by Michael K. Smith
Billy sipped at his beer and watched as the girl nearly tripped carrying the two pitchers of lemonade down the back steps of the big, gingerbreaded house, but she managed to recover without spilling any. He'd seen her around the neighborhood a few times but he didn't know who she was or where she lived. She was about sixteen, curvy and bouncy and blonde and blue-eyed, and obviously quite aware of her vivacious sexuality. Billy smiled to himself. He enjoyed watching pretty young girls, and he fantasized about some of them occasionally, but he had more sense than to try to live out any of his fantasies.
The girl set the heavy pitchers on the first picnic table she came to and fell into a laughing conversation with a boy about her age. Billy turned to see who else had arrived whom he might know -- there weren't many, yet -- and spotted Art Landless coming through the gate pulling a red wagon filled with his three daughters. Each of the little girls was clutching two huge bags of chips and giggling madly. He went over to help.
"Hi, Bill, glad you could make it!" Art grabbed up one of his daughters, divested her of her cargo, and passed it to Billy, who was trying to gather up all six bags at once.
"Hey, thanks for inviting me. It's hard making acquaintances in a new town, especially when I don't have kids in school or anything."
"Well, like I said before, it's a block party, sort of. We've been doing it every Fourth of July for eight or ten years now. Everyone in the area is automatically invited. I just made sure you heard about it. I agree, it's hard to meet people these days if you're single and over thirty. Everyone seems to be working all the time -- and who has the energy to mix with the Gen-X-ers after work at Bennigan's, or the mall, or wherever?" He laughed and tried to corral the other two kids, who were setting off across the wide lawn. "Hell, who has any energy at all?!"
Billy carried the armload of snacks to another table and heaped them up. Somebody's wife thanked him and went back to arranging deviled eggs on a large platter. He looked around again and noticed that the little blonde had moved off to a canvas hammock and was sitting, rocking on the edge of it as she sipped a glass of the lemonade she had brought out. She wore snug denim short-shorts that emphasized her long, tanned legs. She had kicked off her deck shoes and was wiggling her toes while examining the bright red nail polish tipping each one. Very nice, Billy thought. Too bad she's not a few years older. But he found himself strolling in her direction anyway.
The girl glanced up and smiled at him as he approached. He smiled back and introduced himself. "I'm Billy Pilgrim," he said, and held out his hand.
"Snow McConnell," she said, and shook his hand. Her grip was firm and cool from the icy glass. "Is your last name really 'Pilgrim'?"
Billy made a crossing motion over his heart. "That was really my father's last name and he was a fanatic Vonnegut fan. I never had a chance."
The girl's broad smile grew even wider. "I know exactly what you mean!*My* folks were sort of Flower Children once upon a time, so they named me 'Phoebe Snow', but I hate 'Phoebe', so I just use my middle name."
"Hey, you should be flattered. She's quite a singer."
"I suppose -- but her kind of music is really old stuff, now!"
Yikes, he thought, but her impish grin made him laugh. And at least she'd *heard* of Vonnegut. "I've seen you around," he was finally able to say.
"I live right here," she replied, nodding toward the house.
Billy looked around him, taking in the huge quad-lot and the enormous and beautifully restored Prairie Gothic that took up one end of it. It was two stories high and sprawling, with a high-pitched attic above and a wide, shady porch wrapped around three sides of the place. It was beautifully painted and detailed, too.
Oaks and pecans stood about the place in miniature groves, and brilliant pink and magenta azaleas hid most of the tall wooden fence that screened off the two ordinary-size properties on one side. A small stream flowed along the back property line and a sizable patch of pine forest stood beyond that.
"This is quite a place," he finally said, gesturing with his bottle to indicate how impressed he was.
"It really is, isn't it?" Snow glanced about proprietorially. "My grandparents owned all this area, the whole thing, before the subdivision was built. They held out for years before agreeing to sell; they didn't want to let their land be carved up for tract houses. In fact, they waited so long, when they finally did sell, they got a really huge amount of money for it! But they insisted on keeping these four lots, plus the wood lot back there. My mother's one of four children, and when her parents died, she and my father bought out my uncles' and aunts' shares. That was a couple of years before I was born, though, so I've never lived anywhere but here. And I love it!"
"I don't blame you. Um. There's a big law firm in town with 'McConnell' in the name; any relation?"
"Yeah, my father, and his father before that. I think the Flower Child thing was only a phase. And the law school at the university has a 'McConnell Library', too. My family has been around here for generations."
While they talked, Snow had begun pushing her toes into the grass and swinging herself back and forth on the edge of the hammock. Now, as she swung forward toward him, she planted the ball of her small foot lightly against the shin of his jeans and pushed off again. The effect was childlike but also flirtatious, and Billy hoped no one was watching -- especially her father. But, he saw, she was certainly watching him.
