Look at us!" she hissed, catching their image in the wall mirror. "We're wild!"
Denise looked through blurred eyes at the mingling of their bodies. Beautifully tapered legs entwined, breasts thrusting arrogantly toward each other's, hips rolling restlessly... and there, pyramiding in maddening contradiction to the bodies wearing them, two fierce cocks pointed red-capped and angry at each other.
"Surrender?" demanded Celeste, forcing Denise's shoulders closer to the mat.
"Never!" She writhed and wriggled and was almost free of Celeste's clasp when suddenly, shuddering violently, she wilted back against the mat, staring in paralyzed delight down the gapping between their bodies. Celeste's dildo had ramrodded Denise's to one side to make way for its greater need.
"My God, Celeste, darling... you... you're fucking me!"
A lock of dark hair tumbled loosely, obscuring one eye, but the rest of her lovely hair was behind her shoulders, so nothing hid the fabulous femaleness of Celeste as she hovered over the tantalizing wonders of Denise. Bold and fully in command, buried in the welcoming cunty cleft of a panting redhead, was the cock on Celeste's front.
With steady commanding strokes, the play prick impaled its victim. Sleek tapered legs crept around Celeste's hips and scissored at her waist. Arms circled her neck to draw her tight in fierce copulating embrace. Slow, steadily increasing rhythm of coitus. Low moans of mutual joy as the friction of the dildo excited Celeste's vulva, even as it tortured Denise's vagina. The base of her fake cock ground mercilessly back against Celeste's pudendum, maddening her clit, and suddenly it was Celeste who was in orgasm.
"Oh... ohhh, dear God, YES!" She humped wildly into the welcoming pussy, letting the come spasms take her, knowing for the first time the way it is for a man when coital need overwhelms self-control.
In end-over-end climaxes, contorting and straining, breasts and hips mashing, arms and legs entwining in the fever to get at each other, the delectable pair let come frenzy take them.
Was it five minutes... thirty... an hour? Whatever, they lay spent and panting lightly for air as they stretched exhausted on their backs. It was Denise who finally moved. Rolling onto her tummy and hunching to rest her weight on her elbows, she looked down at her playmate. "You wrestle very well," she said softly, leaning to press a kiss on Celeste's cheek. "If you didn't give me a baby, it wasn't your fault!"
Peals of laughter from a convulsed Celeste, then abrupt silence. "Let's talk about Bryan and Pammy's rehearsal tonight..."
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Hey... wow! You mean I'm supposed to do this in public?"
Bryan gave a low whistle and glanced uncomfortably at the nothing cover he was holding which the girls had told him to wear for the Carmen prisoner scene where Don Jose, corporal of the guard, is hung for Carmen's pleasure before her escape from the prison of Seville.
Denise was explaining at his side, "The audience will think it sees a strapping male strung up naked by his wrists by a frail female."
"Some frail!" grunted Bryan, slightly terrified, but mostly tantalized.
His shock at the proposal was enough to jolt his libido to a quiescent state and let him absorb the way the girls had rigged the barn's "dungeon" room. He remembered the last time the Pritchard females had trapped him here and he was jolted that he would ever be back after the way that last frolic had ended. That Denise, who once had banned more play, had herself invited him back to the barn, was a little hard for Bryan to believe. It reopened a fantastic potential with Pammy, whom Bryan liked best of the twins.
Craziest, the invite was passed to him through his own mother. "It's for Celeste," was Jennifer's only explanation when she gave the green light to his participation. "She needs a very sensual backdrop to two of her songs in the first and second acts. Of course, you don't have to."
"I'll do it! Gosh, but don't blame me if I make an ass of myself."
"You couldn't." His mother had smiled. "It'll be fun. Just be yourself."
"That's what I'm afraid of," he muttered in a quandary as to what made adults tick. Since Celeste had come to their home, his sexual emotions had run the gamut.
It had come to a head in the week past. The coach had dumped him to junior varsity football and he'd flunked a biology exam. Now this. If his mom had any idea of the chaos at school, this dance bit for Celeste's weekend finale of Carmen would be out. She'd know soon enough, but maybe by then, he thought, I'll be gone.
Weird, wonderful dreams had filled his thoughts about Celeste for weeks. He was only a kid, but she'd said he had great talent at the piano. Maybe she'd let him join her tour and kind of manage some of her concerts. Even as he mulled it, he knew it was a dumb dream. No way he'd fit in, even if she was long-gone on the lover she'd turned him into. There was no way he could hang in, once her stay in Connecticut ended next week.
That this fabulous female would soon leave was hard to take. The invitation to be part of her performance onstage, even if only a way-out surrealistic part behind a scrim curtain, was something. Not much, but something. He'd be acting out with Pammy some of the wild frenzies Celeste had built in him. And yet... had she really? Was she even real? He always had the feeling when he left her that he'd been with an illusion. Real and sex-crazing, taking every horny inch of his love organ into her passionate body but still, an illusion.
After it was over and she was away from the house, performing onstage and he was at school, it seemed impossible to have happened.
Even when he was in the midst of wild copulation with her or when she was playing with his body like there was no tomorrow, he'd stare at her and not believe it was really happening. Even when she was fuck wild, panting and climaxing, writhing under his repeated need of her, she was pure lady.
Total royalty. That was Celeste.
In their acts of sex she could let herself go completely and yet still remain a princess. She was mystery. Nothing cheap or easy or giveaway to her. His cock was in her only because she willed it to be.
In his heart he knew if she ever called -- ever cried out -- ever wanted him to come -- he'd run to hell and back to be with her. But now there was a new awareness. Pammy. He was invited back into her life. And what a re-entry had been planned! This time he was determined he would not foul up the opportunity.
