Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The following is probably a work of FICTION.  It was sent back in time in a
quantum bottle.  So who really knows for sure? ...

   Feel free to reprint or take credit for it (as if I could stop you), but
please don't make any changes, or I won't write anything new!

   More of TooMuchTime's erotic writings can be found here ... 
/~TooMuchTime/

   PETER'S HOMECOMING, Part 1 (m F F cons busty)

   by TooMuchTime (TooMuchTime2002@hotmail.com)

   Copyright(c) 2003, TooMuchTime.  All rights reserved.

   Despite growing up there, Peter hadn't been to Nogard, Pennsylvania in
about 5 years -- not since his parents got divorced and his mother moved
them up to Maine to live with his grandparents.  Now he was 13, on a
Greyhound bus, heading back home again ...  if Nogard could still even be
called home any more.  All he knew was that after several years of
pestering, his mother had finally caved in, and agreed to let him stay in
Jersey with his father for the summer, while school was out.  He'd seen his
father sporadically since the divorce, but it always it had been in Maine,
and usually only for a weekend at a time.  Now they had a chance to spend 3
months together, and Peter was hoping to make the best of it.

   The only trick was, his father didn't know about it yet.

   Peter wasn't sure exactly how he'd pulled it off, but somehow, he'd
managed to convince his mother that everything was in place.  Truth to
tell, she absolutely hated Peter's father, and was perfectly happy to never
talk to him at all.  So over the years, the three of them had established a
pattern whereby Peter was the go-between for any kind of communication,
whether it concerned alimony, child support, family members dying, or in
this case, his 3-month visit to Nogard.  She fully believed that his father
would be picking him up at the bus station, and as long as Peter called her
shortly after he got there, to let her know everything would be okay, she
would continue to believe that.

   As for why Peter felt the need to be so sneaky on this matter ...  that
was easy.  The bottom line was that he couldn't be sure if his father would
want him around all summer.  Yet he knew his father was a good guy, so if
Peter simply showed up on his doorstep, there was no way he'd turn him
away. Or at least he hoped so.  One thing was for certain, though: having
finally gotten his mother's approval for this trip, there was no way in
hell Peter was going to let his father screw it up for him.  They were
going to have some "quality time" together if it killed them both.



   * * *



   The bus pulled into Nogard in the middle of the afternoon on a Saturday.
According to plan, Peter used the payphone in the bus stop to call his
mother and let her know he'd arrived safely.  She suspected nothing.  Then,
after a deep breath, he threw his large dufflebag suitcase over his back
and started the 15-block trek to where his father's bar was located --
which was right next door to where his apartment was located.  The bar was
called Nog Hill, and it was basically a strip club with a couple of pool
tables.

   Peter knew exactly where the Nog Hill was, because he'd spent some time
there as a kid, whenever his mother had to work and his father had to take
care of him.  In fact, the bar was where his parents had met, a few years
before he was born.  His father was still just a bouncer at the time, and
his mother was a waitress there for all of a year or so.  They apparently
hit it off, and they stayed involved even after his mother got fired for
pouring a drink on the head of a man who grabbed her ass one too many
times. The rest was history.

   By the time he reached the bar, Peter was just about ready to collapse.
He wasn't a big kid by any stretch of the imagination --
five-feet-two-inches tall on a good day, and so skinny that his friends
back in Maine called him Scarecrow.  As soon as he approached, he could see
that his father had done a great job of turning the place around after he
bought it.  The entire downtown area seemed to have gone through some kind
of economic boom over the past few years, and all of the store fronts
looked much cleaner than they used to, Nog Hill's included.  In a couple of
places, where there had used to be buildings, there were now wide, well-lit
parking lots, one of them right across from the bar.  Nog Hill itself had
expanded from one building into two, and despite the presence of broad
purple windows, managed to look very tasteful and subdued from the outside.

   "Well," Peter mumbled to himself, as he crossed the street, "here goes
nothing."

   He first went to the door of his father's apartment, and rang the bell.
When there was no answer, he rang again.  And when there was still no
answer, he realized how stupid he was being.  It was a Saturday afternoon.
In a few hours, it would be Saturday night.  Obviously his father would be
at the club itself, taking care of business.  So Peter grabbed his duffle
bag and walked a few feet over to the next door -- the entrance to Nog
Hill.

   As he stepped inside, the light level decreased dramatically, and his
eyes took a few moments to get adjusted.  By the time they had, he could
see that this part of the place was empty of customers, and set up a bit
differently than he remembered it.  Up here in the front, there were only
the pool tables (three now, instead of two), the doors to the bathrooms,
and a short, mirror-backed bar.  Loud music emanated from the rear of the
room, from behind a thick purple curtain, and that's where Peter guessed
the actual "strip club" would be ...  as well as whatever paying customers
were out at this time in the afternoon on a Saturday.

   The only person in the room was a large, gorilla-shaped man, playing
pool by himself.  Within seconds, he saw Peter, slapped the cue stick down,
and crossed the room toward him.  He didn't look happy.  Arms crossed and
glaring down, the man said, "What the hell are you doing in here?"
Apparently, he was the bouncer.

   Peter craned his neck upward.  "I ...  um ...  I'm looking for my
father?"

   "Yeah right, kid.  Nice try.  Now get out."

   "Huh?  What?  No, I am.  Honest." Just then, to the left of the gorilla,
Peter saw one of the dancers emerge from behind the thick purple curtain
and walk behind the bar.  She was blonde, her shoulder-length hair was
curly, she wore a shiny silver dress that seemed to reflect light like a
disco ball, and had a pair of tits so big that they almost looked inhuman.
More importantly, though, she actually looked familiar to him.  Or her face
did anyway ...  kind of.  Very pretty, with huge blue eyes framed by heavy
mascara.  The rest of her -- the shiny dress, the gargantuan boobs --
looked out of place for some reason.  In his mind's eye, he was picturing
her with more reasonable proportions ...  wearing a t-shirt and jeans ...
yes, that was it.  Back when he used to come here, she'd been a waitress,
not a dancer.

