Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 ________________________________ This is a story about a sexual FANTASY
written for consenting adults.  If you're not both of those, don't read it.
Characters in a FANTASY don't get sick or die unless I want them to.  In
real life, people who don't use condoms and other safe-sex techniques do
get sick and die.  You don't live in a FANTASY so be safe.  The fictional
characters in my stories are trained and experienced in acts of FANTASY -
don't try to do what they do - someone could get hurt.

   If you think you know somebody who resembles any of the characters here,
congratulations, but you're wrong - any similarity between the characters
in this story and any real person is purely coincidental, since all of
these characters are figments of my dirty little imagination.

   This is my story, not yours.  Don't sell it or put it on a pay site. 
You can keep it and/or give it away with all of this information intact,
but if you make money off of it, you're breaking the law and pissing me
off. _________________________________ I don't recall having seen a story
or series titled "Me and Mrs.  Jones" before, but I would be surprised if
there weren't several out there - it's such a natural for this sort of
story.  Anyway, my apologies to anyone who might have used it before, but I
couldn't think of a better title for this series! 
_________________________________ Me and Mrs.  Jones - Chapter 5: Party
time (mf, Mf, Mm, oral, anal, toys, best, mult) (C)Copyright 2003 - Shakes
Peer2B shakes_peer2b@NONOsbcglobal.net (remove 'NONO' from above address)
/files/Authors/Shakes_Peer2B/
http://storiesonline.net/ (go to the Author's page under 'S')

   ________ Mrs.  Jones looked thoughtful as Becky and I, naked except for
our nipple chains, entered the playroom hand-in-hand.  It was, of course,
time for our usual Friday afternoon session.  Instead of getting us
positioned for whatever sex act she had planned however, Mrs.  Jones
beckoned us to sit on the floor at her feet.

   Naturally, we didn't want to disappoint our Goddess, so we sat, waiting
expectantly for whatever her scarlet painted lips would ask of us.  Neither
of us was prepared for what she did ask, however.

   "Jimmy," those violet eyes burned into my soul, "Becky, you have both
been wonderful so far, always doing whatever I asked, eagerly and without
question.  Tonight, I must ask something more of you."

   We gazed at her lovely face, eager to do whatever would please Mrs. 
Jones.  She looked back and forth between us, then smiled at our rapt
expressions.

   "You have both been absolutely marvelous in your willingness to share
your love with Buster and then with Mr.  Jones." She studied our faces
before continuing.

   The longer the buildup took, though, the more nervous I became.  When
Becky's hand sought mine again, I knew she, too, was feeling apprehensive.

   "You two are the most special of my special children," Mrs.  Jones
cooed, touching each of our cheeks in turn, "and tonight I would like you
to do a very special favor for me.  I am giving a party tonight, and I
would like the two of you to share your love with my guests, just as you
have with Me and Buster and Mr.  Jones.  Will you do that for me?"

   Normally, our response would have been instantaneous, but this time,
Becky and I looked at each other in consternation.

   I don't know how to describe the voluminous discourse that took place
within a few seconds as we locked eyes and said not a word.  At first we
were both afraid, then we agreed that Mrs.  Jones would never hurt us or
allow us to be hurt.  Then Becky, always the more adventurous of the two of
us, realized the possibilities.  As she communicated this silently to me, I
too, began to speculate on the ramifications.  In the end, we smiled at
each other, turned as one, and sang, in harmony "Yes, Mrs.  Jones!"

   Mrs.  Jones beamed at us and the room seemed suddenly brighter.  "You
are both so deliciously fantastic!  One of these days you need to teach Mr.
Jones and I that telepathy thing you do!  It's three hours until the party
begins and I want you fresh for my guests, so you can either go home and
make the necessary arrangements with your parents, or you can wait here. 
In either case, take your chains off - you'll need them tonight and I don't
want the circulation restricted in your nipples for that long."

   "Mrs.  Jones?" I asked

   "Yes, Jimmy?"

   "I just need to call my mom and tell her I'll be at a friend's house." I
said, "It's better if I don't go home or they'll find an excuse to keep me
from going out again."

   "Me too!" Becky chimed in.

   Mrs.  Jones showed us the phone on the wall of the playroom, then left
to prepare for the party, admonishing us not to leave the playroom until
she or Mr.  Jones came for us.

   "I want you to be a lovely surprise for my guests!" Mrs.  Jones
practically gushed.

   Becky and I removed each other's chains, then, after calling our
parents, settled down side-by-side on one of the benches to wait.  Three
hours is a long time for horny teenagers to wait, and we soon found
ourselves engaged in a torrid sixty nine.  As we neared orgasm, Mrs.  Jones
voice came from a speaker hidden somewhere nearby.

