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Title:       Nate and the Crossroads, Part 1
Story Codes: mf, mmf, mfff+, mF, inc, supernatural
Author:      Christian Alan
Summary:     A nerdy teenager sells his soul to a demon in order
	     to get girls. As one might expect, not everything 
             goes as planned.  	

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One


"Yeah bitch! Take it! I just teabagged your ass!" Nate howled in
victory as he guided his digital soldier through a series of
suggestive crouches on his computer screen. His howl died as the
door burst open and his mother's head appeared, her frizzy red
hair bound up in a haphazard array of curlers.

"Cheese and Rice, Nate! Keep it down in here, willya? It's after
nine and your father is trying to sleep!"

"Okay mom, God!" Nate rolled his eyes and looked back at the
screen just in time to see himself get pwned by a rocket to the
face.

"Dammit! Now I'm dead. Happy?"

His mother was unsympathetic. "You watch your mouth, young man!
One more swear and you're grounded!"

"Okay! Okay!"

She left with a bang. Sighing, Nate quit the game and sat back in
his chair. He ran a hand through his own frizzy red mop and
sighed again. Another exciting Friday night in the Stevens'
household. Playing video games and jerking off, then in bed by
ten o'clock. Somewhere out there parties were happening. People 
were getting laid. Those people were attractive. Popular. Nate 
was painfully aware that he was neither of these things. He was 
a geeky, hopeless virgin, a casualty of his own hormone ravaged 
fifteen-year-old body. Sometimes he felt so sexually frustrated 
that he thought he was going to explode.

Speaking of which, it was about time he got down to business.

Nate dropped his pants and clicked the mouse, opening a hidden
folder to a video of his favorite porn star Brooklyn sucking like
a vacuum cleaner on some lucky bastard's cock, a sensation that
he despaired of ever experiencing for himself. Nate liked
Brooklyn because she was a foxy, stacked brunette with a body
built for porn. 'Liked' was perhaps not quite the word. It would
be more accurate to say that he was infatuated with her, and in
one form or another Brooklyn was present in all his hottest,
stickiest fantasies. Nate would happily have sold his soul for
just one night with her--if he'd thought his soul was worth
anything.

He was wanking steadily and whispering sweet nothings to the
screen when his sixteen-year-old sister Stacy barged in without
knocking.

"Hey dork, have you seen--OMIGOD!"

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Nate yelled, doing his best to cover his
dick and hide the screen at the same time. He really, really,
needed a lock for his door. His sister squealed and fled,
hollering as she went down the hall.

"Mom! Nate said the F-word! And he was *masturbating*!"

Nate pulled up his pants and let his head fall to the desk with a
thump, wishing he had a gun so he could just blow his brains out
and get it over with.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast Stacy kept kicking him and sticking
her tongue out like a five-year-old. Nate kicked back and
immediately regretted it.

"I heard that if you masturbate you'll go blind," his sister
declared loudly. "Is that true, Mom?"

"No honey, its not," their mother answered, looking at Nate with
an embarrassed smile. He poked at his fruit loops and pretended
not to notice, silently praying that a tiny meteor would crash
through the roof and vaporize him.

"Masturbation is perfectly natural and healthy," his mom
continued, then turned toward her husband. "Isn't it, dear?"

Dad choked and had to gulp down half his orange juice before he
could recover. "Err, let's talk about something else. What are
you doing today, Nathaniel?"

"Nuthin," Nate replied, though he was entertaining plans of
finding a tall building to leap from, or perhaps quietly
suffocating his sister with a pillow.

"Wanna come help out at the store? We just got a new shipment
in."

"Sure."

His dad was co-owner of an antique shop downtown. Once in a while
he found some cool stuff, but typically the place was crammed
full of useless junk and smelled like old-people farts. Nate
didn't care. He was up for anything that would get him out of the
house and away from these crazy women. He still harbored a
suspicion that he'd been adopted--sure, he had a birth
certificate and seemed to have inherited his mom's red hair, but
those kinds of things could be faked. He had a feeling that he
was some kind of mutant or maybe an alien from another planet.
But if *he* wasn't from outer space, his family definitely was.

Sometimes he secretly studied them at dinner, wondering what dark
secrets they were trying to hide. With his sister it was obvious:
she was pure concentrated evil. She also looked nothing like him
or mom. Stacy had their dad's dark hair, and Nate was forced to
admit that she was at least reasonably attractive. Mom was too.
She'd put on a few extra pounds but he supposed she was in pretty
good shape for being thirty-nine.

His mom also seemed a little insane. She was always apologizing,
worrying, or praying. She acted like everything that went wrong
in the world was somehow her fault. Nate saw the clear signs of a
guilty conscience, but besides occasionally burning dinner or
forgetting to wash his favorite jacket, she'd committed no crimes
that he knew of.