He raised his bottle and finished it off. "Want some lemonade?" Snow asked brightly. "There's gallons of it in the house, so everyone has to drink their share!" She hopped up, shoes in one hand, and escorted him over to a shaded table where there were now three large, sweating pitchers and an open carton of quart-sized Ball jars. She dug one out for him and poured it full. Billy took it and swigged down several gulps. Ahh! Good stuff.
At that point, someone called out "Snow! C'mere and help with this!" The girl flashed him another grin and scampered off; Billy watched her bottom twitch tightly as she went. He shook his head at himself and took another long slug of lemonade.
Over the next hour, dozens more of the neighbors arrived and Billy found himself being introduced around, his hand shaken by the guys, his arm patted by the old ladies, and receiving a few speculative looks by attractive younger women. They were definitely a friendly bunch and Billy was glad to relax and chat and munch snacks and drink more lemonade.
After his fourth or fifth jar, however, he became aware of increasing pressure on his bladder, and he began to drift toward the back porch of the house. Just as he reached the steps, wondering where the handiest bathroom was likely to be, Snow came up behind him again.
"Howzit going, Billy? Are you meeting everybody?" She had her fingers clasped behind her, which arched her shoulders and her back and showed off the way her French-cut tee-shirt stretched across her breasts. There was no chance that pose was accidental, he thought. "Uh, yeah, I've met at least a hundred people, I think. But, um, I need to find a bathroom just now. . . ."
"Sure -- right in here, off the porch." And she led him inside. The porch was shadier than the yard and the short back hallway was dimmer yet. As he paused to let his eyes adjust, Snow said
"Damn -- there's a line! Okay, follow me, Pilgrim."
It was a pretty bad imitation of John Wayne and she giggled and headed on into the house. Billy followed her into the front hall and up the double staircase. There was a stained glass window on the landing and the colored light spilling across the oak stairs made him stop to catch his breath. Snow heard him and glanced back.
"I used to like to sit here in the afternoons when I was little," she said. "As the sun got lower, the light from the window would move up the stairs and I'd move up step by step, just ahead of it. It took me an hour to get all the way to the top, and then Daddy would be home from work." Billy thought about how nice it must have been, being settled and growing up in a house like this. He'd been an Air Force brat, moving from old Dependent Quarters to new ones every year or eighteen months. He'd never had a friend for longer than one school year, and he was still shy around strangers. He'd hesitated over this July Fourth get-together, but he was glad he'd come. His bladder twitched again. First things first. He followed the girl as she padded barefoot down a hall and turned into what was obviously her own room. There was a neatly made-up pink canopied bed, yards of shelves piled high with school stuff and books and souvenirs, and a large oval rag rug in the middle of the hardwood floor. There was something about an adolescent girl's room, he thought.
"Use that bathroom," Snow said, indicating a door beside her study desk. "No one else will probably come up here, so you won't have to wait or anything."
"Thanks! I couldn't have waited if I'd wanted to," he said. The big, old-fashioned bathroom had a floor of tiny octagonal white tiles and held a pedestal sink and clawfoot tub -- both reproductions, he thought, but they suited the house exactly.
He pulled the door closed but it didn't want to latch. The hell with it. He stepped up to the toilet, raised the lid, and had a grip on the zipper of his chinos when he heard a sound behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he discovered a bright blue eye watching interestedly from the doorway. He turned and looked at her.
"Go ahead, Billy -- don't mind me." She flapped her eyelashes innocently and smiled. She was teasing him, daring him. Okay, two could play at that. He'd just go ahead and she'd shriek and leave him alone.
Only, when he turned back to the toilet and pulled his zipper down as nosily as he could manage, there was no shriek. When he worked his fingers inside his briefs and hauled out his straining dick, there was no gasp of dismay or retreating footsteps. Then he felt her presence very close behind him, almost leaning against his back. Well, he couldn't wait any longer, not without rupturing himself.
Billy couldn't suppress a sigh as the yellow stream shot out and splashed against the porcelain. But he jumped a little when Snow's small, slender hand ventured around his right hip and lightly stroked his fingers, then moved ahead of them and gripped his penis just behind the head.
"Let me," the breathy voice said in his ear.
He was so startled that, without thinking, he let go and Snow's hand wrapped itself completely around the shaft, aiming his dick carefully in the center of the bowl. He looked down and swallowed to ease his suddenly dry throat. He watched her fingers stroking him slightly, and he was aware of his cock expanding and stiffening. This was a shocking, but also incredibly arousing experience. He knew he was being very, very stupid by not chasing this hot young thing away, but he simply couldn't help himself.
