Breakfast (Cereal) In Bed WARNING: The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upset you, or you are offended by subjects of a sexual nature - do not read any further! This story is for entertainment only. It contains adult oriented material. This is a work of fiction. The acts and characters contained within are figments of my imagination and have no basis in fact. I do not practice, advocate, condone or encourage acts portrayed here. The characters in the story are entirely fictional. You need to believe that all of the characters are over the age of eighteen. This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached. * * * * * * * * * * Breakfast, or thoughts of breakfast, must be a current preoccupation, because this is my second story having a cereal (as opposed to serial) theme. Although because there are two, I guess theyÕre serial as well. Hopefully, crisp, not soggy. The other influence for this story is a series of get-togethers Mr. Marcus has with former school classmates, happening with increased frequency. Perhaps as he gets older, he looks back a bit more. In this tale, Mr. Marcus examines the life of one of his former classmates. Oh yes, and the women with which he was involved. A very close examination, indeed. * * * * * * * * * * Somehow, I got on an email distribution list containing members of my high school class. Maybe I'd given my email address to a former classmate and they'd done what they thought was a good deed and passed it along to one of those goody two shoes self- appointed class secretaries. About once a week, I'd get some drivel about a get-together at a local bar (for those still in the vicinity or willing to fly in for a beer), or scanned clippings from old issues of the school paper, or some brag about how a former classmate saved the world. I had very little interest in most of these folks. After all, if I had been interested, I'd have expended some effort to keep in touch. And I hadn't. That fateful week, I got an email: one of my former high school classmates had died. Leonard "Goat" Humphries. His nickname "Goat" wasn't because he was the "butt" of our jokes. It was simply that Leonard was always horny, and I mean always. From the first time he got intimate with a female classmate - I can't remember who I heard it from, maybe Leonard himself - he was always with some girl from our class, or when we were juniors and seniors, perhaps a freshman or sophomore. Outside of school, he'd be seen with girls from other schools. If anyone at our high school was getting significant action, it was Goat. I avoided him because, to be honest, he wasn't very interesting when he had a girl on his arm. Depressingly dull, to put a fine point on it. With a sullen expression, as if his house had been robbed and all his prize possessions stolen, or some other emotionally catastrophic event. Despite that aura, his current squeeze would be glued to his side. He was a different person when it was just him and the guys, or him and me. He was energetic and friendly, someone you could have a good time with. I never did figure out why he was like two different people. Maybe it was hormones. In our senior year, Goat stopped playing the field and went steady with our classmate Gloria. She was smart, and kind of pretty in a plain way. She must have seen something deeper in Leonard and roped him in before he knew what was happening. A couple of years later, I'd heard in passing from a mutual acquaintance that he and Gloria got married while in college, pissing off both their parents. A year after we all graduated college, I'd read an article in the local paper about Leonard moving to Arizona for an important job. It must have been important, because the paper didn't publish stories about folks getting menial labor gigs. Until his death notice, that's the last I'd heard about Leonard. We weren't best friends by any means, but we'd sometimes hang out at each other's houses. Anyway, my heart pinged a little with the notice of his passing. Memories of double dates, where his then current girl had an unattached friend, got me out of the house on Saturday nights. Sometimes we'd have a daytime date at the beach. Leonard loved the beach. Oak Street. North Avenue. Sometimes we'd slum up at Foster, just for a change of scenery. And on double dates, we'd park there for "submarine races." Most times, my fix-up and I sat in the back seat, watching Leonard and his gal go at it, hot and heavy. Goat never minded that I'd peek over the front seat and watch. Most times, his girlfriend was way too occupied to notice. I'd get horny, too, obviously, and turn to my date for some action. The cooperative ones would let me touch them, but only in certain places on their bodies and with our clothes on. No matter where we went, girls would be attracted to Leonard. Animal magnetism, maybe. I was grateful for the leftovers, many of whom where plenty attractive, even if I only got kissing and an occasional grope. The mass mailing about Leonard's death included an email address, so I sent my condolences. It was the proper thing to do. The next day, the reply was a sincere thank you from the Webb family, plus directions to meet a private jet at Midway Airport for attending the funeral. Huh? I was flabbergasted. Someone wanted me at the funeral so bad, they'd offered to fly me there? I guess old Goat had made it big, or at least connected with some dough. Were they making this offer to other classmates? Harriett was unusually solicitous about the news, and my boss was gracious to give me time off, despite the short notice. To be honest, I think he was more jealous than anything else. Our company had a private jet, which none of us peons ever got close enough to see, let alone ride in. I was sure he'd want the details after I got back. I drove down to Midway early the next morning. The private facilities for corporate jets are on a road that runs behind the public airport. I parked at Odyssey Aviation as instructed and entered the small one-story building, essentially a waiting room. There were a couple of other people there, in suits and ties, huddled in some serious business discussion. I didn't recognize any of them from school. A chalkboard, hung behind a typical airline counter, announced the scheduled flights, but they were all in code. A man in blue blazer and khaki pants came out of a small office behind the counter, "How can I help you?" "My name is Harvey Marcus. I'm here for a flight to Nebraska." I almost said it as a question instead of a statement of fact. "I don't know who-" "Yes, Mr. Marcus. Their crew is preparing the Groatz corporate jet for your trip." Groatz? That's the healthy cereal they give out free samples of at the grocery store. Not like other cereals I've eaten, this stuff is chewy and doesn't get soggy in milk. But you've got to really work in order to swallow it. The last sample made my jaw ache. How was Leonard connected with them? The whine of a jet engine revving up broke the silence. Through the glass wall, a plane taxied into view. The Groatz logo and marketing phrase, "Great oats! Great taste!" adorned the entire side. The passenger door slid up. A woman in a beige jumpsuit flipped out a staircase and crossed the empty asphalt. When she entered the building, she headed straight for me. "Mr. Marcus." She knew who I was. "Yes." Her long brown hair had been blown into a tangled mess by the jet's turbulence. At close range, I examined her face. Very pretty. A bit lower, the jumpsuit bulged, so the Groatz logo stood out prominently on one side. Yuli, her name, was embroidered across the other breast. "We're ready for you now." She took the handle of my roll-on bag and led me from the building. When she pointed towards the stairs, I walked up. The pilot's cabin door was open. Two smiling men, also in jumpsuits, grinned broadly. "Welcome aboard." I nodded and then turned to the right. Swivel captainÕs chairs lined both sides towards the front, with plain seats behind, along the walls. One flip-down flight attendant seat was mounted to a back divider. At the rear, I guessed a small galley and a bathroom. Yuli came up the aisle, minus my bag. Must have been stowed below. "May I take your coat?" She put her hands on my shoulders. "Sure." She slid the jacket off my arms and carried it away. I chose a seat on the left side, so I could see my car in the lot and the waiting room building. One of the male pilots walked the length of the plane either to check things out before takeoff or to use the bathroom. Yuli's jumpsuit was a much tighter fit than his. Perhaps Groatz management was sexist, or maybe just their private flight management. Or a simpler explanation, that Yuli had shrunk hers in the dryer. Questions buzzed in my head, but neither the pilots nor Yuli were likely sources of information. Was I really going to be the only passenger? And what was Goat's relationship to Groatz? Had Goat been a highly valued employee? Maybe even a member of senior management? I'd never figured Goat for an executive suite. After both pilots were back in the cockpit, one of them announced immanent departure. Yuli came back to make sure I was buckled in. She took a long look at my waist. Was she checking me out? Even if she wasn't, I noticed that she'd unzipped, just a couple of inches. It was odd, being alone in a plane. Normally, I'd be wincing at noise from uncooperative children or playing dueling elbows with a burly guy in the next seat. Not this time, just the sound of wind rushing past the fuselage. Takeoff was the closest I'd ever come to being an astronaut. Almost vertical with g forces that plastered my tongue deep in my mouth. When we tapered off a bit, the flight attendant climbed uphill from