   Peter immediately pointed over at the bar.  "She knows my father," he
said.  "And me too ...  I think."

   The gorilla appeared doubtful, but swung around toward the dancer
anyway. "Hey, Trixie?"

   Trixie paused at pouring herself a soda.  "Yes?"

   "This kid says he knows you."

   But Trixie looked a bit skeptical herself.  "He does?" She had the
remains of a southern drawl that had never quite faded after years of
living in the Northeast.

   "Yes you do," Peter said.  "My father is Robert O'Toole."

   The gorilla sputtered, "What?  Bobby's your dad?"

   "That's what I was trying to say!"

   "Trix, can you vouch for this?"

   Recognition dawned on Trixie's face.  "Oh my god!  Petey, is that you?"

   Peter took a deep breath.  Finally, he thought.  "Yeah, it's me."

   "It's okay, Walter," the dancer said.  "This is Bobby's kid alright.  He
and I go way back."

   Peter couldn't help but smile at the bouncer.  "Your name is Walter?"

   "Yeah, you got a problem with that?" Walter the Gorilla simply glared at
him again.  "Trix, get this kid out of my face before I forget who he is,
and accidentally flush him down the toilet."

   "Sure thing.  My next set isn't for another ten minutes or so anyway."
She made her way out from behind the bar.  "I was just headed to the office
to sit down.  Come on, Petey, follow me."

   Peter grabbed his duffle bag and did as he was told, following behind
the curtain and into the back.  What he saw back there was a large room
with mirrors on all sides and a long silver stage jutting out into the
middle of it.  Shiny tables and chairs surrounded it, and maybe a quarter
of them were filled with patrons.  Meanwhile, on stage was a single dancer
with long black hair, olive-skinned, thin, with sizable breasts and legs
that went on forever.  She wore some skimpy red lingerie and gyrated to the
heavy metal music, while using one of two stage-to-ceiling poles both for
support (and as something to hump).  Surprised at the sight of the sexy
woman, Peter forgot he was supposed to be following Trixie, and just stood
there for several seconds, watching the show, as an erection began to grow
in his shorts.

   Trixie cleared her throat, pulling Peter out of his reverie.  He turned
to see her standing in front of a door, an amused expression on her face,
her hand on the knob.  "Right this way," she said.

   "Oh.  Okay." After one last glance at the stage, Peter followed her
through the door and down a short hallway.  On one side of the hall was a
doorway, with another at the far end.  The door on the left was open as
they walked by, and through it, he could see a row of mirrors and chairs,
as well as racks of clothing.  Presumably a dressing room.  In front of one
of the mirrors was a dancer applying some makeup -- she had spikey,
platinum blonde hair, a tiny frame, and small, outstandingly perky tits
with bright pink nipples.  At the moment, she was only wearing a pair of
thong panties, and once again, Peter found himself too distracted to
remember to keep walking.

   The dancer caught him out of the corner of her eye, and turned.  "Hey,
handsome," she said, smiling.

   "Um.  Hi."

   Again, Trixie had to clear her throat to get his attention.

   "Um.  Bye," he said, and as the petite dancer giggled, he follow Trixie
through the door at the end of the hallway.

   In this room, there was a desk, a few chairs, two long couches, a large
television, a kitchenette with a full-sized fridge, a large wardrobe, and a
door that opened into what was clearly a decent-sized bathroom, complete
with a shower.  "You can just throw your suitcase over there in the
corner," Trixie said.  "Nobody will bother with it."

   As he put his bag down, Peter noticed that one glaringly obvious thing
was missing.

   "Where's my dad?" he asked, turning to Trixie, who was getting ice from
the freezer to put in her soda.  He found himself unable to keep from
staring at the incredible proportions of her body.  With heels on, she
topped him by at least 9 inches, if not more.  Her waist was thin, her hips
were wide, and her chest ...  well, that was clearly bought, because knew
they hadn't been that big before.  Not that he was complaining.  Among the
things he'd grown to appreciate since he'd hit puberty was a healthy pair
of huge tits -- real or otherwise.

   "Well, the thing is," Trixie said, "he's not here.  He went to Florida
for the weekend."

   Peter tried not to look as disappointed as he felt.  "Oh."

   "But I think he said he'd be back on Monday morning," Trixie added,
clearly trying to comfort him.

   Again, all he could think to say was, "Oh."

   "Do you have a key to his apartment?" Trixie asked.

   Peter sat down on one of the couches and shook his head.  "No.  Do you?"

   Trixie put her drink down on an end table and joined him on the couch.
"I'm afraid not, sugar.  You know how your father is.  He'll let Walter run
the bar for him when he's out of town, but he doesn't trust anybody with
his personal things.  The only person I can think of who would have a key
is his girlfriend ...  and she's with him."

   "Oh," Peter said again, and stared across the room at the TV, which
wasn't on.

   "What happened?" Trixie asked.  "Did he forget you were coming?"

   "Not exactly," he said.  "He kind of didn't know."

   She put a firm hand on his shoulder.  "Petey, you didn't run away from
home, did you?"

   "No.  My mom knows I'm here." He tried to ignore how much excitement her
touch was causing him.

   "But your father doesn't?" She sounded as confused as he felt.

   "Something like that.  It's kind of a long story."

