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Subject: CONSTANT.STY (MF, Cons, pedo)
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This story contains graphic descriptions of sexual activity which may
offend the overtly sensative, if you find such material offensive
don't read it.
I did not write this story
==========================
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
CONSTANT.STY
By Friar Dave
(Copyright, 1994)
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
What follows is fiction. Hopefully, entertaining and not too
heavy-handed. This work contains heterosexual activity between
adult men and women, and between adults and legal minors. A little
same-sex exploring between some minors. There is absolutely no
domination, submission, violence, piercing or bathroom sports.
There's a little nausea, but not related to the sex. The only drugs
are some brew and some scotch. There's a bit of coercion, but not
what you're probably thinking. If the presence or absence of any of
the foregoing is disturbing to you, don't read this. And please
don't inflict it on those who don't knowingly ask for it.
--fd, 10/1/94
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Three weeks, she thought. Three more weeks. And then the
pre-school preparations would get under way.
Constance shook herself out of the reverie, tried to refocus her
attention on the Thinkpad. She really had to finish the proposal
for the school board. Her fingers went to the keys, but her eyes
soon wandered back to the bay window.
The day was gorgeous. Perfect, stereotypical Bergen County
August sunshine flooded the yard, turning the hedges almost
luminously green. From two hundred feet away, on the other side of
the hedge and muffled by the glass in the window, came the sound of
splashing and laughter. The neighbors' kids were true water babies.
They reveled in the sunshine and rejoiced in the pool. Constance
envied them for their dark complexions. She loved to sit out in the
sun, but the genes that had given her bright red hair had also
given her pale flesh, all-too- susceptible to melanoma. And
Constance sunburned with the best of them, but never tanned.
She recalled with longing the carefree days when she was
fifteen, sixteen, seventeen -- barely older than the neighbor's
kids. After the agonizing years of being called "shrimp" and
"beanpole," how she'd savored the pleasure of knowing men's eyes
followed her swimsuit-clad form to and from the surf, the
concession stands, even the restrooms. Overnight, it seemed, her
breasts had blossomed. No longer flat and mistaken for a kid three
or four years younger, Constance suddenly was sporting C cups on a
form that had filled out to "slender" from "skinny." In a tight
two-piece, she could silence whole beach parties simply by
nonchalantly strolling past, her pale skin glowing in the bright
sun, her red hair blowing in the salt breeze.
"Ah, well," she whispered, surprising herself with her own
voice.
A loud shriek and a splash made her smile for the kids in the
pool. Kids -- technically, anyhow. She saved her unfinished file
and shut down the laptop. She needed a break before she was going
to get more work done on the proposal. She stared longingly at the
sun-drenched lawn and the summer furniture.
What the hell, she thought. I'm going to go have a sun-soak,
even I have to lather on some goo with a 90 SPF, even if I can't
enjoy turning men's heads the way I used to.
In her dresser, she found the little black bikini.
I wouldn't have dared wear this to the beach, she thought. Not
back then.
Constance stripped, efficiently folding her blouse and pants,
unclipping the bra -- now a 34-D -- and skimming off the plain
white panties. She'd loved wearing lacy little insinuations when
she and Jack first married. He'd come home from work and start
groping her and then she'd see the happy surprise in his eyes --
and elsewhere -- when he found a red lace bra or a skimpy black
teddy under her prim school teacher clothing. That had been almost
10 years before, and he hadn't groped her on arrival in half as
many years.
She straightened and eyed her naked form critically in the
mirror. At five-foot-six, she was not a bad-looking specimen for a
woman of her age.
"Oh, bullshit!" she spat aloud. She was still a fox. And her age
was 32; she was just entering her full bloom. Her body was, if
anything, better than when she'd first met Jack. Her hips were
still lithe at 33 inches, and her waist was still a tiny 22 inches.
Her tummy was flat, and her ass was tight. Her tits were still a
shock on her slim form, thrusting and full and taut and milky
white, with hints of the blue veining showing through. When she
looked lower, past the slightly darker red fluff of her compact
pubic mound, her too-sensitive flesh at the top of her trim thighs
still didn't meet. Three days a week at the health club and a round
of golf every Thursday went a long way to keeping her in bouncy
good shape.
"Face it, baby -- he's having an affair. Again."
Seeing her reflection say the words, there in the very bedroom
they shared...
She sighed. At least his infidelities were discreet. And it
wasn't as if he neglected her. It was just that when they made
love, he was...mechanical. Predictable. The ritual, predictable
foreplay. The ritual, predictable cunnilingus, bringing her -- as
always -- to a powerful, if detached, orgasm. The ritual,
predictable fucking: doggy- style, or him on top or her on top.
Fucking. She'd cum three or four times before he did. And then
they'd sleep. Period. End of session. And a few days later, it
would be repeated.
"At least he's discreet," she breathed, and began slipping into
her indiscreet bikini. The bottom wasn't much more than a G-string,
leaving two-thirds of her little ass exposed. The top was two
string- linked triangular patches of cloth, each covering maybe
two-thirds of a globular tit. She slipped her feet into thongs and
padded through the split level toward the back door, grabbing up
her straw hat, sunglasses and sunblock. She considered a book,
decided against it. She opened the door to an inferno of an
afternoon.
The heat was a shock after the cool of the central
air-conditioning. Ninety-two degrees, cloudless, no breeze. She
took a deep breath, savoring the moisture already forming on her
pale flesh. The air was redolent of green and living things, and
the sound of the pool fun was louder, clearer.
Enjoy yourselves, kids. Soon enough you'll have to learn to be
discreet.
Standing by the chaise longue, she began applying the thick,
creamy lotion to her bare flesh. Discretion. She'd once made a boy
cum in his swim trunks at the beach this way: applying lotion to
herself. She smiled at the memory of his bulging eyes, reddened
face. He'd recovered enough to speed off to the surf, his trunks
still bulging with teenaged vigor.
She felt her nipples crinkle as she dwelled on that: teenaged
vigor. She'd loved it. No matter how often they came, they were
ready again in moments -- and she'd always been more than ready.
A true redhead, she told herself.
She finished her legs, began on her abdomen. Yeah, those had
been heady days. She loved sex, loved letting herself go with it --
and her body and face had always attracted plenty of throbbing
young men eager to help her out.
Constance spurted more of the white gunk into her palms.
Looks like semen, she thought. She rubbed it lovingly into her
shoulders and as much of her breasts as she could reach without
staining the fabric-sample of her suit.
But those days had been a long time ago, before the plague.
Once, the worst fear was pregnancy -- avoided through the
ever-blessed pill -- and the clap, banished with the snick of a
needle, and a course of pills. Not any more. One indiscreet fuck
now could kill a person.
She hoped Jack was being discreet in his choice of fucks.
Her nipples flattened.
Constance lay back on the chaise, adjusting her straw hat to
cover her eyes. The sun began massaging her willing flesh. Her ears
tuned into the yelps and shrieks from the neighbors' pool.
"Come on, Ronnnnnie!" someone yelled.
Constance's lips twitched. Of course. It would be Ronnie and his
friends. The noise had been unabated for almost an hour. Not that
his sister didn't romp in the pool with her friends, but Nancy
would have tired of it rather quickly.
Her mind wandered back to her proposal. Ronnie and Nancy were
ideal examples. They were a year apart. They were undeniably
goodlooking youngsters. They were in excellent health. They were
popular and accepted by their peers. They were brother and sister.
And there the similarities ended.
At 13, Nancy was advanced for her years. Poised and mature as
most kids three or four years older, she was a quick learner, a
voracious reader and an overachiever in school. Her I.Q. was in the
low 130s. It was Constance's job to know. In fact, Nancy even
looked more mature than her years. She was an early bloomer and
probably could even get into some bars without being carded...if
she was so inclined.
At 12, Ronnie was behind his years in every way but physically.
He had trouble learning new things and difficulty retaining
classroom material. With individual attention, he did significantly
better. He wasn't technically retarded; he was just at the low end
of the normal curve. But he was a good-natured kid, friendly,
outgoing and trying as hard as anyone.
He's also getting to be quite a hunk...for a kid, Constance
thought.
Then: A hunk, period.
Which was true. Tall for his age, stringy and gangly, he was
strikingly handsome. Constance was sure that once he got past his
awkwardness with girls, he was going to be a very busy young man.
Assuming he wasn't gay.
Her thoughts strayed back to the proposal: Set up a tutoring
program of brighter kids working with slower ones. That was it. One
on one. It would educate both, especially in teaching the more
advanced students to understand the difficulty of not grasping a
concept immediately, and the importance of being able to convey
such concepts in simple, direct language.
Constance smiled again. She wouldn't mind teaching Ronnie a few
things herself. He'd surely be discreet. And grateful. Too bad he
was just a kid.
The growing warmth between her legs was not due to the sunshine.
"Ooooh, please, Jack, cum in me...I can't take any more of --
OH!" She convulsed in front of him, the long, black hair shimmering
in the room's single bedside lamp. He felt her pussy tightening on
his hard cock. He watched the strength go out of her, and followed
her collapsing form down to the rumpled bedcovers. He held still
inside her for a few seconds, his lips next to her ear as he held
his weight off her.
"I love it when you cum," he whispered.
She panted heavily, her twat loosening just a bit. She turned
her head weakly to the side. "Please, Jack, cum. I'm gonna pass out
if this goes on. I can't keep cumming like this..."
"I'm not hurting you, am I?" He was genuinely concerned. She was
a tall woman, but slim and tight.
"No -- just -- I'm scared. I'm cumming so much..."
"Let yourself go, baby." He pushed himself back to his knees,
pulling her hips and small, runway-model's ass up with him. Her
upper body still lay limply on the bedsheets. Holding her by her
trim hips, he pulled back, watching her tight pussy flesh and taut
lips cling to his slick prick. He could feel her groan resonate
through her body. He paused with just the head still inside
her...and then slid slowly back in a-l-l-l-l the way. He ground his
cock around inside her and felt the spasming begin in her cunt
again. He grinned.
This was the best, he thought. They'd been fucking for almost
two hours, and now she was perpetually on the edge of orgasm or
actually cumming.
His balls were tightening again. Jack began pistoning his dick
in her with long, uninhibited strokes that made the most of his
cock for her. She was cumming again -- and again. Her hands gripped
the sheets and then flopped limply as the orgasms went through her.
She didn't seem able to stop cumming. Her cunt was convulsing and
her ass cheeks were tightening as if vibrating. He felt the rumble
of his semen rushing upward, felt the electric needle of the
pleasure barreling through his penis, felt it swelling in her trim
cunt still more.
"Oh, yeah, baby -- uh!"
His balls pumped, his dick lurched deeper into her again and
again and she let out an odd little squeal, barely audible, with
each fresh geyser pouring into her already full and sopping cunt.
Finally the paroxysm passed. He let himself topple slowly to the
side, bringing her with him so they lay nestled, still joined, with
his arms around her. He nuzzled her neck and ear. She whimpered,
her cunt still fluttering from time to time.
"Feeling okay, baby?"
"Jack, it's too much, too much. I feel completely wasted --
almost drugged." She drew a deep breath. "I can't even think." She
raised a hand, brushing the thick, black hair from her flushed
face. "Are you like this with you wife?"
He grinned. "I used to be, but..."
"But what? Wear her out?"
"I don't know. She used to be insatiable; I loved it. Now it's
like she can take it or leave it, like she's doing a duty." He
added, quickly: "Don't get me wrong. It's still good sex, she still
gets off a lot, but...she just never initiates anything. It's like
having prime shell steak for dinner every day. It's great,
but...predictable."
"So you decided to have some dim sum."
He grunted. "That's not it, Mei, and you know it."
She sighed. "I guess so..."
"I mean it. You're gorgeous and sexy and you know it. The old
man wanted a stunning, exotic-looking executive secretary for his
image."
"My predecessor was a beautiful black woman," she whispered.
"Did you have an affair with her, too?"
"If I did, that would be between her and me."
"The word is that you did."
He considered. Then: "The word is wrong. I wanted to. I would
have loved to. She was so unbelievably hot...but I couldn't even
get her to have coffee with me."