her back seat. The zipper of her jumpsuit had traveled a few more inches down from the collar. "It might be too early in the day, but may I offer you a cream soda?" Damn. How did they know I'm a cream soda freak? Must have been Goat. Who else? How many details about me had he shared? "Thanks." She returned with a tray and poured the premium Doctor Brown's beverage into a chilled mug. No ice to water down the flavor. Perfect. "Anything else I can do for you?" She smiled. My eyes tracked the deepening V of her outfit. It was even lower now, approaching the valley between the hills of her chest. Her tits werenÕt huge, but big enough to capture my attention. She noticed my focus and toyed with the zipper. Even if this was her way of suggesting the possibility, I couldn't have sex in the plane, could I? Not with two pilots up front who might come back to check on things. "Can you tell me something about Groatz, or the Webbs?" She opened the overhead storage bin and handed me a hardback book. The title - History of Groatz. "How's this?" "Perfect." I skimmed through the book. Stanford "Stringer" Webb, who got his nickname from his previous work as a freelance journalist for the local newspapers in Nebraska, had founded Groatz Cereals. When a large tract of farmland was about to be foreclosed, Webb showed up with just the right amount of cash to pay the back taxes. Using unique imported seeds, he turned the land into a highly productive farm, delivering an extremely hearty crop and instant wealth. The book had lots of photos of cereal production machinery and packaging designs, from the earliest mechanisms and boxes to the latest high tech processing gear and modern box designs. Up to the publication date, which was three years previous, Groatz had remained an independent operation, with extensive distribution within the United States. There were some heavily cautioned forward-looking statements about making that pervasive across the country, as well as entering foreign markets. On the last page, a full color photo of Stanford standing next to his grown daughter, Charlotte. I shut the book. I didn't know the Webbs, but Goat seemed to have been connected, and now, I was involved. Yuli showed up, ready to attend to her only passenger. "Was that helpful?" Her smile gleamed, and the inside curves of her breasts were now on display. No bra. Shit, how far was she prepared to unzip that thing, anyhow? "Yes, very." I had a passing thought about joining the Mile High Club. Shit, I was going to a funeral, and there I was, thinking about sex. I stifled any physiological reaction and reclined my chair. "I'll just take a nap, thanks." She left the zipper where it was. "Please let me know if you change your mind." About what? It felt like she was disappointed I didn't ask her to sit in my lap and see what came up. I closed my eyes and dreamed about high school and my adventures with Goat. The bump of the planes tires on a runway woke me from my nap. It had been about forty-five minutes by my watch. "Are we there?" I called back over my shoulder. "Yes sir. Remain seated until the captain advises you to unbuckle. I can assist, if you'd like." Still teasing me, even after landing. She really did want to get her hands on me. Maybe it was a missed opportunity, but my mind was on Goat, his funeral, and the Webbs. The sunlight was bright and the sky was clear blue. I pulled on my sunglasses at the top of the staircase. In the foreground a brick shack and a limousine. Yuli extracted my suitcase from beneath the plane and rolled it over to the limo. "Have a nice visit." She'd zipped back up. Modesty in public. Since when is a funeral the opportunity for a nice visit? Strange. "Thanks." "Maybe I'll see you on the return flight." Her hand pulled the zipper down an inch or two, just to tease. Then she winked. Her waddle as she walked towards the plane was meant for my eyes, I was certain. I had just landed and was anxious to climb back aboard. Both that plane and Yuli. But there were condolences to share, in person, with someone. The Webbs? Would any of Goat's family be there? The limo driver put the bag in his trunk, came around and then opened the rear door. When he got into the driver's seat, I felt obligated to say something. After all, in the past, I'd always been the one to provide my limo driver a destination. "I'm sorry. I don't know where we're going." "That's not a problem, Mr. Marcus. I have my orders. First, I'm to take you to the house, so you can clean up and get dressed properly. Then, I'll take you to the mortuary for the funeral service. You'll join the family there." "Leonard's family?" Boy, was I out of touch. The only family I knew of was Gloria, from decades ago. "Oh, I assumed you knew. Leonard married Charlotte Webb several years ago." No shit! Goat married into big money. That made him heir to the Webb's cereal business. Except the idiot died. What happened to Gloria, his high school sweetheart? "Really?" He continued, "No children, thank goodness. Please, sit back and relax. It won't take us very long, but we have to stay on schedule." Dust plumed as my driver gunned it out of the private airport's parking lot. I thought of a dust-caked Yuli unzipping her jumpsuit to take a shower. God, the places my mind goes! After about a half hour, during which I played with all of the buttons and controls on the TV, radio, and lights, the limo driver turned right, passing under a horseshoe-shaped arch, announcing 'Webb Estate - Home of Groatz.' "We'll be at the house in a few minutes." The "house" was a huge building off in the distance, deep into the flat land that seemed to stretch to the horizon. On both sides of the road, fields of grain. This was a working farm, not just for show. The driver pulled halfway around the circular driveway. An older man in black blazer with the Groatz logo and grey slacks greeted me. "Mr. Marcus. How was your flight?" This guy had no clue I was practically seduced by Yuli the flight attendant. "Very smooth. I slept through most of it." "I see." He winked. Shit, he did know. But how? "Let me escort you to your room." He took my rolling bag from the limo driver in a hand-off smoother than the best I'd seen in any Olympic relay, and proceeded down a wide arched hallway. On the right, at a door labeled GUEST ONE, he turned and entered. Inside, there was a king bed, armoire, dresser, nightstands, and a closet. He pulled open the closet doors. "We didn't know your exact size, so you've got a variety of suit jackets and pants to choose from." The armoire held freshly pressed dress shirts and several ties, all in properly subdued colors appropriate for a funeral. "Underwear and socks are in the dresser. You have a private bath, that way." He pointed past the closet to another door. "Please, I don't mean to rush you, but you can't be late for the service." He hustled out of the room and closed the door. My own clothes in my carry-on were redundant, so far. I took a quick hot shower, shaved to remove any unsightly stubble, and got dressed in stranger's clothes. I was tempted to wear my jockeys instead of their boxers, but felt somehow like that was an insult. All ready with a grey and red tie, I walked towards the front entry. The driver was waiting. "You look perfect, Mr. Marcus. What fine taste." I stroked the lapels. "Thanks." I didn't deserve the kudos. Someone else had made the tough choices. The driver sped around the circular driveway, down the entry road, and made a tire-squealing right. "If I get you there a little early, you'll have time to speak with the family before the service." Except that we had to cross freight train tracks, and there was a one hundred boxcar procession blocking our path. Seconds felt like hours. The driver had succeeded in making my timeliness my problem, not his. Smooth, and sneaky. Despite his rush after the train passed, everyone had already entered when we arrived at the chapel. A string of limousines and fancy imported vehicles stretched behind a waiting Hearse. The driver ran around the car and threw open the door, handing me off to an usher. He took my elbow and shuffled along, demonstrating urgency. The sign at the doorway read: Service: Leonard Humphries-Webb." Wasn't that backwards? I thought the woman's maiden name came first when someone chose hyphenation. The rush continued as he scurried me down an aisle to the first row, where three people sat on a long couch. Closest was a woman in black from head to toe, a veil obscuring her face. I presumed she was Charlotte, the widow Humphries-Webb. Next to her, the icon I'd just read about - Stanford Webb, founder of Groatz and according to the limo driver, Goat's father-in-law. On the far end of the sofa, a second woman in a simple black dress, this one younger with a family resemblance. A second daughter? She sat looking at the floor, hands folded in her lap. There was just enough room for one more body - mine. The usher planted me next to the veiled woman. I was startled when she leaned hard in my direction. I had nowhere to go. My arm was crushed between our bodies. I wanted to avoid accidental contact with her, so I snaked my arm up and put it along the top of the sofa. She cooed and snuggled against me. This felt too good for a funeral; Goat's widow nestled in my arm. I couldn't see through the veil, so I hoped that Goat had good taste. The Groatz marketing phrase, "Great oats! Great taste!" jumped into my head. When the minister, or whoever he was, rose to the podium, that's when I first noticed Goat's casket, sealed shut. The minister's words were completely generic. No mention was made of anything personal, such as Goat's humble beginnings in Chicago, or Gloria, which I guess would have been