   "Not really," Trixie said.  "Don't forget, I remember when you guys were
all together.  My first day here, my job was to make sure YOU didn't go in
the back room and get in any trouble.  Now look at me.  All these years
later, and I'm still trying to keep you out of the back room." With this,
she smiled, then mussed his hair up.

   Peter laughed, in spite of his disappointment.  "Sorry."

   "It's okay," she said.  Then, after a pause, "I guess you must miss him
an awful lot."

   "My dad?  Yeah.  Sometimes."

   "So were you trying to surprise him?"

   Peter nodded.  "Basically."

   "Well, it's too bad he wasn't here, because he would have loved seeing
you walk in that door the way you did."

   "You think so?"

   "Do I think so?" Trixie stood, and walked over to the desk, where she
picked up several framed pictures and handed them to Peter.  They were all
photos of he and his father together, during his various visits to Maine.
"Yes, I think it's pretty safe to say that he would be pretty happy to see
you."

   "Cool," Peter said, starting to feel better.

   "How long are you here for?" she asked.

   "The whole summer.  Hopefully."

   "Why ...  well ...  the whole summer?  And here I am thinking it was
just a couple of days!"

   He shook his head.  "My mom said I can stay till it's time to go back to
school."

   "Well, that changes everything." Trixie smiled widely.  "All we have to
do then is keep you out of trouble for the next day or so, and you'll still
be able to surprise him, just like you wanted to."

   When put this way, Peter realized that the situation wasn't as grim as
he'd thought it was.  "Yeah," he said.  "But ...  if I can't get into his
apartment, then I don't have anyplace to stay."

   "True." She began to pace around the room, her heels clacking dully on
the carpeted floor and her tits jiggling ever-so-slightly inside her dress.
"Hm.  I suppose ..." She looked around the room.  "No ...  you'd never get
a moment's peace if you stayed here.  Once things pick up tonight, people
will be in and out of here every five minutes."

   "I don't care," he said.

   "Yeah, but ...  well, let's just say there's other reasons I can't go
into right now.  Not the least of which is that Walter wouldn't like it
very much, and he'd probably give you a hard time."

   "Oh."

   Trixie paced a bit more, then finally came to a decision.  "I tell you
what, sugar.  If you can just keep yourself busy here for a few hours, I'll
be done my shift, and then you can go home with me."

   "Seriously?" Go home with a busty stripper?  Peter thought this sounded
too good to be true.

   "Sure thing.  I'm not too sure what my roommate will think ..." At this,
she laughed awkwardly.  "But she works here too.  She's heard Bobby talk
about you before.  I'm sure she won't mind."

   "Um ...  that would be great.  Thanks."

   Trixie glanced at the clock on the wall.  "Shit.  Almost time for my
set. Have to run, darlin." She made her way to the door, then stopped. 
"Oh, there's soda and some things to eat in the fridge.  Help yourself to
whatever you want.  You might want to smell it first, though.  Bathroom's
over there.  Remote control is there.  And ...  I guess that's about it.  I
should be back in about twenty minutes.  Unless somebody wants a lap dance.
But don't worry, I'll be back eventually.  Have fun!" With this, she
smiled, waved, then disappeared, pulling the door shut behind her.



   * * *



   Ten minutes later, Peter had changed out of his sweaty clothes and into
something dry, and was now in the process of heating up a frozen bean
burrito in the microwave.  When the door opened, letting in a barrage of
music from the stage area, he half-expected it to be Trixie, but quickly
realized it was too soon for that.  Instead, it was the girl with long
black hair and even longer legs who he'd seen dancing before.  She wore a
pair of tiny red panties, red heels, and a red satin low-cut babydoll
nightie that was tied with a bow between her breasts, then opened into an
inverted V that exposed her tummy and navel.  Clearly winded after her set,
her olive skin glistened with sweat.  She paused at the door, apparently
just as surprised to seem him there as he was to see her.

   "Oh.  Hello?" she said, her confusion showing in her deep black Latina
eyes.

   With much effort, Peter willed himself not to look down at her chest --
although he had taken a quick glance at it when she first stepped into the
room.  Certainly not as big as Trixie's, yet despite this, no less
impressive.  Her tits were the size of softballs, and perfectly shaped,
with nipples that showed clearly through the thin material and seemed to
ride high on the breasts, pointing more upward than outward.  He didn't
particularly know much about fake boobs, but he was willing to bet that
hers might just be.  Again, though ...  not that he was complaining.

   "Hi," Peter said, as the microwave beeped at him.

   "Am I in the wrong place, or are you?" the dancer asked, seemingly
unconcerned with her own state of undress.

   "I guess it's me," he replied.  "I'm --"

   "Oh wait," she said, and turned toward the desk.  "You're the one in the
pictures, right?"

   He nodded.  "Yeah, that's me."

   "So you're Bobby's kid, eh?" She smiled, closing the door behind her --
this had the immediate effect of making the room ten times quieter.  "I'm
Linda," she said, walking toward him, and offered a well-manicured hand. 
Red nails, he noticed, which were probably meant to match the red lingerie.
Like Trixie, Linda was taller than him, but not by nearly as much.  He
suspected that without the heels on, they'd be close to the same height. 
Although what a shame that would be, because he thought she looked really
good in the heels.

   He shook her hand.  It was very warm and a bit sweaty, like the rest of
her.  "I'm Peter."

   "So ...  visiting your old man, eh?" she asked.

   "Yeah." He took the burrito out and put it on a paper towel.

   "I thought he was away for the weekend."

   "He is." Peter thought about explaining, but then just said, "I was a
couple days early."

   Linda nodded.  "Hey, that's not my dinner by any chance, is it?"

   He glanced down at the burrito.  "Is it?  I'm sorry.  Trixie said --"

   "It's okay," she said, smiling.  "You had no way of knowing."