"Hotter than me?"
"I'll never know, but if you keep talking like
this...something's going to come up."
She groaned. "Oh, please, no -- I won't be able to go back to
the office, I won't be able to function. I've already cum too
much... noooo..." She moaned, unable to stop the movement of her
hips as she felt his dick reinflating for the second time in her
pussy. "Please, Jack, I'm too sore..."
He slowly, regretfully pulled his hardening cock from her cunt.
Copious juices, hers and his, dribbled out of her puffy, tenderized
cunt onto the inside of her thigh. "Okay, okay...but I'm gonna have
to think of some way to shrink this thing or I'll be walking around
with a newspaper in my lap all day. Hey, have you ever -- ?" He
lifted his prick and rubbed it between her buttocks.
She gasped.
"Wanna give it a try?"
He saw the glint of mischief in her eyes, felt the renewed
swelling of her little nipple in his palm. He nuzzled his glans
against her anus.
"Be gentle," she cautioned -- and sucked in a breath as she felt
the knob begin spreading her sphincters. Despite her misgivings,
excitement was building in her abdomen...and her pussy was
tingling. "It feels so big -- oh!"
With the glans securely lodged in her asshole, Jack grabbed onto
her hips, still laying sideways, and slowly began working his stiff
tool into her.
Dim sum on a skewer, he thought, and slipped a little more into
her butt.
Must've dozed off, she thought. Constance felt the difference in
the sun's angle, heard the silence from the neighbors' pool. She
knew she should go in the house, shower and change and get back to
work on her proposal. The sun-induced lethargy was difficult to
overcome, but she was just about to do just that when she heard
something.
She lay motionless, looking under the edge of her sunglasses and
the brim of the straw hat.
She heard the sound again. Her gaze went to her right, toward
the neighbors.
There they were. Three boys. She didn't recognize one of them,
but she knew the boy in the middle -- Mikey, a friend of Ronnie's.
And there was Ronnie.
They were ogling her.
Maybe I've still got it, she thought with a little leap of
pleasure. Turning on a bunch of 12- and 13-year-old boys.
They were straddling the fence between the hedges, hidden from
their waists down. She saw Mike lean to Ronnie and whisper
something. Ronnie blushed and then nodded, grinning that sweet,
handsome grin of his. Mike turned and whispered to the other boy,
who also blushed, but shook his head. Mike shrugged.
Constance saw Mike's and Ronnie's arms move and then begin to
shift back and forth rhythmically. The third boy, still blushing,
climbed off the fence and departed. What --
Her nipples went stone stiff. They were whacking off together.
Maybe it was restlessness. Maybe it was loneliness. Maybe it was
too much sun. Whatever it was, Constance decided to be a bit
indiscreet; she let her legs part slightly and shifted her
shoulders so her bikini top covered even less of the side of her
breast.
The boys' eyes widened, their arms moved more quickly. First
Mike, then Ronnie, stiffened and shook. Ronnie seemed to shake for
a long time.
Enjoy yourselves, boys, she thought. I wish I could do more for
you.
After they climbed off their voyeurs' perch and departed,
Constance roused herself. She didn't bother readjusting her top.
She took her lotion and ambled into the house. Not just a shower
today, she resolved; a shower with the handheld sprayer.
Sid Sugerman groaned as the door closed behind Constance, and he
leaned back from the spotter scope. What a piece of ass that broad
was! He shifted on his stool and eased the length of his stiff tool
down his trouser leg.
I'd give anything to give that hot little bitch a ride, he
thought. I'll bet that sweet little cunt couldn't get enough once
she felt 10 inches of Sid Steak up her snatch!
He looked back at the plate on his drafting table, but all he
could see was Constance's big, milky breasts bobbling as she
shifted in the tiny bikini. No, no chance of concentrating on the
project -- even if it was the most lucrative yet. Usually, nothing
could break Sid's concentration on a project; it was one of the
traits that had put him among the three or four most successful
custom home-builders in the Northeast.
But Constance McEvoy sunning herself...
Man, those gorgeous tits!
Another of Sid's good qualities was that he was observant. As
all- consuming as the sight of a nearly naked Constance had been,
he'd noticed movement in the hedge and spotted the boys whacking
off. He had to grin. Ronnie was a little slow in some ways, unlike
his mother and father and his sister, but in at least one way he
was his father's son -- the kid's boner was huge.
Remember what that redheaded sex cart looks like, boy, and don't
end up like your old man -- married to an overweight matron who
stopped caring about her figure the minute the marriage was
consummated.
Yes, Sid was bitter about that.
His gaze went back to the window. All he needed was one chance,
one opportunity to slip the salami into that petite sex bomb's
little re- furred cunt and then he wouldn't mind sharing his bed
with his overweight wife of eighteen years...because he'd know the
redheaded doll would be begging for more every afternoon.
The gate to the pool area opened, the movement drawing his
attention. Nancy, his little gem, with one of her friends...Lisa.
The sight of his little girl made him beam and chased all thought
of lust from his mind. His darling Nancy, who made him so proud
with her grades and her science award and her essay award. He'd
dreamed of passing his business on to his son, until it became
obvious that it would never happen. More and more though, he
envisioned Nancy, when she someday grew up, marrying a bright,
ambitious guy and passing the business on to them.
The girls were wearing simple one piece suits under wraps. They
shucked the wraps. Nancy went to the diving board and did a perfect
dive. His smile widened. She was a pretty girl and so graceful.
Lisa, a year older than Nancy, took the board. Lisa with her
short brown hair really had a hell of a build for a kid her age.
When she raised her hands over her head for the dive, her titties
drew up inside the suit, crescent mounds swelling over the top.
Sid's prick began swelling again. She really *was* built. He
wondered if --
"Stop it," he growled to himself. "Sick fucker, letting a little
girl turn you on." But even as she splashed, a bit clumsily, into
the water, his focus was zeroed-in on the ripe little teenybopper
ass barely contained in her suit.
He forced an image of Constance McEvoy into his mind. That was
better. Yeah, Constance asking him to put some lotion on her,
moaning when his fingers wandered, gasping at the size of the tent
his hard cock made in his suit, begging to see it...
He began rubbing his hand over the swollen limb of his prick
through his trousers.
Yeah, Constance fishing it out, pleading to taste it and suck
it, those big tits heaving as she took it into her little mouth,
her small hands groping the shaft, her young face framed by her
short brown hair as he came...
"Yeah," he groaned as his prick jerked and spurted, soaking the
inside of his boxers and trousers. "Yeah..."
...and she tried to swallow, her teenybopper throat working to
--
"Oh, shit," he moaned, angry and disgusted with himself. How the
FUCK had a nice safe fantasy of Constance McEvoy sucking his cock
twisted into the perverted image of a little girl only a year older
than his baby doing it?
"Sick, Sid, sick." He looked down at the dark stain in his
pants. Cursing softly, he went to the bedroom, He'd change his
clothes and get back to work. He wouldn't stop until the plans were
drawn. That was the answer. Just don't think about sex with
Constance or his wife or anyone -- especially little 14-year-old
girls with big titties -- until he was done and exhausted. Yeah,
that was the answer.
But then his fingers were moving to the spotter scope, changing
its angle with the certainty of practice, to the second floor
window where sometimes -- just occasionally -- his neighbor
neglected to close the drapes while she changed her clothes.
Subject: CONSTANCE2 (ff;cons;pedo)
From: friar.dave@teamhbbs.com (FRIAR DAVE)
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
CONSTANT.STY
By Friar Dave
(Copyright, 1994)
* * *
"Sure, honey. Want me to keep something warm for you?"
There'd been a time when they'd both chuckled at the double
entendre. Now she just listened to his predictable reply: "No,
I'll just order takeout or something. See you later."
"Later," she echoed.
She looked at the dead phone and hung it up. They were up to
twice a week now -- "working late." Soon there'd be a couple of
"business trips." And then it would taper off pretty quickly. At
least he was discreet.
"But that's the fucking key to it!" she exploded and immediately
calmed herself. Easy, girl. She took the orange juice from the
refrigerator, pouring a big glass.
Her husband had the opportunity to be discreet. He commuted into
Manhattan for work. Once he stepped out of his office, no one knew
him, no one would wonder about him being with a woman, especially
-- she was sure -- a younger and prettier one.
Constance didn't have that opportunity. She worked in the town,
whose resident population probably wouldn't fill a single
Manhattan block of office buildings. She was known. She was a
school supervisor. She was not reticent at town meetings. She'd
even been interviewed by the Bergen Record.
She took a long, slow pull on the orange juice.
Plus, she was visible because she was -- face it, kiddo -- sexy
as hell. With her bright red hair and luscious little figure, she
was noticed wherever she went. And if she went wandering off to
the Holiday Inn with some young stud or -- more brazen -- have
some goodlooking fellow come to her house when she was alone, why
-- the horror! She'd heard the rumors about the mousiest and least
attractive of local wives who'd so much as had Larry, the portly,
aging mailman with the sour breath, come in for a cup of coffee.
Someone as attractive as herself dare not even linger at the door
for long with anyone over the age of --
She froze, the glass halfway to the counter.
Why not? she wondered.
* * *
"Sid."
He looked up from the newspaper. His wife was wearing a pair of
baggy short, a baggy top, and still nothing concealed the extra
padding. At 37, she looked 10 years older than his own 40. When
they'd met, Rose was a long-legged beauty, a curvy size six with
the most luscious tits and ass he'd ever touched. And from the
moment they'd returned from an admittedly terrific honeymoon
cruise, she'd never done a damn thing to maintain her appearance.
"Sid, you've gotta talk to Ronnie."
She held a laundry sack in one hand.
"Again?"
"Even more. Sid, that kid is going to hurt himself. He must be
doing it every hour on the hour. I can't even get some of the
stains out."
He sighed. On one hand, he knew she was right. Not that he would
hurt himself -- that was unlikely -- but he was going to develop
a fixation till the only way he could get off was with his hand.
"I'll talk to him in a little while. Can I help you with the
wash?"
"No, that's okay." She turned, then stopped. "Oh, yeah.
Constance -- Mrs. McEvoy next door?"
"Mmm -- yeah. What about her?"
"She wants to clean some stuff out of her attic and thought
maybe the kids would like to make a few bucks helping her. I
thought that was pretty sweet of her. She's willing to pay them
twenty bucks each for three hours' work."
"That's nice of her. Nancy has her summer class, though." And he
wondered how Constance the school teacher and school board member
had forgotten Nancy was taking an advanced algebra class at
Farleigh- Dickenson with some other bright overachievers. "I'll
talk to Ronnie,"
"You can call her afterward. I'm going to take a nice soak in
the hottub. Maybe you'd like to join me..." She winked. He tried
not to imagine her bulk, naked and bobbing in the hot tub.
Constance, on the other hand...
"I doubt it, dear. I want to finish the plans for the new
project."
"Of course; I forgot." She turned again, and again stopped. "And
Nancy is staying over at Lisa's tonight."
"Sure, dear."
She left him to his newspaper and images of Constance, with her
lush, big, pale titties floating in the jets of bubbling water...
* * *
Nervously, Constance twisted at the towel in her pale fingers.
Was she out of her mind? She was planning the seduction of a
12-year-old boy. She could be ruined if --
But she knew she was safe. The kid would be thrilled and he'd
never tell anyone who'd believe him. And all she'd have to do is
look troubled and deny it like crazy.
Still, what was she --
The jangling of the phone was a shock. "H-hello?"
"Constance, this is Sid -- next door."
"Hi, Sid. How are you?"
"Just fine, thank you. Constance, Ronnie would be thrilled to
help you tomorrow, but Nancy has her summer class in algebra, so
she couldn't come."
Yes, but I could, she thought.
"Of course; how could I be so forgetful? I certainly would
appreciate Ronnie's help, though, if you're sure he wants to
come."
She couldn't believe she'd said that."
"He's tickled at the chance to make come money. What time do you
want him?"
Right now, she thought.
"Say, one o'clock?"
"He'll be there. And if you run into anything too heavy, give a
ring, and I'll come by."