tacky. Nope, this was pure boilerplate, read from a book as if the minister had never met Goat. Probably hadn't. Goat wasn't very religious. The minister asked the family to depart the chapel before any other attendees through a grieving room behind the stage. The three Webbs stood. I would have stayed seated but Charlotte reached for my hand, pulled me to my feet, and dragged me along. God, she was strong. From working in the fields? In the grieving room, the minister closed the door behind us. Father Webb marched over confronted me. "Who the hell are you?" The minister threw one hand over his mouth at the cuss word in such a holy place. Charlotte stepped between us and spoke out from beneath her veil. "This is Mr. Marcus, Lenny's closest friend. I invited him, remember?" The designation "closest friend" was incorrect, but it saved me from Webb's wrath, so I accepted the lie. Mr. Webb grunted, backed off and took his younger daughter's arm. I guessed he wasn't he kind of guy who apologized. The black dress she was wearing was slimming, but her voluptuous body and round curves were still obvious. The minister opened an exit door that led outside, where the casket had been rolled. Mr. Webb and I were joined by four audience members and handed gloves. We marched along side, our covered hands merely guiding the coffin. That's when it hit me that Goat was really dead. I snuffled back a tear. At the Hearse, we did our moment of physical labor lifting the casket gently onto a rolling belt that practically sucked the casket inside the vehicle. Webb, his younger daughter still clinging to him, put out his hand for Charlotte. She avoided it, grabbing my arm and leading me silently to a different limo than her father and sister, a double-parked one. My driver helped Charlotte in on the curbside, directing me to enter from the roadside. By the time I got in, Charlotte had lifted her veil. God, she was gorgeous. I'm a terrible judge of age, which has gotten me into tons of trouble in the past. All I could guess was that Charlotte was maybe ten or fifteen years younger than me, and well kept. The advantages of money. The boxers weren't constraining my growing erection, the byproduct of being so close to an attractive woman. "Hi." It was a breathless exhale. "I'm so glad to finally meet you. Lenny never stops-" She realized her use of present tense and choked up. She leaned close, and I put my arm along the seat top her, like I had in the chapel. She fit well, cuddled next to me. She raised the opaque shield between the driver and us. He didnÕt react. "Lenny told me so much about you, I feel like I know you already." "Then you have the advantage. It's been years since Leonard and I spoke. I didn't even know he'd remarried." Charlotte took my hand in hers, and let it fall onto my lap. "Three years ago, after that ingrate Gloria dumped him. Can you imagine, dumping a treasure like Lenny?" I never thought of Goat as a treasure, but than again, I wasn't female. Then why did Gloria give him up, if that's what really happened? Charlotte was not yet a trusted source. "No, I can't. First off, let me extend my condolences. It must be hard for you-" That's when she let go of my hand and placed hers on my thigh, just above my knee. I fully understood the circumstances; a grieving widow seeking solace for her loss, accidentally touches the man she thinks is her husband's best friend. "You've come to the real truth, haven't you? Oh, how smart you are. Lenny said you were smart. It's been soooo hard." Her hand moved up a couple of inches. God, she was going to be shocked as hell if her hand went any- Oh shit, a couple more inches. Since my unencumbered cock had extended out of the boxers, she was dangerously close to holding the length in her hand, "A terrible loss for you. Leonard must have been a good husband." I presumed. "The best, but always struggling to be better. You know how competitive Lenny was, don't you?" Goat had never been into sports. Never joined school teams. Wasn't much interested in watching the local teams on TV either. "No, I can't say that I do." She blurted a single laugh. "How ironic. Lenny vying every day to make up for his deficiency, competing with you, and you were completely unaware." "Me?" "Yes, you, Harvey Marcus. What a strong name. May I call you Harvey?" She turned towards me, blue eyes glistening, her fingers wiggling. "Evidently, at some point, he'd seen you naked. He never disclosed the circumstances, but he described-" Her hand slid up, resting on top of my penis. "-how big you are." Charlotte was a flake! Goat hadn't yet been put to rest, and she was coming on to me? I knew I needed to disengage from this interaction, but gently. After all, this was Goat's widow, in the early stages of grief. "We shouldn't be discussing-" "Do you know how to be gentle?" She patted my prick. It lurched. "I think I do." Was she really expecting for us to get intimate right there, in the limo driving behind her dead husband's casket? "Good. Then you'll take Lenny's place tomorrow." At some gathering, or in her bed? I tried formulating a question that didn't assume too much. The driver's voice over the intercom startled both of us. "We've arrived at the mausoleum," he announced. Charlotte folded her hands and waited for the driver to open her door. "We'll continue our chat later." And your groping? I thought. Charlotte wiggled over and stepped out, taking the driver's hand. I was treated to a close-up view of her behind. My erection didn't falter. Perhaps my combination of boxers and pleated pants would mask my condition. I pulled the gloves from my jacket pocket and returned to my position at the back of the Hearse, to walk beside the casket of my former classmate. The cart jingled as we steered it from the parking lot, up the concrete path to the granite-faced building, through double doors, to the open crypt labeled "Webb Family." Once we'd positioned the casket at the open drawer, the entourage of pallbearers backed away. Charlotte held on to me, as if she was unable to support her own weight. Stanford eyed us, his younger daughter still on his arm, her cherubic face framed by long blonde hair, still counting floor tiles. The same minister spoke additional generic phrases about loss, mourning, and an after-life. I imagined the spirits of former female classmates, and perhaps other women, greeting Goat with open arms. And, one at a time, open legs. More important than life after death, was there sex in the Great Beyond? There must be, otherwise how great could it be? The attendees all went their separate ways. Before we got into our limo, Charlotte whispered something to the driver. Then we returned to our positions in the back seat, Charlotte's thigh against mine. Heat radiated from her body. I decided to reset the direction for our conversation. "I had nothing on Leonard." I decided not to confuse Charlotte with his nickname. "He was always surrounded by women. No offense. He had a charisma I never matched." "Not from his perspective. Lenny told me that his life's goal was to please women. As a woman in Lenny's life, I can tell you, he certainly did. We were so compatible. Two peas in a pod. We both loved sex, and he was a master." This was too much information. What next, sharing their favorite positions? A play-by-play description of their last fuck? "I'm happy for you, that you had a chance for happiness. Not everyone does." My sex life with Harriett was nowhere as fulfilling as Goat's and Charlotte's had been. Not even close. "But Lenny wasn't satisfied. He thought that, with a bigger penis, he could have been an even better lover, bringing me to even higher levels of ecstasy." Her fingers returned without warning to my prick, which had deflated during the entombment. "But now, I'm all alone. I need comfort. You understand, don't you?" Did Charlotte expect me to take Goat's place in their bed? "I understand you have needs. I wish there was something reasonable I could do." I threw in the word reasonable to set some threshold. She hiked her skirt and fell to her knees on the limo's floor in front of me, working my zipper. "The night they took Lenny's body from the bathroom, I tossed and turned in anguish. Without my soul mate, how could I go on?" Soul mate or sex mate? Maybe to Charlotte, it didn't matter. The fact that my cock was exposed, sticking up from my pants, inches from CharlotteÕs face. That mattered. "Uh, Charlotte?" She prattled on. "And what's worse, I have myself to blame. Lenny would still be here if I hadn't insisted-" She was crying while she massaged my erection. With each sob, she tugged at it, leaning ever closer. No woman had ever held my penis while crying. I tried hard not to take it personal. Her manipulation kept my psyche from making it deflate. Why did she think she was responsible? "Just how did Lenny die, if you don't mind me asking?" Charlotte's fingertips fluttered the length of my prick as she spoke. "I was on the phone in my office, just down the hall from our bedroom. A west coast distributor threatened to renege on his committed quantities. Well, I couldn't allow that. I explained the contractual penalties, and he agreed to proceed as expected. That's why I got to our bedroom later than our mutual bedtime." "You go to bed at the same time?" Harriett goes to be before me, so I can peruse porn before coming to bed, after cuming. "Every night. But that night, Lenny decided he couldn't wait for relief after getting none the previous week. I was suffering too, but I didn't go and get myself killed over it." "Wait a second. You weren't having sex last week? I thought you said-" She choked my cock. "It's complicated. You asked a question, and I'm trying to answer it." I nodded, and