Abruptly his reverie ended and he was back in the barn, fingering nervously at his sport shirt zipper and looking at the three females before him, waiting for his decision. For an instant he felt oddly detached and vastly older than his fifteen years.
Sandy and her mother were both fully dressed. Sandy in a mini and Denise in a yellow cocktail gown that dramatized her flame red hair. Pammy was already in what she said she would wear for both the dance sequence and the dungeon scene. Even the sight of her torrid figure in black lace bikinis momentarily had no impact on his lust. Too many decisions to be getting hot and bothered. Like if he did this bit with Pammy, even if Celeste was out front stage beyond the scrim curtain, chances were she'd look back as she sang. He'd be on damned near naked display with another female. Like what if he lost his cool? Got it up in public!
It had been Celeste's own idea. She'd whispered it to him as they lay entwined after love in her bed... his bed. "It will be a different audience this weekend, Bryan. Fun-loving. We can make a special backdrop to my singing, if you will perform an innocent, very sensual dance with a girl. Will you do it?"
He'd agreed. Now it was all on the line. She was due to arrive for the barn rehearsal at any moment.
"So, show me what I'm supposed to do." He stood from the crude bench and dropped the flesh colored panties to the seat. Flexing powerful arms, he extended them toward Denise to bind with the rope. "Let's do the hanging bit first. See if I survive!" he added with a tense, brittle laugh.
"Whoa! First of all, you have to get dressed for the part. Let me tell you about that." Denise bent to retrieve the briefs and pushed them into his hand, then stepped over to the improvised gallows. "Celeste will be singing Carmen's 'Je vezis danser en votre honneur'. That means, for you non-French speaking kids, 'I am going to dance in your honor'. That's where the action behind the scrim is first seen as the lights show up the pantomime."
"Some pantomime." Pammy giggled at the word. "Carmen has just taken Don Jose prisoner and he's dangling from the rope and she's making him dance on the rope in her honor."
"So give," demanded Bryan suspiciously, catching the girls' exchange of glances. "What's the 'making him dance' bit?"
"You'll see." Denise pushed him toward a room off the side of the improvised dungeon. "Get into your costume first, so you can get used to the feel of it."
Not a trace of mirth in her eyes, he noticed. In fact, it was an altogether different Denise than the wild witch who had driven him to such sexual extremes in this very room several weeks earlier. It could be all on the up-and-up, he thought, as he pulled off his clothes and tried on the snug briefs. He wished a mirror was around someplace to see if he looked ridiculous, but he felt a curious indifference to how he looked. Somehow he knew he could be sexually indifferent this night, no matter how provocative the sexy trio tried to be. He was sure they'd try something. Like even what they'd given him to wear. Nudie panties! He'd bet they belonged to one of the Pritchard females. The thought they might be Pammy's sent an involuntary shiver racing up his spine.
"So, how do I look?" He stepped back into the room and affected a weightlifter pose, body profiled, one arm bent, the other resting on his hip.
"Beautiful!" exclaimed Pammy, darting to his side to test the muscle of his upper arm. "I do believe we have a man here, Mommy."
"I'd say so."
Denise felt the tingle of lust touch every nerve under her satin cocktail gown. The panties Bryan wore were her own. The way they were filled now was just as Denise had expected when she selected her snuggest fit. His well-stocked testicles alone would nearly fill the panties. His formidable penis bent and limp was a coiled snake clearly visible in the container. Denise wondered how the elastic nylon would hold when the inevitable happened.
"Here's how the music sounds." She turned on the record player and lighthearted notes burst on a strangely hushed trio of girls and the lone male.
It was a recording of Celeste's last performance... "Now you shall dance for my reward." Lovely dramatic soprano perfection... notes reaching happily... "...and you will see, my lord, the dance you shall dance is of my own invention...!"
"There's where the lights come up behind the scrim to let the audience see you two. Pamela, you are to pantomime as Carmen and you are Don Jose, Bryan. We'll begin with her throwing the noose under your shoulders. Tie his wrists, Sandy!" Denise was suddenly imperious.
A minute later Bryan, clad only in the scanty girl panties, was penduluming from the rope flung over a rafter, twisting and turning to the will of the rope and the sting of the cat o' nine tails.
"Hey... hey, wait! Is that really s'posed to be the way...?"
"Shusshh! Prisoner!" Pammy lashed at his bared back and he arched in unpretending reflex to the sting. "Improvise, Celeste said. So we improvise till she gets here to make it very earthy and very sensual."
"Wow! Hey... this is tough to take!"
"Bryan!" Pammy stared in mock indignation at the instant swelling of his penis in response to her stinging with the cat. The surprise in her eyes was pure mischief. "Bryan Quinby, you stop that this instant! There's no need to get bothered!" But there was and everyone knew it -- especially Pammy. Inside, she felt the most bothered of all for that gorgeous lovely sex meat he was mounting.
A mixture of wild emotions stormed Bryan as the controls went. He knew he wanted to stay soft, to play the pantomime cleanly, indifferently... he knew there was no way that was about to happen, unless he turned supercool man. With the way things were going inside his head and his hypered body, it was going to be wildness everywhere. The crawling certainty took him that he didn't care now. Sweating to the giveaway signs urging against the thin cover they'd given him, he really wanted to keep it down, but everyone else wanted it up. Staring down his front, he glared at his half-inflated erection, still contained miraculously by frantically stretched nylon girl panties. Last desperate willing the hardening to stop. It refused to go away.