"Thanks, Sid, but I'm sure we can manage it."
"Good night."
She hung up the phone, fingers trembling.
Was she out of her mind?
She looked down at the front of her white blouse, saw the
nubbins of her nipples swollen against the fabric. She realized
her thighs were clenched together and rubbing.
What the hell is the matter with me? With all the things I'm
involed in, suddenly I'm thinking about sex all the time.
And then she thought of the boy shaking and shuddering in
pleasure.
Ronnie, she told herself, I am going to teach you what that
sweet little-boy dick was designed for.
* * *
"You *saw* him do it? Euuuuwww!" Lisa closed her eyes and
shivered for effect. The two girls then collapsed in giggles.
"It's hard not to see him do it," Nancy said, brushing out her
light brown hair. "I mean, he's doing it all the time. He does it
in his room, in the bathroom, in the hottub -- "
"How do you know?"
"Well, for one thing, you can hear it. For another, sometimes he
doesn't clean up all his stuff. When he did it in the hottub -- "
"Yeah?"
"There was this white stuff still floating in the water." Nancy
switched the brush and began doing the other side. "It was kind of
cute, really."
"That's where you saw him do it?"
"Nahhh." She watched Lisa uncurl from the bed and retrieve a
magazine -- Sassy -- from the dresser. "He was in the rec room
watching one of Dad's tapes."
Lisa stopped and stared. She was standing in front of one of the
lamps and the lightweight summer nightgown -- almost a baby-doll
-- was quite sheer. Nancy could admire her girlfriend's lush
figure without feeling jealous; she had nothing to be ashamed of,
herself, especially since she only 13. Still, Lisa's breasts were
awfully pretty.
"You mean -- porno?" Lisa whispered.
"Softcore -- a Playmate video. But he had the old johnson out
and was flogging away. Had no idea I was even in the house." She
put the brush down.
Lisa sat facing her, indian-style. "And it was all hard and
everything?"
"And big -- I mean really big." Nancy held her hand about a foot
apart, the reconsidered and narrowed the space. "And thick. He
could just about get his hand around it."
"Wow."
"My little brother definitely has a magic johnson."
They giggled.
"And he kept grunting and everything until this stuff just came,
like, flying out of it. I mean, it was like a bunch of eruptions.
It seemed to go on for a long time."
"Geez, I wish I had a brother. I'd like to see that, too, but
I'm afraid. You know. Maybe next time I stay over at your house
I'll get to see it."
"All you have to do is flash those boobies of yours at him and
he'll be flagging the bone in no time. He's always staring at
them. Of course, he's always staring at mine, too. Heck, he gets
a hard-on looking at pears in the supermarket!"
More giggles.
"I wonder what it feels like," Lisa mused.
"It feels hard and hot and kind of soft, too -- and it throbs."
Lisa's mouth fell open. "You don't mean you and -- your brother
-- you -- "
"Not my brother," Nancy said.
"Then who, girl?" Lisa demanded, grabbing Nancy's shoulders.
"Well, there's this guy at Farleigh, an older guy, like about
16. And, well, sometimes on break we go out by the stadium and,
you know, fool around."
"And? And?"
"Well, a couple of times we've gotten kind of hot and heavy into
it, like, and -- well, I could always feel this hard *thing*
pushing against me. So one time he put my hand on it through his
pants. And I asked him if i could take it out. I thought he was
going to worship me!"
"Is he cute?"
"He's okay, maybe a little geeky, but he's really smart and
really nice." She reached for the Sassy.
"So?"
"Oh, well, he unzipped and brought this nice hard thingy out. It
looked like my brother's, but not nearly as big and scary looking,
So I put my hand on it and he put his hand on mind and showed me
how to do it."
"And -- his stuff came out."
"In about thirty seconds. And it was all over the place. I
thought I cleaned it all off with some tissue, but on the way to
class I saw some on my sleeve and licked it off."
"Euuwwwwww! That's gross!"
Nancy shook her head. "No, not really. It was kinda salty, and
a little gamy -- but not bad at all."
Lisa looked unsure. "Well, did you let him, uh, do anything for
you?"
"Sometimes we have enough time and he'll kiss and suck my
nipples, and every now and then he gets his hand in my panties,
but he doesn't really know what to do or where to touch. If we get
the chance, I'll show him."
"You liked it?"
Nancy closed her eyes and smiled dreamily. "When he's sucking my
nipples, sometimes I almost get off..."
Lisa's prolonged silence prompted Nancy's eyelids up. She found
her friend looking morose.
"What?"
"I, uh..." Mummble-mumble-mumble.
"Huh?
"I wish I -- nothing."
However, Nancy was, as noted, very bright.
"Lisa?"
"Mmm?"
"I can show you what it feels like."
Lisa shifted uncomfortably, nervously, when she realized what
her best friend was saying. "That'd be like dykes..."
"Crap."
"But -- "
"But nothing. Wouldn't you rather have a guy doing it?"
Lisa shrugged, her tits jiggling perkily inside the nightgown.
"Well, sure, but -- "
"And didn't we tongue kiss like two years ago to see what it was
like?"
"It was sloppy was what it was like," Lisa said, but then,
thoughtfully, added: "And kinda nice."
Nancy chuckled. "Well, this might be the same thing."
Lisa raised her gaze to meet her pretty friend's. "You -- you
really don't mind?"
Nancy moved slowly forward onto all fours, a small smile forming
on her small mouth as she noted Lisa's nipples swollen inside the
night gown. Like a stalking cat, she oozed forward and pushed her
friend slowly and not unwillingly onto her back and began raising
the hem of Lisa's baby-doll top.
"Mind?" Nancy echoed. "Actually, I'm kind of curious to find out
what it's like to be the sucker instead of the suckee..." She
pulled the top off Lisa, then ducked her head, licking her
girlfriend's throat and then bringing her tongue down to the
rounded, pear-like orbs of 14-year-old breasts. She moved her
mouth slowly, gently, around and around, enjoying the softness and
warmth, the gentle curves and rich firmness. And when her lips
finally found and fastened to Lisa's nipple, Nancy sighed happily;
this was *nice*...
Lisa moaned and began running her hands over Nancy's recently
brushed hair as she let the pleasures and security of being with
her best friend take her to new places...
* * *
Ten minutes. Constance was quite sure the clock had stopped. It
had read ten to one for about four hours, it seemed. Maybe she
should pour herself another OJ with just a little spritz of gin.
Ponderously, the minute hand ticked slowly forward. Nine
minutes. Outside the kitchen window, the thermometer was already
somewhere around 95, and still not a cloud in sight. A water alert
was being declared. Hot, inside and out, she thought.
This is the weather that makes people do crazy things, she
thought.
No, it isn't, she replied. You know exactly what you're doing.
She stopped her pacing, strode quickly to the bathroom. She
checked herself in the full length mirror inside the door.
Do I look like I mean business?
Depends on the business, she told herself.
Move stuff out of the attic. That's what she'd said she needed
the help with. Which meant crawling and crouching in a dusty space
with a low ceiling. Dirty work. So why wasn't she wearing jeans,
to protect her knees, instead of the old, tight cutoffs? Why
braless in one of Jack's old shirts with the tails tied high
around her midriff? Why a ponytail instead of a scarf?
It'll never occur to him to ask, she assured herself.
She returned to the kitchen. Seven minutes. Still time to call
it off.
No!
Maybe, she thought, she should confront Jack -- and then suggest
that they make it a threesome. He'd hinted at it often enough, and
she wondered now if it might not be just the right thing for them.
After all, she wasn't repulsed by the idea. In fact, sometimes she
fantasized about it, recalling Amy, her roommate on the group tour
through France and Italy during her junior summer. Yes, that was
wonderful...
She found herself almost unconsciously rubbing her mound through
the old, tight jeans, felt the pressure and warmth and need
growing.
The doorbell sounded like Big Ben.
Constance froze. This was it. Now or never. Do and die...no, no,
no -- do *or* die.
She thawed from her cunt outward. She was just beginning to move
when the bell rang again. "Coming!" she yelled and almost burst
into nervous laughter. Well, not quite, she thought.
He was right there when she opened the door. Maybe two or three
inches taller than she, all bursting with youth and vigor and
vitality and guileless impulses...
...and boyish semen...
...and whatever fine 12-year-old fantasies he had masked behind
his easy smile and friendly, respectful charm.
"Hi, Mrs. McEvoy -- is everything okay? I mean I can come back
another time."
She shook her head, reached for the door, noted his long=sleeved
shirt, the bandana around his forehead, the work gloves in his
hand, the old jeans...so well-filled.
"No, no -- this is fine."
"Are you sure? You look a little red."
The red grew more than a little. "Come on in, and we'll get to
work."
"Okay!" He followed her to the dropdown ladder to the attic. She
tugged the cord and the trapdoor opened, the steps unfolded. The
heat welled down onto her face and neck.
She could feel his eyes on her ass, on the bare flesh of her
back above it, on the place where the buttons were undone on the
blouse. She could feel his youth and vitality throbbing behind
her.
"Gee, Mrs. McEvoy, maybe you should get something else to wear
since the attic will be dusty."
"Uh...I actually didn't think -- "
"That's why my dad told me to wear this hot stuff."
"I see." She made a show of thinking it over. "Well, I figured
it's going to be hot up there. I mean, I can always take a shower
to wash off dirt."
He bobbed his head. "Yeah!"
She swallowed. "Well, up we go -- follow me." She grasped the
wooden steps and started climbing. She knew he was looking up. She
could feel his gaze. Or maybe it was just the crotch seam of the
tight cutoffs.
* * *
Jack McEvoy frowned listening to his voicemail. Mei's voice,
trembling. Commack, the CEO, wanted to see him as soon as he'd
returned. Jack deleted the message and headed for the executive
suite. All along the way, he was trying to review his work, to see
if he'd screwed the pooch. Nothing came to mind.
Of course, there was always the other possibility -- that this
was not a chewing out. He had, after all led the top sales team
for five consecutive months and two of the last three years.
He entered the reception room. Mei looked up from her console.
She was wearing that damn burgundy cheong sam, the one that clung
to every lovely inch of her while revealing none of her, the one
that set such a stunning contrast to her raven hair -- especially
when her hair was draped in a loose fall over one shoulder, the
one that would tantalize with a flashing glimpse of one long leg
all the way to mid-thigh with every stride. He suddenly suspected
he was going to be working late again.
Easy, boy, he told himself. Focus on the moment.
And it was too easy to forget how sharp her mind was when she
looked so alluring.
"Mr. Commack wanted to see me."
She nodded. "A moment." She pressed buttons, murmured into her
headset with it's all-but-invisible mike, listened, murmured
again. Then she removed the headset and stood. She was wearing her
high heels, making her all the more lissome and undeniable.
"Follow me, please."
"Anywhere," he murmured, enjoying the touch of color in her
cheeks. She opened the door to the Throne Room. He stepped past
her. Commack sat his desk, immaculate with Armani suit, his
manicured hands, his Calvin Klein tie, his private-barbered steel
gray hair combed straight back to frame a square, tanned,
leathered face.
"Please stay, Miss Fong. Close the door."
That gave Jack pause.
"You wanted to see me."
"I'm well aware of that." As if Jack had insulted him. "Mr.
McEvoy, we have a situation on our hands."
"Sir?"
"Miss Fong has given her notice." He paused.
Jack waited. Jack could be a very patient man.
Well, not *that* patient, "And you wanted to see me because --
?"
"Because she's going back to her family. To have a baby."
Jack felt a rush of coldness through his veins. Too many
unknowns were at work here.
Behind him, Mei sniffled. "Oh, Jack, I'm so sorry. I lied. I was
never on the pill..."
He turned to stare at her for a moment. Pieces were clicking
into place. Who was behind this? Capitano? He was the likeliest.
The horny sonofabitch had never made a secret of envying Jack his
position, his ability as a manager, his lovely wife -- nor had he
been discreet in condemning Jack for his success in philandering.
"...and I know I could never expect you to leave your wife..."
And it might have been Cho, in MIS, who'd been cold and even
downright nasty to Jack since about the second time he and Mei had
slipped away for a nooner.