   "No, really, you can have it.  I'm not that hungry." He held it out to
her.

   "Tell you what.  Why don't we share it?" With this, she gently took the
burrito from him, wrapped her hand around it, and took the first bite. 
Peter thought he had perhaps never seen anybody eat anything so erotically
in his whole life -- although perhaps the fact that she was wearing
lingerie skewed his perception of the whole experience.  First she wrapped
her painted lips around it, seemed to hold them there for a second, then
slowly sunk her teeth in, all the while pursing her lips outward.  When she
pulled it away from her mouth, some of the filling dripped out onto her
chin.  She tried to catch it with her tongue, but failed to do so in time,
and instead had to use her fingers to wipe it away.  Which she then licked
clean.  Then she handed the burrito back to him again.

   "Um.  Thanks," he said, and took a quick bite of his own, then handed it
back to her before she'd even had a chance to finish chewing the first bite
she'd taken.  "Here you go."

   "Actually, I think that's all I need right now.  You can have the rest."

   "Are you sure?" He really wanted to see her take another bite.

   "I'm sure." Instead, she stepped over to the fridge, leaned into it,
searched around in the back, and came out with a small bottle of water.  As
she leaned her head back and guzzled the entire bottle down at once, Peter
had a good ten seconds to stare at her tits.  Perhaps because her
overheated body had just been standing in front of the cool fridge, Linda's
nipples were now extremely perky, and the sight immediately brought his
dick to life.  Once she'd finished the bottle, she glanced over in his
direction, as if to say something, and as fast as he'd been to divert his
eyes to her face, he hadn't been fast enough.  She looked down at her
chest, then back up at him, smirking from one side of her mouth.  "See
something you like?" she asked, her tone teasing.

   Peter blushed twenty shades of red.  "Huh?  No.  I just ...  no."

   "You know, you should probably do something with that burrito, before it
explodes."

   Confused, Peter looked down at what was in his hand.  How would it
explode?

   "Not that burrito." When he met Linda's eyes, he saw that she was
pointing to his crotch, where a noticeable tent had formed, when his
erection had gotten stuck on the way up.  "That one down there."

   "Shit.  Sorry," Peter said, and put the burrito down, then quickly sat
down on the nearest couch.

   Linda giggled loudly.  "Don't fret about it, sweetie.  It's what I get
paid for, after all."

   "Oh.  Yeah, right.  I didn't think of it that way."

   "Of course, I don't usually give shows to somebody your age.  Just how
old are you, Peter?"

   He thought about lying, then realized that his father would probably
have mentioned his age at some point or another.  "Um.  Thirteen.  I'll be
fourteen in two months."

   "That old?  Well, then I guess you're old enough to enjoy mostly-naked
women by now."

   Peter certainly wasn't going to disagree with her.  He nodded.  "I guess
so."

   "So let me ask you again," she said, and took a few steps toward him,
keeping her arms to her sides.  Then she stopped, and struck a pose that
reminded him of one of those game show girls or something -- arms at her
sides, her chest out, and one long leg crossed slightly over the other at
the knee.  "Do you see something that you like?"

   Aware that he now had permission to stare at her, Peter took advantage
of the moment and did just that.  He eyed her up from head to toe and back
again, reserving the majority of his attention, of course, for her tits.

   "Take your time," Linda said.  "It's not a test."

   "I ...  um ..." He didn't know what she wanted him to say.

   "Maybe you need a closer look?" she asked.  "Here." She closed the rest
of the distance between them, then stood directly in front of and over him,
leaning forward, her tits now just inches away from his face.  "Is that
better." Teasingly, she ran the fingers of one hand down the edge of the
babydoll, starting at the shoulder and stopping at the bow between her
breasts.  She grasped the bow between two fingers, and pulled it so slowly
that Peter wondered if time itself had slowed down.  When it finally did
come untied, the pressure of her chest behind it immediately pushed the
opening a few inches wide.  He still couldn't see her nipples, but the
valley between her tits was agonizingly exposed.  What's more, he could
smell her now, her perspiration mixing with her perfume to create an
intoxicating scent.

   As Peter stared at her chest, his mouth a bit open, his cock was harder
than it had ever been in his life.  He wanted so badly to just reach up and
throw the babydoll open.  To get a good look at her, then begin touching
them all over.  To squeeze them, lick them, suck them and love them.  But
for all of her flirtatiousness, he didn't get the impression that he was
being invited to.  Then, after about thirty seconds, Linda backed away
again, smiling.

   "Well, sweetie, I'm afraid I have to go change for my next set.  Why
don't you put some serious thought into what it is that you like, and maybe
you can tell me next time I see you, okay?"

   Peter nodded.  "O-okay."

   She paused at the door.  "Here," she said, then she turned her back, and
let the babydoll top fall down into her hands, exposing her smooth back. 
When she turned toward him again, it was with one arm draped lightly across
her chest, covering and revealing just enough to drive him crazy.  Before
he knew what to think, she tossed the red babydoll top across the room at
him.  "Maybe you can use this," she said, as it landed in a fluttering heap
on the arm of the couch.  He just stared it blankly, amazed.  Then, after a
another pause, Linda walked over to the desk, found a box of tissues, and
tossed those his way as well.  "And these too," she added with a wink.

   Peter swallowed hard.  "Um.  Thanks."

   "Don't mention it.  Just be sure to tell me how it ...  turns out.  Bye
now." And just like that, Linda turned on her heel, opened the door, and
left the room, leaving him behind with her lingerie and a raging hard-on.