she went back to diddling. "When I got to our room, I found Lenny on the bathroom floor. It looked like he'd been masturbating while sitting backwards on the toilet. He was wet. Somehow, he slipped or fell and bashed his head into the toilet tank. Coroner said cause of death was a fatal concussion and accidental." My prick bumped against her lips. So Goat died in a freak accident while jerking off? That wasn't right. Getting shot by a jealous husband? Now that would have been a fitting end. I wanted to know why they weren't having sex, but Charlotte left that out of her answer, so I didn't probe. Maybe a more gentle question, to keep Charlotte occupied, would deter her from jumping into my lap for a quickie. We'd been driving for what seemed to be longer than necessary to get us back to the Webb Estate. "How did you and Lenny meet?" It was the first time I'd used her pet name for Goat. She smiled. "We met down in Puerto Vallarta. I was taking a well-earned vacation and Lenny had just gotten fired from another university." Another? Charlotte made it sound like Goat made a habit of it. "How many was another?" "Over a dozen, I think." She licked the underside of my crown. "Lenny was a very sexual being. And you're right. Women found him irresistible. Wherever he worked, Lenny would eventually develop a relationship with a student or faculty member that got him in trouble. He told me the stories, in bed. Once, it was a professor's wife." "That explains the series of moves." Perhaps Gloria got tired of the infidelity or the relocations, or both. "Did he divorce Gloria while this was going on?" "After number seven, or maybe eight. He was caught with a professor's daughter, in his classroom. I guess that was the last straw." She choked back a laugh. "Lenny and I are so much alike." Gloria had been extremely patient with Goat's behavior. Did Charlotte suffer from the same affliction of constant horniness? Her stroking of my cock and random mouth involvement were rock- solid clues. "We've been driving for quite a while. Shouldn't we be at your estate by now?" She put the crown against her lips and hummed. "I told Arnold to take the long route home, so we could have some quality time together." She ran her hand all the way down to my balls and back up. Her moist lips felt like velvet against the head of my cock. "I have needs, but there are priorities." She took a lick. It took all my willpower not to hold her head and shove my prick onto her mouth for oral satisfaction. "Sounds like you and Lenny were a match made in heaven." "We were." I'd dribbled enough pre-cum to allow Charlotte to slide her hand smoothly up and down. This had become a serious hand-job. "Let me know before you get close." She continued slow, firm strokes. "When we got back from our honeymoon, I learned Lenny's only flaw." Clearly, it wasn't performance anxiety. Had she known his tendency to stray before they tied the knot? "Infidelity?" "Oh, no. Daddy made sure Lenny knew that he'd have to give up other women once he married me. No strangers or employees. And especially no kinfolk like cousin Juliana. God, she's trouble. The consequences of him cheating once we were married- well, they'd be severe, to put it mildly." She stared at my cock. "The problem was that, after we had sex, he'd take forty-eight hours to recover." "Two days?" I estimated that most men could get it up and deliver within a few hours, the next day at the latest. For me, I'd been ready within an hour, but only under extreme duress and titillation. "Yes. He'd need that much time to recuperate. I tried everything I knew to make him get it up sooner but nothing worked. So I had to settle for sex every other day. And for someone like me, that was tough. But waiting for sex with Lenny was worth it." The pressure was building. "I think I'm getting close." What would she do now? Pull off her panties and take me in one glorious thrust? Or maybe suck the cum out? She pulled her hand back and returned to her seat next to me. "I wanted the feel of a hard penis in my hand again. I hope you don't mind my getting personal, or leaving you in this condition." Just to clarify, I had to ask. "So you're not planning on having sex with me?" She straightened her dress, twisted from her change of position. "As I said, there are priorities. I need you for something much more important. Tomorrow." More important than sex? That's all she had talked about: sex, needs, and fulfillment. So why was I there? I recognized the road leading to the Webb Estate. Just in time, we were back. "And that is?" "I'll tell you tonight. Just don't masturbate after dinner, okay?" So it did have something to do with sex, or sperm. Very odd. I nodded in agreement as I put my prick back in my pants. We pulled onto the circular driveway just as I got my zipper up. Standing in the entry foyer, Charlotte took both of my hands in hers. They were sticky from my juices. "Why don't you wash up? We're pretty informal here for meals on weekends. Come down to the kitchen and grab something from the fridge." Was it that late? My stomach agreed. "Okay." I walked down the hall to my room. A pullover shirt and casual slacks were laid out on the bed. That made selecting something to wear in place of the black suit easy. I wandered around the first floor, learning the layout. There were two family-style rooms or dens, one on each side of a huge eat-in kitchen. From the kitchen table, you could view the entire back forty or sixty or however large the property was through floor to ceiling picture windows. After rummaging through cabinets and drawers, I had an empty plate and a set of silverware. The industrial-sized fridge had sealed containers of fried chicken, so I helped myself to a breast and a thigh. There were some fried potatoes as well. Using the microwave to heat up my selections was easy. After I sat down and stabbed the first piece with my fork, Poppy entered the room. She looked a lot shorter, probably because she'd worn heels with the black dress. She'd changed into sleeping clothes, a very long t-shirt style pajama. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail. When she walked past silently, I saw her breasts in profile, huge and wobbly. A slit up the side flashed her thigh as she strutted past. She grabbed a chicken leg and marched out without a word. Charlotte joined me moments later in a floral print housedress. "Good. That's all homemade. We eat good out here." She filled a bowl with yogurt, some kind of seeds and dried fruit. "Girls got to keep her figure." Dribbles of yogurt missed her mouth, staining the corners of her mouth. It looked like cum, but then my mind is always in the gutter. I stuffed my face to avoid any further conversation, although I was deadly curious about my role in Charlotte's plans. But she didn't bring up the topic, instead describing the farm's facilities and operations. It was almost the company side of an interview, without questions about my qualifications and credentials. "You must be tired from the flight and the services and all. Why don't you go on to bed?" I yawned. "You're right. It's been an emotional day." Besides, my balls hurt. "Get a good night's sleep. You'll need your energy tomorrow." For what, she didn't say. "Right." I recalled her admonition not to jack-off after dinner. Especially facing backwards on the toilet. Sheesh, what a way to go. Once more, little elves had selected clothing. This time, satin pajamas. I left them there on the foot of the bed, stripped naked and slid beneath the sheets. I had a choice of three pillows and placed the foam rubber one under my head. I had just curled up and was about to doze off when light shone in. Someone had opened the door and entered the room. Elves? If so, in profile, they had nice tits and a round ass. No elves, but a woman. "Charlotte?" She stepped closer. "Am I disturbing you?" Charlotte wore a see-through black peignoir outfit, black ankle-length lace gown over black bra and panties. Good color for a widow. I rubbed my eyes to get my first real look at her nearly naked body. Damn, Goat was a lucky guy to have had access. Full breasts and hips, and a yogurt waist. "I'm so sorry to disturb you. It's selfish of me, I know, taking advantage of you like this." She picked up the silk sleep shirt. "You didn't like these?" "I prefer sleeping nude." "Can I see?" My bare cock again? She tells me not to masturbate after dinner and then shows up looking like this? My cock was hard and ready. If fucking me wasn't in her plans, then why the late night visit? "You won't just look, will you? You'll touch it, maybe even kiss. Like in the limo." She plopped down on the edge of the bed, facing me. "It's selfish, I know. To be honest, touching you just got me more excited. I don't think I've ever gone this long without sex since, well, way before Lenny." Charlotte's cauldron was boiling. She needed sexual attention. Although I wasn't going to fuck her, there were things I could do. Things I was willing to do. I tugged the covers from beneath her and threw them off. There, I'd exposed myself. "Have you ever done sixty-nine?" In a flash, she straddled my stomach, head towards my crotch. I stared up at her thong-covered cunt. Not wanting to move too fast, I palmed her ass cheeks. My thumbs stayed a couple of inches away from her pussy, although I tapped them, just to be provocative. Meanwhile, her hands returned to a familiar location, my prick. I felt her breath on my- nope, her lips, full on the head. And, she was humming. She escalated to a tongue whip. So I upped the ante, and ran one finger gently along the damp crease of the thong. She dove onto my cock, a couple of inches down her throat. So I pulled her thong to the side and