"...and I wouldn't ask you to and besides, I've met the most
wonderful man, who doesn't care about a baby belonging to someone
else..."
Jack wheeled slowly around to face Commack. Who looked smug.
Commack was fond of dropping pointed hints that he never wanted to
catch anyone boffing "his girls."
"You believe this?"
"I got the hotel receipts." He took a pile of slips from a desk
drawer and ceremoniously dropped them in an ominous pile on his
compulsively clear desktop.
"I admire the kind of man who takes the committed approach, Mr.
McEvoy -- the kind of man who keeps his word. The kind of man who
learns his girlfriend has not only been unfaithful, but is
carrying another man's child...and proposes to her. That's the
kind of man I want as my vice president of sales. He may not be
the most skilled or successful sales manager, but at least I can
trust Dominick Capitano."
"I see. And you think Mei's carrying my child."
Commack reddened. "I'm sure of it. She's at least honest enough
to admit she lied. Do the right thing -- admit your deed, forgive
her, resign and clean out your desk."
"My deed?"
"Your -- your responsibility for her condition."
"It's not my loaf in her oven."
Commack jerked to his feet. "She's *admitted* she's not -- "
"I had a vasectomy eight years ago."
Commack went gray in the face.
"Right after Constance had the miscarriage. The OB/GYN said any
pregnancy would endanger her -- any. So I opted for a vasectomy
rather than ask her to go on the pill or go through other
procedures. It seemed like I had to take some responsibility." He
turned to Mei, who had never looked paler or less healthy. "So if
you're carrying my kid, you must have broken into the sperm bank."
He turned back to Commack. "And I'm not about to resign, even
though you took the unsubstantiated word of a secretary's without
so much as asking me if it could be true." The numbness was
slipping away; Jack was trembling -- with fury. "No -- you're
going to have to fire me and face the messiest lawsuit you can
imagine...or buy me out. Generously."
"I-- I--"
"Be a great case. We'll do DNA tests on the infant -- and me.
And maybe her loyal fiancee, Mr. Dominick Can't Add Capitano."
And then something else occurred to him.
"Who else might we test, Mr. Commack?"
The man went positively white.
"Well? Do we have an arrangement?"
"Yes, yes...I'll have the papers drawn up and forwarded to you
as soon as possible and -- "
"As soon as possible is right fucking now."
Commack began to pant.
"Jefferson, your pills!" Mei squealed, and ran to Commack's
side.
So that's what the "J" in "J.T. Commack" stood for, he thought.
"Don't die before you sign," Jack muttered, going to the phone and
dialing the corporate counsel's office.
~From: friar.dave@teamhbbs.com (FRIAR DAVE)
~Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
~Subject: Constanc3 (mf;pedo;cons)
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Part Three
To her surprise, Constance found that there really was a lot of
junk to get out of the attic. Pushing a stray strand of fiery red
hair from her sweaty forehead with a dusty hand, she surveyed the
five cartons of soon-to-be-landfill. She heard the water run in the
bathroom. A moment later, Ronnie appeared, face and hands clean.
The light shirt was filthy and sweat-plastered to him. She marveled
at the lean, stringy muscles on his frame. He really was going to
be a hunk.
"We got a lot done in an hour, didn't we, Ronnie?"
"We sure did, Mrs. McEvoy." His eyes kept dropping to her bust,
where perspiration had soaked the fabric to transparency and
plastered it to her tits. "Can I have a drink of water?"
"Of course -- I should have offered. Help yourself to whatever
you like." She swung the refrigerator door open, knowing what the
cold air would do to her nipples under the damp shirt. "In fact, I
have some Gatorade here somewhere..." She dropped to a crouch and
reached into the refrigerator, knowing the posture tested the loose
knot in the shirttails. In the chrome edging, she could see the
reflection of his eyes, his gaze searching the front of her shirt.
Her nipples were hardening.
"There it is." She reached a...little...farther. Her fingers
closed on the cold glass. She withdrew it stood, closed the door.
As he took the bottle, the shirt tails let go. The damp cloth clung
to her breasts, revealing the inner swells. "Ooops."
Constance grabbed the tails and quickly retied them. Ronnie
snapped his eyes away a moment too late. He blushed.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. McEvoy."
"That's okay, Ronnie. No harm done. I don't mind you looking at
me."
The blush deepened.
"Do you like looking at me?"
"Gosh, yeah!"
"Then go ahead and look. I don't mind."
"You don't?"
"Why should I? You're a nice young man, and I know you'd never
tell anyone."
"Never in a hundred million years."
"So you just go ahead and look. In fact, I like it when a
handsome young man I can trust -- like you -- looks at me."
His gaze began exploring -- tentatively, at first, then more
boldly. Once or twice he looked at her face, and she smiled in
encouragement. She didn't fail to notice the lump in his jeans.
After a few more seconds, he swallowed. "Well, uh, I guess we
better get back to work, huh?"
"There's no hurry, Ronnie. We already got more done than I
hoped. But if you don't want to look at me anymore -- "
"Oh, I do!" He clamped his mouth shut. "It's just that, well,
when I look at you I start to, I dunno, I start to -- "
"You start to get hard?"
He nodded guiltily.
"That's okay. I like knowing I can make you get hard."
"It's just that, well, it's just that then I need to -- I dunno
-- I need to -- you know -- "
Her pussy was getting very damp. "You need to take it out and
rub it until you shoot."
He nodded a bit too quickly.
"Like you did yesterday, when you jerked off looking at me in
the yard."
His eyes widened in horror, and he was about to say something --
probably apologetic, she guessed.
"No, no, no -- that's fine, Ronnie." She stepped close to him.
His bulging eyes followed her tits as they approached -- and
stopped just short of his chest. "I'm so happy that looking at me
made you want to jerk off."
"You are?" he breathed.
"Sure. I just wish I could have seen it."
He looked confused for a moment, then uncertain -- and then
amazed.
"You mean you want -- "
Her fingers moved up the inner edge of her damp shirt, following
the line of stitching -- on one side the buttons, on the other, the
matching holes.
How appropriate, she thought.
She toyed with the fabric, tugging, fondling, feeling it pull
and move, sometimes reluctantly, on her tits, taking satisfaction
in thinking of the number of times Jack had but the buttons into
the holes of this same shirt, then tossed it aside when it grew a
bit older, a bit worn, a bit too familiar.
"Please," she whispered, lifting the cotton and pulling it
slowly back. "Please show me."
She uncovered her breasts.
"Unnnnhhh..." He looked almost delirious. His fingers were
clumsy on his belt, clumsier on the waist snap.
"Let me?" she cooed, opening his jeans. Now committed, she was
eager to see his fresh little-boy cock. She kept her eyes on his as
she bent her knees, pushing the jeans down over his lean hips. She
left them at his knees, still watching his face. Her hands trailed
up his thighs to his hips, to the elastic waist of his briefs. Only
as she began peeling them down did she look at his crotch again.
"Oh!"
The sound escaped. She hadn't expected *this*!
The head of his cock and fully half the shaft was protruding out
of the legs of his briefs.
"Oh, that must hurt...." she cooed, dropping to one knee, then
both, and carefully working the briefs down. His dick bobbed up at
her face level, throbbing and bobbing at an angle of 60 to 40
degrees "That must be very uncomfortable..."
"Un-huh."
Well, I didn't get into this for the conversation, she reminded
herself.
"And you hold it like -- this, right?"
She closed her right hand around the shaft at the midpoint.
Barely closed her hand. He was quite thick. Much thicker than Jack.
"Ahhhhh -- yes, Mrs. McEvoy."
"And you jerk it like -- this?" She began to move her hand up
and down on his shaft.
"Y-y-yes, ma'am!"
So polite.
"Mmmmmm -- I like doing this, Ronnie." She looked up into his
face, saw the slack-jawed pleasure replacing the slack-jawed
astonishment. "Do you like it when I do this for you?"
"Oh, yes, Mrs. McEvoy!"
And it was true for both of them. She was enjoying it, though
not as much as he was in terms of sheer, physical sensation. In
fact, why shouldn't she enjoy some sensation. Her gaze still on his
face, she raised her left hand and cupped her right tit, enjoying
even the touch of her own fingers, savoring the weight and firmness
of her own breast. She ran her palm and fingers over the globe of
fatty and erectile tissue and applied the pads of thumb and
forefinger to the aureole and, finally, the engorged tissue of her
nozzle. The look on his face would have been enough to cause
involuntary vaginal secretions, but the physical sensations and the
psychological trappings and associations of the situation added to
the quantity and viscosity of the secreted lubricant being
generated within her vagina and to the excitement impelled
engorgement of her labia majora.
Meantime, his cock had begun to ooze.
"Oh, look," she breathed. "It's starting to leak. Does that mean
you're going to shoot soon?"
"Hu...hu....hu....hu..."
She translated that to "Yes."
"Can't make a mess, so..."
Constance Gudsmonsdotter McEvoy leaned forward and licked the
tip of the fat glans. Then, C.G. McE. -- granddaughter of an
Icelandic immigrant banker and a Wisconsin schoolteacher, winner of
the Miss Propriety Medal in sixth grade and Bible Studies Award in
the summer of her twelfth year at the Green Bay Church of the All
Holy Sunday School, runner-up in the wet tee-shirt contest at the
Northwestern U Lambda Chi Alpha Rush Week Bauhaus -- calmly opened
her mouth very wide (the boy really did have quite a fat dick) and
sucked his glans into her mouth.
The effect on the kid was -- well, cataclysmic.
"Oh, Mrs. McEvoy! I'm -- "
Which ended the verbal intercourse. The fat cock in her mouth
swelled still more and an ooze of precum became a gusher of semen.
Constance was amazed. She'd expected him to cum very quickly --
but not instantly. And she'd expected a lot -- but there was a
limit to her expectations.
Then she was stunned. Where *was* it all coming from? It seemed
like he'd been hooked to a pool, a reservoir, a lake of semen --
and still it came. Her cheeks literally bulged before the first
spurt -- spurt, hell; it was a geyser -- stopped. And then it
started again, before she'd finished swallowing.
He came enormously. Again her mouth filled and her cheeks
swelled, this time so much that her lips parted and some spilled
out.
More than most guys can cum spilled out, she thought.
She swallowed and he grunted again. Sploosh! Her mouth was
filled. She sucked as hard as she could, hoping to drain him before
she lost control and started coughing. He just grunted and spasmed
in her mouth again.
And, suddenly -- surprisingly, because swallowing semen hadn't
been her favorite thing even when she'd done it more often -- she
found herself aroused. *I'm* doing this, she thought. *I'm*
inspiring this beautiful young boy to cum this much. *I'm* his
first woman.
He'll never dismiss me or take me for granted or forget me, she
realized, and an immense tenderness grew in her.
Yes, baby, she encouraged him in her head. Give me it all!
Sploosh! Another tremendous wad of 12-year-old cum rocketed into
her mouth. More leaked, more dripped down her chin, onto her
heaving tits and her tit-manipulating hand and forearm.
Goosh! Another big load...but perhaps a bit less? Yes,
definitely. Not much, but some.
"Oh, Missus -- Missus -- "
Splurt! Certainly somewhat less now. She swallowed, sucked and
moved her tongue on the underside of her glans as she whacked her
hand up and down the stalk of his fat dick.
Mistake. Her tongue and suction were novelties that inflamed and
inspired him; her hand's movement was familiar and relaxing. His
prick swelled still more and then he unleashed a torrent of cum
into her mouth. It came and came and came, like a hose in her
mouth. She swallowed desperately, but it was still ejaculating and
she wasn't breathing easily. She pulled her mouth off his prick and
he hosed her face.
The eruption paused and then he proceeded to spatter her face,
neck, exposed breasts and hands with a greatly diminished load,
i.e., about the quantity usual to a guy in his 30s.
He sagged, his knees buckling for a moment before he caught
himself. They were both panting. The fat shaft in her hand had
shrunk to about half-mast. Almost for the first time she noticed
that he had only the faintest sprinkling of dark hairs around the
base of his cock.