   There was no question of what he would do next, just how fast he could
do it.  Like a bolt, Peter ran with the top and the box of tissues into the
bathroom, pulled the door shut behind him, turned the lock, then sat on the
toilet.  He yanked his shorts down and began stroking immediately, knowing
it wouldn't take long.  He held the top over his face, and hungrily inhaled
Linda's sweet scent.  He wondered if she'd mind if he came all over it.

   Then he heard the door to the office open again.  "Petey, you in here?"
It was Trixie.  Dammit.

   "I'm in the bathroom!" he yelled, trying not to sound as frustrated as
he felt.

   "Oh, okay," she said.  "Sorry."

   Peter brought his hand to full stop, listening.  He'd heard the office
door close, but couldn't tell if Trixie was still in the room, or if she'd
gone back out again.  Considering his situation, he was kind of hoping for
the latter, so that he could finish what he was doing without having to
worry about whether she could tell what he was doing.  Living alone with
his mother in a house that had no lock on the bathroom door, he'd grown
paranoid about certain things.  When he heard the television go on,
however, he knew that she hadn't left.  Dammit, he thought.  Then, to make
matters worse, she had to go and start talking to him, yelling through the
door.

   "I passed Linda on the way out.  Did she give you a hard time?"

   In a manner of speaking, Peter thought, glancing down at his dwindling
erection.  "No.  She was nice."

   "That's good.  She's kind of new here yet."

   "Is she?" he replied, trying to sound interested and getting softer
every second.

   "Yeah.  And we don't usually dance on the same days.  So I barely know
her."

   "Well," he said.  "She seemed nice." At this point, Peter was down to
the barest semi-erection possible, and knew that getting off now would just
be a losing battle.  He was simply too self-conscious to jerk off and talk
to somebody at the same time.  Even if that somebody was a stripper.  He
pulled his shorts up and flushed the toilet, then looked down at the
babydoll top in his hand.  What the hell was he going to do with it?  He
glanced around the room and saw a couple of hooks on the back of the door.
One had a towel on it.  Thinking fast, he put the top on one hook, then
covered it with the towel.  Now, if somebody found it, they'd just assume
that Linda had left it here.

   As he stepped out of the bathroom, Peter saw Trixie standing at the
kitchenette counter with her back to him -- there was a tattoo of some
flowers below her neck -- reaching around to tie off the white string
bikini top she'd clearly just put on.  Shit, he thought.  If he'd just come
out of the bathroom three seconds sooner, he'd have seen her topless!  As
she turned, she saw him.  "Hello." Even in the too-small bikini top, of
course, her massive jugs, the size of volleyballs, were a site to behold.
The material barely covered them, and the outline of her nipples showed
through clearly.

   "Hi," Peter said, and could already feel his dick growing again.  Before
it did, though, he rushed over to the couch, grabbed his burrito, and sat
there with it and the paper towel on his lap.  "I'm just eating."

   "So I see." Trixie looked a bit confused, but let it go.  "Sorry I took
so long," she said, as she threw a almost-sheer yellow robe over the bikini
top and matching bottoms, then sashed it at the waist.  This, apparently,
was her "costume" for the next set, and was accompanied by a pair of yellow
heels with fluffy plumes on the front.  All in all, it created a much more
delicate look than the silver dress she'd been wearing before.

   "Did you have a lap dance?" Peter asked, immediately finding the
question an odd one to ask.

   "Yeah.  And he paid for a double."

   "Well, that's good ...  right?" Peter took a bite out of his burrito,
but made a point of keeping the paper towel on his lap.  He glanced over at
the television, which had some car race or another on it.

   "Sure it's good," she said.  "I just worried that you were back here
being bored."

   "I'm fine," he said.  "I just got changed and I was talking to Linda."

   She walked over to the other couch and sat, crossing her legs.  "What
were you two talking about?"

   "Nothing.  You know ...  my dad and stuff."

   Trixie nodded.  "And was she ...  topless ...  the whole time?"

   Peter shook his head.  "No.  She had a thing on."

   "Oh.  But ...  she was topless in the hall when I saw her."

   "Was she?" He thought about the top in the bathroom.  "I'm not sure
why."

   "Did it, you know, bother you at all?  Seeing her in lingerie?"

   "Bother me how?" Did being hot and bothered count?

   "You know.  Did it make you feel uncomfortable at all?"

   "Um.  No.  I guess not.  It's cool."

   "She's a very pretty woman, isn't she?" Trixie asked.

   Peter just nodded, and took another bite of his food.

   "Did she mention if she had a boyfriend or anything?"

   "Not to me she didn't," he said.  "Why?"

   "No reason.  Just curious.  Like I said, I don't know her that well."
Remote in hand, she started flipping channels around until she found MTV.
"Is this good?" she asked.

   "Fine with me," Peter said.

   And so they sat and watched videos, while Peter quickly finished his
burrito.  A few minutes later, the long day started to catch up with him,
and he found himself starting to doze off.  He tried to fight it as best he
could, but wasn't able to, and a few minutes after that, he was out like a
light.



   * * *



   Two hours later, somebody was shaking him.  "Petey?" He opened his eyes
to see Trixie standing over him, smiling.  "Wake up, sugar.  It's time to
go home." Pulling himself out of a deep sleep, he noticed that she was now
wearing jeans and one of the bar's white t-shirts, and therefore looking
considerably more like the old waitress he used to know.  Still, there were
noticeable differences.  The shirt, for instance, was a couple of sizes too
small.  It fit her like a second skin, and rode up high enough to leave
much of her midriff exposed.  Her long neck was also exposed, thanks to the
scrunchie that pulled back her hair, and revealed that what he thought was
a bra under the t-shirt must actually be the same white bikini top she'd
been wearing earlier -- he could see the tie strings.  The jeans,
meanwhile, were the latest hip-hugger variety, and swooped down a good
several inches below her navel.