As he stood there with his hands dangling uselessly at his sides, Snow edged around from behind him and perched herself on the edge of the tub. He was finished relieving himself, and Snow carefully shook the last drops off. Where had she learned to do that? Then she continued to cradle his rapidly growing cock in her hand, stroking the upper surface with her thumb. She looked up at Billy and smiled at his expression.
"Relax, Billy," she said softly. "I won't hurt you. You'd be surprised at how many of these things I've seen. See, I collect penises, sort of. It started out a couple years ago when I caught my two older brothers changing out of their gym shorts after soccer. I was fascinated by their cocks. Then I managed to get a look at my father's, too. Since then, I've seen probably a hundred of them, all ages and sizes."
Billy was having some trouble taking all this in. In his experience, girls like Snow just didn't do stuff like this. But she was so forthright and relaxed, he didn't know what to do, how to react. Was this an elaborate come-on? Did she want to fuck? Or was she simply a very accomplished tease? The girl was watching his face and seemed to read his mind.
"Um, Billy, I want you to understand: This is all I do. Or almost all. I'm sorry, but you can't touch me the way you'd probably like to. I have no intention of getting pregnant or catching something. I'll quit touching your dick if you'd rather I--"
"No, no, don't do that. I mean, do whatever you want to do, Snow. I won't jump you or anything. But you caught me unprepared! Uh . . . Could you sort of move your hand up and down a little?" He couldn't help grinning.
Snow grinned back at him and squeezed her handful of cock. It was much larger now and nearly rigid, and her small, smooth hand could barely encircle it -- but Billy enjoyed the shivers she was causing and he wanted desperately for her to continue.
"Do you want to know how you rank?" she asked. "Yours is a little larger than the average grown-up cock, I think. Not a lot, but some. And it's very nice-looking. In fact, I think this may be the prettiest penis I've ever seen, Billy."
He must have looked doubtful because she laughed. "No, really! You know, I've seen about a third of the grown penises in the neighborhood. And I've jerked off some of them, too. I saw you talking to Mr. Landless earlier? His cock turns really red when it gets stiff, and when I started doing it to him, he came almost immediately!"
Billy couldn't believe what he was hearing. This teenage girl went around the neighborhood masturbating the men? What, did she go door to door, like Halloween? Would one of the guys have told him about this, eventually? An electrical current seemed to be building up in his rigid shaft as Snow's smooth palm moved slowly up and down its length. He put out a hand to steady himself against the window ledge.
Snow reached out with her other hand and curled those fingers around him as well; all ten fit nicely, now. She began to squeeze her hands alternately. As Billy's breathing got louder, she squeezed a little tighter, then stretched his overheated cock upward. She was careful not to really hurt him, and as he rose onto his toes, he had to admit that the strain she was creating at the base of his organ was exquisite.
Billy found himself staring at her bare legs, wishing he could see more of this exciting girl. Well, it was worth a try.
"Listen," he said, "why don't you take off your tee-shirt or something? I promise I won't touch you. Really -- I promise."
Snow bent his cock back against his stomach
and seemed to be examining the underside of it. "Well," she finally replied,
"I wouldn't do it with any of the younger guys I know. But I guess maybe
I could trust you. Besides, I could always scream out the window, couldn't
I? They'd probably lynch you!" She smiled as she let go of him and watched
his cock bounce a couple times before regaining its horizontal rigidity.
"Very nice," she said appreciatively.
Billy turned and leaned his back against the wall by the window so he could see better as Snow began slowly, teasingly, hiking up the hem of her pale blue sleeveless shirt. She fluttered her lashes dramatically and grinned as her white bra came into view -- white as snow, Billy thought idiotically. He let his gaze drift over the tan expanse of her abdomen and the shallow mounds above the lacy edge of the fabric. His hand moved to his cock and he began slowly stroking it. Snow glanced at what he was doing and licked her lips, then drew the shirt quickly over her head and draped it across the rim of the tub beside her.
"You gonna jerk off for me, Billy?" Her low voice had the quality of warm maple syrup. "Does looking at me make you want to come?" She smiled at him sweetly and ran a fingertip along the edge of her bra. Billy swallowed and stopped stroking. He didn't want to climax before she'd finished her act.
Snow cupped her breasts in her hands and squeezed them a little, drawing in a deep breath. Then she reached back and undid her bra, one hook at a time. At the final faint *pop*, the fabric drooped and she hunched her shoulders and let it slide down her arms. She arched her back, sucked in her stomach, and watched his face as he ran his eyes slowly over her flesh. Her breasts weren't very large but they were that perfect champagne-glass size and shape and they were much paler than her tanned arms and legs. Her nipples were small and red and very stiff, lifting themselves far above the pink that surrounded them.
Snow cocked her head. "Like what you see?"
"Oh, yeah. You're lovely, Snow. I really mean it, you really are."