Twelve years old, she thought, recalling with a mental shiver
that males didn't hit their sexual prime till five to eight years
later. Oh, my, she thought.
She turned her sperm-slick face toward his, taking proper note
of the insistent heat in her crotch -- not to mention the humidity
down there.
"I liked that, Ronnie, but now I have to wash off." She put on
a thoughtful expression. "We both should. Will you help me get
washed?"
His expression was sorely puzzled.
"Let's take a little shower, stud. You and me. Naked. Wet.
Slippery. Okay?"
Still befuddled, he managed to pant, "O-okay, Mrs. McEvoy."
She stood, still with a handful of fat, young cock, and gently
led the boy toward the bathroom -- the one off the master bedroom.
* * *
"Anyone home?"
Nancy pushed the door open, puzzled. It was unlocked, so someone
had to be home. But there'd been no answer to the doorbell, even
after she'd held it down and counted one-Mississippi 75 times.
But someone had to be home. Lisa's dad worked out of his house
sometimes, and he --
Well, she thought, maybe not today.
And Lisa's mom did have a job in Ridgewood, as a receptionist
for a doctor's office.
Still, the door wasn't locked. Lisa should be home.
"Hello?" She closed the door behind her. She remembered movies
where innocent girls had entered empty homes that should have been
full. Some deranged escapee from a mental hospital could be in
here. Arab terrorists.
Wait a second, she reminded herself. My great-grandmother is
from Iraq.
Or a crazed rapist. Or Freddy Krueger.
"Freddy Krueger?" she muttered. "Can you say, 'par-a-noi-a'?"
"Lisa!" she breathed. "Where the hell are you?"
She froze. Was that a noise from upstairs? Where Lisa's room
was?
Time to visit the kitchen. That was where the movie-of-the-week
heroine always found the tools of defending hearth and home.
"You're 13 years old," she said aloud. "You are not Mrs. Peel."
She froze, hearing a sound from above again.
"Fuck Mrs. Peel," she said, grabbing the first utensil at hand
-- in this case, hot-dog tongs. Her best friend might well be in
trouble.
Hot-dog tongs in hand, Nancy left her shoulder bag on the
kitchen counter and headed for the stairway to the second floor of
the split- level post-war VA-approved house (with 3 brs, furn rec
rm, wbfplc, 2- cr grg & babbling brook at rear of hedge-brdrd
yrd!!!). Her best bud might need her, might be in deep goo.
No time to get squeamish, she told herself, tightening her grip
on the hot-dog tongs and cat-footing it up the stairs.
* * *
"Oh, YES!" Constance wailed, as the 12-year-old with an IQ of 80
slammed eight fat inches of turgid meat deep into her hungering
cunt. Her knees were next to her ears, her thighs and tits were
bruised, her pussy was sore, and she hadn't cum so much since she'd
been on the honeymoon cruise to Acapulco with Jack about six
hundred years before.
"Is this okay, Mrs. McEvoy?"
"YES! Don't stop!"
He slammed to her limit again, his shoulders driving her legs
back and forcing her pelvis -- and cunt -- higher. She felt his
swollen, tight young nuts against her asshole.
"YES!"
* * *
Sid's eyes were watering. That was how he knew it had been too
long since he'd blinked. Still --
That's my boy! he exulted.
He couldn't believe what he was seeing through the scope. There
was Mrs. Constance Big-Tits McEvoy getting ploughed by his own son
-- and loving it. And the boy didn't seem exactly to be in pain.
Again and again the kid put it to her, again and again she was
obviously getting her cookies, again and again, Sid was cheering
for his boy.
That's the way, kid! he whooped inwardly. Show the bitch a good
time and LAY THAT PIPE!
Of course, he was starting to get a sore arm. After all, he was
no kid himself anymore; at 40, he was a bit old to be choking the
chicken for the second time in a half hour. But he really couldn't
help himself. With the spotter scope fixed on the uncovered window
of Mrs. Constance Redheaded Big-Tits McEvoy's bedroom, he had a
great view. There she was with her legs up over the kid's
shoulders, mouth open, boobies jiggling and obviously cumming to
beat the band.
He envied the kid. He wished he could have been in there. He
wished Mrs. Howley next door in boyhood Brooklyn would have shown
him the ropes the way Mrs. Constance Tight-Little-Ass McEvy was
teaching his son. The important thing was that it was getting done.
He wondered if he could cum again, but then he saw her legs
tighten over his son's shoulders and he imagined her little
red-furred pussy tightening and Sid knew he was going to cum again.
He pressed his eye to the lense. She was rolling over onto her
hands and knees, the gorgeous little ass up and begging, one hand
between her legs to guide Ronnie's swollen stalk home in a single
thrust and --
She was cumming again!
* * *
Constance screamed into the pillow, burying her face in the
sweat- dampened cotton. Behind her, Ronnie was on his knees. He'd
cum in her twice in the last 30 minutes, but now it seemed like his
oversized young cock had been anesthetized. He pumped her pussy
rapidly, relentlessly, artlessly -- and effectively. She couldn't
seem to stop cumming.
To her amazement, though, he was obviously ready to let loose
again. His strokes got shorter and -- incredibly -- faster and then
she felt him cumming inside her again. Constance was amazed: She
could feel it -- still, despite the enormous previous loads he'd
poured into her pussy. She felt another gut-wrenching orgasm rising
inside herself as his semen and her juices squished out around the
stretched edges of her cunt and dribbled down her shivering,
quivering thighs. Again and again, he surged into her. Constance
was almost faint with pleasure.
When he'd finally slowed and his prick seemed -- she wasn't sure
-- to lose a trace of its rigidity, Constance straightened one leg,
pulled the other up close to her heaving, swollen tits and executed
a surprisingly nimble shift that ended with her on her back and him
atop her, still locked inside her.
After long moments of gasping, he raised his head and looked
down at her, his face a study in confused doubt and satisfaction.
"Mrs. McEvoy?"
She tried to still her panting. She tightened her hold on the
young stud above her...still buried in her. "Yes, Ronnie?"
"Mrs. McEvoy, is this...okay?"
"What do you mean, Ronnie?"
"I mean -- well, what we're doing feels so good for me, It seems
like it must be wrong."
She considered...carefully.
"Ronnie, did you want to do it?"
"I guess."
"You guess?"
He looked a bit puzzled for a moment. "Well, I knew about how to
do it, but I never thought it would feel this nice."
"It's not easy to describe how nice cumming feels."
"Not that part," he said, snuggling his face against her hair.
She heard him suck in a deep breath through his nose. "I know how
good it feels to cum. I've been shooting my stuff for a year. But
-- this."
He hugged her.
"This close stuff, the being-together-after part. Just, kind of,
like having something together, just you and me -- just together.
It's so nice."
Constance felt a sudden upwelling of loving and closeness. She
tightened her arms and legs -- and pussy -- around him.
"Wow!" he gasped. "I felt that!"
She tightened again -- just her pussy.
His 12-year-old prick began swelling in her again. She groaned
softly.
"Want to do it again?" she asked.
He nodded vigorously.
"Well, it isn't hurting you, and it isn't hurting me, and we're
the only ones here -- so I guess it can't be too wrong."
She clenched him again.
He smiled down at her. "I think you're right." And began moving
his hips.
* * *
"Hi, Ralph." Jack settled onto the stool and took a few beer
nuts from the bowl on the bar.
"Mr. McEvoy, you're a bit early today. The usual?"
"Please."
The bartender filled a stein with stout and set it on the bar
top. "Special occasion?"
"Celebrating, Ralph. I just lost my job."
"I, uh, always got the impression you enjoyed your work, Mr.
McEvoy."
Jack took a couple of long swallows. "Tell you the truth, Ralph:
I did. And the perqs could be great. But I was going nowhere fast."
"Got something else lined up, eh?"
Jack nodded. "One of my neighbors has been telling me for about
a year that he wants to start a small business with an equity
partner. He's also been telling me for about a year that if had
someone in it who could sell like I can, we'd be printing money
inside of a month." He took another slug of the stout, enjoying the
spreading warmth in his belly. "Well, with the buyout I just got,
I can be an equity partner."
"That sounds terrific, Mr. McEvoy. What kind of business is it?"
Jack finished his stout. "I'm not sure. It's some kind of
virtual reality gizmo for home computers. Hey. lemme have another
one, willya?"
"Sure thing."
Jack glanced at his watch. Well, sure, he had time for another
one. He'd take the 3:50 home, surprise Constance with the good
news. Maybe even get a rise out of her. No hurry. When he'd called
Harry from the office -- his last call from the office -- he wasn't
home, but he'd left a message with his daughter. She always seemed
like an awfully bright kid.
"Thanks, Ralph."
He was sure Harry'd get his message; Lisa was dependable.
~From: friar.dave@teamhbbs.com (FRIAR DAVE)
~Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
~Subject: Constanc4 (mf;pedo;cons)
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Part Four
Constance groaned into the boy's shoulder, then panted for
breath.
"Are you okay, Mrs. McEvoy?"
She raised her head, brushed her thoroughly wrecked red hair
from her face and smiled dreamily at him. "Ronnie, I haven't been
this okay in a long time. I'm not too heavy for you, am I?"
"Oh, no! You feel good on top of me. I like feeling your breasts
smooshed down against me."
"Good." She lay her head back on his shoulder. His young prick
was still inside her, but completely soft for the first time in
almost an hour and a half. His last orgasm, as she'd rode her
hungry pussy up and down over his long shaft, had been
significantly smaller than the first three. When she'd dangled her
breasts over his face, he'd suckled first one nipple, then the
other, and her orgasms had just kept on going and going and
going...
She glanced at the clock, an old-analogue dial model that
glistened in the afternoon sunshine. She'd better get moving.
"Ronnie?"
"Mmmm?"
"Ronnie, we better get up and get dressed. It's getting late."
"O-kay..."
She kissed his chin and pulled herself off him. As soon as his
soft shaft slurped wetly out of her pussy, a thick mixture of her
juices and his semen began drooling out. She grabbed her husband's
old shirt to stanch the flow. His cock lay long and limber on his
abdomen, gleaming with their juices.
She couldn't resist.
"That feels so good, Mrs. McEvoy," he groaned as she licked her
juices and his off his prick.
"Just want to get you all clean," she whispered -- and then her
eyes widened. He was getting hard again. Well, she decided, she
couldn't send him home in *that* state. Constance popped the fat
head of his cock into her mouth and began working her hand on his
shaft.
* * *
Way to go, kid! Sid exulted.
* * *
Nancy tracked the sounds to Lisa's bedroom door -- but now she
relaxed. They were sounds of pleasure. Undeniable pleasure. But was
Lisa alone?
She dropped to one knee and peered through the keyhole. Yes,
Lisa was alone -- and madly pumping a small vibrator in and out of
herself.
"Un--yeah--un--"
And cumming.
Nancy smiled. In some ways, Lisa was way ahead of her. Her
friend often gave the impression that she was hesitant, even
fearful, when it came to experimenting and enjoying herself -- but
Nancy understood where that came from.
Way to go, pal of mine, she silently cheered.
No need for Lisa to know she'd been discovered. She started back
down the stairs, quietly. She'd lock the door behind her, though;
she wasn't about to let her best friend be vulnerable.
* * *
Jack stared out the window of the commuter train. It was mostly
empty at this hour. Too early for the rush and after the schools
had let out. He sucked some more beer through the straw leading to
the paper-bagged can he'd bought at Hoboken, where he changedg
trains. He was feeling pretty good.
Maybe I ought to go right to Harry's place, meet him when he
comes home. Constance probably wouldn't give a damn.
* * *
Constance finished toweling herself off. She felt so
damn...good. No regrets, no guilt -- just good. She'd cum like
gangbusters and the fact that she'd been able to coax yet another
ejaculation from the kid only convinced her that the problem with
her marriage was not that she was lacking in appeal.
Cheerfully brushing her teeth, she watched her breasts jiggle
with the motion of her arm. Nice tits, lady, she told herself. And,
on impulse, decided she was going to treat herself to dinner
tonight. Alone. At that seafood place in Fort Lee, the one with the
great lobsters.