Dad was...well, Dad. He was fairly uncomplicated. He had a lame
sense of humor, was passionate about his model ships and never
drank or raised his voice. He was a tall, stocky man, dark-haired
and mildly handsome. Nate wondered if his dad secretly resented
having a son that was nothing like him.

Nate himself seemed to have been modeled after a short, scrawny
Tom Sawyer, complete with buck-teeth and freckles. Which was
forgivable if you were, say, *eight*, but not when you had pubic
hair and were nearly old enough to drive.

He pondered the cruel nature of his genes as he sorted through
boxes of junk in the back room of the antique shop. Then a
violent jingle turned his attention to the front door and he
looked out to see Jack--his dad's balding, beer-gutted business
partner--come striding in with his teenage daughter Claire in
tow.

Nate's heart began to beat faster. Claire was very blonde, very
pretty, and only a month older than he was. Her dad quickly
disappeared into the office and left her alone in the front of
the shop. It almost seemed like fate, but Nate wasn't fooled for
a second. Claire was just as evil as his sister, maybe even
worse. Still, she was hot. Incredibly, *stupidly* hot.

He peeked out from the back room, staring at her flawless legs as
she began scrutinizing the jewelry case. She was wearing jean
shorts and a white baby-tee, both garments hugging her luscious
teenage body so tightly that Nate figured she might need surgery
to get them off. Knowing it was destined to be a tragic mistake
but still unable to help himself, he cupped his hand to his
mouth, checked his breath, and went up to her. He cleared his
throat nervously, noting with dismay that she was still a good
two or three inches taller than he was.

"Hi, Claire. How's it going?"

She looked at him like he was something she'd stepped in and was
eager to scrape off her shoe.

"Oh. Hi Nate."

"Hey, we got some new jewelry and stuff that I was just, uh,
going through..." he babbled, trying not to stare at the huge
twin globes of her tits even though they were straining the
material of her shirt far beyond its structural limit. He also
tried not to stare at the small gold cross that dangled
hypnotically just above the bulging cleft of her lightly-tanned
cleavage.

Naturally, he failed. For someone who acted like such a prude all
the time, Claire sure didn't dress like one. Besides being a
cheerleader and class president, she was also a proud
bible-thumper, one of the kids that went around school praying
for whatever it was that needed praying for--presumably real meat
in the salisbury steak or better pep rally attendance.

It suddenly dawned on him that he'd been stammering. And staring.
Nate peeled his eyes away from her chest, looked hesitantly into
her icy blue eyes and finally dropped his gaze to the floor.

"Um, what I mean is, if you wanna take a look at anything in back
I could--"

"Hey, I got an idea," Claire interrupted, smiling beautifully.
"How about you *not* talk to me, like *ever*. Okay? Thanks."

"Uh, sure." Nate wandered dejectedly back to the storeroom,
keeping his eyes peeled for any conveniently pointed objects to
stab himself with.

"You should know better by now," he muttered to himself as he
started to rummage through the last box. "You're going to die a
virgin. Get used to it."

Just then something sliced the tip of his finger and he pulled
back, wincing and feeling faint as a drop of blood gathered and
fell. The sight of blood always made him queasy, especially when
it was his own. He squeezed his fingertip and looked to see what
he'd cut himself on. All that was left in the box was an old
leather-bound book tied with a ratty cord. The corners were worn
and there were no sharp edges that he could see. He decided that
he must have jabbed himself with a splinter somehow.

Nate picked up the book and turned it over in his hands, seeing
that it was covered with weird mystical symbols like something
right out of Harry Potter. Amused, he untied the cord and opened
it, carefully flipping its brittle pages as he tried to decipher
the chaotic handwriting within. Sure enough, it was a book of
spells. Or at least that's what it claimed to be. He saw sections
on how to put a curse on your neighbor, how to cure a toothache,
and how to protect oneself from witches and demons. The last part
was the most interesting, and Nate found himself grinning and
reading it aloud.

"How to Sell Your Soul for Fame and Fortune."

He read on, his smile slowly fading as he considered what he was
looking at. It was a detailed recipe for summoning demons; the
where, the how, the why, the precautions you needed to take. It
was basically a roadmap straight to Hell, and Nate couldn't wait
to try it.

He felt bad about smuggling the book out of his dad's store, but
he figured he'd probably be bringing it right back anyway once he
found out it was garbage. Of course it was garbage. That crap
about selling your soul at the crossroads only happened in
movies. Demons weren't real. Hell, he doubted that souls were
even real. Claire and his sister were living proof.

He faked a headache and got his dad to take him home, with his
father muttering something about sudden headaches being
hereditary as he dropped Nate off at the front door. His research
began the minute he got to his room. According to the book not
just any crossroads would do, it had to be remote, secluded, and
someone had to have been hanged there. Using the modern magic of
the internet Nate eventually found one that would fit his needs,
though he was fairly surprised at how long it took. Being in the
Midwest he'd imagined that someone had been hanged at practically
every crossroad in town. Apparently that wasn't the case.