"Thanks, Billy," she replied softly. "Want some more?" She slid her thumbs under the waistband of her shorts.
"Please." He went back to stroking his cock, but not too rapidly. Not that there was any chance he'd lose his erection.
She undid the button of her shorts and worked the zipper down, then stood just enough to allow her to slide the denim under her ass and down her thighs. She was wearing plain white cotton bikini-cut panties to match the bra, and he loved the way they made a demarcation line across her tanned abdomen. There was also a slight bulge at the crotch.
He glanced back at her face. She was watching him closely, apparently trying to decide whether to go all out. He raised his eyebrows in a wordless plea.
Silently, Snow stood again and worked her panties slowly over her hips and down her thighs. When they were just above her knees, she shifted her weight from one foot to the over several times and they slid the rest of the way down. The vision of her bare hips twitching burned itself into Billy's brain.
The small brush of curly hair at the base of her belly was only a few shades darker than her tangled tresses -- a natural, Billy thought. He longed to stroke that hair, to slide a hand between those smoothly muscled legs, to collect her juices in the palm of his hand . . . but he kept his promise and his distance.
Snow reseated herself on the tub's edge and spread her thighs enough to give Billy a full view. He could see a glint of moisture down in the shadowy cleft. As she cupped her breasts in her hands again and began stroking and pinching her nipples, he stepped up the pace of his own masturbation.
Snow's eyes were drooping with her own arousal, but she was also watching him. As Billy came almost to the brink of orgasm, she suddenly reached out, grabbed the head of his penis, and urged him closer to her. He nearly fell over her and into the tub in his attempt not to step on her bare little feet.
Her palm was warm and impossibly soft and smooth and her touch made him close his eyes in ecstasy. That was the word that entered his mind as she pumped his cock a final few times: Ecstasy.
Then there were spurts of white erupting and falling across Snow's breasts and ribcage and thighs, and Billy had to steady himself again on the wall. He still wasn't quite sure how all this had come about but it was fucking marvelous, he knew that much.
As Billy worked at catching his breath, Snow continued to move her hand slowly up and down. There were threads of semen across her knuckles and wrist and she made no effort to wipe the stuff off her front. That was nice of her, he thought fuzzily.
Finally, she cleared her throat and smiled up at him. "We'd really better be getting back, Billy." She released him and gathered up her clothing from the floor. As Billy tried to tuck his dick back inside his slacks, he watched Snow wad up her bra and panties and toss them in an open laundry hamper. Then she wriggled back into her shorts, being careful not to smear his come any more than necessary. She's not going to wipe it off, he realized. She's just going to wear it. Wow.
Then she slid the tee shirt over her head and smoothed the front. She looked down, checking to see that none of Billy's semen showed above the neckline.
"Mom really doesn't like it when I go without a bra but she's given up trying to make me wear one when I don't want to, as long as I don't actually jiggle." She bounced on her toes a few times to demonstrate. Her breasts hardly moved, though her still-erect nipples poked out a bit. Then she turned on the tap at the washbasin, collected some water in her cupped hand, and splashed it strategically across her midriff, which concealed or at least disguised the damp spots where his come was soaking through.
Billy followed her out of her room and
down the stairs and back outside. No one seemed to have noticed their absence.
He looked at his watch and realized it had been only a quarter of an hour.
He'd have sworn they'd been up in that bathroom all afternoon. Snow winked
at him and then went off to distribute barbecue, and he watched her go
with a sigh. How was he ever going to top *this* Fourth of July? Talk about
your fireworks. . . .
Billy went about taking care of business for the rest of the summer, but somehow he kept running into Snow. It was as though once the ice had been broken -- more like "smashed," he reflected -- he was destined to see her wherever he went. At the supermarket, picking out onions while her mother looked for the perfect pot roast. Walking down the sidewalk with her girlfriends, laughing at obscure teenage humor. In the next lane at the bank's drive-thru window, cashing what looked like a paycheck, though he didn't know where she worked.
Probably, her father had insisted she hold down a summer job as a character-builder since the red Mustang she was driving could never have been paid for on a typical sixteen-year-old's wages.
On these occasions, Snow would smile at him in passing, maybe give him a cheerful "Hi!" But there was no indication that he was anything more than a neighborhood acquaintance. He knew there would be no reprise of the events in her bathroom.
A couple of weeks before Labor Day, Billy was coming out of Victoria's Secret at the Galleria, carefully folding over the top of a fancy paper sack and paying insufficient attention to where he was going. He nearly stepped into the path of a couple of passersby but jerked himself to a halt just in time when one of them squealed in alarm. He looked up into Snow's startled blue eyes.