She gargled with Scope -- Nothing better for rinsing away the
taste of boy cum, she thought -- and stepped back into the bedroom.
Oh, yeah, the drapes. Well, who could see in? The hell with it. But
the place reeked of sex. She opened the window despite the heat and
quickly stripped the bed linen, tossing it into the laundry chute.
Then Constance pulled on a halter and some shorts and remade the
bed with fresh linen.
Catching a glimpse of her curvaceous reflection in the bedroom
mirror, Constance decided to indulge herself one more long-missed
pleasure. From her closet, she pulled the lightweight summer dress,
the one that was nearly backless, the one she usually wore over a
light, short-sleeved shirt for the sake of modesty.
Hmmmm...lobster and hungry stares. Yeah, she could live with
that. She'd leave Jack a note -- not that he'd miss her. Hell, he
was probably going to be working late, anyhow.
Tomorrow, she told herself, I'm going to teach Ronnie how to eat
a woman properly. He'd quickly learned the rudiments, but he needed
practice.
Smiling, she stripped off her halter and shorts, slipped into a
pair of panties and pulled on the dress.
* * *
It took Jack four tries, but he finally managed to connect with
the doorbell. He waited for a few minutes and rang again. Nothing.
Damn, and he really needed to get in there and use the head. And
maybe sit down for a few minutes; he wasn't feeling too steady. In
fact, he decided, maybe he better sit down on the steps for a few
minute.
He managed to sit without falling and dumbly contemplated a
slightly blurred world.
"Hello?"
He didn't see anyone.
"Are you alright?" Legs came into view. He looked up, fumbled
through his somewhat numbed memory. Harry's daughter...
"Mr. McEvoy?"
"Oh, hi...Lisa."
"Mr. McEvoy, my mom and dad aren't home yet. They're going out
to dinner."
"Oh. Okay. No problem." He struggled to stand, started to lose
his balance. Lisa steadied him, and he nearly fell on her. "Um, can
I use your bathroom? Too much beer."
"I guessed. Sure. Come on inside."
"Apologize."
She led him inside, pointed and watched him stagger toward the
bathroom.
* * *
"Hi, Ronnie." She dropped her shoulder bag on the pass-through
counter to the kitchen. Ronnie was sitting on one of the stools,
staring at the remaining half of what appeared to be a
peanut-butter and marshmallow fluff sandwich.
"Hi," he said quietly.
"Mom and Dad home?" She took some apple juice from the
refrigerator.
"Dad's upstairs working."
She peered at his face. "Are you okay, Ronnie? You look awfully
tired."
He took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired."
"Maybe you ought to lay down for a while."
He stared at the half-sandwich for a moment. "Maybe I will."
The phoned chirped. Nancy grabbed the cordless from the counter.
She was worried about her handsome younger brother. She'd never
seen him this subdued.
"Sugarman residence," she said.
"Nancy, it's me." Lisa's voice. "I need some help."
"Sure." Nancy tried not to smile; Lisa had seemed to be helping
herself out just fine. "What's up?"
"You know Mrs. McEvoy's husband?"
"Sure."
"He's here, he's drunk and he's almost passed out. Can you help
me get him home before someone sees the husband of the only nice
person on the school board falling down drunk?"
"Five minutes."
She hung up. "Ronnie, I'm going to help Lisa with something.
Tell Dad and Mom for me, okay?"
"'kay."
She hoped her brother wasn't coming down with something.
* * *
She'd enjoyed the valet's stares so much she almost missed the
maitre'd's polite, "Ma'am?"
"Sorry -- woolgathering. Table for one."
"Do you have a reservation?"
Constance smiled. "I have no reservations, pal."
"Well, ma'am -- "
"Your place is nearly empty -- except for the bar -- and I want
dinner. Now."
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we have a policy requiring -- "
Uh-oh. She suddenly realized what was happening. A sexy woman in
a backless, low cut sundress in a restaraunt with a bar frequented
by businessmen.
"Get the manager. Now. Please."
"But -- "
A small Japanese man emerged from the bar area. He wore an
impeccable three-piece suit. He looked to be about fifty, maybe
sixty.
"Excuse me, but may I be of some assistance?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Hiroko, but this lady -- " There was a decided
emphasis on the two syllables -- "doesn't have a reservation."
"I see. I'm sure we can accommodate her, Clarence. This is Ms.
Constance McEvoy, who is on the school board. I recognize her from
the meetings. Allow me?" He gestured Clarence away. "Ms. McEvoy,
where would you like to dine?"
"Thank you. By the window?"
"Of course." He led her to the table and held a chair for her.
As she settled herself, he beckoned. A waiter appeared with menus,
a wine list and cold water. "If you wish anything at all, please
don't hesitate to ask for me." He handed her his card.
"Thank you, sir." She glanced at the card -- English on one
side, Japanese on the other. When she looked up, she caught him
staring down the front of her dress.
He was totally unembarrassed. "Thank you. I hope you will enjoy
yourself." He bowed slightly and left.
As she examined the menu, Constance smiled. Yes, this was the
way it was supposed to be: An afternoon of cumming with an
insatiable, big-dicked youth, and now an evening driving the
businessmen nuts.
* * *
It was better than a porno movie, Sid decided. Watching Mrs.
Constance Big Boobies McEvoy fucking and sucking his son. And then
having her stand almost completely naked at the window and open it.
Almost like she knew he was watching. Almost like she was saying,
Here it is, big boy! Come 'n' get it!
His balls ached from jerking off so much.
Oh, well, he told himself. Finish off the fucking project plans
and deliver them. Get your mind back on your work.
He bent over the drafting table and meticulously worked at the
perspective drawing. He knew it was his best work yet.
* * *
"I didn't think we were going to make it," Nancy puffed, The
drunken man could barely stand, let alone walk, and they'd nearly
carried him for most of the four blocks.
"I'm not sure we have," Lisa rasped back, closing the door and
savoring the cool air of the house after the hot sun.
Jack McEvoy was sprawled on the couch. He was a mess. His
clothes were rumpled and stained, his hair was unkempt and his left
hand had a small scratch where he'd lurched against the door on the
way in.
As the two samaritans watched, he tried to stand. Twice. The
second time he made it upright before falling back to the couch.
"Mr. McEvoy," Nancy said, "why don't you just stretch out and
take a nap?"
"Gotta...gotta...too much beer."
"No shit, Sherlock," Lisa muttered.
He climbed to his feet again and lurched toward the stairs.
"Uh-oh." Nancy darted toward him. She had a vision of him
falling down the stairs.
"No, Mr. McEvoy, please..." Lisa cooed, trying to divert him
from the stairs.
"I have to take a leak, scuse the spression." He dropped to his
hands and knees and started crawling up the stairs.
"We better make sure he doesn't crack his head," Lisa said.
Nancy nodded and they stayed right behind him all the way to the
top. Still on his hands and knees, he went to the door of the
master bedroom. Nancy turned the knob for him.
"What the -- " The bedroom was broiling. Someone had left the
window open to the midday heat. Nancy quickly closed the window and
pulled the drape to block the sun.
"We've got trouble," Lisa said. Nancy turned, saw Jack's ashen
complexion. She scanned the room, saw the open door to the
bathroom.
"Come on." Nancy grabbed one of his arms, Lisa took the other
and they dragged him to the bathroom. Somehow, he pulled his head
up over the bowl.
"Gross," Lisa muttered. They backed out of the bathroom as he
began to expel.
Nancy shivered. She was feeling a bit ill herself.
"You okay?" Lisa asked.
"Not really. Hearing that kinda gets me."
Lisa shrugged. "Doesn't bother me that way. Hey, thanks for the
rescue, pal."
"Anytime, bud. Listen, I'm going to go home. Ronnie doesn't look
like he's feels very good. Dad's going to deliver some plans for
his new project tonight and Mom's playing bridge with her pals, so
I want to keep an eye on him."
"Sure. If anything interesting comes up, give me a call." Lisa
grinned lewdly.
"Perv." Nancy grinned back.
They heard a groan from the bathroom.
"I'm gonna stick around for a few minutes, keep an eye on him."
"Sure."
Nancy hurried downstairs, now enjoying the prospect of hot,
fresh air and the scent of green.
* * *
"Is everything to your satisfaction, Ms. McEvoy?"
"It's wonderful, Mr. Hiroko. Thank you. Would you care to join
me over desert?"
"Thank you, but would I offend if I limited myself to tea?"
"Not at all."
"You are very gracious."
Constance smiled. She knew that Mr. Hiroko was now the envy of
every man in the bar.
Play it for all its worth, she told herself.
* * *
"Oh, geez, Mr. McEvoy..." Lisa moaned. "You barfed on yourself."
He nodded weakly, sitting propped against the edge of the tub.
Lisa switched on the ventilator and flushed the bowl. "If you can
help me get up..."
"Okay." She bent and slipped her hands under his shoulders.
Which was when she realized that if he was sufficiently conscious,
he was getting a good view down the front of her tee-shirt.
Grunting with effort, working together, they managed to get him
to his feet. He held on to the top of the sliding doors on the tub.
"That's good. Thanks. I can take it from here."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
She hesitated, uncertain. "Well, look, maybe I can make some
coffee or something for you and --"
He turned slightly green. "Please don't mention food."
"Gotcha." She slipped out of the bathroom. She was about to exit
the bedroom and head for home when she realized he wasn't that
steady yet, and a lot of people got hurt falling in the tub. She
decided to wait till she was sure he was okay. And where the hell
was his pretty wife?
Lisa went to the window and drew the drapes back. Must be close
to five, she decided. She glanced at herself in the bedroom mirror.
And stared. Had she really gone out of the house dressed like that
-- in the old, tight denim shorts and just that thin tee-shirt.
Perspiration had soaked the shirt to her tits; it was nearly
transparent.
Of course, she *had* dressed in a hurry. The doorbell had
awakened her from a slight doze brought on by, oh, about a thousand
orgasms with the vibrator. She grinned. She'd actually worn out the
batteries! And even then, it had its uses. She wondered sometimes
if there was something wrong with her, the way she'd cum and cum
and cum; it didn't seem natural.
Even now, she thought, seeing her nipples bulge with arousal.
Then she heard the shower running.
Inspiration struck.
* * *
"Hi, Dad." Nancy spotted her dad as soon as she walked in the
doorway. "Finished the plans?"
"Oh, hi, sweetheart. Yes, all done." He had the cylinder under
his arm, the one that he used to carry project plans. He put it
aside to receive her hug, tensing slightly at the press of her
firm, well- developed body against his side. His penis began to
fill, and he cursed himself; how could he let himself get turned on
by his little girl? He pulled away. "Gonna take them over now. Want
to come with me?"
"I dunno, Dad. Ronnie looked like he wasn't feeling too well. He
just said he's tired, but I don't know. I want to keep an eye on
him."
"He probably wore himself out this afternoon helping Mrs. McEvoy
clean out her attic." And clean out her pipes, he thought.
"Anyhow, I got some studying to do."
"Okay, sweetheart. I won't be back for a couple of hours. You'll
be okay?"
"I can take care of myself, Dad."
"That's my baby." He gave her a chaste peck on the forehead,
grabbed his plans case and headed out the door.
* * *
I wonder where his wife is? Lisa had thought, prowling the first
floor. And then she'd spotted the note under the magnetic clip on
the refrigerator door. Aha!
The shower had stopped running about five minutes before. If she
had it figured right, he should be just about finished rinsing his
mouth and toweling off -- and just about ready to fall onto the
bed.
Naked.
"Brazen," she whispered, starting her slow creep up the stairs.
Halfway down the hall, she heard the thump of a limp body hitting
the mattress.
"Brazen." She mouthed the word, soundless, listening at the
door.
After a few minutes, she heard the soft snoring. Even better,
she thought -- because no one snores on their belly. He's face up.
And I'm gonna get to see a real one...finally!
She put her hand on the door knob and slowly began to turn it.
* * *
"Good evening, Mr. Sugarman. Work or dinner tonight?"
"Work, I'm afraid, Clarence."
"Mr. Hiroko is at a customer's table right now -- "
"Can you give these to him when he's finished?"