Next he had to prepare for the summoning ritual. He took the old
tin box that he'd used to keep his Army men in and dumped it out,
placing inside it a lock of his hair and a wadded up Kleenex with
another drop of his blood on it. Now all he needed was some dirt
from a graveyard and a graven image of the form he wanted the
demon to take. After about five seconds' thought he knew what it
had to be, and in another few minutes it was ready.

It was already mid-afternoon as he hopped on his bike and pedaled
toward the outskirts of town. The tin was in his backpack along
with a folding shovel and a flashlight. He'd considered waiting,
but it seemed fitting somehow to do the deed near sunset on the
day before the Sabbath. Mmm. Sacrelicious.

Not that anything is going to happen, he thought as he pedaled
and sweated. But hot damn, wouldn't it be awesome if it did?

He stopped off at the old cemetery just long enough to grab some
dirt and put it in the box. The place was overgrown and spooky,
with the weathered angel statues seeming to watch him silently as
if waiting for him to turn his back. Those things *severely*
creeped him out. They were almost as bad as clowns.

A short while later he skidded to a halt at the crossroads. It
was at the intersection of an old dirt road and a highway that
few people used anymore. Supposedly in the eighteen-hundreds a
few murderers and horse thieves had been hanged there, and to
Nate's surprise the hangin' tree was still standing, bare and
twisted with all the branches broken off. The spot was secluded
all right, desolate even. Rolling fields of wild wheatgrass
stretched away in all directions and there wasn't a soul in
sight.

It was dead quiet as Nate stepped off his bike and buried the tin
box next to the road. Inside was the hair, the blood, the
consecrated dirt, and the image...a color, full-body picture of
his girl Brooklyn looking smokin' hot at some awards show in a
slinky, see-through black dress.

Hey, it never hurt to dream.

It was late afternoon now, with the sun hanging low in the sky.
He figured that was good enough. He dusted off his hands, stood,
and began the summoning.

"Um. I wanna make a deal, I guess." He held his breath and looked
around, listening for the slightest noise, watching for the
barest flicker of movement. There was nothing. Big surprise.

"Hey, demon!" He shouted at the sky, now certain that nothing was
going to happen. "I wanna make a deal!"

A female voice spoke right in his ear, soft and sultry.

"What kind of deal?"

Nate screamed, tried to dart sideways, then tripped and fell into
the dirt. He whirled around and froze as he saw a woman standing
there on the side of the road, one hand resting lightly on an
outthrust hip, her full lips curved in a wry smile. And holy
fuck, it was *Brooklyn*. Her dark hair hung in a stylish pageboy
cut, her dress clung to her like translucent grey-black latex,
revealing her milky cleavage and every generous curve of her
body. Nate could even make out the dark indistinct circles of her
nipples and the shadowy patch of close-trimmed hair on her pussy.

He hadn't thought it possible to be erect and terrified at the
same time, but now he knew better. He rose slowly to his feet and
cleared his throat, reminding himself that he needed to be in
charge, in control.

"Hi," he said meekly.

"Hi." The woman stepped forward and extended her hand. "Pleased
to meet you."

Nate eyed her warily. "Uh-uh. No way. I'm not gonna shake your
hand till we make a deal."

She smiled and withdrew her arm. "Whatever you say, kid."

"So, um, are...are you really--"

"Brooklyn? No, but this is the shape you wanted, so I took it."
She slid her hands slowly downward over her breasts and along her
hips. "Not a bad choice, I gotta say."

Nate was aware of a growing stickiness in his shorts. "So, uh,
what's your real name?"

"You can call me Maxine," she answered. "And you are Nathaniel
Laurence Stevens, aged fifteen and a virgin, seemingly for life."

He blinked at her in awe. "How did you--"

"I know things. I'm a demon."

"But you're really a girl too, right?" Nate stammered.

She was starting to look annoyed. "Yes. I'm a girl. A girl demon.
Got it?"

"Okay, then I order you to kiss me." He commanded, leaning
forward and presenting his lips.

The demon laughed--a sharp, unsettling sound that chilled Nate's
blood and prompted him to take a step back.

"Listen kid, I'm not your slave. You bring me here, we make a
deal. That's it. So if you don't mind, let's get down to
business. I got places to be." She produced a Palm Pilot
seemingly from thin air and stood waiting, stylus poised.

Nate had heard only the first few syllables. He was staring
spellbound at her tits, about three seconds away from full-out
drooling.

"Hey. Up here, Romeo." She waved her hand and finally got his
attention. "So, what is it you want more than anything else?"

That was easy. "I want girls to like me," he said.

"Hmm." Maxine touched the end of the pen to her bottom lip. Nate
was never so jealous of a writing instrument in his life. "You
might want to be a little more specific."