   "What time is it?" he asked.

   "Almost seven.  Looks like you were a little tired."

   He sat up, rubbing at his eyes.  "Yeah.  I guess so."

   "I told the other girls not to bother you.  Thought you might be worn
out."

   "Thanks," he said, while secretly resenting the gesture.  After all, if
he'd been awake, he not only might have been able to meet more flirty women
like Linda, but he also might have been able to see Trixie changing into
various outfits.  Still, he did have to say that his nap had made him feel
worlds better.

   As if she'd know he was thinking about her, the door to the office
opened and Linda appeared.  This time around, she had street clothes on,
yet still looked quite sexy.  She wore an extremely short black mini-skirt,
black pumps, a thin red camisole with spaghetti straps, and a purse over
her shoulder.  The top was low-cut, while her bra was clearly meant to push
everything up and out, and the resulting exposed cleavage made her look
even more stacked than she'd seemed earlier in the babydoll outfit.  And he
really couldn't get the way her naturally tanned and shapely legs seemed to
go on forever.  "Is everybody ready?" she asked.

   Peter was confused, until Trixie explained it to him.  "Oh, Linda's
going to give us a ride.  My roommate was supposed to bring my car with
her. But it wouldn't start, so she had to take a cab."

   "Oh.  That's okay, I guess." He stood, and smiled over at Linda. 
"Thanks."

   "It's no problem," she said.  "I live on the same side of town."

   Still a bit groggy, Peter walked over to the corner, grabbed his
dufflebag suitcase, and followed the two women out the door into the
hallway.  This time, instead of walking past the dressing room door, Trixie
stopped, and waited for him to catch up.  When he got there, he looked
inside and saw four new dancers -- two still wearing their street clothes,
another in a cheerleader outfit, blow-drying her hair, and another sitting
at the same mirror that the stripper with the spikey blonde hair had been
sitting at earlier.  This topless woman, however, had wavy brownish-red
hair and anything but the tiny breasts of the petite dancer.  Quite the
contrary.  While not quite as big Trixie's, this woman's tits were still
bigger than Linda's, and shaped in such a way that they coned out toward
the nipples.

   "Holly," Trixie said, and the woman he was looking at turned to face
them.  "Meet our new roomie."

   Holly shifted her attention to Peter and smiled.  "Howdy!" Her eyes were
bright green.

   Peter held up his hand in a curt wave.  "Hi."

   "We're leaving now," Trixie said.  "Will you be able to get a ride home
later?"

   "Walter said he'd drop me off," Holly replied.  "Don't worry about me."

   "Okay then, sugar.  Have fun!" With this, the three of them continued
down the hall and through the stage area (where the petite blonde was now
dancing), through the front room and out the door.  While not full yet, the
place had quite a few patrons in it already, and Peter guessed it probably
would be full by the end of the night.

   Clearly, his father was doing something right.



   * * *



   Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at a small house in a quiet
neighborhood.  Linda pulled into the driveway that Trixie had pointed at,
pulled to a stop, and popped the trunk.  "Here we are," she said.

   Trixie, sitting in the passenger seat, reached her hand out and put it
on Linda's arm, then squeezed.  "Thank you so much," she said.  "You're a
lifesaver.  You know, you could come inside for a while if you want."

   Linda glanced back at Peter.  "Well, it is still early yet, isn't it? 
Sure, why not?"

   "Great," Trixie said.  They all piled out of the car and up the
driveway.

   Once inside, Linda began to comment on what a great little place it was.
Peter had to agree, it was very cozy.  Two bedrooms, a large living room
and kitchen, a small fenced-in yard out back, and best of all, a
roofed-over porch with some lawn chairs and a jacuzzi.  "Is that what I
think it is?" Linda asked, smiling.

   "Sure is," Trixie said.  "Did you guys want to try it out?"

   Linda turned to Peter.  "What do you say, kid?  Are you up for it?"

   "Um.  Sure." He knew that his luck might run out someday ...  but he was
sure glad it was holding today!

   Trixie showed Peter to her room, and had him put his bag in there.  "Do
you have a bathing suit?" she asked.

   "Yeah.  I think so." He zipped his bag open and started to look.

   "I'll go pull the cover off the tub," she said, and disappeared.

   Peter found his suit, and as he changed into it, became aware of the
fact that he was sporting almost a full woody.  He knew this wouldn't
bother Linda, because of what had happened earlier, but he still didn't
know what Trixie would think of it.  Erring on the side of caution, he
grabbed a particularly long t-shirt out of his bag and put it on as well,
then made his way back out to the living room.  When he found nobody there,
he looked out onto the back porch through the kitchen window, and saw that
Linda was helping Trixie with the cover.

   Neither of the women had seen him yet, so he moved just far enough to
one side that he could still see them but he was pretty sure they couldn't
see him.  Once again, he was amazed at his luck.  Both women were downright
gorgeous, and any minute now, he'd be sitting in a hot tub with them!

   "Do you need a bathing suit?" Trixie asked Linda.

   "I didn't think about that.  I guess I do," Linda replied, then grinned.
"Do you have any that would actually fit me, though?  I'm guessing you're
at least ...  what, an F cup?"

   "Yes, but I tend to wear them a bit on the small side," Trixie said,
slyly.

   "Show off," Linda joked.

   "Sugar, I paid good money to be able show them off." She smirked.  By
this point, the two women had finished with the cover.  "What are you, a D
or so?  Let's go see if we can find you something."

   When he saw them coming, Peter ducked back into the living room and
stood there, as if waiting.

   "You can go on out if you want," Trixie said, as they passed.  "It's all
ready now."