   "You may play with each other all you want," she admonished, "but I will
be VERY disappointed if either of you cum before joining my party!"

   "Yes Mrs.  Jones!" we chorused.

   Reluctantly, we pulled apart.  To kill the time, we went exploring
within the playroom.  Most of the devices and odd bits of furniture were
well known to us, but we did find a few things that neither of us had seen
or had used on us before.  For some of them, like the gigantic dildoes that
would have made a horse scream in pain, the reasons were obvious.  For
others, it wasn't clear why we hadn't experienced them.  For still others,
we couldn't even guess what their uses might be!

   We passed the time in speculating about what this or that oddly shaped
thing might be used for, our suggestions getting sillier and more ribald by
the minute, until suddenly, Mrs.  Jones appeared to take us to the party.

   Our goddess was even more stunning than ever in a hot-pink, skin tight,
one-piece dress that showed nearly all of her gorgeous curves.  Its super
short skirt displayed her long, shapely legs to full advantage, but the
bodice, well, there almost WAS no bodice!  The waistband of the clinging
skirt swooped upward around a large hole centered on her pierced navel, to
a single strip of cloth that bisected her taut abdomen, splitting into two
strips that barely covered her erect nipples and aureolae before merging
into a single strip that once again spread apart to become a collar around
her long, aristocratic neck.  A large, brilliant diamond pendant hung
between her luscious breasts, matched by dangling solitaire diamond
earrings.  The color of the fabric must have been chosen to perfectly
complement the violet of her eyes, because they blazed beneath the stylish
bun into which her hair had been captured.

   When Mrs.  Jones beckoned us to follow, and turned to lead us
downstairs, my breath caught at the way the back of the skirt plunged to a
sharp V ending at the top of the cleft of her ass, exposing the exquisite
alabaster expanse of her back all the way to the little dimples at the top
of each rounded buttock.

   The spikes of her heels were impossibly thin and long, but she moved, as
always, with poise and grace, disdaining use of the handrail on the stairs,
and looking straight ahead as she descended with Becky and I in her wake.

   Mrs.  Jones motioned for us to wait in the foyer as she flowed into the
hubbub of a party in full swing.

   "Ladies and Gentlemen!" She announced in an almost conversational tone
that nonetheless silenced her guests as if a blanket had been thrown over
them.  "As the invitation suggested, I have for you this evening some very
special entertainers.  Before I introduce them, however, I want each of you
to understand that these people are very dear to me, and are to be treated
with the utmost respect and love."

   She swept her gaze around the room, fixing each guest momentarily with
look that said "This means you!"

   Turning slightly sideways to the foyer entrance where Becky and I
waited, she continued, "Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests, let me
introduce this evening's entertainment.  These two young people are very
much in love, and are very adept at pleasing their partners in a variety of
situations.  They have brought me many hours of joy, and are a delight to
watch when they are together.  Please welcome Becky and Jimmy!"

   Our faces red with embarrassment at being the only naked people in the
crowd, Becky and I entered timidly, hand-in-hand, to gasps of surprise, and
a scattering of applause.

   Mrs.  Jones, sensing our discomfort, addressed her guests, "It's not
really fair that Becky and Jimmy stand here naked while everyone else is
fully clothed, is it?  You knew that the evening would eventually lead to
sex of some sort, so please, disrobe and let's get started!"

   As her guests undressed, Mrs.  Jones turned to Becky and I.  "I'd like
for the two of you to put on a little show to get my guests in the mood. 
Will you do that for me?"

   "Yes, Mrs.  Jones!"

   "Yes, Mrs.  Jones!"

   Our Goddess did not remove her own clothing, but smiled and led us to a
small platform at one end of the room.

   "Just make yourselves comfortable here, and make love to each other, in
any way you desire.  When I think the time is right, I'll bring Buster to
join you.  The idea is to get these people as aroused as possible.  Will
you do that for me, Becky, Jimmy?"

   "Yes, Mrs.  Jones!"

   "Yes, Mrs.  Jones!"

   As Mrs.  Jones faded back into the room and naked onlookers crowded
around the little stage, I turned and kissed Becky passionately.  My lovely
Angel responded by grinding her almost hairless pelvis against my thigh,
moaning loudly into my mouth.

   Breaking the kiss, I turned the beautiful twelve-year-old away from me.
She raised her arms to caress my head and neck as I bent to nibble at the
delicate curve where her neck rose gracefully from her shoulders.  My now
hard dick nestled wetly between her buttocks as I tugged gently at her
chain with one hand, while caressing her increasingly moist pussy with the
other.  Becky melted into me while her hips alternated between humping my
fingers and sliding her tender nether cheeks along my turgid shaft.