"Sandy, you get into the act with Pammy!" exclaimed Denise. "In the scene Don Jose swings overhead while a sad Carmen needs comforting. She's leaving her lover to escape and he'll be disciplined, maybe killed, by his superiors. Then off at one side two of Don Jose's guards will be cavorting and wrestling."
"Who's to do that?" demanded Pammy, curious that she hadn't heard her mother speak of others in the act. "Thought only me 'n' Bryan were in it."
"Just to divert attention from Mister Bothered here, I think we'll add more characters on stage." She hurried to the door of the barn. "I heard Celeste's car in the driveway now, I think. Maybe she'll have an idea on it, but you, Sandy, you're Carmen's maid-in-waiting, comforting her and helping her whip Don Jose into his dance in the air." She paused to look back at the urgent flesh pressing Bryan's translucent girl panties into a grotesque bulge. Once Celeste was on the scene, her prisoner would be soaring high, wide and ready!
"That's gorgeous, Bryan!" shrieked Sandy as she peeled her mini and emerged in black lace scanty panties and teeny bra. "Hit him harder, Pammy!"
Sprawled indolently beneath her prisoner on the rope, irritated at the idea of newcomers in the act, Pammy wielded the whip with devastating effectiveness. Her lashes were slightly painful, but massively erotic in their sting. Bryan's penis, storming to total erection, leaped from the top of the thin nylon panties and straight-armed the air, helpless and unattended.
Below and slightly to the side, the girls cuddled in pretended solace of each other, but their compassion was more seduction than sympathy. The whip dropped from Pammy's hand as Sandy peeled halter and panties from her frame and kissed her way across thrusting breasts and down her midriff, watching Bryan all the while. Pammy let Sandy's lip love creep closer and closer to her vulva.
It was ultimate torture to a captive Bryan to be hung like a side of beef above the girl-play. His phallus, swollen but obviously uninteresting to them, danced in rigid protest from the front of his body and he felt the pulsing of near spontaneous combustion to the entwined pair on the floor.
"How nice!" Denise's cry from the door caused only the slightest pause. "Who, may I ask, is guarding Carmen's prisoner?"
"But, Mommy, this is so much more fun," squealed Sandy, looking beyond her mother for the expected guest. "Hi, Celeste! Heard the real Carmen was coming." Neither awe nor embarrassment in her being caught in lesby embrace by the newcomer. Denise had already shared her play with the superstar with her daughters. She was one of them. "You take Pammy's whip and beat on Don Jose Bryan. That'll make it just like the opera." Sandy was dragged back to play by an impatient Pammy. She thought her mother had been teasing about the way she and Celeste would appear.
A dangling Bryan, refused cooperation by the one part of his body he wished would dangle, hung hopelessly aroused to the inspection by the new arrivals. He gawked, helplessly intrigued by the strange near-total cover worn by Celeste and donned by Denise before her return to the barn. Both wore three-quarter length mink stoles, crossed over at the waist and revealing they were undoubtedly nude beneath.
"You're very pretty, Bryan." Celeste stood directly under the swaying figure, watching the awkward penduluming of his hard-on as if it was the most ordinary occurrence she had seen all day. "Denise suggests we act out a secondary pantomime at the side and we make-believe we're guards of Don Jose's prison detail. See, we'll wrestle around and make like the tough men who will be punishin' you, once Carmen's escape is discovered."
"Some tough!" croaked Bryan contemptuously. "Who ever heard of guards in mink?"
"That's to cover our manhood." Celeste flung aside the mink stole and stood arms and legs akimbo in full view of the dumbfounded prisoner. Her dazzling female glories glowed in ivory perfection under the harsh naked bulb... and there at her groin was a devastating, tantalizing contradiction to the luscious torrid woman-body. A great white shaft capped with a frighteningly real red crown ramrodded from the total woman wildness of her lower body. He gaped at the same devastating display attached to an equally inflaming Denise.
"Aw, hey... what gives?"
"Nothing." Celeste slapped the cat o' nine tails in a nasty suggestive smacking against the palm of her hand, her hips rocking slightly when her playmate fondled the dildo she wore as if it were really alive.
"Hell! That's obscene danuneeehhh...!" Bryan lurched in midair, body bent in a frantic crescent to escape the repeated angry blows of the whip.
"Don't you dare call anything about the body obscene!" shrilled Celeste in a tone Bryan had never before heard her use. Not even in the scenes of anger in Carmen.
"Beat him!" squealed Denise, delighted with the impact their weird man/woman nakedness had on Bryan. Fleetingly she wondered if there might be any latent gay in Bryan, but she knew by all the signs that was the one thing he wasn't. It was just the fierce accent that they were women made by the jutting cocks they wore that had him fired. It was going to be something else when the two of them turned him into a rampaging male who hungered for "older" women!
Raw fuck passion tore at Bryan as his Goddess, now an avenging angel, laid on him with the torturing strands. He was fiercely aroused by the sizzling wonder bodies of all four of the females. He saw Pammy and Sandy burrowing into each other in maddening indifference to his erotic agonies and the dismissal of him by his own generation inflamed him the more for the ripe mature desire-driven bodies trying to madden him. They had and they'd see.
Thwacckkk! The thongs slapped smartly across his buttocks and the savage reflex against the ropes made it seem his shaft would leave his front.
"Wait!" shrilled Denise. "It's ridiculous for him to be so covered up!" She stretched to the turbulent groin of a now frenziedly writhing Bryan. The pink panties shredded from his hips and loaded testicles joined the bared display. "I do believe he'd die if you whipped his pretty parts."