   Meanwhile, Linda waited until the other dancer had rounded the corner,
then paused in front of Peter.  Without warning, she reached down and
lifted up the front of his t-shirt, saw the bulge there, then let it drop
again.  Quietly, she said, "Uh oh.  Looks like that burrito is still ready
to explode." Then she kissed two of her fingers and brought them to his
lips, running them down until her red nails had made his bottom lip flap
open, then shut again.  "We'll have to see what we can do about that before
the night is over, don't you think?"

   Peter just nodded vigorously.

   Linda giggled, then followed Trixie around the corner.

   Holy shit, Peter thought, and began to think his balls might burst if he
didn't cum soon.  He made his way through the kitchen and out to the
jacuzzi.  With one last look over his shoulder, he took off the t-shirt,
threw it onto one of the lounge chairs, then stepped into the hot water. 
He made a point of chosing a seat on the far side, so that he'd be able to
better watch the women when they emerged from house.  As an afterthought,
he opened the fly on his bathing trunks and let his raging dick out, safe
in the knowledge that the bubbles in the water would hide it from view.  He
didn't plan to try and jerk off or anything, but having it loose instantly
made things more comfortable for him.

   As Peter waited, the heat of the water and his long day began to make
him sleepy again.  The nap earlier had certainly helped take some of the
edge off, but he was still far from well-rested.  He'd barely been able to
sleep the night before, thanks to the stress of anticipating what his
father's reaction would be to the surprise visit.  He closed his eyes for
what seemed like only a few seconds, and immediately nodded off ...  for
how long, he wasn't sure.  The next thing he remembered was being awakened
by the sound of the porch door slamming shut, opening his eyes, and seeing
Linda and Trixie standing there, Trixie with a short pile of towels in one
arm and Linda carrying a six-pack of beer.

   Of course, both looked so incredible to him that he barely noticed what
they were carrying at first.  Trixie now wore the same too-small white
bikini she'd had on earlier, as well as the skimpy bottoms that went with
them.  Linda had apparently run into some trouble finding a bathing suit
that was her size, because what she wore instead was a cropped yellow tank
top that was cut off just above the smooth bottoms of her bra-less breasts.
Her nipples jutted proudly through the thin material.  For bottoms, she
wore a pair of red thong panties that he was willing to bet were the ones
she'd had on beneath the skirt when she arrived.  What's more, he noticed
now that her toenails were painted the same bright red as her fingernails.

   "Let the party begin," Trixie said, and let out a woop.  She dropped the
towels on one of the chairs and eased her way into the hot tub, her massive
tits wobbling as she found her balance.  Peter's dick, which had fallen
asleep when he did, suddenly sprang back to life like a rocket.

   Linda, meanwhile, walked around to Peter's side of the jacuzzi and stood
over him.  When he became aware of this, and glanced up, he found that for
a moment, he had a direct view up her shirt at her luscious globes.  Then
she bent down and handed him a beer, winking.  "Here you go, sport." She
walked over to Trixie and handed her one as well, then put the six-pack
down and settled into the water herself, directly between the two of them.

   Peter took a sip from his can, wincing a bit at the taste.  He'd had a
few beers in his time, but not nearly enough yet to be immune to the bitter
taste.  He watched as Trixie and Linda both sank down into the water up to
their necks, then let out a collective, "Ahhhhhhh." When they emerged a few
seconds later, both of their thin tops were soaked, and left very little to
the imagination.  He could see that Trixie had much wider, lighter nipples,
while Linda's were more of a half-dollar size, darker, with tips that
quickly grew to the size of large marbles in the cool air.  The very sight
made his mouth dry, and before he knew it, he'd gulped down half the can of
beer.

   "Watch it there," Linda said, just as he was staring at Trixie's chest.
"You'll sprain your eyes."

   "Sorry," Peter replied, and blushed, glancing away.

   "Uh oh," Trixie said, smirking.  "I think you embarassed him."

   Peter kicked back more of the beer.  "No, I'm okay."

   "They're a bit different than they were last time you saw me, aren't
they, sugar?" Trixie asked.

   He feigned ignorance, but used the question as an excuse to look her way
again.  "What is?"

   "These, of course." Trixie cupped both huge tits from beneath and
splashed them on top of the water.

   "Oh.  Yeah, those." He stared directly at them.  "I guess so."

   "Listen to him," Linda said.  "As if he didn't notice."

   "Yes, but he's a nice, polite boy," Trixie replied.  "Not like most of
the guys we deal with."

   "Is that so?" Linda asked.  "And here I thought he was just a horny boy
with a hard-on.

   "I --" he started, then realized it was pointless to deny it.  They both
had to know better.

   "I'm sure that's not true," Trixie said.  "Is that true, Petey?"

   "I --" was all he could think to say again.

   "Trust me," Linda added.  "I know this from experience."

   Trixie seemed intrigued.  "Oh really?  And how is that?"

   "In the office earlier.  It was pretty obvious.  Didn't you notice? 
After I left?"

   "No," Trixie said.  "But he was in the bathroom --" A switched clicked
in her head.  "Ohhh."

   Linda just smiled wickedly, staring an awkward Peter directly in the
eyes.

   "Sugar," Trixie asked, "were you ...  you know ...  when I came in?"

   "Was I what?" he replied, feigning ignorance again.

   "Jerking off," Linda added.

   "Linda!" Trixie blushed herself.

   "What?  It's not a federal secret.  It's what you wanted to know,
right?"

   "Yes," Peter said, cutting them off before they could keep talking about
it, and thereby make him even more uncomfortable than he already was.  "Yes
...  and no."

   "Which is it?" Trixie asked, clearly confused.

   "Well ...  I was.  But then I wasn't.  I stopped."

