Phoenix Rising
(c) 2003 Anais Ninja anais_ninja@hotmail.com
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/index.html
Note: This is my story. The names and details have been changed to
protect the privacy of those involved. Some of this account has been
reconstructed from memory, but most of it has been based on a journal I
kept during these years.
This is a sequel to _Exile_, which can be found on my asstr.org site:
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/exile/index.html
* * *
Chapter Eight - Big Time (Ff Mf Fb MFf MMf fb teen inc oral anal preg ws drugs)
If it had been all a dream, then I was having a dream inside a dream
now. I was in the clubhouse locker room again, wearing just the ruffled
tennis panties that Mia had lent me. There was the sound of running
water coming from the shower, and steam drifted out of there, wafting
over the rows of lockers. I stepped into the tiled room, seeing a
couple of figures in the fog, one standing, one on his knees. I quietly
approached, trying to make out their faces.
It was Jean-Paul, standing under the rushing water while David knelt at
his feet, sucking the tennis pro's glistening cock. I watched, unable
to speak at first, but somehow I found my voice, unlike most of my
dreams where I was rendered mute.
"No, you mustn't," I cried out. "David, no!" He looked at me and
smiled, Jean-Paul's hard meat stuffed in his mouth, making his cheek
bulge.
"He is mine, Anne," Jean-Paul said.
"No, David," I said, rushing to his side, pulling him back from the
man's groin. I took Jean-Paul in my mouth instead, licking and sucking
his long veiny shaft, but he began to wilt.
Then we were in the locker room, David lying on one of the benches, his
legs spread, his hard cock bobbing above his crotch. Jean-Paul was
behind me, pulling down the tennis panties. I looked down and saw that
I had a penis, thick like my father's and fully erect. I squatted over
the bench and pressed it against David's ass, entering him as he reached
up for my breasts.
"Now you are complete," Jean-Paul whispered in my ear. I could feel the
tip of his cock pushing against my bottom, filling me as I slid into my
stepbrother's tight hole. He began to thrust, each stroke pushing me
deeper inside of David, as if Jean-Paul was using me, my body, my cock,
to fuck my stepbrother. I could feel my pleasure rising, but it was
different, not the gradual approach I was used to, but a quick
sensation, not as intense but pleasant all the same. And then I was
coming inside David's bottom, feeling my semen flow through my cock, the
strangest sensation of all.
And then I woke up.
* * *
"What are you doing here?" Mia asked me, shaking me awake.
"What? Where...?" I wasn't so sure myself. It had taken a couple of
days to get used to waking up on the cot in Dana's room, and now I was
in a strange bed again. Then I remembered last night, how Mia and my
father had come home drunk, how they brought me into their bed, how they
made love to me.
"Why are you in our bed?" Mia said.
"You don't remember?" I looked over at the clock. It was early but my
father was already gone.
"No, I don't," she said. "Have you been here all night?"
"Mia, we made love last night," I said. "My father watched." I
couldn't tell her the whole truth, that he'd fucked me while she sat on
my face, and she'd encouraged him to do it.
"We did?" she said. "My God, I don't remember a thing. Was I that
drunk?"
"You were sort of tipsy, yes."
"I hope I didn't hurt the baby," she said, rubbing her belly. "I'm only
allowed to have one glass of wine."
"I'm sure just one night won't hurt," I said.
"I hope you're right," Mia said, sitting up in bed. "Ow, shit..."
"What's wrong?"
"My back. Shit."
"Lie down," I said. I sat up next to her and caressed her belly.
"Could you get me an aspirin and water?" she asked.
"Sure," I said, getting out of bed. I scooped my panties up from the
floor and slipped them on when I got to the bathroom, hoping that Mia
wouldn't see the traces of my father's semen that had dried on my cleft.
I found the aspirin and poured a glass of water, bringing these back to
Mia. She sat up with some difficulty and swallowed two of the pills,
washing them down with the tap water. Then she laid down again, a
pained expression on her face.