   I was only dimly aware of the gasps and moans from the audience as the
lovely Blonde nymphet suddenly knelt, twisting around to face me, and
engulfed my dripping penis entirely.  Her delicate lip buried deeply in my
pubic hair, Becky moaned and twisted her head from side to side, sending
shockwaves up my spine as my hips arched to meet her eager mouth.

   The lovely pre-teen worked me into a frenzy, but I didn't want to come
this way.  I gently helped her lay back on the carpeted stage, coming down
astride her face as she continued her industrious ministrations. 
Carefully, never losing contact with her mouth, I turned until I was facing
Becky's glistening pussy.

   As I bent and started tonguing her clit, Becky's moaning rose in pitch
and volume.  When I slipped a finger into the tight, wet confines of her
slit and stroked her G-spot, she screamed around my shaft and climaxed,
slamming her clitoris against my vibrating tongue.

   The watching adults murmured and cooed around us, and I heard the
slurping, slapping sounds of more than one pussy being penetrated.

   As my Angel recovered from her first cum of the evening, I switched ends
and gently slipped my rampant spear into her still spasming cavern.  She
was so wet that, despite the tightness of her tunnel, I sank to the hilt
without effort.  Becky threw arms and legs about me, and shrieked through
another orgasm.

   My sweet little Angel became a raging beast in the light of the
audience's lustful gaze, shouting for me to pound her little pussy into the
ground as she dug her fingers into my buttocks and pulled me deeper.

   Remembering that the purpose of the show was to arouse the audience, I
pushed Becky's slender legs back toward her shoulders, and she obliged,
staring lustfully into my face, by slipping her arms inside and pushing her
ankles behind her shoulders.  This left our genitals fully exposed to the
hungry gaze of our audience as it increased the depth of my thrusts.  I
knew the time was not yet right for me to cum, so I sent my mind wandering
as I hammered sweet little Becky into the stage, urged on by her cries of
passion.

   As the diminutive blonde crashed through another orgasm, I released her
legs and pivoted her body around the axle of my dick until she knelt weakly
before me, resting on her elbows.  Little Becky was cumming continuously as
I pistoned in and out of her from behind, and from the sounds around the
stage, she wasn't the only one.  In the midst of one of her orgasms, I
slipped from her dripping pussy and in one stroke penetrated the spasming
rosebud of her pink little anus.

   Becky screamed and came again as the audience gasped and murmured to see
such behavior from a pair so young.  The sex noises from the adults were
even louder as I stroked rapidly in and out of my sweet Angel's rectum.

   I hadn't seen Mrs.  Jones, but suddenly, I felt Buster's warm fur on my
back.  A hush fell over the crowd as Mrs.  Jones guided Buster's dripping
cock to my eager butt, then was broken as the adults let out a collective
'Ooooohhh!' on seeing Buster slam his pointed red spear full length into
me.

   Mrs.  Jones leaned over and whispered into my ear, "You two are doing
very well, Jimmy!  Cum with Buster, ok?"

   I looked her way and gasped "Yes, Mrs.  Jones!", noticing that she was
still clothed.

   Buster wasted no time in plowing deep into my guts, setting up a long,
rapid thrusting rhythm.  I could do nothing but hang on for the ride. 
Buster's motion transferred through my body to Becky's, however, as both of
us were fucked by the animal's bestial phallus.

   As Buster neared his own pinnacle and his burgeoning knot began
trundling in and out of my quivering butt, the amazed adults began pointing
and speculating on how large it would get and whether I'd be able to take
it all.

   No worries.  Buster and I had done this many times before.  He lunged
inward one final time, and on the withdrawal, his knot stuck inside me,
still expanding, filling and pounding me like a boxer's fist.

   I was frantically searching for something, anything to occupy my mind as
the enormous cudgel swept repeatedly over my abused prostate.  Within
seconds, though, I felt the hot flood of his cum deep in my guts as he
pulled me back against him and unloaded everything in his balls.  I, in
turn, pulled Becky's tiny butt back into my groin as hard as I could and
hosed her colon with my own seed.  The chain reaction was completed as the
sweet pre-teen howled through her strongest climax yet, doing her best to
pull my entire pelvis within herself as I bellowed my passion in her ear.

   There was a loud noise in my ears as I came back to myself, and it took
me a while to realize that the adults were cheering wildly!

   Becky and I smiled tiredly at each other, maintaining our own coupling
and kissing tenderly as we waited for Buster to deflate enough to dismount.