raised my head so my lips touched hers. Cunt juice dripped on my cheek. God, she was wet like a swamp. Had her pussy been stretched by Lenny and her previous lovers? I'd never know. She squatted, driving my head back to the pillow, practically smothering me. I defended myself with my tongue, a penetrating assault. Her mouth moved up and down, taking no more than half my length, if my nerves weren't lying. God, she was horny. I changed from tongue to finger, inserting the full length in a repetitive motion. She could no longer claim she hadn't been fucked in a week, if fingers counted. "Oh God. That's so good!" Her lips jerked. "But let me know when you get close, and I'll stop." My hip heaves were involuntary. I plunged into her mouth, over and over. "You're not the only one who needs satisfaction, lady." Her mouth was full of cock. "Buff hoo knee to saa hoosef-" "For Christ sake, I can't understand a word-" She let my cock escape her lips. ""Don't blaspheme. I said, you have to save yourself." She sighed. "For tomorrow, for Poppy." Her proposal bowled me over. "What?" I pushed her butt one way and pulled the opposite arm arm, forcing a three-point turn on her knees. Now she was facing me in a straddle, my cock doing its best imitation of the Washington Monument between us. "Your sister? You must be joking." "That's why Lenny and I didn't have sex last week. He was going to give Poppy a special birthday present, on her eighteenth birthday." Again with the birthdays? "And Poppy was okay with this? She knew?" "Poppy and Lenny were very close. Sometimes, I even got jealous, that he'd prefer a younger woman to me. Not that they did anything. But if he had and Daddy found out, he'd never have survived." With or without Daddy, Lenny hadn't. "Does your father know about Lenny's special gift for Poppy?" "Oh no! Heaven forbid!" More family secrets. "Well, I'm not Lenny. Poppy and I don't have any relationship. We're essentially strangers. She won't even talk to me." "You spend some time with her tomorrow, and we'll see what happens. That's why I need you to save yourself." Her hand returned to my cock, which hadn't faded, given our discussion of a potential young sex partner. "If I let you orgasm tonight-" "Like I said, I'm not Lenny. We could do it tonight, and I'd still be able to be intimate with Poppy tomorrow." "You could?" It hadn't been an offer, just a statement of fact about my resilience. "Theoretically." "You mean you don't find me attractive, in that way?" Charlotte jumped from the bed and strutted back and forth, swishing the gown, undulating her hips, fucking the air. God, if I hadn't been at full length before, I sure was in reaction to her dance. She ripped her thong from her hips and moved closer. By bragging, I'd opened a possibility she hadn't considered. "Charlotte, we should abstain, to honor Lenny's memory." "Lenny would want the man he strived to be, to provide comfort to the love of his life. He wouldn't want me to suffer." She climbed onto my legs, her bare cunt poised for action. Her hand guided my erection to her pussy. Was I really going to fuck Lenny's widow, the same day he was interred? "We could sit and cuddle. Maybe a mutual massage? I don't feel good about this." "Then maybe you should think about someone other than yourself for a change." Her weight sunk down. "Oooh, that's a big one, Harvey." She pulsed her hips, and I drilled deeper. "You're sure?" Like I could unfuck her after penetrating half my length? She lay down against me and nuzzled her head against mine. "Just lay still and let me feel you in me." Her hip motions were slight but effective in absorbing my entire cock. No rapid thrusts, no frantic lunges, just civilized slow motion, like waves on the shore, in and out. I almost didn't notice that Charlotte was building up momentum, it happened so incrementally. She moaned with each hip advance. I ran my hands across her ass and back under the lace gown. When I got to her bra, I unhooked it. She lifted herself up and flapped her arms, to throw off the remaining garment. In the process, her bra fell away, her breasts suspended above me, unattended. So I attended to them, first with my fingers, then bringing them to my mouth, one at a time. Charlotte was more active, humping. Instead of just laying there like a stiff, I moved in concert, rising up to meet her in mid-air. "What are you doing?" she panted. "Fucking you back." Precisely what I supposed to be doing. She was gasping, her chest heaving. I felt her pelvic muscles tighten. She was approaching a big finish, and I let her achieve it, accompanied by deep breaths and head jerks that swung her tits. I was close. I could have chosen to let my cock fade away, but I deserved an orgasm too. So, while Charlotte was winding down, I took control, rolled us over and lifted her legs onto my shoulders. "What are you doing?" Charlotte panted, trying to catch her breath. "Fucking you. Didn't you notice?" In that position, my hands were free to run all over, and I took the opportunity. Her skin was smooth for a farm girl. "But Lenny never got on top. And after I came, we'd wind down together." "I told you before. I'm not Lenny." I punctuated that fact with a deep thrust. "Oooh God, no more." She was panting. "Just a little. Didn't Lenny fuck you?" "Not like this. Think about Poppy. Think about tomorrow." She was writhing below me. Seemed like she was enjoying my sudden burst of active enthusiasm. "Oh God, you're getting me all horny again." "Terrific. Maybe we can cum together. Tell me how it feels." "Talk about it? Lenny and I never used to-" She tilted her hips. Was she trying to get away, or take me deeper? "Talking can be very sexy. Like how tight your cunt feels. And how perky your nipples get when you're turned on." I tongued one for emphasis. I broke from a steady series of jabs, changing to a fury of short thrusts. "I'm going to cum. And you're going to cum. We'll share the experience." "Oh God. Oh God. I don't believe it. I'm - oh shit - don't stop - I'm -" She arched her back. I pushed deep, spurted, and held my cock at her full depth. So after all was said and done, we'd done it, we'd honored Goat by getting our mutual rocks off. Charlotte was satisfied, twice, and I'd reached orgasm, after a day filled with sexual conversation and teasing. Charlotte didn't bother going upstairs to her room. She laid on her side, legs pulled up. I snuggled behind her, in spoon position. When my prick inflated during the night, I didn't take another opportunity, despite the fact that she rubbed my cock against her pussy. After all, I had to be ready for Poppy's indoctrination. When I awoke, Charlotte was gone. I showered and changed into my comfy clothes, jeans and a golf shirt with the logo of a company that had long since gone out of business. The smells of breakfast were strong, even as I left my room. Mr. Webb and his two daughters were on stools at an island in the kitchen. Charlotte was in a different housedress from yesterday. Hair in pigtails, Poppy wore a red checked blouse tied below her tits. Her stomach was bare, with a cute little belly. Webb spoke to Charlotte, as though I was invisible. "I'll have Arnold take Mr. Marcus to the airport." "Oh, that's already scheduled for later on. Poppy is going to give him a tour of the farm. As long as he's come all this way." I'd cum last night, and hoped to do the same with her sister, who bolted from the table with a red face. High cut denim shorts exposed the bottom of her butt. Did she know what was on our joint agenda? My joint, if she was willing and I was successful. Her hasty departure, plate still full on the table, was not a positive sign. I was quite surprised that there was no cereal at breakfast. After all, their fortune was made on "Groatz - Great Oats! Great taste!" Instead of eating their own dog food, we were feasting on eggs, waffles, hash browns, farm toast with butter, and bacon. Oh, and fresh milk. Really fresh, like right out of a cow. It didn't look like the milk I was used to, so while the family members were busy, I filled a glass with tap water instead. Mr. Webb smiled broadly. "Everything you're eating came from the farm. We've got chickens, a potato patch, and the bread is home made. Do you like the bacon?" Thick cut, it was just the right combination of salty and smoky. "Yes, very tasty." Charlotte deadpanned, "That used to be Mr. Porker, Poppy's pet pig." I choked, half-chewed food tumbling off my lower lip. "You got him, Char." Webb almost fell of his stool, laughing. "Farm humor. But seriously, Mr. Porker got pneumonia real bad last winter. But it worked out all right." "Really?" "Yep, doc cured him." Tears ran down old man Webb's cheeks. Charlotte's smile lit up the room. She was happy, teasing a city boy with corny jokes. Much better than her wallowing in the death of her husband. I wondered what would happen if I didn't perform up to expectations with Poppy? Would I be forced to walk home from Nebraska? I'd eaten everything I put on my plate, plus the second helpings Charlotte had forced on me. After an hour or so to digest, I'd be ready for Poppy. I grabbed the edge of the counter, ready to push back. "Where do you think you're going? It'd be a personal insult if you didn't have a piece of Poppy's birthday cake." Webb strolled to the double-size fridge. Wouldn't a piece of Poppy be a viable alternative? After my food went down, I'd be ready to pork her. "Really, I've eaten way too much already." Webb was approaching with a huge piece of two-layer white and chocolate cake with strawberry filling and vanilla cream frosting. "I won't take no for an answer." I dragged my fork through the tall pastry. Swallowing was a chore. I went to the sink for a refill but Charlotte grabbed my hand before I could turn on the faucet. 