"I want girls to *like* like me," he added, feeling himself
blush.

"Oooh, the double like. That's serious," she said in a mocking
tone. "Lemme ask you a question, kiddo. Are you sure you really
want to do this? Are you really prepared to throw away your
eternal soul just to get some teenage nookie?"

Nate hesitated. When she put it like that, it did sound a little
dumb.

"I thought so." The demon smiled thinly and then turned away. "Go
home," she called back, throwing him a dismissive wave as she
walked toward the intersection, her large, sleekly rounded
buttocks twitching provocatively beneath her shiny dress. "Just
relax, spank the monkey twice a day and wait for college. Trust
me, everyone has a chance there."

Nate set his jaw. The thought of going back home to his
lonely--and face it--pathetic life was more than he could stand.
He couldn't take another day of it, let alone years.

"Wait." He lunged after her and caught her by the arm, surprised
at his own assertiveness. Her skin felt soft and very warm,
almost hot. Maxine raised one perfect eyebrow and looked at him
with an expression of newfound interest.

"Let's make a deal." He looked her in the eye, placed a hand on
each of her smooth shoulders, and kissed her. Her lips were soft,
warm, and tasted like honey. She smelled like a spicy blend of
perfume, wood-smoke, and some other musky, heady aroma that he
couldn't quite define, but something about the scent triggered a
violent surge in his cock and added a small torrent of pre-cum to
the already sticky mess in his shorts.

A second later she pushed him away with a firm but easy shove.

"Why Nathaniel," she said, feigning shock. "There might be some
hope for you after all."

* * *

"So, as per the agreement, you," Maxine said, pointing at him
with the pen, "Nathanial Laurence Stevens, will become completely
irresistible to women for a term of twenty years, at which time
we will collect that which is owed, namely your soul. Both
parties are prohibited from extending or reducing this term by
any means, nefarious or otherwise, except by mutual agreement. In
the event of incidental death or quote-un-quote 'Act of God,'
collection will take place immediately." She looked at him and
smiled sweetly. "Any questions?"

Nate shrugged. He was becoming more and more convinced that he
was dreaming all of this.

"Not really, no."

"Good. Sign, please." She twirled the Palm toward him and held
out the pen.

Nate signed, feeling strangely okay with it even as the pen and
PDA evaporated in his hands like mist.

Maxine shook his hand. "A pleasure doing business with you."

As he enjoyed the feel of her hand in his, an overdue thought
pushed its way to the front of his muddled, lust-filled brain.

"Just a sec. You said that in twenty years you would, uh,
*collect* what I owe you. How is that possible if I'm still
alive?"

"Oh, that." She frowned slightly. "We send a pack of hellhounds
to rip you to pieces and then carry those pieces screaming down
to the Lake of Fire."

Nate began to smile, certain she was joking around. His smile
quickly died as he saw the look on her face and realized that she
was dead serious.

"Sorry, kid." The demon said with a shrug. "Them's the breaks."
She kissed him softly on the cheek, her moist, almost scalding
lips leaving behind a fiery mark that flared brightly before
fading away. Then she was gone, vanishing in the space of a blink
as a sudden gust of wind sent dry leaves skittering across the
road.

Nate rubbed his face distractedly, too stunned to react to either
the kiss or his gruesome death sentence. He collected his gear
and rode back towards town, growing surer with every mile that
he'd imagined the whole thing and was in need of some serious
therapy.

Daylight was fading fast as he turned off the highway and onto
Main Street. He was so deeply absorbed in thoughts about the
nature of his mental illness that he didn't notice the small blue
hatchback that swerved slightly as it passed from the opposite
direction, the brown-skinned college girl behind the wheel
looking at him with such rapt fascination that she missed the
next curve and drove right into a ditch. Dazed, confused and
inexplicably horny, the girl stared into her airbag and wondered
just what it was about that skinny little white kid that'd made
her crash her car.

Unaware of his imminent peril, Nate coasted down the hill and
into downtown with the idea of grabbing a Gatorade or something
at the corner store. He rode into the parking lot and was about
to chain up his bike when he noticed a pair of Girl Scouts
standing at the curb, looking nearly identical in their brown
uniforms and black berets. Neither could have been older than
eleven but they were staring at him with an intensity that made
him feel uncomfortable.

A creepy shiver went up Nate's back as they looked at each other
and began walking in his direction.

"Uh, hi there, girls. What's the--hey!" He broke off as they
suddenly grabbed hold of him, each girl taking an arm and yanking
in a different direction.

"I saw him first!" One yelled at the other. "Let go, you turd!"

"No way! *I* saw him first!" The second responded, pulling hard
on Nate's wrist. He stood there speechless as the two girls
continued to play tug-of-war with his body.

"Bitch!" The first one screamed.

"Whore!" The second replied.