"Naw... awhheee... Celeste, naw!" The strands slashed dangerously close to the flailing cock flesh and the sheer threat to his most tender zone by one so tender in her love was an erotic nightmare to the prisoner. Writhing and wriggling, contorting in frantic want of the female striking him, stung him to the core.
"Take it, Don Jose... take it!" The seething excitement of Celeste and Denise hugging each other, presenting that strange facsimile of male just beneath their explosively wonderful breasts, sizzled through every erotic pore even more than the tantalizing sting of the thongs.
"Awwhhhgg... I... I'm gonna..." From deep and far off his climax charged, as he swung in an aggravated arch before his audience. All action in the barn stopped to watch the stunning rain shower of male desire flying frustrated and uncontrolled from the cunt maddened Bryan. Legs crossed, powerful upper body strained in outrageous contortion, he let the climax spray in total abandon as his body swung helplessly attached to the rope.
"Oh, terrible... terrible!" shrieked Denise, stumbling from her embrace of Celeste's trembling body. "Cut him down!" she shrilled at Sandy, grabbing the seemingly hypnotized girl by the shoulder to make her listen. "Don Jose must be punished at once. Drop him from the rope and let him know his guards' displeasure."
Bryan landed on his feet between the two "guards" and almost simultaneously bounced to the barn floor as a karate-trained Denise dropped him with a surprise tackle. Before he had absorbed the seriousness of Denise's intent, she had him spread on the floor, a delighted Celeste smiling at his defeat by a mere female. Dropping to her knees, dark hair pulled in sexy disarray almost obscuring her face, she was to Bryan a totally different person from the lover who led him to manhood. Now she was woman taunting him with that Goddamned pretend prick. He'd show them all.
"Hold him down!" Denise squealed, struggling against a sudden surge on her inadequate scissors lock. "Help me, guard!"
Bryan reached almost savagely to snare Denise's unprotected arm and drag it sharply across her deeply bent back. He was determined to end the contest and put things back to some kind of sense. Two wildly voluptuous female bods wearing two ridiculous cocks made no sense. But as he reflexed against Celeste's attempts to peel him off Denise's front, he knew why nothing would make more sense than he was making right now.
Staring at his musculature, worshipping his male body, were the two loveliest mature females he ever would meet. He let a determined Celeste force him back in a violent arch and as he strained in a deep crescent, he felt only the sweet pain of wanted male. What a sight he must present to Celeste and Denise! God... maybe even Pammy was watching!
Blood was driving now, pounding into that most overdeveloped of his muscles. The glow of the bright bulb overhead shone directly on his torso and he let himself be forced back still more by Celeste. Down his front he caught a glimpse of how the light accented the hills and valleys of his splendidly toned muscle and bone. There at his groin soared the most rigid bone of all -- a ripe, freshened erection. What had drooped lifeless when he was dropped from the rope, was rock-hard in total readiness. On bared display to the eager eyes of his tormentors.
"Hawyahhh!" The bullish cry broke from his lips and he lurched and wrenched free of the ineffective hold the two had. "Now we just cut out the crap! You want to know what I think of your phoney dicks?" He flailed an angry blow at the dildo jutting nearest and Denise tumbled to the floor, clutching her middle in pretended pain. "Nothing hurts! Don't give me that act!" He threw himself across the wriggly torso and ripped the play cock unceremoniously from Denise's front.
"And you!" His arms swept Celeste's hips before she could dodge and she spilled helplessly across Denise's succulent curves cushioning her fall to the floor. "I'm going to introduce you and you to what a real cock feels like!"
Ignoring the wide-eyed amazement of Pammy and of Sandy whose lesby romp was abruptly abandoned, Bryan dragged Celeste's body across Denise's tempestuous breasts and positioned her crotch exactly where he wanted.
"You want to show me how men behave in your old Carmen. Let me show you how real men behave." His horny phallus slithered easily through the welcoming cunty slit and for a breathless moment he had to grab and hold. The orgasm was far too ready to sweep him and he was going to drag this round out. For their reward for making sport of his hypersexed state, he would have both females crying for mercy.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of the entranced expression on Pammy's face. It was a guy she had never really seen before and he was determined she would beg to see more of him after what he was about to do. With almost contemptuous disregard for the instant orgasm moans breaking from Celeste's lips to the stroking friction of the cock to and fro past her clit, Bryan leaned to the other ready cunty target.
"Oh... ohhh... Bryan! Yess!" Celeste's body was that of yearning tigress of the jungle in a bitch heat to welcome his loving tongue. "Do, Bryan... do!" His lips pressed tightly to her yielding labia, savoring the passion fragrance and licking mercilessly from clitoris to the palpitating flesh at the entry to her vagina.
Both Denise and Celeste crested in simultaneous rapture, screaming in happy orgasm abandon and totally in the control of the male who played them. When their climaxes subsided, it was Bryan who took the initiative, dragging his sopping cock from Denise's still convulsing quim and repositioning his playmates for round two.
In bold and brazen command of two out-of-control voluptuaries, he led them through ecstasy after ecstasy, never letting his semen rain shower soar, heady with the thrill of bringing such utterly delectable females under his control.
Thwacckkk! Pammy, appearing from nowhere, laid the leather thongs across his rump and he howled in surprise and suddenly the controls he'd held were shot down. "Ohmigod! Gotta! GOTTA SHOOT!" His ejaculation stormed into Celeste and she screamed her delight at the gift, writhing and wriggling and meeting his crest with her own. On and on the bolts of semen charged, volcanic and hot and endless... till finally they slowed... and then it was that Bryan caught the look in Pammy's eyes. Contempt!