She was just as fetching as before but she was dressed for show in low-slung faded jeans and high-heeled, open-toed sandals. The jeans reached nearly to the floor, allowing only her fiery red toenails to show. Above the jeans was a sort of lacy peasant blouse that ended in an elasticized hem well up her ribcage. Her long, blonde hair was swept back behind her perfect ears and Billy could practically feel his testosterone beginning to bubble.
Then he blinked as he realized another girl had stopped beside Snow and was regarding him oddly. No, not a girl -- a woman. Young, but not a teenager. She was a couple of inches taller than her companion and her hair was more red than blonde -- "strawberry," they called it. Her eyes were large and gray and measuring, and her lips were full and very red. She, too, wore long, slender jeans with tall sandals, but they looked different on her. She also had a lot more curves. Where Snow was scrubbed and innocent in appearance, her friend had more of the Siren about her.
Billy took all this in while still recovering his wits from the near collision. Snow put her slender hand on his arm. "Hi, Billy! What are you doing in Victoria's Secret?" She indicated the sack in his hand. "Got a girlfriend?"
She grinned and Billy blushed despite himself. "No, this is just something for my sister's birthday. She's living in a small town out in West Texas because of her job and she complained recently that there's no place to shop; she couldn't even find underwear that wasn't, uh, white cotton." He had a flash-memory of Snow's cotton panties. She could see it in his eyes, too, he was sure. "So I just got her a little something to improve her morale," he finished.
Snow touched the hand holding the sack and raised her eyebrows. "Can we see? You gonna show us what you got her?" She was almost quivering with delight. Billy sighed and slowly opened the bag to display his purchase folded in tissue paper. Snow reached in, withdrew the small parcel, and carefully unfolded it.
"Oooh, very sexy, Billy," she giggled, showing her companion the two satin thongs, one red and one black. "Are you sure she wears these?"
"No -- but if she doesn't, maybe she'll learn to," he smiled. "It'll probably be good for her, even if she just wears them around her apartment."
Then the other girl -- woman -- spoke. "I'm sure she'll enjoy receiving a gift like that, even from her brother." Her voice was a bit deeper and more resonant than Snow's and it seemed to make his ears twitch. "I know *I'd* like them," she added, looking straight into Billy's eyes. Snow turned back to Billy apologetically. "Oh, I'm sorry! Billy, this is my sister, Stevie! I forgot you two hadn't met!"
Stevie? No, it couldn't be. "I'm willing to bet your middle initial is 'N'," he said. The taller girl laughed and Snow joined in.
"You know Dad's predilection for Sixties singers, I take it?" She shook her head. "Yes, 'N' for 'Nicks'. And 'Stevie' isn't even short for anything. It was a real pain in high school. And I still get puzzled clients who are expecting me to be a guy."
"Stevie's an independent auditor," Snow said proudly. "She's an expert in branch banking and stuff like that. She's been working in Atlanta for the past year, but she's home on vacation for a month."
"I'm impressed," Billy said sincerely. "I have trouble balancing my checkbook."
"You're the writer, right? Snow's told me about you. What do you write?"
Billy glanced at the younger girl but she smiled and blinked at him innocently. "I write on commission, whatever people will pay me for. Basically, I'm a hack -- but a good one." They had begun strolling, caught up in the traffic of other shoppers, and Billy found himself walking into a small beachware boutique with the girls . He looked around at the racks and the mannequins. Everything was skimpy and brightly colored.
"I'm going down to Cancun with some friends next month and I decided I deserved a new bathing suit. See anything you like, Billy?" Stevie was smiling mischievously. "I work out a lot and I like to show off the results."
Snow had wandered off between the racks, flipping through tiny bikinis in dozens of styles. Then she grabbed one and brought it back in triumph. "This one is perfect for you, Sis!" She held a brilliant purple almost-thong up to Stevie's torso. Billy figured she'd have to shave herself bare to wear it. The top consisted of a horizontal string, two vertical strings, and two not overlarge triangular patches. Yeah, he thought, she'd certainly look good in something like that!
Stevie considered the purple suit. "What do you think, Billy?" She was looking at him from under long, thick lashes. "Maybe I should try this on. . . ."
Snow raised her eyebrows. "Here? It's your size, Sis -- I checked." Billy saw Stevie shoot her sister a look.
"No," she decided, "purple isn't really my color." She wandered off among the racks herself. Billy glanced around. The shop was nearly deserted. The sole clerk was perched at a counter near the back, looking bored. All these R-rated garments and the exposure they implied made him self-conscious.
"Now, this is better!" Stevie was holding up a gold-colored suit with thin bow-tied strings at the sides. The bra cups were small and the material seemed very thin; they certainly wouldn't conceal much, Billy was sure. "Not a bad price, either." She thought for a minute, then took her selection back to the clerk's counter. Billy tried to imagine what she would look like in a suit like that.