"Ok, enough!" He wrenched himself free and grabbed his bike,
seeing that a small crowd had gathered in front of the store to
watch the spectacle. Most were women, and they all seemed to have
a distracted, flushed look on their faces that he wasn't sure he
liked. He hopped on his bike and started to pedal, noticing with
some dismay that the women were following him. He went faster.
They started to run. Nate pounded the pedals for all he was
worth, wishing that tricky demon bitch Maxine would appear right
in front of him so he could run her over.

Just when he seemed to be in the clear he was blindsided by an
athletic, brown-haired teenage girl who jumped on his back,
hooked her arm around his neck and began kissing violently at his
ear. Nate swerved, lost control and hit the curb, tumbling onto
the grass in front of the McDonalds with the girl on top of him.
She pinned his shoulders and kissed him on the mouth so roughly
that he tasted blood. Then the other women arrived and the
athletic girl was knocked aside as they rushed in and practically
smothered him in a frenzy of arms, hair, lips, and cleavage.

Nate might have almost enjoyed it if he hadn't been so busy
fighting for his life. They were coming at him from all sides and
now there were at least twenty women crowding around, squabbling
over him like he was the last X-Box on Black Friday. A plump
hairdresser sat on him only to be pushed over by a grey-haired
lady who looked old enough to be Nate's great-grandmother. He
felt his shirt ripping, his shorts being tugged at as hands
groped wildly at his chest, ass, and crotch. Someone got hold of
his nuts and squeezed, sending a dull shock of agony blasting
through his body.

"Help!" He screamed, curling up into a fetal position. "They're
killing me!"

He saw that some of the nearby men were beginning to pull the
women back, then for a minute he couldn't see anything as a
well-endowed Milf tore open her shirt and buried his face in twin
mountains of warm titflesh. It was actually rather nice until he
realized that he couldn't breathe. He pushed and flailed until
someone pulled her away, and, gasping for breath, he saw a clear
path to his bike and crawled toward it, praying all the while
that some fat woman wouldn't jump on him and break his spine.

Then there was the sudden whoop of a siren, and to Nate's immense
relief a police car nosed in against the curb just a few feet
away. His relief faded as he saw a stocky, tomboyishly attractive
female cop get out and step toward him, a dazed, heated look
appearing on her face as she reached for her belt and whirled to
face the approaching crowd.

"Back off, you crazy cunts!" She yelled. "He's mine!" She then
proceeded to unleash a torrent of pepper spray into the faces of
a dozen women as she yanked Nate up by his collar, tearing it
even further. Then as the women fell back shrieking, the lady cop
slammed him back against the door of her car, caught him around
the waist and kissed him, dipping him back in her arms like that
photo of people making out at the end of World War II.

I gotta get the fuck outta here, Nate thought distractedly as the
policewoman's tongue forced itself into his mouth. This shit is
crazy. Hot, he added as he sucked tentatively at the cop's salty
lips, but crazy.

He was rescued by the athletic brunette who tackled the cop to
the ground and started biting her on the leg. Putting on a burst
of speed, Nate evaded both of their clutching hands and scrambled
towards his bike, faked out a Girl Scout and finally managed to
grab the handlebars. After a running start he hopped on and
pedaled like mad down a side street, his body feeling bruised and
violated.

"Irresistible, huh?" He muttered. "Well fuck you, Maxine. Fuck
you right in the ass."

Nate hooked left down an alley then turned right again, allowing
himself to relax a little as he looked back and saw that no one
was following. He look ahead again just in time to see the bumper
of a minivan clip his front wheel as it backed out of a hidden
driveway. Once again he went tumbling, this time right into the
side of the van, banging against it with his shoulder and elbow
as it jerked to a halt.

"Ow fuck!" He yelled, clutching his throbbing arm.

"Oh my God! Are you ok?" A petite soccer mom jumped out of the
driver's side door, her look of concern immediately changing to
one of dazed lust. At the same moment no less than five preteen
girls poked their heads out of the van's windows and gave a
collective sigh of longing as Nate quickly picked himself up,
grabbed his bike, and ran. The front wheel was tweaked so he
tossed the bike into the bushes and took off down someone's side
yard, jumping a hedge and scaling a fence before taking refuge in
a shed two houses away.

He sat wheezing in a shadowy corner, trying to recover his breath
and come up with a way out of this mess. He was only a few blocks
from home. If he could make it there he'd be safe, at least for a
while.

After a few minutes Nate left the shed, climbed over a brick wall
and landed beside a pool, thinking it best if he stayed off the
street. He was halfway through the yard when he noticed a woman
sitting on the patio with a drink in her hand, watching him. They
locked eyes and she smiled brightly. Nervous, Nate returned the
smile, wondering if and when she was going to attack. The thought
of it wasn't so terrible, actually. She looked thirtyish and was
tan and pretty, with curly light brown hair and a well-curved
body just barely covered in white shorts and a bikini top.

"Come on over, hon," she said in a soft southern accent. "Ah
won't bite."