'Don't drink that well water. Nasty chemicals." My stomach churned. What had I been washing my meal down with? She fetched bottled water, imported from Minnesota, and filled my glass. Mr. Webb got called away while I carved small chunks from the Great Wall of baked goods on my plate. It took twenty minutes more to consume Poppy's birthday cake. I could barely stand up, let alone walk. Webb returned. "I'm going to need the jet this evening. Big deal in Europe is about to pop. You'll have to take your tour now. Otherwise, it won't be back in time." Charlotte scooted me out of the kitchen. "You'll find her in the barn, probably in her loft. Now go on. She's waiting for you." I held my stomach, with no lascivious thoughts in my mind. Waiting for me? Shit. My stomach felt stretched beyond its limits, about to burst. I was supposed to give Poppy her gift, feeling like this? Fuck Poppy? Fuck that! At least my blood had already rushed to my belly, to help digest the food. It wouldn't have as long trip to my cock from there, assuming I could raise an erection with such extreme gastrointestinal distress. I slogged across the dirt back yard to the barn. The barn door was open. I checked my fly. Zipped shut. Horses in their stalls lined one side. As I walked past, they stomped hooves and whinnied. I'd spooked them, and they right back at me. A voice called down from the upper loft. "Stop botherin' 'em." It was Poppy, on a third deck near the roof. There was one ladder to the second floor, where hay and bags of grain were stored. Wheat for Groatz, or the leftovers for the farm animals? I grabbed the sides and stepped up. My foot slipped on the wood rungs. I took a quick breather on level two, looking up at Poppy's loft, but also looking down. Heights and I aren't friends. Not even close. Climbing a wooden ladder this high triggered an emotional response and involuntarily tightened my stomach muscles. Just what I needed after eating enough food for a small football team. Slowly, I climbed the remainder. Poppy sat Indian style, the cutoffs riding even higher on her thighs, practically at her groin. Her face was in profile as she looked out a small window, shutters folded on each side. I almost walked into an intricate spider's web clinging to the rafters. I started to raise a hand to knock it away. "Don't! They've been making progress for weeks now. I been watchin," she said. "Sorry." "You know, you're no replacement for Lenny." "I'm not trying to be." "Lenny made me feel safe." She hugged herself, arms across her breasts. The self-squeeze pushed her tits together, bulging at the tied knot of her shirt. Any tighter, and they'd pop out. Or Poppy out. "You give me the heebie-jeebies." "How come?" I sat a safe distance from Poppy. Part of me wanted her to untie her shirt so I could see her large naked breasts. Then again, I was in no shape to do anything about them. Hell, sucking her nipples would probably make me gag, not a very kind thing to do to any woman, especially one who is on the brink of indoctrination to womanhood. Or whatever they call it after a woman's been fucked once. "You don't look so good. Here, try one of these." She handed me a crispy brown thing from a cellophane bag. I took a nibble. "What is it?" "Pork rinds." She crunched down on one. The joke about Mr. Porker bounced back in my head. And Charlotte's expectation that I'd pork her sister. I felt the rush of partially digested food up from my stomach. I leaned over the edge of the loft. The height was dizzying. Vomit spurted from my mouth. I gagged at the bile taste, bitter and chunky. I heaved again, splattering the dusty floor below. Poppy had rushed to my side, holding her kerchief against my forehead. "Are you all right?" "I over-did it at breakfast." I shook my head. Maybe I was done, or not. "Here, wash out your mouth. Don't swallow." She held a plastic bottle of water. "Open wide." I tilted my head back and opened my mouth. She poured a bit too much water around my mouth, some of it dripping down my chest. I swished the cool liquid around and spat the rinse out. She did it one more time. The process succeeded in refreshing my taste buds. "Thanks." Maybe now, she'd talk to me. "Charlotte told me you and Lenny were close." "Uh huh. We'd meet up here a couple times a week in private." Maybe Charlotte didn't know how close. "And what did you do?" Not fuck, according to her sister. "We'd talk about stuff. Life. The world. What it all means." The Goat I remembered was never that deep or philosophical. She continued, "He was sad mostly. I tried to cheer him up. You don't seem to know him very well, being his best friend and all." "It's been a long time. We lost track of each other. So how did you cheer him up?" A hand job by this zaftig cherub would raise my cock and my spirits. "You can't tell. Nobody especially Char." I held up the three-finger Boy Scout salute. "Promise." "Okay. Lenny liked laying out and tanning." With the closed casket I had to take her word for it. "Well, sometimes I'd touch him and let him touch me back." I was certain he wasn't touching her 'back' back. "Anywhere in particular?" "At the beach, or up here, in private, like I said." "I mean, where on your body?" Her face regained that reddish tone. "I'd put his hand on my tatty. He liked that." Who wouldn't? Even in my sad condition, I'd have loved to wrap my fingers around one of Poppy's tits. Except at her cup size, they wouldn't reach around. "Really?" "You have Lenny's sad look. Would you like to touch me?" I stifled a smile. Too much enthusiasm and she'd withdraw the offer. "I guess." She plopped down next to me and slid my hand inside her shirt. Her skin was warm and smooth. There wasn't much of a bump where I expected a nipple. I positioned my hand under her breast, cupping from below, almost hefting it. The angle put stress on the knot of her shirttails. If the shirt popped open, she'd need both of my hands to keep those tits from sagging. "Better?" Much, but I couldn't tell her that. "A little." "Maybe if I touch you." Her hand flattened against my stomach. Too bad. I was hoping fit something more - oops down at my groin, her hand groped around the denim. Damn, it would be so much better if - whoa, she found the zipper and was dragging it down. I stood up so she had better access, reluctantly pulling my hand from her shirt. It gapped further open showing a deep wide cleavage and untan crescents of breast. More than big enough for a tit fuck. She succeeded in extracting my prick, which was only partially hard. "Looks like you're bigger than Lenny." My cock reacted to her stroke and blossomed. "Am I raisin' it? ÔCause youÕre gettingÕ a lot bigger." She couldn't take her eyes off it. "So now what? Lenny was going to teach me about sex. But he's dead now, and Charlotte says you're the substitute." I was having second and third thoughts. I could puke again any minute. Besides, Poppy was a nice girl. She deserved better than me. "I don't know if I can." "Aren't you interested?" She licked her lips. "It's not that. You're very sexy." That was no lie. "It would be a privilege-" "Like I said, you're no Lenny. He and me, we had something special." She dropped my cock and turned away. Her ass was round and almost completely exposed. "Besides, you don't have to. I know all that sex stuff from watching the horses." She'd certainly have had the opportunity, viewing animal sex from her private bleachers. "Okay." She was off the hook. She stood up, hands on her hips. "That's it? You ain't gonna insist?" "Nope. Not if you don't want to, and you understand how sex works with people." My cock hung out in the open. I guessed it wasn't going to get exercised today after all. "Just the same as horses, right?" She crossed her arms under her breasts, which thrust them out. The bow holding the shirt came loose. The shirttails were trapped. If she dropped her arms, the curtain would pull back, exposing her big tits. "I guess, although I've never tried it that way." "I'll show you how they do it." She unfolded her arms. The shirt opened, wide enough to expose the inner curves of two voluptuous breasts, swinging from Poppy's chest. Large areola within light flesh triangles played peek-a-boo on her otherwise brown mounds. "Horses don't wear shorts, do they?" "Guess not." She popped a snap and dropped her shorts. No panties, just a very dense bush covering her vagina, and a thin tan line that spoke to a very skimpy bikini bottom. She bent over, stiffened her legs and arms and put her hands on the straw-covered floor. It was doggie position but not on her knees. More like horsy position. Her back was an arch, and her tits hung down. "So what happens? Does the male horse approach from behind? With its cock pointing up?" "Uh huh. Come closer." I grabbed her hips. "Unh un. Horses don't have hands. The stallion wraps his front legs around the mare." So I followed her direction, made my arms straight and hung them on either side of her body like horse legs. My cock bounced against her hairy twat but that's all. "It's not going in." "So, don't just stand there. Move your hips until we connect." So Poppy was okay with fucking, so long as we did it like four legged animals, and without the use of our hands. I swiveled my hips, contorting to line myself up. "I can't seem to make this work." She stood up. The shirt hung off her shoulders, tits in full view. They were fat and dark, which made the light bikini patches even more prominent, visually. Flat nipples. "Then how come it works for them?" My palms sweated at the thought of touching her breasts. My cock bobbed, looking for action. "Maybe they're built to have sex in that position. Fortunately, humans