Snow wandered over to wait with him while her sister dug out her credit card. "Stevie's always had a terrific figure, ever since she was in junior high. I used to be really jealous of how gorgeous she was." She leaned her hip against Billy's and he could feel her thigh muscles shift.
"I don't think you have anything to be jealous of anymore," he said. Snow gave him a pleased smile. Then she stepped in front of him and let her fingers brush against the front of his slacks. His cock remembered the sensation of her warm little hand and twitched commemoratively. She winked at him over her shoulder.
Stevie rejoined them at that point and
gave Billy what seemed to him an appraising look. Later, as he said goodbye
to the sisters in the mall's parking lot and went to find his own car,
he wondered if Stevie was more available than her younger sibling. He also
wondered if she was perhaps too high-powered for him to handle.
That evening, Billy was standing in front of the open freezer compartment in his apartment kitchen, trying to decide whether to broil a steak or to just settle for something in a box, when his doorbell rang. He sighed. He seldom had callers, except for missionaries and students selling magazine subscriptions. He padded barefoot into the small living room, not bothering to put on a tee-shirt with his cut-offs, and opened the door. Stevie McConnell stood there, head tilted to one side, hands tucked neatly behind her.
"Are you going to ask me in?" Billy closed his open mouth and stepped back to allow her to pass.
"Yes, of course -- c'mon in. I wasn't expecting anyone!" Stevie was wearing very tight linen short-shorts in electric blue and an orange knit halter-top that showed off her narrow waist and emphasized the reddish-blonde tint of her hair. And the same high-heeled sandals as before. Billy couldn't take his eyes off her perfectly rounded bottom as she stepped inside.
"I just happened to be in the neighborhood.," she said. Then they both laughed at the transparent falsehood. "Actually, I wanted to ask you something," she went on.
She moved closer and looked up into his eyes. "Are you fucking my sister?"
It took him a few seconds even to register the question. Then he felt his ears and neck turning red. Stevie just waited expectantly.
"No -- no, of course not!" He hated hearing himself stammer like that. "What kind of question--"
"Oh, I was just watching the interplay between you two today at the mall, and I wondered." She sat down on the sofa and crossed her legs, kicking one slender foot slowly. Her legs were long and tanned and smooth-looking. The halter top looked like it was part of an exercise outfit, but she obviously was wearing nothing under it and her nipples were clearly outlined. "See, I know what Snow is like, and I wondered if you were getting into her pants. But it's okay -- really. She's old enough to take care of herself, I'm sure." He hadn't moved, so she scooted languidly forward on the sofa, her gaze moving up and down his body.
"Snow really likes you, you know. And I have to say, she shows good taste." Billy could feel her eyes on his chest and abdomen, and tried to suck in his stomach without being too obvious about it. "I had an ulterior motive for asking, Billy. Because if you two were making it, I wouldn't want to poach. But since you're not. . . ."
She stood, cocking one hip and resting her hand on it provocatively. ". . . I guess I'd be interested in the state of your availability."
Billy was not inexperienced with women, but he had never come across two such forthright sisters. This was all almost too easy. Or was she playing a game with him? "Assuming I'm not committed elsewhere," he asked cautiously, "what did you have in mind?" She raised her eyebrows high. "I can't remember the last time I was propositioned by a beautiful woman," he added, feeling the need for some explanation.
Stevie smiled and nodded in approval. "You're quite right, Billy. 'Too good to be true' and all that. But there's no hidden agenda here." She took a slow, swaying step toward him. "I have certain needs and I have no false modesty about my looks. I could have any guy I wanted, probably -- almost any guy, anyway. And I *have* had some of them. But since my options are so broad, I tend to be picky. And when I find a guy who really appeals to me, I don't hesitate to let him know it. And you . . . definitely . . . do . . . appeal . . . to me, Billy." With each little pause she moved closer to him, finally laying her palms on his bare shoulders, and brushing her bare knee against his.
"My sixth sense about guys is highly accurate," she went on, breathing it into his ear. "And I'm not looking for long-term commitments or involvements." She nipped at his earlobe and Billy shivered and squeezed her upper arms lightly. "Does that answer your reservations, Billy?" By way of an answer, he let his hands drift over her shoulders and down her back. She purred a little and leaned herself against him. Billy's hands reached the small of her back and he let his fingers follow the outward swell of her bottom. Her buttock muscles twitched and he felt his growing erection shift into high gear. Then he felt Stevie's smooth, cool hands slip inside the waistband at the back of his cutoffs.
They stood there a few seconds, stroking each other's asses and letting the heat rise in the room. Then Billy took her slender waist between his hands and sent his lips in search of hers. Her long, sensuous tongue instantly slipped into his mouth and curled up behind his front teeth, and his cock pumped itself up even tighter.