The maitre 'd smiled. "No, sir, he said to bring you right to
him when you arrived. Follow me." He led Sid through the tables,
which were slowly filling, toward the window seats. "He's right
there -- "
Sid didn't hear the rest of it. He'd spotted his client, but his
eyes were on the customer.
* * *
Nancy was puzzled -- and concerned. Usually, if her brother was
in his room at this hour, he was whacking off; not today. In fact,
from the sounds she could barely make out through his door, he was
actually dozing.
That was a first.
* * *
"Oh, you know each other?"
"Yes," Constance replied, smiling. "We're neighbors."
"In fact, Constance had my son help her out today. I hope he did
a good job."
"Oh, he was quite good. And very energetic"
Sid nodded too rapidly. "Glad to hear it. I wouldn't want the
Sugarman name ever to be associated with less than satisfactory
work."
Hiroko laughed, Constance smiled. Why did she have the feeling
Sid was saying more than he seemed to be? Had the kid talked?
"Well, we got a lot more done than I'd hoped, but I still have some
more work for him."
"Excellent. Hey, I'm available, too, if you have need some
really big stuff moved."
"Thanks, Sid, but I'm sure Ronnie can handle it."
"He's a hard worker, alright -- a real Sugarman."
"And these are the final plans?" Hiroko asked gently.
Sid's eyes and smile made Constance uneasy, but Hiroko was
diverting the man's attention. Constance took a small sip of her
coffee and tried to relax.
* * *
Geez, what's the big deal; it looks like a worm.
Lisa was a bit disappointed and knew she shouldn't be. After
all, the guy was drunk and asleep; damned unlikely she'd get to see
a real hard-on.
She stood beside the bed, staring down at him. He was a good-
looking man, and he was pretty well built. And she just adored the
sprinkling of light brown hair on his chest and the thick patch of
curly pubic hair. She really wanted to see his balls.
Lisa took a deep breath and decided to chance it. She crawled
carefully onto the bed, between his legs. She bent low, lower...
Weird looking, she decided. Somehow, she hadn't expected them to
be so big or hang so loose. The only scrotums she'd ever seen were
on babies.
She crawled closer, gingerly avoiding touching him. At a range
of about eighteen inches, she studied his genitals with fascinated
eyes. She wished she could see it hard. She wondered what it felt
like.
Almost in horror, she watched her hand reach up. She let her
fingertips graze the wrinkled shaft, surprised at its warmth.
"Snarf."
She snatched her hand back and froze in terror, immobilized for
long seconds. His breathing slowly became regular again.
And she noticed that his cock had stretched a bit.
Maybe, she thought. Maybe.
Very carefully, she reached up and again let her fingertips rest
on his cock. She moved them down and back up again, barely touching
him. To her delight and wonderment, his prick began swell and fill.
Cool!
She kept up the movement of her fingers, then grasped his cock
at midpoint between thumb and forefinger. It was so -- amazing! It
was hard and hot, yet velvety soft. And it was still growing.
He moaned, muttered something in his sleep. She couldn't make
sense of it. This was August and he was mumbling about May.
But he wasn't waking up.
She continued lightly jacking his cock until it was fully erect.
Lisa was impressed. It was a bit longer than her vibrator and
notably thicker. Since her toy was six inches long and an inch in
diameter, it made her wonder about Nancy's brother and his magic
johnson; could something that much bigger actually go into a woman?
Her pussy was damp.
I wonder if I can get him to shoot his stuff in his sleep. Guys
have wet dreams, so...
She needed some kind of lubricant, she decided, so she drooled
saliva onto her hand and resumed jacking.
Subject: CONSTAN5(mf;pedo;nec;end)
From: friar.dave@teamhbbs.com (FRIAR DAVE)
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
CONSTANT.STY By Friar Dave
(Copyright, 1994)
Sid was seething while he waited for his car. Obviously, Mrs.
Prim and Proper Tight Ass McEvoy was into something with the old
Jap. But how could that be? The old bastard probably couldn't even
get it up anymore!
He tipped the valet and got into the BMW. Who could figure? At
least one Sugarman was taking care of business, though.
As he headed for Route 17, an idea occurred to him: Maybe she
was dumping him. Maybe that was it. The kid had done so well by her
that she was no longer interested in the little Jap.
"Sure," he said aloud. "That's the ticket."
* * *
"Have a nice nap?"
"Yeah, sis. I feel a lot better now."
He looked better, too. Nancy was relieved. She really loved her
baby brother. She wanted everything to be okay for him.
"Anyhow, I'm gonna soak in the hottub."
She smiled. "Sure. See you later."
Now THAT was the Ronnie she knew!
* * *
Lisa loved it. Here was this big, strong grownup man humping and
groaning in his sleep -- and all because of her hand on his hard
prick. But it was frustrating, too -- because she wanted to see
that stuff shoot out. She really wanted to make him cum. She also
really wanted to rub her bare pussy, not just through the shorts.
No sense in going halfway, she decided. She crawled off the bed
and quickly shucked her shorts and shirt. Then she knelt between
his legs, leaned over his throbbing prick and led some spit dribble
onto the knobby end.
She grabbed his cock, spread the lubricating saliva with her
hand and began jacking again. Her firm, 14-year-old B-cup titties
jiggled perkily with her motions.
Her other hand went between her legs, to her aching, quivering
pussy and clit. She didn't remember ever being this wet.
* * *
Nancy stood under the hot spray of her shower. She wondered what
would happen if she simply walked in on her brother and joined him
in the hottub.
He'd probably freak out, she decided.
But maybe he'd let her touch it...and practice the things that
she wanted to do as well as everything else she undertook. She
could practice licking and sucking it, maybe even...everything.
Her nipples hardened as she thought of lowering herself on his
stiff dick. She let one hand dally over her compact little pussy
with its few downy sprouts.
But then --
No, she told herself. It'd be nice for him and for me, but not
smart. She knew she was going to have to watch out for her
slower-witted baby brother, and if they started playing sex games,
she'd be unable to relate to him the way she would have to.
She rinsed herself and stepped out of the shower. As she dried
off, she told herself that it was a shame things worked out the way
they did. And of course, given the size of his penis -- well she
was *awfully* tight down there.
In her room, Nancy contemplated her attire for the balance of
the evening. And then she contemplated what she'd seen Lisa doing.
Nancy didn't have a vibrator.
But she did have an electric toothbrush.
With a wicked little grin of pleasure, she stepped quickly --
and briefly -- back into her bathroom.
* * *
"Ummmm! Ummmm!"
His groans were louder, his humping more urgent, his erection
throbbing more intensely -- and still he wouldn't cum!
Lisa was having trouble stifling her own groans. Her busy little
fingers kept her near orgasm...but never quite there. She wanted to
hold off, cum at the same time he did. But she was aching for her
cum.
She stared down at the flaring slit in his cockhead and licked
her lips.
Time for another first, she decided, and ducked her head down,
her mouth open.
* * *
Sid unlocked the front door and let himself into his home. The
kids were nowhere to be seen. Nancy was probably studying, he
figured, but where was Ronnie? He looked into the basement -- the
kid was nuts for his video games -- but came up empty. Then he
heard the water running. Sure, the hottub. Ronnie had long since
discovered the pleasures of the Jacuzzi jets on his nuts while
whacking off.
That's my boy, he thought proudly. Knock off a couple dozen
quick ones with Mrs. Hot Ass Constance McEvoy and then come home
and polish the pole some more.
With a sigh of resignation regarding his sexy neighbor, Sid
decided to look over his notes one more time, maybe play with some
of the sketches for his dream house. He'd bought some lovely land
in Vermont, near a lake. He was planning to design his personal
dream house for the site. His wife hated the Vermont cold, but who
cared? It was his money and his dream house. She could stay in
Bergen County, if she liked. And now that Ronnie had gotten a taste
of premium cooze, he'd probably be loathe to leave it behind,
especially since he wasn't crazy for Vermont in the winter. At
least his precious little girl would like it; Nancy loved
cross-country skiing.
He climbed the stairs to the second floor and headed for the
steep steps up to his little studio. As he passed Nancy's door, he
heard an odd noise -- and gasping.
What the fuck?
Sid quietly put his ear to the door. The whirring was louder --
and so were her grunts.
He was about to knock when he heard: "Ahhhh! Yesyesyesyesyes..."
He went numb. He knew that sound, knew what it meant.
Among other things, it meant he was getting a hard-on.
Fucking pervert! he cursed himself. That's my little girl!
Still he couldn't resist dropping to one knee, looking through
the keyhole...
All he could see was one foot, upturned and toes curled, jerking
in time to her groaning.
Sid got to his feet and slowly, quietly, climbed the stairs to
his studio.
I have to get help, he told himself. Getting a hard-on from
hearing my little baby doing -- well, THAT.
* * *
Cocksucking wasn't bad at all, Lisa thought, but she obviously
needed more experience. She'd always heard that this made guys cum
too fast, and ten minutes of it had done nothing but increase the
volume and pathos of his moans and give her a sore jaw. His dick
was really a lot thicker than her vibrator.
In the meantime, her pussy was positively yowling for attention.
She straightened and looked down at his angrily throbbing -- and
largely beer-anesthetized -- erection.
You've gone this far, girl, she told herself. Might as well put
that thing to good use.
Carefully, Lisa crouched with one foot on either side of his
hips. She reached down and grabbed the now-familiar cock, aiming it
at her pussy. She was suddenly beset by doubt. His cock looked
awfully, awfully thick compared to her lightly furred -- and
soaking wet -- pussy.
Oh, what the hell, she thought. She began pushing down.
* * *
"This is lovely, Mr. Hiroko."
"Please, call me John." He smiled and closed the door behind her
as she looked around his private dining room. Constance was
impressed. The room was paneled in cherrywood and the walls were
lined with leather banquettes. To one side was a low, Japanese
dining table surrounded by cushions. She felt quite at ease with
him.
"May I offer you a refreshment?" he asked, politely gesturing
for her to be seated.
"Thank you...John."
"I have a premium scotch, single-malt. Do you indulge?"
"A very, very small one, neat please. I have to drive."
"Of course. And it would not do for you to appear tipsy, as I
fear I may already have compromised you." he stood with his back to
her, busy with a small liquor cabinet.
Constance was a bit confused. "Compromised me? I don't
understand."
He turned, holding two cut crystal -- Waterford, she realized --
glasses of smoky liquid. "Mrs. McEvoy -- "
"Constance, please."
"Thank you. Constance, I have been enjoying our conversation so
much, I did not realize until I invited you in here that -- well,
the appearance." He offered her the scotch, then sat a few feet
from her, facing her across the soft leather.
Constance smiled. "I'm sure no one would come to the wrong
assumption, John. You're a well-respected businessman with a wife
and children."
He actually blushed and looked downward for a moment. "The
delicate fact, Constance, is that this room has been used for...
indulgences in the past. Most of my acquaintances in this community
are aware of the significance when an attractive woman accompanies
me here."
She blinked. Hiroko with mistresses? Hey, she thought, there may
be snow on the roof, et cetera.
"But, your wife -- I'm sorry." She took a sip of the scotch.
"My wife...is understanding and traditional. It is a
not-uncommon situation in Tokyo. Our devotion to each other is
unshakable, but people have needs."
"I...quite understand." And to her astonishment, she realized
she was actually considering --
Her nipples were swelling.
"So I fear my acquaintances may make the incorrect assumption."
She eyed him slowly. He was really quite an appealing man. And
so attentive, yet not fawning.
"John, do you really think I'm an attractive woman?"
"Undeniably."
She put her scotch on the back of the banquet and stood.
"Well, we certainly can't have people making the wrong
assumptions." And with that, Constance reached behind her neck and
pulled loose the knot holding up the front of her dress. The fabric
floated downward, revealing her breasts and her swollen nipples.
"O kage samme de!" he exclaimed.
"I'm glad you think so." She smiled and stepped toward him.
* * *
Lisa could not believe how big it felt in her -- or how hot.
This, she decided, was much better than the vibrator.
But it was stretching her so much! And she only had the tip of
it in her!