As the luscious girl with the fabulous body and a beautiful attraction toward him turned away in disgust, truth slammed home. Bryan saw Pammy Pritchard walking out of his life. Sudden stunning awareness. This was the girl he really wanted most of all -- PAMMY! Not Celeste. Not Denise. Not Sandy. And sure as hell not this female already grappling at his back for a handhold for new play.
"Yahhih... Denise, damnit NO!" He struggled wildly to escape the eager hug of the clasping arms and suddenly it was too late. He was trapped and worse. His cock was at full ready again, spearing upward against yielding pussy and nudging through the cleft.
"Oh, do! DO!" Celeste was all over his front, helping immobilize him for Denise's wishes as she settled onto her toy.
Denise was across his hips, and there between their bodies, licking eagerly, was Celeste!
"Gotta lubricate super stud!" she cried happily, and Bryan had a fleeting glimpse of predatory want, clawing across his front, holding his hips from lurching as he drove his outsized organ into Denise.
An overwhelmed Bryan felt his cramming gluttonous cock spear into cunt and drive frantic, involuntary responses through the spasm-whipped body.
Helpless to control himself, the fifteen-year-old gawked at the wild female riding him in merciless coital demand. A spinning whirlpool of thoughts and sights and sense swirled through his head. Clear and undeniable was the want he had for these two sexpots, but more was his want for Pammy -- now gone from sight.
A cry surged deep in his body and he was vaguely aware that he was ejaculating. Then vision blurred and the room went dark.
"Stop! Stop... STOP!" The echo of his outrage was the last thing he heard as he lost consciousness.
How long he was out, he didn't know, but when he came to, he was lying alone and very naked in the middle of the little circle of Denise, Celeste and the twins.
"You all right, Bryan?" demanded Pamela, staring at him with unblinking hostility.
"Yeah... what happened... I..."
Pamela was on her feet and running toward the barn door. "You know very well what happened! At least, be honest about it. Some boys like the older generation better 'n' anything."
The door slammed behind her departure.
There was a catlike satisfaction in Denise's smile and something registered crystal clear in Bryan's mind. It was ten times worse than the ending of that last night trip over to this place. This time he'd been disgraced before the girl he most wanted. Denise had had it all ready and waiting in the wings. She'd set him up on purpose to make a fool of him.
He shoved to a sitting position, then stood slowly and stared at the three faces looking up at him. For an outraged second of adolescent fury he wanted to flail out at all three -- smash a fist into the smile of Denise and watch her spit teeth.
Instead, he spun on his heel and stumbled from the barn into the night.
A peal of girlish laughter followed him. "Bryan, baby, don't you want to practice the dance number?"
In the far recesses of the loft overhead a spellbound, outraged Jennifer watched her son's departure. It had come at last to a terrible crisis point. The worst things she had thought of Denise Pritchard were mild to the reality of what she had done.
Taking Celeste's invitation to Pammy and using it to destroy a young man's confidence in himself, was to Jennifer the worst sin a woman could ever commit. But where to go now? A crushed and beaten boy had just been turned back to his mother.
Shivering against the storm of erotic thoughts she'd felt as she watched Bryan's sexuality in action, Jennifer crawled to the far side of the loft and let herself quietly from the barn.
CHAPTER NINE
It was one in the morning when Celeste returned from the music circus.
In the kitchen she paused and listened to the silence of the Quinby house. Her last week night performance of Carmen at the Fairfield Music Circus had been her best. A grateful Connecticut crowd had howled and applauded for her return to stage eight times after the final curtain drop.
One of her best nights. Both her singing and her dancing had that special plus.
She poked into the refrigerator and found the midnight brunch plate Jennifer always left ready for her late night return. On the spur of the moment she stepped from the kitchen onto the patio and out across the lawn toward the pool, carrying the tray. Her pumps stayed behind on the flagstone.
The moon overhead was a slender sliver. Outlined against the night sky were the tops of the swaying border pines that edged Frank and Jennifer's property. Finished with brunch, Celeste lay back on the wide deck chair, studying the constellations, fingering the yoke of her evening gown as she reviewed her evening's performance.
Impulsively she opened the side zipper and wriggled free of the snugness of her clothing... dress... bra... panty hose. Beautiful abandoned feel of nudity. She stretched luxuriously, then walked the length of the pool.
There at the tip end of the diving board she balanced easily, bouncing gracefully, feeling the cool night air touch her nakedness at every point. Her body knifed the water with nearly the same precision of a decade earlier when she was diving captain of the conservatory team.
Surfacing, swimming slowly to the distant end of the pool, she was lost in thought. She climbed the metal rungs of the ladder and disappeared into the cabana for a towel.
Halfway back to her deck chair, rubbing wet hair vigorously as she walked, Celeste suddenly stopped dead still and stared. There in the near darkness she could make out the figure outstretched on the mattress. Very nude. Very female. Very petite. No containing the sound of relief that burst from Celeste's lips.
"You know you scared me half to death, Jennifer!"
"I'm sorry." Jenny sat up, reaching her arm imploringly. "I had to ask you something and I guess... oh, Celeste... please come!"
Their bodies molded in tender embrace and Jenny burrowed into the hollow of a shoulder suddenly trembling, expectant. The arms of her best friend were warm and cuddly around her and for long minutes she lay sobbing quietly.
Finally she lifted her head and Celeste took the corner of her towel and wiped tenderly at the moisture on her cheek.
"So. You'd better tell Celeste."
"Oh, I've made an awful mess!" moaned Jennifer, fighting back a new flood. "I... I just wish we were back together again at Gordon and I didn't have a family and, and a son... and oh, Celeste, you're so lucky!"