When the kiss meandered to an end, Stevie unsnapped his shorts, slid his zipper down in a single motion, and squatted in front of him. He started to push his shorts down but she pushed his hand away and slowly drew them down his thighs herself. When they settled to the floor around his ankles, he stepped out of them and stood there waiting to see what would happen next -- and thinking how unusual it was that he should be naked while the girl was still fully dressed. Not that he objected in the slightest.
Stevie gripped his swelling cock at its base between her thumb and finger, making it wave and bounce. She looked up at him and grinned. Then she wrapped her hand around the shaft like it was the handle of a frying pan and bent it slowly downward. It wasn't painful and the tight sensation produced sparks in Billy's head. He reached down and rested his hands on her head to steady himself, and she took it as a request.
Releasing his penis, Stevie moved her hands around his hips and drew his cock between her parted lips. Billy moaned softly as her tongue slid up and down the underside of the head. Her technique was extraordinary. The last couple of women who had sucked his cock had practically strangled it with their hands and then tried to suck the semen out of it by main force. He didn't find that especially erotic. Stevie, on the other hand, understood the meaning of seduction. He felt her fingertips moving lightly up and down the crack of his ass -- and then she clutched at his cheeks, spreading them slightly, as she suddenly took nearly the whole length of his cock into her mouth. Apparently, she had no fear of being choked.
The combination of sensations had its effect on Billy. He found himself suddenly on the brink of climax, much more quickly than he had expected. Except for that fifteen-minute affair with Snow, it had been several months since he'd had sex with anyone other than himself, but this wasn't like him at all!
Stevie knew what was happening, too, and she compressed her lips and continued to suck as she allowed Billy to slide halfway out of her mouth. Then she bore down with her incisors for a moment or two, and Billy erupted helplessly. The white torrent cascaded across Stevie's tongue and dribbled over her lips before she could swallow. She took his cock in her hand again as it popped out of her mouth, and squeezing it from base to tip, she let the milky fluid drip down onto her outstretched tongue. Billy's vision seemed a bit blurred, but he could see her cum-encrusted grin all right.
Then she was back on her feet, seizing his hands and pressing them against her breasts. He squeezed them automatically, then grabbed the hem of her elasticized top and worked it quickly up to her collarbone. She laughed as she worked it off over her head and tossed it aside. Her breasts were a somewhat more mature version of Snow's, of moderate size but perfect in shape, topped by rigid red nipples. Remembering her handling of his penis, Billy squeezed them again, raising them upward this time. The breath hissed in between Stevie's teeth and turned into a soft groan.
"Take my pants off, Billy. . . ." Her voice was low but clear. "Strip me, Billy." He didn't have to be told twice. Dropping to his knees, he gripped the thin linen and rolled her shorts down her thighs and pushed them to the floor. She hadn't worn panties, either. As she stepped out of them, he admired her neatly trimmed pubic hair, which formed only a very slender triangle. She stood now with her feet ten inches apart and her pussy clearly visible. She was emitting an aroma, too, that set Billy's dick to twitching all over again.
Without consciously mimicking Stevie's style, he wrapped his arms around her thighs and began vigorously swabbing his tongue up, down, and sideways across her moistly-glinting clit. She tasted very nice indeed and he could feel the muscles in her legs tightening and loosening rhythmically as he tried to get his tongue into every part of her.
Finally, he could wait no longer. His cock was even harder than the first time. Billy climbed quickly to his feet and took Stevie's hand. "C'mon," he urged her as he headed down the hall to the bedroom. "I hate doing it on the carpet."
Part of him wanted to simply throw this astonishingly sexy woman on the bed, spread her legs, and dive in. But he prized originality and sensuality as much as she did, so when she lay back on the bedspread, he took her ankles in his hands, straightened her long legs upward, and turned her into a capital 'V'. Then he knelt with his knees against her ass and allowed only the lower surface of his cock to slide lightly up and down against her wet-looking cunt.
Stevie laughed throatily. "You're a tease, Billy!" As he released her legs, she rolled onto her knees and cocked her ass in the air. She looked back over her shoulder and saw the hungry look in his eyes, so she put her cheek and torso flat against the bedspread and arched her back even more, spreading her knees wide apart. This exposed her pussy at its widest gape and made her asshole twitch. When she moved her lovely little bottom from side to side, the invitation was almost animal-like.
Billy had never felt so turned-on by a woman. He didn't remember moving, but he was immediately on his knees behind her, his palms spread out across her ass, the head of his cock tapping the moist and inviting flesh before it.
Then he was inside her. The exquisite sensation of his penis sliding against the interior of her vagina made his eyes go out of focus. He forced himself to move slowly, to savor every instant of what was happening. He squeezed her ass cheeks and marveled at the smooth muscle he found there. He pressed his forefinger lightly against her asshole and felt the sphincter twitch convulsively. And he kept his cock moving at a slow, steady pace.