   "Why?" But then she seemed to answer her own question.  "Oh.  Because of
me?"

   He nodded sheepishly.

   "Tsk, tsk," Linda chided, smirking.  "You should be ashamed of yourself,
Trixie.  Don't you know that boys his age need to shoot off a load at least
three times a day or they go insane?"

   "Well, I feel terrible now," Trixie said.  "If I'd known ..."

   "Do you believe me now that he's probably hard as a rock as we speak?"
Linda asked.

   "I suppose so."

   "Do us a favor, Peter," Linda added.  "End the suspense.  Stand up."

   "Wh-what?  No." He blushed five more shades of red.

   "Now now," Trixie said.  "There's no need for that."

   "I beg to differ," Linda replied.  "I'd say he's getting a pretty good
show from the two of us right now ...  and has been all day.  I think it's
only fair that he return the favor."

   Trixie considered this.  "Yes, but maybe he's ...  you know ... 
self-conscious.  For whatever reason."

   Linda nodded.  "Oh.  Right.  That.  I hadn't thought of that."

   "What?" Peter asked, suddenly feeling defensive.  "What reason?"

   "You know," Linda said, and held her thumb and forefinger a couple of
inches apart.

   "I'm not ...  I mean ...  fine then!" And with this, he quickly stood,
before he had the chance to talk himself out of it.  What he meant to do,
of course, was show them that the bulge in his shorts was big enough to
prove that he couldn't possibly have a tiny dick.  Yet what he forgot about
was having let his erection loose through the fly of the trunks earlier. 
As much to his own surprise as theirs, his 6-inch cock jutted out proudly
from his body at a right angle, fully exposed and hard as steel, glistening
and wet, the purple head singing a silent "O".

   At first, there was a moment of silence.  Then both women started
clapping.

   "Bravo!" Linda said, nodding.  "I see why your name is Peter now."

   "I have to say," Trixie added.  "It's a lot bigger than I would have
expected."

   Peter blushed, glancing down at himself.  "It is?"

   "Trust us," Trixie replied.  "We're strippers.  We know about these
things."

   "Cool." As he started to lower himself back into the water, however,
Linda said, "Hey, wait."

   He stopped.  "What?"

   "Well, I don't know about Trixie, but I wasn't finished looking yet."

   Trixie giggled.  "Yes, why don't you have a seat there on the side of
the tub."

   "We'll tell you when to get back in again," Linda added.

   "Um.  Okay." Peter did as he was told, as both women sat back and stared
at his now-throbbing member.

   "Of course," Linda said.  "Now we've seen more of him than he has of
us."

   Trixie nodded.  "True.  Should we do something about that?"

   "Seems only fair." With this, Linda reached down and removed the tank
top, revealing her perfect breasts and nipples.  Trixie quickly followed
suit, and seconds later, he was gawking her massive melons as well.

   "Oh look," Trixie said, giggling.  "I think it just grew another
half-inch."

   "I think you're right," Linda replied, then casually reached up and
began teasing her nipples with her fingers.  "So what do you think, Peter?
Are they everything you dreamed they would be?"

   "M-more," he said, wanting so badly to reach down and stroke himself.

   "I bet I know what Petey would like to see," Trixie said, moving out
into the middle of the tub.

   "What's that?" Linda asked.

   "Join me and I'll show you," Trixie replied, holding her hand out.

   Linda took the hand, looking a bit skeptical, and met her halfway. 
Before she could say anything more, though, Trixie reached her hand out to
Linda's shoulder and slid it up to her neck, as her head grew ever closer.
Moments later, the two women were face-to-face, their lips drawing together
...  and then they were kissing.  Softly and tentatively at first --
clearly it was Linda's first time at this, but not Trixie's -- then harder,
more passionately.  Tongues were released, and found each other.  Then
Linda's hands came up and took hold of Trixie's huge tits, causing the
other woman to moan with delight.  The sight of it was everything Peter had
ever dreamt of ...  and in the end, after a long day of sexual frustration,
it was more than he could bear.

   Without him even touching it, his cock suddenly exploded.  He closed his
eyes for a second and gripped the side of the tub as a warm buzz engulfed
his legs, and as blasts of cum began to jet out of him.  It felt so
wonderful that he didn't even bother to pay attention to where it was
going. He just wanted it to keep shooting forever.  When he did open his
eyes again, however, he noticed exactly where it was landing -- all over
the two strippers.  There were splotches of cum on the side of Linda's
face, on her arm, on one of Trixie's tits.

   If they noticed, though, they didn't make any point of acknowledging it.
He quickly grabbed his cock, and pointed it up toward him, so that the rest
of his load would double back onto his stomach.  Then he stroked it a bit,
urging even more from it, until a few moments later, when he was finally
spent.  As the women continued their make-out session, oblivious to the
rest of the world, Peter lowered himself into the hot water again and
watched, with a wide smile spread across his face.  At one point, as Trixie
began to suck and play with Linda's tits, Linda made eye contact with him,
then wiped some of his cum off of her cheek and brought it to her mouth. 
With a smile and a wink, she licked the fingers clean, then closed her eyes
again as Trixie's mouth on her nipples began to send clear waves of
pleasure through her.

   Peter found his beer and enjoyed the show ...  for all of about five
more minutes.  Then the smooth buzz of the alcohol, combined with the
calming effect of having recently shot his load, conspired to pull him down
into sleep again.  The last thing he remembered was the sight of Linda
sitting on the edge of the tub as Trixie slowly pulled her thong off,
spread her legs, and eagerly buried her face between them as Linda arched
her back.

   Holy shit, Peter thought.  Life is good.  Whatever you do, don't fall
asleep, don't fall ...
   (TO BE CONTINUED)