"Am I?" Her hand stroked lightly over Jennifer's platinum soft hair. "So, tell me what I am to do for my dearest." She kissed the trembling lips and her fingers traveled along the curve of a gradually calming body.
"You can go to my husband."
"What did you say?" Celeste tilted Jenny's chin upward to look her in the eye.
"I said I want you to go to Frank and drive him out of his mind all night long. Or what's left of it."
"And where will you be?"
"With Bryan."
There were seconds of electric silence between the two as Jennifer waited for the demand for explanation. None came. With a visible shudder, Celeste pulled the bath towel tight around her nudity.
"Don't you want to know why?" Jenny caught her wrist just as the other stood up.
"I know you. There's a good reason. Is there anything else I can do to help that's as much fun as what you asked?"
"Yes. You can speak to Pammy sometime tomorrow." Jennifer tugged impatiently at the wrist in her hand and drew Celeste back to her side. "Now stay a minute. I've got to tell you what happened tonight. Frank will keep. He's had nothing for two nights and he's climbing a wall for wanting it. But I've got to tell you about Operation Rescue Bryan."
"So, tell me."
The master bedroom was deathly still as Celeste stepped over the threshold and moved toward the king size. Frank lay motionless, dead center in the bed and stark naked out from under the sheets.
She slipped across the soft carpeting, dropping her peignoir to the floor as she neared the bed and easing over the edge carefully.
Was he awake? Watching?
The light snore went as quickly as it came and a small smile touched Celeste's lips. She had her answer.
Flattening across the satin sheet, she wormed toward the prone figure, eyes accustoming to the near darkness, able now to make out the exact detail of his body. His penis was a quiet lump dangling across the top of his thigh and she stretched to finger it tentatively.
"Uhunnnhhh..." Frank squirmed to the touch and muttered something unintelligible, endings in that cute half snore. If he was climbing a wall for wanting woman, he had a strange way of showing it!
Celeste snaked her way closer till she was able to reach a pillow and drag it carefully down Frank's side, then slide it over his middle. Again the unintelligible protest and his tormentor barely repressed the giggle.
His face shielded from seeing her next actions, Celeste palmed the flaccid penis, then propelled the shrunken organ to parted lips. Her mouth puckered, she nursed the glans first, and when he wriggled responsively, she engulfed the whole soft cluster. Warm whirlpooling flow of saliva! Stabbing impudence of tongue! Sudden stretching... thickening... stiffening and the penis straightened to steel hard.
"Yeah... hey, yeah!" Frank strained to see down his front and grabbed at the pillow blocking his view. A hand held it fiercely in place and he got the message.
Jennifer always was a little shy about being watched while she sucked. At least, thank God, she was turned on again. It had been a damned dry couple of days!
Her lips were different tonight, Frank thought, giving over to the beautiful feelings riddling his groin and dizzying his head.
"Suck me, Jenny baby, suck me sweet!"
Sweet was the word and the thirsty lips were possessive and demanding as they milked Frank for his climax. He never had known Jenny to take so much of him. She was seething suck-wild female in fellatio heat!
Her lips were both pulpy soft and flame hot on his shaft and he could feel his crown deep against the roof of her mouth. Incredible!
"Goin... gonna go!" He arched against the mattress and ejaculated into the passionate oral cave.
Then abruptly the room was very silent and Frank very still. It was a different Jennifer. She had performed fellatio differently. She normally wanted to be left alone in the aftermath of a suck-off, so Frank kept his distance, not even touching her, but intrigued by her behavior.
"Thank you, Jenny... thank you." He felt new tingling through his loins and her fingers followed the thickening of his collapsed penis. Not till he was at full ready, still motionless on his back with the pillow blocking his view, did she stir.
"Ride me, cowgirl," he whispered over the top of the pillow. "Try to break a stud! Dare you!"
Her head appeared very slowly in his line of vision and Frank gagged in stunned disbelief. Not the pixie platinum of his wife, but the tumbled dark lengths of their house guest framed the pretty face.
"Celeste? My lord... CELESTE!" He hissed the name in shocked, barely audible, syllables.
"That's right, Frank... Celeste. Shall I leave?"
"God, no!"
Celeste tossed the pillow away from his waist and straddled brazenly across his thighs, inching forward and positioning herself directly over top of his swaying top-heavy phallus. "I'm going to rape you, Frank."
The tremor started at the nape of his neck and bolted directly to his spearing prick. "Lord, I hope so! If you don't, doll, guess who's going to get herself raped!"
In the den directly below, Jennifer cuddled her son's head in the warm curve of her midriff as she waited for his barely stifled sobs to slow and the violent shaking of his shoulder to stop.
"Don't you understand, Mom? I mean, I didn't really want that whole bit that much! I wanted Pammy. What am I? Some kind of weird freakout?"
"Do you feel like one?"
She started to pull the parted folds of her gown together, then thought better of it and let his cheek remain against the tautness of her ribcage flesh.
An odd thought struck her that less than fifteen years ago this young giant was in the same position, but an infant in her arms, frustrated that he couldn't get enough milk from her small breasts.
"I feel like something from outer space," muttered Bryan. "No real guy gets turned on by other girls when they're hooked on one. Like Dad with you."
"How about gals?" Jenny whispered, looking down the sheet that covered the lower half of his body and seeing the rigid pole grinding along the cotton whiteness. "Are girls freaky who get turned on to other guys. Like me, maybe?"
"Aw, hell, that's different!"