Nate hesitated for a moment then obeyed, his fear giving way to a
different sort of anxiety as she reached out and took his hands,
pulling him right up in front of her.

"Well well. What's a nice boy like you doin' in my back yard?"
The woman said, looking up at him with her face flushed and eyes
sparkling.

"Um, I..." He forgot whatever he'd been about to say as she ran
her hand slowly over his groin, her touch sending a surge of
nervous excitement through his dick and outward through the rest
of his body.

"Aww. You brought me a present," she drawled, grinning and
rubbing his cock through his shorts. "How thoughtful."

Nate was instantly hard. Now this was more like it. He froze as
the woman deftly unbuttoned his shorts and tugged them down, his
dick popping out only to be immediately caught in her warm, wet
mouth. He looked on giddy disbelief as she worked her lips down
over his shaft, not stopping until she had him swallowed all the
way to the root. Then her head begn to bob at his groin, sucking
him quickly and rhythmically as he stood there trembling, his
breath coming in hot gasps. The feeling was indescribable,
driving all coherent thought out of his brain and leaving only
the hot, liquid sensations of her mouth gliding over his eagerly
straining flesh. The feeling quickly intensified into an urgent
tingle, growing and growing until...

"Hey babe, I got the Merlot--" Nate heard the quiet bang of a
screen door and glanced over to see a man standing on the
opposite end of the patio with wineglasses in his hands and an
expression of utter shock on his face. The woman paused in
mid-suck to look over at him, the side of her mouth and cheek
bulging outward with Nate's cock. For a long moment no one moved,
then the woman turned her attention back to Nate and casually
swallowed him all the way down to the base again, her tongue
sliding out to lick the top of his nutsack in an impressive show
of oral talent.

That did it. Forgetting the presence of her boyfriend or husband
or whatever, Nate gave a feeble groan and began to ejaculate
furiously into the woman's sucking mouth, his legs shaking as she
held him by the waist and continued to work his spurting dick
with her talented lips and tongue. Nate moaned and shivered, lost
in a world of pulsing carnal bliss that was far better than
anything he'd ever imagined.

Then like a needle scratching across a record, the bliss abruptly
ended.

"You son of a bitch!" The man snarled and leaped toward him. Nate
backed away, his still-throbbing penis slipping reluctantly out
of the woman's mouth as he hitched up his shorts and ran. Somehow
he got over the wall, and dazed and exhilarated he kept running
until he was several blocks away, finally taking cover behind a
thick hedge. He lay on his back, panting and grinning like a
loon. Against all odds he'd actually gotten his dick sucked, and
by a hot older woman no less. It was starting to look like this
deal might be worth it after all.

He rested for a good fifteen minutes, watching the stars come out
as he planned his next move. Home first, he decided. A shower and
some band-aids and he'd be good to go, maybe back to see if
Blowjob Woman was still around, or he could try to find someone
else. As long as he avoided groups and public places he figured
he'd be ok.

Just then he heard quiet voices coming from the direction of the
house. The beam of a flashlight suddenly blazed into his eyes,
and, half-blinded, he was just able to make out the shapes of
several pale figures standing on the lawn.

"I told ya somebody was in the yard," A girl's voice said.

"Whaddya think we should do with him?" Another girl asked
pointedly.

"Or do *to* him?" Yet another girl said, giggling.

"Hey, just a minute!" Nate protested, getting to his feet. Before
he could do anything else someone yelled 'get him!' and he was
being jumped by four teenage girls, his arms taken and held
securely while a pillowcase was yanked down over his head. His
feet were grabbed next, and voices whispered and laughed around
him as he was half-carried, half-dragged over the grass and to
the house.

Looks like I'm gonna get raped, he thought, not quite sure how to
feel about it. He was taken inside, the living room smelling of
girls, popcorn, and cookies. He was dropped onto a soft rug and
turned over onto his back with a girl securing each of his arms
and legs, pinning him firmly to the floor. One went so far as to
sit on his left hand, the heavy warmth of her butt feeling nice
against his palm. He gave her ass a squeeze and was answered with
a squeal and a wiggle.

An unseen radio was belting out Katy Perry's latest slut anthem
as the girls debated what to do. There was a lot of heated
whispering that was difficult to follow, but he could tell that
he was at the forefront of the discussion.

"Well, its Leslie's birthday," someone commented aloud. "Let her
decide."

"That's right, it's *my* birthday," a girl who must have been
Leslie said, sounding excited. "I say we have some fun with him."
There were murmurs of agreement and Nate's heart began to pound
wildly.

"Remember, we all gotta share." One reminded.

"Right. But the birthday girl goes first." Another said. "Go get
him, Leslie!"