   Mrs.  Jones, still the elegant vision in hot pink, knelt beside us,
beaming her smile directly to our hearts.  "That was fantastic, Becky,
Jimmy!  When you've had some time to rest, I'd like for you to do the same
with any of my guests who wish it, if you please.  Mr.  Jones and I will be
watching to ensure that you don't get hurt or forced into doing anything
you don't want to do.  Will you do that for me?"

   Again, Becky and I looked at each other and that instant, silent
conversation took place, ending in our smiling at each other then turning
to Mrs.  Jones.  "Yes, Mrs.  Jones!"

   Mrs.  Jones gave a wry smile and shook her head slightly, "You two are
unbelievable!  I'll never understand how you do that!"

   Buster finally slipped from my distended butthole, and Becky and I took
a few minutes to rest and drink some soda pop while the conversation raged
around us and hungry eyes devoured our bodies.

   I don't remember many details of what happened after that.  There must
have been twenty adults at that party besides Mr.  and Mrs.  Jones, and I
do believe I fucked or was fucked by every one of them.  I caught glimpses
of little Becky sandwiched between two guys while sucking another dick or
pussy.  Sometimes one or more of the phalluses in her holes was strapped to
a woman's waist.

   I sucked and fucked and was fucked by countless men and women, not
knowing or caring who was who.  One part of the party, however, is etched
clearly and indelibly in my memory.

   I was on my knees, fucking one guy in the butt, another dick up my butt,
and a third down my throat.  Because I knew Mrs.  Jones wanted her guests
to be pleased, I put my heart and soul into every coupling and blow-job. 
This one was no different.  I took it all in and laved the shaft with my
tongue, then the head as it withdrew.

   From above, a voice separated itself from the hubbub around me, "Look at
the little fag!  You're just a little pussy, aren't you boy!"

   The dick in my mouth was yanked unceremoniously away.  It took a moment
for my eyes to refocus.  When they did, I saw Mrs.  Jones standing beside
the guy who had been talking, one hand on his shoulder, the other pulling
tightly on the cord that was wrapped around his balls, pulling them back
between his legs.  The expression on her face was deadly.

   "Please hand Mr.  Klein his clothing." She spoke quietly, but the room
had grown deathly still, and Mr.  Jones appeared with a bundle of cloth.

   Mr.  Klein was still in shock, the pain in his balls having taken his
breath away.

   Mr.  Jones silently took the cord from his wife and frog-marched the
offender out of the room.  We all heard the slamming of the front door as
Mr.  Klein and his clothes were unceremoniously dumped on the front walk.

   Mrs.  Jones turned to the shocked guests.  "I thought I made it clear
that these children are very special to me.  They are not fags, whores,
sluts, pussies or any of the other things you might be tempted to call
them!"

   "Jimmy!" Mrs.  Jones eyes were lasers as she fixed me in her gaze, "Why
are you here tonight, having sex with all these people?"

   "B-because you asked me to, Mrs.  Jones!"

   "Do you do everything I ask of you Jimmy?" I knew she wasn't mad at me,
but just being around an angry Mrs.  Jones was painful.

   "Yes, Mrs.  Jones!"

   "Why, Jimmy?" her tone softened a bit, but the rage still boiled
underneath.  "Why do you do what I ask of you?"

   I knew she knew, but I guessed she wanted her friends to know, too. 
"I-I don't want to disappoint you, Mrs.  Jones."

   "Why don't you want to disappoint me, Jimmy?"

   I had known the answer for months, but had never had to articulate it
before.  "Because I...  You...  Because I love you, Mrs.  Jones!"

   Mrs.  Jones smiled tenderly and once again my heart melted as she turned
to Becky.  "Is that why you are here tonight, Becky?  Because you love me?"

   "Yes, Mrs.  Jones!" Becky, too, had gotten disentangled from her
partners and now stood beside me, holding my hand.

   "Becky," Mrs.  Jones asked softly, "Is there anything you wouldn't do
for me?"

   "Yes, Mrs.  Jones!" Becky's reply was immediate, though delivered in a
small voice.

   Mrs.  Jones seemed a bit taken aback, "What wouldn't you do for me,
Becky?"

   "I wouldn't do anything to hurt Jimmy, Mrs.  Jones." Her voice was clear
and strong, now.  "I love HIM too!"

   "Me too, Mrs.  Jones!" I was looking at Becky when I said it, but saw
Mrs.  Jones smile out of the corner of my eye.

   "That's as it should be, dears!" Mrs.  Jones anger seemed to have melted
away, "I would never ask you to hurt one another, or anyone else, for that
matter."