"Oh, May, May, May..." He kept murmuring it over and over again
in his sleep.
Still crouching, still gripping his shaft with one hand, Lisa
bit her lower lip and forced her straining young cunt lower,
managed to somehow wedge another inch or so of his cock into her.
With it securely lodged --
Secure, hell; she wasn't sure she could get it out.
-- she carefully switched to a kneeling position over him, which
rammed a little more of his hard prick up into her.
"So hot, May, so hot..."
On her knees, carrying her upper body weight with her hands
braced on either side of him, Lisa began twisting her hips and
slowly working him out and back in, taking just a little more each
time. It felt good, but it wasn't easy getting her young pussy to
accept more of this fat prick.
But at the halfway point, when she pulled up and then pushed
down again, the liquid slide of his throbbing cock in her velvety
cunt sent a shiver of pleasure through her.
Yes!
* * *
Relaxed, sated, refreshed, Nancy bounced down the stairs and
went into the kitchen, She was always hungry after she came. She
spotted her brother's uneaten half-sandwich in the refrigerator.
Gotta replace those calories, she thought, and grabbed it.
Not five minutes later, Ronnie appeared. He was in his bathrobe,
and clearly relaxed and feeling better. He really was cute, she
thought, and again wished things were different.
"Sorry about the sandwich," she mumbled, waving what was left of
it at him.
"That's okay," he said brightly. "I'll make another one."
Nancy wolfed down the last of it and took a big swig of cold
Evian. Too big a swig. Some of it overran her lips and ran down to
soak the front of her yellow blouse. And of course she was braless.
Her nips hardened up under the coolness.
She suddenly became aware her brother was staring at her.
Uh-oh...
"Ronnie?"
He shook himself and looked at her face. "Yeah?"
"What were you thinking?"
"Well -- you sure have pretty titties."
"Thank you."
"And..."
"And what?" She figured this had better be quashed now.
"Well, I learned something new today, but I need practice at
it." He was trying to be evasive.
"What did you learn?"
"Ummmm...how to use my tongue to make a...girl person feel
good."
She frowned. "Who'd you learn this from?"
"I promised not to tell."
I'll bet, she thought. So Mrs. McEvoy isn't all that prim after
all.
"But, I thought, maybe I could practice with you."
Keeping her face calm, she took her brother by the hand and sat
him on the stool at the pass-through counter. "Ronnie, we can never
do things like that. We can never even talk about them if anyone
else is around. It could get a lot of people in a lot of trouble."
"Is it bad to do that stuff?"
She shook her head. "No, but people get upset."
"I don't understand."
"Neither do they, but I'll try to explain it..."
* * *
At 7:20 p.m. in late August in Bergen County, New Jersey, the
sun is just beginning to seriously drop in the evening sky. Sid
Sugarman's studio faced east; the McEvoys' master bedroom faced
west. The light of the setting sun was just perfect for
illuminating the interior of the bedroom.
And the bed.
"I don't fucking believe it!" Sid muttered, catching a glimpse
of sun- brightened flesh moving on the bed. He leaned over and
peered through the spotter scope. Two things were immediately
obvious: the woman on the bed was doing the work and the woman on
the bed was not Mrs. Constance Big Boobed Redhead McEvoy.
Almost of its own volition, his hand was rubbing his cock
through his pants leg.
* * *
Jack couldn't believe how good her pussy felt, how tight and hot
and wet. His cock felt bigger than ever in her sweet cunt, and he
felt like it would never end.
Musta been a dream, he thought, as he lay back and let Mei
bounce happily on his stiff penis.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" she gasped, and he felt her pussy contracting
powerfully, spastically on his dick. He groaned her name as he felt
the cum rising in his balls.
Almost immediately, she resumed the bouncing. He just wished
she'd take him all the way in. He brought his hands up and put them
on her ass. She had the tightest, firmest little butt he'd touched
since he was fifteen.
"Oh! Oh! Oh! Yes!" she groaned as he tightened his hold on her
butt and began hunching up at her and he pulled her down. She
started spasming on him again as his cock hit the end of her pussy.
Huh?
For the first time, Jack opened his eyes. He expected to see Mei
Fong's long black hair and exquisite Chinese features and perfect
palm-filling titties. He expected to see his gorgeous bed-friend
riding him to a post-nap orgasm, bringing him back from the strange
dream.
Instead, he was looking up into the face of a wildly orgasmic
fourteen-year-old girl with short brown hair and full, thrusting
young tits capped with stiff spikes of nipples. A fourteen-year-old
girl who looked ready to pass out with pleasure.
"Oh, shit!"
Her eyes focused on his face.
"Please don't stop!" she hissed and bounced her nimble young ass
over him.
* * *
"Constance?"
"Mmmmm?"
"That was lovely."
She lay back on the banquet, one foot on the floor, the other on
the back of the built-in. "I hope this room is soundproof."
He smiled and drew her up into his arms, cradling her against
his chest. "Quite. I never anticipated that you might be so vocally
expressive."
"John, I have never felt anything like that in my life. The way
your tongue felt...mmmmm."
"You are delicious."
"And I thought all Asian men had, well, rather less sizable
endowments."
"Like most stereotypes..."
"I should say so. And very impressive self-control."
"At my age, it's necessary to be sure that a one-time activity
lasts as long as necessary to truly savor it." His hands lightly
followed the curves of her breasts.
"Mmmmm -- I wish there was a way to arrange an encore."
He smiled. "From your lips, as they say, to --"
"Now there's an idea." She disentangled herself and slid to her
knees on the carpeted floor. "John, have you ever had your cock
sucked by a horny redhead with a 22-inch waist and D-cup tits?"
* * *
"Lisa!" he gasped. "Stop it! What are you doing?"
"Fucking my brains out," she hissed and bounced all the faster.
Jack looked down to where her cunt slid up and down on his
aching prick and wondered how she'd managed to get him into her.
Her pussy appeared to be turning inside out with each stroke. He
knew he should throw her off him, knew he should stop her.
He also knew he couldn't do either.
"Cum! Cum!" she spat him. "Cum in me! AHHH!"
The convulsions of her tight teenaged cunt around his prick were
the last straw. With a groan of surrender, Jack McEvoy lurched up
at her and his balls started pumping. Above him, Lisa's eyes went
wide. She froze momentarily, and then seemed intent on forcing
every last inch of his prick up her cunt.
Jack's cum ended rather quickly, and his cock started softening
immediately. Lisa reached between her legs and furiously rubbed her
clit until she came yet again, and then let herself fall onto his
chest.
* * *
"So how was Mrs. McEvoy's chore today?"
Ronnie never took his eyes off the screen, where he was playing
Mortal Kombat. "Not bad at all. She's real nice. She gave me twenty
bucks."
"Good."
At least the rehearsal went well, she thought, and then Nancy
wondered how nice Mrs. McEvoy would be when she found her husband
sleeping it off.
In the meantime, though, Nancy had an idea. She went to her room
and dialed Lisa's number. She was going to arrange for two of the
most special people in her world to be a lot happier. Besides,
Ronnie needed the practice.
* * *
"But why not someone your own age?"
She shook her head. "Look, Jack, I don't get much chance to do
anything with anyone. I'm just an innocent little girl, which
status will not change until 12:01 a.m. on my eighteenth birthday,
at which time I will miraculously understand how everything is
supposed to work. I'm not allowed on dates. I have to be chaperoned
to the mall. Everything I know about sex I've had to learn from
library books that I can't even check out on my card...or through
trial and error."
"Well, it's normal for parents to want to protect their kids --
"
She whirled and glared. "Protect? Oh, Jack, what unbelievable
bullshit! I'm only fourteen -- and I'm probably the last girl in my
glass at St. Barnabus to get fucked. I know -- personally -- three
girls who've had abortions. One of them thought you can't get
pregnant the first time. You call that protection?"
"You took a chance with -- "
"You had a vasectomy. I know, because my mother talked about you
wanting to avoid a high-risk pregnancy for your wife. And the only
reason I know what a vasectomy means is the reading room at the
library -- before they made those books off-limits to us little
kids." He cupped her breasts and bent her head toward. "Hear that,
little kids?"
He pursed his lips, then: "It's parents' responsibility to teach
their kids -- "
"DON'T YOU GET IT?" she screamed. "My parents don't want to
think I'll ever grow up. You should have heard the fight when my
mother said I needed a bra! 'Not my little girl!' Dad's yelling.
They're convinced I won't get horny if nobody says anything -- as
if I didn't discover my clitoris the first time the shower spray
hit it! I'm supposed to be intact and ignorant as a babe so I can
know the joy of womanhood when I get my hymen ruptured by some
rutting, equally ignorant dork on my wedding night. Not -- this --
kid!"
Jack sighed. "Why me, though?" It sound like a complaint.
She snorted. "You, sir, were what is known as a target of
opportunity." Then she shrugged, making her tits bobble. "Besides,
you're kind of cute."
He still lay naked and sweaty on the bed. His pubic hair was
matted with her juices and his. He shook his head from side to
side.
"I thought it was a dream," he mumbled.
She pulled on her shorts. "Yeah, you kept mumbling, This is
August. What happened in May?"
He groaned.
She smiled. "Anyhow, I gotta tell you -- I really enjoyed this.
I mean, you were my first man -- even if I wasn't technically a
virgin. I liked it with you, a lot. You don't suppose we could do
this again sometime, do you?"
"You've got to be kidding! What if someone found out?"
"I won't tell if you won't." She came to the side of the bed and
bent over him, her taut young breats hanging down. He couldn't take
his eyes off those beautiful, precocious tits. "What do you say?"
"I don't think it would be a good idea..."
"My wet little pussy thinks it is. Any other precincts
reporting?" She ducked her head, looking past her boobies at his
still-limp dick. "Hung over. Well, if there're any other votes,
phone 'em in." She kissed his nose, then bounced up, striding past
the window in search of the shirt she'd tossed aside earlier. She
found it, pulled it over her head and strode to the bedroom door.
"Anyhow, I gotta go. Thanks again, stud."
And was gone.
Jack groaned.
* * *
Sid finished swabbing his leg and pulled his pants back up. He
resumed his perch and looked through the scope. He'd gotten a good
look at the full-breasted lass when she'd strolled past the sunlit
window, just seconds after he'd finished jerking off.
He still couldn't believe it. He would have believed a lot of
things about Jack McEvoy, but not that he was a pedophile. No
wonder the beautiful, sensitive redhead who'd married him had to
find satisfaction elsewhere. She'd married a child-molester.
Someone should do something about it, he thought, but what?
Then it came to him. Of course. And he knew how to do it. Go to
one of the video stores in Times Square and buy a kiddie porn tape.
Maybe one of those Traci Lords tapes. Sid had really enjoyed her
big, firm- nippled tits and braying orgasms until he'd learned
she'd made the tapes when she was underage, at which point he'd
burned all of his videos. Not that he could ever forget them. But
he could probably find some in Times Square. And then mail one to
Jack McEvoy -- and call the Post Office with an anonymous tip.
Possession of kiddie porn, even unsolicited, would fuck up that
pervert's life. But good. Yeah, that was the ticket.
Who knew? Maybe Mrs. Big Tits Hot Little Ass Redhead Constance
McEvoy would enjoy some grownup solace. And since Lisa was already
--
He thrust the thought from his mind and bent to his drawing
table. He had to finish the plans for the house in Vermont. He had
to get it built and move the family up there, so his innocent
little girl would be safe from people like Jack McEvoy.
-- end --
* Stupid Footnotes Section * This one has been kind
of an experiment for me. I honestly have no idea if it works.
Please tell me. All comments and criticisms welcomed via Email or
posts (but please post only in .alt.sex.story.DISCUSS).
If you liked this, the greatest compliment and appreciation
anyone could possibly pay me would be to discuss in public posts in
alt.sex.stories.DISCUSS the ideas it raises.
Sorry, but I can't Email sections. The folks giving me access
have to pay by the pound for their traffic, and they're just a
small group, not some big, well-funded organization.
The next one will be an oldie for me (but possibly not to this
group) DUNNING should come up shorter than this one. I'll start
posting in a coupla-three days.
--
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