His left leg was released as someone (Leslie apparently) crawled
over him and rolled the pillowcase up to uncover his face. He got
a quick look at her, seeing long brown hair and a pretty face
with green eyes and a slightly upturned nose. She looked about
his age, maybe a little younger. Then she came in close and her
warm, slightly sticky lips closed over his in a passionate kiss.
Nate kissed back, thinking she tasted like strawberry chapstick
and something salty-sweet, like kettle corn. It was his first
real kiss, and he found he that he was liking it. A lot.

There was a chorus of quiet giggling, and then a gentle pat on
the tented zipper of his shorts made him realize that his hard-on
was standing straight up like a flagpole. Both his hands were
being sat on now, with a handful of asscheek in his left and what
was very possibly a handful of warm crotch in his right, though
it was kind of hard to tell through the girl's jeans. His face
grew hot but he stayed the course, giving the girls on his hands
a series of firm squeezes as the kiss became deeper and hotter,
with Leslie sucking eagerly on his tongue as soon as he offered
it.

Someone patted his straining cock again, following it with a
slow, tentative stroke that moved down along the cloth-covered
shaft to stop with a light squeeze on his balls. Nate lay in a
daze as the girl to his right started to rub his hand against her
jeans. He was being kissed, fondled and generally molested by
four strange girls, and that was something with which he was very
much ok.

Leslie moved her body against him, her butt grinding on his lower
stomach in a way that had him instinctively humping up at her in
an attempt to rub his cock against her ass. She wasn't quite
close enough for it, but he felt a helping hand quickly enclose
his bulging cock as the fourth girl began to tug it through his
shorts. At almost the same instant both girls on his hands got
up, and Nate watched as the one on the right--a skinny, nerdy
blonde--wriggled out of her pants and dropped them to the floor.
He caught a brief glimpse of dark blonde bush as the girl kicked
off her panties and sat down again, straddling his hand and
lifting it up between her legs to press it firmly against warm,
moist flesh.

Nate's fingers trembled as he explored his first real live pussy.
He felt the soft, short fuzz and tender slit, his middle finger
almost being sucked in as it slipped between the lips and into
the hole. The girl's pussy was tight and hot and seemed to cling
to his finger as he slowly moved it in and out. The chubby
brunette on his left had also stripped out of her pants and
crouched down, holding his wrist as she humped her furry snatch
against his hand. He examined her plump, oily cuntlips with his
fingers, amazed at how smooth and delicate they felt.

Meanwhile the birthday girl was covering his mouth with soft,
sucking kisses that made him even more lightheaded than he
already was. He was dimly aware that the fourth girl seemed to be
unzipping his shorts. Nate pushed two fingers into the chubby
brunette's muff and began to probe her slick fleshy tunnel,
wondering if it was possible for a fifteen-year-old to have a
heart attack. His pulse was racing, his chest burned, his limbs
were shaky and he couldn't seem to catch his breath.

Then Leslie abruptly broke their kiss and climbed up to straddle
him, clamping her thighs on either side of his head and hiking up
her skirt to give him a mouthful of panty as she smothered him
with her hot, musty crotch. He licked hesitantly at the cloth of
her panties, distracted as he felt his cock being freed and
lifted. There was the weight of a body settling on his lap, and a
sudden moist, engulfing tightness sank down over his cock,
spreading down over his shaft until he felt the girl's thighs
pressing against his hips and he realized that she'd sat on his
dick and taken him balls-deep into her pussy.

Holy fuck, it felt good. He gave a shuddering groan as his hips
rose instinctively, pushing in even deeper as the girl held still
on top of him, her tight little snatch hugging his cock as he
humped himself up at her with absolutely no rhythm or control. At
this point he wasn't too surprised when Leslie stood, nearly
kicking him in the face as she stepped out of her panties and
quickly sat back down, mashing the steamy lips of her bare
teenage cunt against his mouth. The musky, slightly metallic
taste and smell of her thrilled him as he licked at her fleshy
folds, giving a muffled groan as the unknown girl on his dick
began to move up and down, letting his cock slide slowly in and
out of her clingy twat.

Gone were the giggles and whispers. The only sound was that of
the music and the occasional quiet gasp or groan. The girls were
so magically horny for him that all they seemed to care about was
touching and humping him, even to the point of neglecting that
basic tenet of Health class, the condom. Not that he was
complaining.

Nate felt that whatever else might happen, at least now he could
die a happy man. He was literally surrounded by soft, wet
pussies. Two fingers of each hand were buried in the squirming,
juicy muffs of the girls on either side of him while the birthday
girl straddled his face and ground her hot box against his mouth.
The last was riding him like a cowgirl, taking his throbbing
shaft all the way down to his nuts before rising up, dragging her
slippery fuckhole back to the tip of his cock before she slammed
back down and impaled herself again.