have alternatives. You know, flexibility." "Like what?" "I could have used my hand to aim. And we can do it in different positions. Like face to face. Horses can't do that." "I guess." She stepped closer. "We've got hands to touch." I put my hands along her sides. Her breasts bounced against my wrists. Her fingers got reacquainted my cock. "Like this?" "Yep. They can't do things like this, can they?" I grasped her breasts from the sides and pressed them together. "Nope. And horses can't kiss while doing it." She raised her face to me, face glowing, mouth moist. I took the offered opportunity and pressed my mouth to hers. I hoped my vomit breath was gone. "How did Lenny and Char do it? I mean, when Lenny was still alive?" "I didn't ask your sister for the details of her sex life." Although I'd participated in it last night. "I'd like you to show me. How to be flexible, that is." Okay, she was approving the next step, which didn't have to lead to sex. I slid my hand between her thighs. I probed for the pussy hidden in the bush. It was closed tight and dry. "You're not very excited, are you? Maybe we should stop here." "Lenny would wet his fingers." She sucked my middle digit. So Lenny didn't fuck Poppy with his dick, just his hand. I tried again, but Poppy's attempt was insufficient. "I don't think you're ready-" "I am so too ready." She practically yanked my cock off. "I'm eighteen, and I want to have sex." "You want an orgasm, right?" She nodded vigorously. "Okay, lay back and spread your legs." She did as asked, on a rough striped blanket. I stepped out of my pants so I didn't trip and fall three stories. I spread her bush and aimed my tongue at her pink slit. Outer labia were absent. Her pussy looked like a sliced hamburger bun. I enjoyed licking her and probing gently with the tip of my tongue. She tilted from side to side, her breasts careening on her chest. Poppy bleated like a sheep. I attempted to stimulate her clitoris, but wasn't sure I was hitting the right spot until Poppy shrieked. The horses below reacted to Poppy's vocalizations, answering with whinnies. I sat back on my heels. Poppy's legs closed as she rolled to her side, shaking. "How do you feel?" I asked. "Was it supposed to feel that good? I mean, with your mouth?" "Uh huh." Poppy leaned up, supported by her arms behind her. "Lenny was right to be jealous. You're a lot bigger than him. And thicker." My cock was rigid, pointing at her. But we were done. I'd lost the urge to throw up, but I felt cold and clammy. I stood and reached down to pull on my jockeys. "What are you doing? Aren't we going to have sex?" She had a classic pouty expression, including an index finger dangling from her bottom lip. "You had an orgasm, and a good one, if your shout was any indication. Like I said, we don't have to. And like you said, I'm not Lenny." "No, but you're my one chance, with Lenny gone. Now, before Daddy locks me up like a prize heifer. He's ultra protective of his girls." She shifted her weight, and her boobs swayed side to side. I'd fucked Charlotte, and Poppy was asking for it. How successful was old man Webb being? She assumed a doggie position on the blanket. Without another word, she spread her legs. Her hairy cunt was a desirable target. I moved close and put my prick where she wanted it, at Poppy's pussy. Instead of depending on me, she used her fingers to get me in position. I felt the firmness of her cunt on my cock. "Is this right?" "Oh yes. Perfect." "You take it easy now. That things a whole lot bigger than Lenny's finger." Too much information. Okay, so Lenny hadn't fucked his sister- in-law, at least not with his penis. I dipped a bit. Poppy was tight, both physically and emotionally. She was a willing participant but scared. Hell, so would I, if I were in her position. I inched forward. She grunted. "Relax. I'll take it easy." "This isn't what I 'spected." She rubbed my cock up the length of her vaginal opening. With considerable pressure, she managed to get the head of my cock between her cunt lips. "Does it get better?" "Yes, once you get lubricated and we get to humping." The clock was running. How long had we been up here, anyway? Would old man Webb climb the ladder and find us like this? I swung my hips forward a bit, in the name of progress. It was like fucking a knothole. Not that I'd ever put my woody through a plank of wood, you understand. This was not going well for either of us. Poppy groaned. "You're too big." I felt a sharp sting on my ass. I lurched forward, impaling Poppy on my prick, over halfway. "Oowwwwww! You said you'd take it easy." "Something bit me. On my ass." "The hell it did." She ran her hands over my ass cheeks. "Hang on." I felt something get pulled from my skin and brought it around. "What is that?" It looked big and ferocious. "Damn! I never seen one of these before. Nasty critter." If biting me hadn't killed it, the slap of her hand on the floor snuffed it good. My sudden forward jerk had planted me deeper. Still, it was difficult to move my cock with the pressure of Poppy's pussy muscles. Her thighs were heavy and muscular, and so was her twat. "Can you relax a bit?" "Not with that sausage up me." Her ass was too large for me to get closer. I placed my legs outside hers and leaned over her back. That left my hands free one to palpate her hanging tits and the other to stroke her pussy in the vicinity I expected her clit. I must have been on target because she began to buck like a stallion. Distracted by the stimulation, Poppy's cunt had relaxed. I took that opportunity to plunge. She was looser and wetter now. I held in for dear life as she oohed and aaahed with each shallow thrust. "It feels better." Her cunt strangled my erection. The pressure was challenging but exciting. She inhaled a few sharp breaths and clamped down harder on my cock. She'd orgasmed for the second time, and I hadnÕt even probed more than a few inches. My job was done even if I hadn't filled her pussy with cum. In fact, I felt gratified that she'd gotten a good ride without a messy residue to clean up. Charlotte shouted from the main floor. "Harvey we've got to go." "We're done - with the tour. I'll be right down." I pulled, buttoned and zipped everything into place. I helped Poppy to her feet and kissed her cheek. "Happy birthday, sweetie. Wait for the right guy to come along, and don't settle." She hugged me tight. "Can I have you?" "Sorry, already taken." Just not appreciated. "By Charlotte? 'Cause we could still meet, just like Lenny and me-" "I'm already married." I pulled her to arms length. "Besides, you shouldn't have to share a man with your sister. Find your own guy, and don't share him with anybody. You won't have to try hard." Just open your shirt and spread your legs. I took one long look at Poppy, memorizing her ample charms and youthful face, and then climbed down to the main floor. Charlotte was waiting a couple of feet away, avoiding the puke splatter. 'What happened here?" she asked. "City stomach meets country style breakfast with seconds topped off with birthday cake." She took my hand in hers as we walked out of the barn. Arnie was waiting at the limo, engine running, just outside the barn door. He opened the rear door for me. Charlotte got in on the other side. "I'm coming along for the ride." "Okay." Maybe she thought if she came she could cum. In my assessment, Charlotte had gotten her fair share. Despite the soft leather seat, my ass cheek ached from the bug bite. I squirmed to find a comfortable position. Charlotte took my hand in hers, as if we were high school sweethearts. "You're married, right." "Yep." Charlotte turned my face to hers with her fingertips. "Leave her and move out here, with me. We're perfect together, and I could learn so much from you. Sex with Lenny felt great because I was in charge. But with you? God, I didn't know what going to happen next. It was exciting." "So you want me for the sex?" I was not going to become a gigolo. "No, that's not it. There's an empty space in my life. Lenny would approve. And don't worry about money. We have plenty." Great. A kept man. Maybe Goat had liked the arrangement, with two sisters to play with. "I'm not ready to retire yet." "Lenny worked. We gave him a couple of small accounts to manage. Nothing important. We'd find something for you to do at the company. What do you do in Chicago?" Besides screw around when a female crosses my path? "I work with computers." Her lips drooped. "Our I/T group is in Kearney. I'd just have to convince Daddy to buy a jet helicopter for your commute. I'd want you home - in our bed- every night." I'd be trading one financially subordinate relationship for another. Back home, Harriett owned the house and both of our cars. Even the checking and saving accounts were in her name. I'd leave penniless. Here, I'd be the boss's son-in-law, under his financial rule. Old man Webb was too stubborn to die any time soon, and besides, Charlotte would inherit the business, not me. Besides, although Charlotte and Poppy would provide sufficient sexual opportunities for most men, I'd be giving up the random accidental sexual encounters that I enjoyed so much. And if old man Webb ever found out I was doing anybody but Charlotte, or Charlotte found out I was continuing to do Poppy, well, I'd be out on my ass in a nanosecond. Keeping my weight off the stung buttock had me leaning towards Charlotte, an inappropriate bit of body language. "I just don't think it would work out, in the long term." We pulled up to the shack and the Groatz jet. Charlotte got out of the car, I thought to make one last impassioned plea, or perhaps kiss me goodbye with such passion that I'd change my mind. Instead, she trotted over to