"And what's the difference?" She brushed the lock that tumbled across his eye and leaned to kiss him on the forehead. "Are you telling me that men are so much more noble and loyal than women and have to save themselves for one only?"
"I don't know. I just feel like hell! Not for what I let myself get set up for, but damn it! I really like Pammy. I mean a whole lot. You know, I think her mother really set me up to make Pammy hate me. Pammy sure thinks there's something weird about me. I saw her look just before she ran out of the place."
Jennifer cupped Bryan's head close to her body and felt the strange headiness of daring. It was a time of shock and her boy was in shock. One way out -- maybe the only way out -- was a greater shock.
"So, it'll be our secret," whispered Jennifer. "I'll keep it and I'll bet you anything Pammy won't whisper a word and will see things differently in a day or maybe less."
Privately Jennifer knew how and who was going to make that happen. "But since you've got a secret, can I share one with my very best friend?"
Bryan stirred uncomfortably and strained to look up into his mother's face. "Your very best friend? I don't get it. Celeste is your best friend. Everyone knows that. Has been ever since ancient history."
"I'm not that old, Bryan Quinby!"
Jennifer clutched her arms tightly around the muscled torso and urged her pelvis gently forward. Not brazenly, just a barely perceptible thrust which Bryan felt. "I have her for best friend, but I have my own secret very best friend. And I'm scared to death to tell you."
"Please! I promise. I'd never tell a living soul."
"You'd hold it against me though and think lots less of me, if I told."
"No way. Wow... hey, I'm beggin'. Tell me."
"I have to show you."
Distantly Jennifer heard the slight motion of the box springs of the king size bed in the master bedroom. Celeste and Frank were making it and if Bryan's attention wandered at all, he could hear and wonder.
"Show me then."
The gown slipped easily from her shoulders and she crouched across his middle as she dragged the protective cover of the sheet away and bared his body. His gasp was sharp and urgent as her fist grabbed his prick.
"This is my very best friend!" She hissed the confession. "I know who it belongs to and that's maybe why I love it so. It's hooked to a wonderful male animal and he happens to be flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone and that's all. After that, he's a happy plaything attached to your front, Bryan Quinby, to give you a ball for all of your life. So, why so uptight about your betrayals or exhibitionism or liking it when you come. Even guilty feelings are better than no feelings."
"Hey, that's right." He writhed against the squeeze of her fingers and the dark chestnut at the end of the gleaming white shaft seemed to double in size to the vise of her fist. "Maybe I'm not so weird, huh?"
"I'll slap your owner if I ever hear him say that again!" Jennifer was preoccupied with the swollen penis, never lifting her eyes from it, staring as though it was the only thing in the whole world of interest to her. "He doesn't even want to hear my real secret."
"Tell!" begged Bryan.
"Show!" Jennifer shifted from the side to a position atop the startled boy, quickly angling the tumescent cock directly between her legs. "My secret, dear Bryan, is that I have always wondered how it would feel to have you put that way, way deep inside my body... NOW!"
She was impaled before Bryan fully absorbed the impact of her lust for him, riding down, driving her small frame deliberately onto his suddenly crazed prick, squealing happily as she felt their mounds grind together.
In urgent thrusting strokes he drove upward from the mattress, spearing into the fantastic tightness of her vagina and wondering that her smallness could really take his hugeness. Then, just as the orgasm was spinning and his vision fogging, he was jolted by an absolute certainty -- he had fucked this fiercely tight cunt before!
That fabulous snugness! The way those hidden muscles spasmed and clawed along the sides of his prick barrel. He had to have been in this passion clasp before.
"Goin'... oh, wow! WOW!" His ejaculation cannonaded deep inside an already convulsing frame and Jennifer rocked in happy ecstasy as she took the semen flood.
When it slowed and stopped and when the phallus showed no signs of softening, she wilted across Bryan's front, arms wrapped around his, perky breasts grinding in slow, pulsing afterglow against his powerful chest.
He rocked in languorous rapture with her, his thoughts racing back over the weeks and remembering. That day of his earliest intimacy with Celeste. There had been a strange difference. He had fainted as he crested in orgasm and when he came to, lying under Celeste, there had been that unbelievable tightness to her cunt. And hadn't she blocked his hand when he tried to rip away the blindfold?
Secrets all around. Bryan knew now what kind of best friends Celeste and his mother must be. And that must be kind of beautiful. He heard a sound overhead, noises he'd often heard during his use of the den for a temporary bedroom. Love sounds of sex from his parents' bedroom.
But how now? One of his parents lay entwined at this very moment in his arms, and the other... his dad... Who but Celeste could be with his dad? Making those wild, wonderful noises of a bed taking love.
"Our secret," he whispered into Jennifer's ear. "I think all the Quinbys are a little off their rocker. But, wow, I like it!"
His need stopped his talk and he ground upward against the welcoming pussy cleft. Short, all-possessing intercourse and powerful blast of his ejaculation, this time softening the hard-on.
"Thank you." Jennifer extricated herself from his tight clasp and retrieved her robe. "Don't give up on this weekend show with Pammy."
"You mean that Carmen dance gig? You gotta be kiddin'! She wouldn't touch me with a ten foot pole."
Jennifer snugged the sash cord at her waist and bent to kiss him on the forehead. "Such a lot to learn," she sighed. "I'll take a bet. Fairfield Music Circus goers get the shock of their lives from two anonymous extras this weekend."
"You'll lose," muttered Bryan, watching her departure. "But I hope not."
At nine-fifty on Saturday night the SRO crowd in the Fairfield Music Circus tent waited hushed and expectant as the house lights dimmed.