It was more than hot; it was complete sensory overload. Nate was
cumming before he was even aware of it--the urgent, exquisite
pressure suddenly surging up and bursting out of him like the
foam from a well-shaken soda. He heard the girl on his lap give a
surprised gasp as he began to shoot off into her pussy, his cock
pumping violently as his hips rose in several sharp, shuddering
jerks. As good as the blowjob had been, Nate quickly decided that
the sensation of nutting in this girl's tight, receptive cunt was
even better. She was bouncing even harder on him as his orgasm
trailed off, the continuous friction on his sensitive cockhead
feeling so good that it almost hurt.

He concentrated on licking and sucking the increasingly wet
snatch on his face, and judging by Leslie's dazed, distant
expression it must have felt pretty good. Nate slurped and
tongued harder at her swollen labes, wondering if he could make
her cum.

It was the girl on his dick who came first, or at least that's
what he assumed from all the shaking and whining she did before
slowly climbing off him, his dick falling back against his
stomach with a wet slap. He got his first look at the girl as she
crawled up beside him to watch him eat out her friend. She had
short reddish-brown hair and was still wearing her glasses, and
Nate immediately recognized her as Allison, his best (and only)
friend Steve's little sister. She'd turned thirteen less than a
month ago, and she was holding her pussy like it was sore, or
like she was trying to hold his cum inside her. Or possibly both.

Steve is gonna be pissed, Nate thought, then surrendered to
another surge of pleasure as the nerdy blonde let go of his hand
and moved onto his lap, immediately sliding his cock into her
pussy and sitting down on it with a breathy grunt. He was still
as hard as ever, his excited dick throbbing wildly as she began
to bounce erratically on top of him, her warm fleshy tunnel
gripping his cock and even squeezing down around it weakly
whenever she sank down on him to the hilt.

He was distracted from this new sensation by Leslie as she
clamped her thighs tightly around his head and proceeded to cum
on his face with a long, shuddering moan. Nate licked harder,
lapping up the influx of her syrupy juices as she ground her cunt
against his mouth a few more times and then relaxed, moving off
only to be replaced by the chubby brunette. This new pussy felt
hot against his tongue as he began to lick it, noticing that she
had a sharper, tangier flavor that reminded him of sour apples.
Half his attention was on eating her; the other half focused on
the snug twat that seemed to be sucking on his dick as the blonde
girl slowly rode it.

It wasn't long before he nutted again, his cock lurching and
spurting as the blonde girl grunted softly, seeming to cum
herself as he unloaded inside her. Then it was Leslie's turn, and
to his everlasting pride his cock still hadn't shrunk an inch
when she slipped it into her extremely wet snatch and proceeded
to ride away on it. She didn't seem as tight as the first two
girls but her pussy was still nice and snug, almost massaging his
dick as it moved in and out of her.

He came in Leslie just before she got her own nut and moved off
to let Allison go again. His cock seemed to freeze after that,
staying hard and feeling good but never getting close to cumming
again even as each girl took another turn, one bouncing happily
on his lap while the other two waited on the sidelines--or in
this case, the couch. The chubby girl seemed content with humping
his face, glazing it with her juicy slit.

By that time his tongue was getting sore and his dick felt
bruised, so when the chubby brunette came on his tongue for the
second time Nate decided to make a break for it. They'd showed no
sign of stopping or tiring, and, not eager to be fucked to death,
he quickly slid out from under the brunette, slid out of the
blonde, grabbed his shorts and ran for the door. Still bare-assed
naked, the girls chased him for a whole block until he lost them
by hiding in an empty dumpster. He watched from under the lid as
they stopped, looked around for a minute, and then headed back in
the direction of the house looking disappointed and confused.

He stayed put for another few minutes just be sure then got out
and made his way home, feeling dazed, drained, and completely
awesome. Just as he was gliding ninja-like up the driveway it
occurred to him that his own mom and sister might very likely
attack him as well. Gross. Fortunately the house was dark, and a
quick look in the garage told him that his mom's car was gone.
With any luck Stacy would be out with a friend or something. The
thought of getting sexually ravaged by his own sister made him
feel slightly queasy. His cock didn't seem to mind the idea,
though, stirring stickily in his shorts as the unbidden mental
image of what Stacy might look like naked flashed through his
head.

"Enough already, Jesus." He muttered as he let himself into the
house. He was probably just in a kind of nookie shock, or Post
Traumatic Sex Disorder. He'd gone from zero to superstud in a
very short time so he supposed there were bound to be some side
effects.

He headed for the shower first, since he was sore and sweaty and
positively reeked of pussy. He nearly freaked out when he
discovered streaks of red on his dick, but when he washed it
under the spray he was relieved to find himself whole and
uninjured. Nate grinned and held his dick out like it was a
sword.

"I dub thee Cherry-popper,' he intoned solemnly, then giggled. He
felt like an idiot but was too exhilarated to care.

The water felt insanely good and Nate stayed in the shower until
he was relaxed and wrinkled, then stepped out to dry off, looking
forward to barricading himself in his room and taking a long nap.




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