Yuli, the flight attendant, and gave her a hug. Is that the way Charlotte greets employees? Yuli wore an alternative flight uniform: beige blouse, beige cheerleader skirt and beige boots, all with the Groatz logo. God, she had nice legs. The jumpsuit had hinted but now they were fully exposed. I was close enough to overhear their conversation. "So, how was the funeral, cous?" Yuli asked. "Sorry I couldn't make it." Cous? As in, cousin? "Lenny is at rest. Now, I have to put my life back together." Charlotte stared at me, as if I was her solution. "You have my sincere condolences. Please tell Uncle Stan we'll be back in time for his trip to London." Without another word, Charlotte returned to the limo. Arnie handed my bag to Yuli. I knew the drill and went up the stairs into the plane. "Nice to see you again," said one of the pilots, still in his jumpsuit. Thank God he wasn't wearing a skirt and go-go boots. I eased myself into one of the passenger captain's chairs. My butt cheek still ached. I leaned to put pressure on the other one. Yuli came aboard, strutted up the aisle and plopped down into a swivel chair next to me with enough momentum to turn the chair in my direction. We were face to face. "So, how was your visit? Enjoyable?" "As much as a funeral can be enjoyed." She leaned forward, hands on her bare knees. "She couldn't convince you to stay." She leaned back and crossed her legs. The pleated cheerleader shirt rose higher on her thighs. The blouse went tight across her tits, nipples visible. "You're too strong." Maybe, but my digestion had barely returned to normal, and getting up for Poppy but not cumming didn't make facing Yuli's tempting body easy. I looked at the embroidered name on her right tit. "As long as we're probing for answers, what kind of a name is Yuli?" "Oh, that's a mistake. It's supposed to be Juli." Juli? As In Juliana? Charlotte and Poppy's cousin? Damn! "Are you cousin Juliana?" "Yes. Why, did they mention me?" She leaned forward, within inches of my face. "What did they tell you?" Only that Lenny had been admonished to stay clear of female relatives, especially her. "Nothing much. Occasionally they mentioned family." She exhaled a deep sigh that smelled like vanilla. "Thank God. I need to stay on good terms with Uncle Stringer." She stood and walked to the back of the place. Juli was keeping secrets. What would piss off old man Webb? For one thing, if Lenny and Juli had shacked up. I tuned my head so I could watch her hips wiggle and the skirt flit back and forth. My will power was fading. I squirmed in my seat. The ache in my ass was getting stronger, sharper. It was difficult to keep half my ass of the seat when we took off. I must have groaned or something. Juli came over. "What's the matter?" "I got a bug bite in the barn. On my ass." "With your pants on or off?" She smiled. Probably thought Charlotte and I had rolled in the hay. The seat belt sign went dim. "Let me take a look." "At my butt?" "Who else? One of the pilots?" She led me to the row of individual flat seats along the rear sides. This was steerage, the place where the unimportant folks sat. In my situation, it was Juli's examination table. "Come on, drop your pants." I took off my shoes and jeans and laid down, face down. She took my jockeys down - way down - to my knees. My cock hung down in the gap between two seats. "What do you see?" I felt Juli's fingers flit across my buttocks. "Bug bite. Stinger still in there. Lay still while I get the med kit." She went to the back and got a white metal box. "I'm going to pull it out. This might hurt a bit." I saw her holding a magnifier and a tweezers. With one yank, she pulled out the bug's remnant. Cool disinfectant dripped across the curve of my ass. Juli's hand casually drifted from my back, in between the seats. "Oh my, you have another stinger that needs attention." She toyed with my cock, which wasn't erect but getting there. "You interested in using your stinger on me?" "No, not really." I could get hard enough, but the Webbs had manipulated me enough. I made an educated guess. "So, how was Lenny?" She gasped. "You know? Who told you?" It was likely, given what Charlotte and Poppy had said. Women flocked to Lenny's sullen disposition. "Tell me about it." I remained in position. Juli sat on the floor next to the seats, knees pulled to her chin. Beige thong, too. "I'd had flown with Lenny to Chicago for his divorce hearing and paper signing. On that flight he looked so sad." "Like his dog had just died?" "Exactly. So on the flight back, I couldn't help but console him. It started out just a hug, cousinly. But that didn't work so I kissed him. Just a peck. But his lips trembled so I kissed him again. And then we were holding each other tight. I could feel his cock straining against his pants and I knew what I had to do to make him feel better. Make him feel like a man again." She ran her hand from tip to belly. "But not as much man as you." Just like so many others classmate coeds, professorsÕ wives had done to pull old Goat out of his funk and into their arms. And pussies. So that was either his bait or his natural demeanor. Maybe he felt like since he was free and clear with his divorce and since he wasn't married to Char yet, heÕd sow some wild oats with a different member of the Groatz family. I wondered if old man Webb learned about Goat's extracurricular activity with Juli. It had occurred before Goat and Charlotte got hitched but Webb might have considered it a violation anyway. Certainly Juli had been violated. "Did you tell Charlotte?" Heavens no. She was engaged to him. I couldn't do that to my cousin. And that's the only time? I swear. Juli had no credibility. If Goat had flown with her again, they'd have repeated their sexual performance. After everything she had done and was doing, her fingers manipulating my prick, Juli was a sexual aggressor. The family knew it, and I'd experienced it directly. "Sit up and tell me how your ass feels now." I swung my legs down and put my full weight on my ass. Not bad. A little ache." "Not so little." Juli watched my erect cock sway. "So was Charlotte pleased?" "She just lost her husband to an accident. Not something to be happy about." "I mean, with this?" She grabbed my cock with both hands, repeated downward strokes. She didn't deserve the truth. "She seemed pleased that one of Lenny's old friends could be there, for support." "Good thing Uncle String didn't catch you, or you'd have ended up like Lenny." Huh? Did Juli suspect foul play? Charlotte had talked about consequences. Could old man Webb have found out Goat was going to fuck Poppy and confronted him in the bathroom, smashing his head on the toilet tank? The accident always seemed a bit suspect, given how far from the tank Goats' head would have been if he was jacking off and slid off the toilet seat. "Maybe I should see if this can support me. If it's enjoyable, that is. She turned her back, unvelcroed her skirt with a swift rip and slid the thing to the side. I'd been warned about Juli but there was no risk, since I'd made no commitment to Charlotte. Unless Uncle Stringer didn't like his flight attendants fucking the passengers, I was at no risk. Besides, my balls ached for release from my episode with Poppy. "Skip the coffee and the tea. I'll have you." I pulled her down onto my cock in one motion. "Oooooh, shit! You are too muuuuch!" I reached around and ripped her shirt off. Buttons flew. Damn, no velcro. I plucked her nipples. Juli bounced on my cock, doing all of the hard work. She grunted with each landing in my lap, and inhaled with very rise. I pulled her body back against mine, so I could look over her shoulder at her tits. Smaller than Poppy's or even Charlotte's, but perky. She turned her face and we struggled to French kiss. She got off my lap, faced me and remounted. That put her tits within mouth range, and I sucked hard, pressing my lips on her nipples. She yipped with each nibble. The sign showing our location and altitude illuminated the wall. We were at thirty-one thousand feet, much more than needed for me to join the Mile High Club. My ass started to ache, but I wasn't going to stop now. I needed an orgasm as much as Juli, maybe more. I placed Juli's arms around my neck, put my hands under her ass and stood up. Her head brushed the ceiling of the plane. She clung to me as the plane bopped along and I bopped her. I delivered a series of quick dips and then let her sink down, putting us pubis to pubis. Cum pulsed from my prick. I didn't care if Juli had reached an orgasm, but her clamping and shaking gave me a reasonable guess of mutual success. She climbed down from me, petted my cock and fetched her clothing. When we landed, Juli stayed aboard, her blouse hanging open. She could have tied the shirttails like Poppy did, but perhaps that violated the Groatz dress code. Instead, one of the pilots got me my stowed bag. When I got home, it was late afternoon. Harriett was out, as usual, and the fridge was empty. So was my heart. I ordered a sausage and mushroom pizza from the carryout place a few blocks away and contemplated Lenny's fate, perhaps at the hands of his father-in-law, and the needy women of the Webb clan. I'd done my small part, using my big part, to help straighten them out. As I waited for my pie to arrive, I was sure that some stud was in store for a set of rewarding but sexually demanding relationships. As long as old man Webb didnÕt find out. ### An Original H M Tale I'm always interested in reader feedback. Was this story too complicated, or did the character and scene development make it a better story? Tell me what you think via email, at harveymarcus9@comcast.net. Copyright (c) 2009, HarveyMarcus. All Rights Reserved.