"It's the Habanera," whispered an excited usherette to her partner. "They say it's really going to be a first."
"Is that really a Time cameraman down front?"
"Everyone says so."
"Do you really think they will?"
The house was suddenly blacked out for five... then ten tense electrified seconds. A single tiny spotlight pinpricked abruptly from the ceiling and fingered the lone figure on stage, then brightened. It was the nearest thing to a mass gasp Celeste ever remembered hearing. She knew why.
Those in the orchestra front were the most fortunate. They saw her in detail.
A lonely Carmen, center stage, long rich hair trailing over her shoulders, reaching nearly to her waist and framing in dark tumbling casual sexiness the voluptuosity of a contemporary Carmen.
She wore translucent panties and bra under sheer chiffon. Nothing was veiled to those nearest. Not even the hardened nipples urgent under see-through cover. Not even in doubt to those in the distant rows was the certainty they were seeing the true Celeste Ann Dantrelle in vivid living flesh. Her vee was a maddening magnet to every male in the house; her dark pubic triangle pointed like an arrow to the vagina a thousand hard-ons yearned to take that very instant.
Soft piano accompaniment from an unseen place. A lovely mouth that no one watching really thought of as meant for singing opened and the drama in voice began...
"Love is like any wood-bird -- wild -- that none can ever hope to tame..."
Celeste swayed sensuously and the white chiffon moved, taunting the audience to believe that she really was wearing cover.
"Love is not worth the price you pay -- Listen carefully to what I say..."
Another breathless gasp from the throng in the music circus tent and Celeste knew the lights behind were lighting up two just moving out from the wings behind the scrim curtain.
"You're beautiful, Bryan!" murmured Pammy, her head tucked in very close to his neck. "But you're getting an erection. Stop it this instant! They'll see."
"They'll see you, you pretty witch!" growled Bryan, cementing the torrid nudity of his dance partner tightly against his front and letting his frantic cock grind its message across her taut tummy.
"A Gypsy boy is love, 'tis true, he ever was and ever will be free..."
Celeste's fabulous voice electrified the lust in Bryan and he trembled violently in Pammy's arms...
"If I love you, beware of me! Beware of me! Beware of me...!"
Transfixed as one person, the crow din the tent watched, stunned and entranced by what they could see without the slightest straining behind the fabulous Celeste.
At midstage Pammy forced her upper body away from Bryan's and bent far back to let the audience see her superlative body profile. Ripe breasts thrust high with tumid nipples wild with... gorgeously straining torso and perfectly tapered legs, molded snugly to the naked front of an athletic young male who was hard put to hold her from wilting all the way to the floor.
"You're going to show me!" gasped Bryan, tightening his grip at the undercurve of impudent buttocks and feeling her strain backward even more determinedly against the palms of his hands.
"I hope so!" Pammy hissed delightedly.
"Oh, God!" Before the mass of delighted viewers, a white column of phallic flesh speared into view. Dark cap, thunderous and swollen, it jutted ominously across the vulnerable middle of a devastatingly arched female.
"Straighten up, damnit!" His hoarse whisper was lost beyond the scrim, but not his determined effort to escape with his dance partner into the safety of the stage wings.
"Bryan... coward! We're supposed to dance all the way back to the other side. It'll spoil Celeste's number. She's counting on you!" She felt stinging tears that he seemed about to chicken out of the full routine they'd planned.
"Think I don't know it?" He was abruptly different, changed in one fragment of a second. In one sudden thrilled instant Pammy knew that Bryan Quinby might be only fifteen by the books, but he was thirty in maturity. He took command and she was his. "Now, Pamela... NOW!"
His horny hugeness was hot between her thighs and he bent just slightly at the knees to angle for the penetration. In one last second of aloneness in the stage wings with him, Pammy felt the bold cock split through her trembling pussy lips. He was going to take her standing up -- try to dance before the theater crowd watching even as he fucked her.
"Do... oh, Bryan, darling... do me! DO!"
Fighting the sweep of her orgasm and knowing she was only a breath away from having to tumble to the floor Pammy tried to follow his lead. A great cramming pole of demanding phallus filled her vagina... brimming ripe with the juices of love... about to erupt like Vesuvius deep in her passion center. And before the whole wide world!
Senses swirling, Bryan's last coherent thoughts were with Celeste, there beyond the scrim. Her coming to their house; her teaching him all he now employed with this girl he knew he loved... wonderful Celeste had readied him for Pammy.
At the lip of the stage, as if she read his mind from that distance, Celeste turned slowly and stared directly through the scrim at him as she sang...
"And think on her, on her who all can see. On a dark-eyed lady, and that love waits for thee."
Brazenly, before Celeste and the whole music circus tentful of voyeurs, Bryan bent his lovely Pammy backward. Far back at the hips till rich tempestuous breasts were jutting heavenward and her lower body was driven tightly against his. Then as though it had been choreographed to the lines of the song, he drew the writhing, straining girl attached to his front, slowly and firmly away from his cock, forcing her deliberately almost to the tip to expose the great white shaft that connected them. Then he dragged her back with maddening brazenness, ignoring her cry as he impaled her again totally.
A hypnotized audience watched the drama of their copulation, no one daring to breathe. It was as if the entire assembly sensed it was party to a very private moment.
The cry of rapture spilled from Pammy's lips and her head lolled far back, flame hair tumbling freely, touching the floor as Bryan lowered her to the ground. Both, oblivious to audience, were locked in the helpless, beautiful wonder of orgasm, pulsing, writhing, slowly quieting as the house lights brightened and the stage beyond the scrim went dark.