Stevie clutched the comforter in her fists as her stomach muscles fluttered. "Dammit, Billy! Fuck me! Fuck me hard! I want to feel your cock ramming into me! Do it! Do me!" The authorial part of his brain noted that this sounded like dialogue from a mediocre porn flick -- but her demanding moans broke his resolve and he began moving faster and thrusting harder. And every time he rammed against her, Stevie pushed back insistently. She had a trick of squeezing his cock with her internal muscles, even when it was in full flight, that multiplied his excitement and sent flutters through his abdomen.
Billy pounded on for a few more minutes, watching the writhing of Stevie's smooth, athletic ass muscles, admiring the smallness of her waist as it flexed in all directions, and electrified by her tossing hair. His hands were squeezing her hips and he was fascinated by her asshole, as well. Naturally, Stevie possessed perfect skin, and that corrugated little opening set between the mounds of her round and unblemished buttocks practically called out to him. Finally, he pressed the ball of one thumb against her sphincter, pushing just enough to sink it partway into her rectum. She growled in the back of her throat and pushed back against his hand, so he kept pushing until both joints of his thumb were entirely inside her. Her rectal muscles tried to pinch it off and that was the trigger.
Billy clenched his teeth and screwed his eyes shut for a few seconds when the electricity of his climax shuddered through his groin. Not that the sensation was painful -- but the intensity of it was almost more than he could bear. His body felt like it had been saving up for this single orgasm for years.
When he could see again, he noted that Stevie had pulled half the comforter down into her clawing grip. She was gasping and nearly in tears with the intensity of her own climax. Billy made to pull his ruined cock out of her but she whispered, "No, . . . don't go . . .," so he collapsed gracefully on top of her instead, flattening her raised ass and burying his face in her shoulder. As he went down, his thumb unavoidably popped out of her asshole, causing her to jerk and catch her breath.
"What the hell did you just do to me?" he managed to croak.
"I thought you were doing it to me. . . ." Her voice was muffled. "I don't think I ever came like that before. Jesus. . . ." She managed to turn her head to one side and brushed her hair away from her face. The movement caused his penis, still buried deep inside her, to jerk with a small aftershock, and she gasped again and then laughed faintly.
"I knew I wanted you this afternoon, Billy -- but I didn't know why. I mean, you're nice looking and very sexy -- but something about you just got to me. I guess my subconscious was right!" She laughed again, and wiggled her ass slightly under his weight.
Finally, Billy took a deep breath and rolled slowly off her and onto his side on the bed. His cock had shrunken dramatically, much the worse for wear. He propped his head up on his hand and studied Stevie's tousled face. She was very attractive -- hell, she was a knockout -- but he'd known other women just as gorgeous and just as sexy. But there was something about her, something subjective that he couldn't describe. Apparently, she felt it, too.
"When did you have to go back to Atlanta?" he asked.
She studied his face, then raised herself up to match his head-on-hand pose. "Not for a couple of weeks yet. But my job there will be over around Christmas, so I'll probably be taking another contract the first of the year. Don't know where that will be, though."
"Well, . . . I know you said you weren't looking for involvements." He paused to find the right words. "But I'd like to see you again. And not just for this -- as delightful as it has been." They smiled at each other. "After your vacation's over---"
"---We'll just have to wait and see," she finished. "As for involvements, well, that's just been my policy -- so far. But it's not carved in stone, Billy." She reached down, took his limp organ in her hand, and squeezed lightly. "In any case, Pilgrim, I intend to fuck your brains out a few more times this summer. Unless you object?"
"No, no -- no objections." He grinned as his cock began to stir again. "I'd like to take you out for dinner, Stevie -- get to know you a lot better, all the obvious things. But fucking you has considerable appeal." Which, of course, cracked the both up.
"Well, my sister was very complimentary about you, you know. Looks like she was right, too. Maybe you *should* be fucking her, Billy." She grinned to let him know she was kidding. "Maybe she and I should get together and 'bookend' you. Think you could handle that?"
Billy considered that fantasy: Snow one side of him, Stevie on the other. Both girls with a leg draped over each of his, each of them with one hand caressing his crotch. Two pairs of perfect tits pressing against his ribs from opposite sides. It was unlikely ever to happen, of course, but thinking about it was going to give him night-time boners.
Stevie was watching his face; she knew exactly what he was thinking. She squeezed his cock a little harder. "Not until she's a little older," she said. "Then -- who knows?"
Billy shrugged off the fantasy and moved closer to the sister presently occupying his bed. Stevie was going to be plenty for him to handle for the foreseeable future.
He wondered if they needed good hack writers
--- END ---
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Copyright 1999 by Michael K. Smith. Copies
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