   There was a bit more desultory fucking and sucking after that, but no
one's heart was in it, and the party soon broke up.  Mr.  and Mrs.  Jones
joined us for one last, loving fuck after the guests left, then saw us to
the door.

   Neither Becky or I spoke on the way home, but the look in her eyes when
we parted was reflected in mine.  We now knew for certain that we loved
each other even more than we loved Mrs.  Jones.

   ______________

   Becky and I continued to visit Mrs.  Jones each Friday, and,
occasionally, to entertain the guests at her parties.  Sometimes there were
others of her 'special children' there as well, and we all did our best to
make sure the guests were entertained and satisfied.

   On the Friday following my fifteenth birthday, Mrs.  Jones threw a party
for me.  The guests were all her special children, Mr.  Jones, and Buster.
We had a great time eating ice cream and cake, and reminiscing about things
experienced together and separately.  It felt like a big family gathering
until the very end when Mrs.  Jones stood to make her announcement.

   Elegantly clad in black leather (pants, this time, though they were so
tight you could tell she wore no panties), she stood in front of me with a
small envelope in her hand.

   She held out her hand and as I took it, she pulled me to my feet.

   Turning to the others she said, "Jimmy was the first of you to come to
me, and he has been very special to me.  He has given me endless pleasure
and has never disappointed me in the almost two years that he's been coming
to see me.  He's fifteen today."

   She turned to me and I could see the shimmer of tears filling her
eyelids.  "When a special person reaches fifteen, it's time for him go out
on his own, and live the rest of his life as he sees fit.  I have one last
thing to ask of you, Jimmy.  I need you to leave here tonight and go out
and live a wonderful, happy life, but you cannot return to this house. 
Will you do that for me, Jimmy?"

   I could barely see her through my own tears, but I suddenly realized
that SHE was looking UP at ME.  I shook my head, but somehow, I knew that I
must do what she asked.  "Mrs.  Jones, I...!"

   One of those long, perfectly manicured fingers bridged my lips before I
could finish, and with pleading eyes, Mrs.  Jones asked quietly, "Will you
do that for ME, Jimmy?"

   Crestfallen, I bowed my head and murmured, "Yes, Mrs.  Jones!" for the
last time.

   Those bewitching violet eyes smiled wanly at me, though her ruby lips
didn't move, and she hooked her arm through mine, walking me to the front
door.  At the door, she tiptoed and kissed me tenderly.

   "You have been the best, dear James," she whispered as she hugged me,
"and I will miss you terribly, but now it's time for you to go out and meet
the world."

   As I stepped through the door, she handed me the envelope she carried.
"Do you remember when you first came here to mow my lawn, and I promised
that I'd give you twenty dollars each Friday for 'mowing my lawn'?"

   I nodded, saying, "I didn't want the money, Mrs.  Jones."

   She smiled and said, "I know you didn't, dear, but a promise is a
promise.  You never asked me for the money, so I opened an account in your
name with my investment banker.  Each Friday, another Twenty dollars was
added to that account.  In addition, each time you entertained the guests
at one of my parties, I added two hundred dollars to the account.  This
envelope contains the name and address of my investment banker, and the
account information.  I recommend that you let him continue managing your
money, as he is very good.  Take out only what you need for college, until
you are done with your schooling, and you will not want for money to do
whatever you want when you and Becky get married."

   I numbly accepted the envelope, nodding my agreement, and stumbled down
the steps.  As I passed under a street lamp, I idly looked at the contents
of the envelope.  I couldn't believe my eyes!  On the line that said
BALANCE were six figures, BEFORE the decimal point, starting with a seven!
Mrs.  Jones investment banker WAS very good!

   I was mulling this over trying to reconcile my newfound wealth with my
banishment from Mrs.  Jones house when Becky caught up with me, slipping
her arm through mine.  In the year and a half since Mrs.  Jones first got
us together, Becky's body had filled out and her face had gotten even more
beautiful, though she still looked small next to me.

   "I'll stop seeing her," she said softly, "if you want."

   We looked deeply into each other's eyes and told each other what was in
our hearts, without saying a word.  I knew she still enjoyed her time with
Mrs.  Jones, and she knew that though I was broken-hearted, my love for her
would not allow me to ask her to give up something that meant so much to
her.  A smile and a tiny shake of my head was all it took to seal the deal.

   I showed her what was in the envelope, and recounted what Mrs.  Jones
had told me.

   "Ohmigod!" she squealed, "Mrs.  Jones promised ME twenty dollars for
every time I helped her 'bake cookies'!"