***************************************************************** 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. ***************************************************************** 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. ***************************************************************** Comments Welcome. christian562@gmail.com More at /files/Authors/Christian_Alan/www/ *****************************************************************