"Anne, could you do me a favor?"
"Sure," I said. "Anything."
"Would you get the kids ready for school? I just can't move right now."
"Of course," I said, kissing her on the forehead. I left her in the
bedroom and went to Dana's room, waking her up with a kiss.
"Where were you?" she asked me. "I wanted to cuddle with you."
"I'm sorry, baby," I said, brushing her curly hair away from her face.
"I guess I fell asleep on the couch." She knew I'd slept with both my
father and Mia, but for some reason I didn't want her to know that I'd
been in bed with both of them at the same time.
"Annie...," she said, wrapping her arms around me.
"Time to get up for school, baby."
"Where's Mommy?"
"Her back is bothering her, so I'm going to cook breakfast for you and
Davy, okay?"
"Okay," she said. She stretched and swung her legs off the bed, rubbing
her eyes and slipping her little feet into her slippers. I walked
through the bathroom to David's room and slid open the door. He was
lying on his back, the blankets around his thighs, his beautiful penis
slumbering along his thigh. If only there was more time. I would have
loved to wake him up in that special way. I leaned over and kissed him,
caressing his smooth chest until he awoke.
As the kids washed up, I made breakfast, putting on some coffee for
myself, whipping up pancakes and sausages for David and Dana. A few
minutes later, they entered the kitchen, dressed for school. I served
their breakfast and sipped my coffee as I watched them wolf down their
food. Afterwards, they put their dishes in the sink and I saw them to
the door, getting a kiss and a hug from both of them, watching as they
walked down the street to the bus stop.
I felt like a housewife, puttering around the kitchen in my little
nightie, cleaning up after the kids, stacking their plates in the
dishwasher, and I liked it. Cooking and cleaning for Ramon and my
stepbrothers sometimes got tiresome, but today felt different, almost as
if David and Dana were my own children. I made breakfast for Mia, a cup
of decaf instead of the coffee I'd been drinking, and brought it in to
her bedroom on a tray.
"Anne, thank you," she said, slowly sitting up on the bed.
"How's your back?"
"A bit better," she said, pouring syrup on her pancakes.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"That's so sweet of you," she said, taking my hand and squeezing it.
"Could you draw a bath for me, please? I think some warm water would
help."
"I'd be glad to," I said, heading to the bathroom and turning on the
faucets. The tub was huge, and would take a while to fill, so I headed
back to the kitchen and had a couple of pancakes and the last sausage
for breakfast. Afterwards, I looked in on Mia again and checked the
tub. It was only half full. Mia was done with breakfast, so I took the
tray back to the kitchen and did the dishes. By the time I was done,
the tub was nearly full. I helped her from the bed to the bathroom,
seeing her wince as she lowered herself into the tub. She picked up the
soap and began washing herself.
"Let me do that for you," I said, taking the bar from her hands and
lathering her creamy skin.
"Thank you, sweetie," she said. "I remember what we did last night."
"You do?" I froze, soap in hand.
"Yes," she said.
"You're angry, aren't you."
"No, Anne," she said. "I'm not. I think it was my idea."
"It was?"
"I'd rather share him with you than with some stranger he picked up at a
bar."
"Mia...," I said. She'd surprised me with this attitude of acceptance.
I had expected jealousy at the very least.
"I've seen the way you look at each other," she said. "I know what you
did in his den. You're a very loud girl, Anne."
"He knew about us, too," I said. "Lean forward so I can do your back."
"Thanks. He mentioned that last night, after he got a couple of drinks
in him. He said he wanted to watch us make love."
"Well, he got his wish," I said.
"That he did," Mia said. "Why don't you join me? There's plenty of
room."
"Okay," I said, putting down the soap. I pulled my nightie off over my
head and slipped off the sheer panties, gingerly dipping my toe in the
water, testing the temperature. It was nice and warm, not too hot, and
I settled in across from Mia.
"Kiss me," she said, leaning forward, pressing her lips against mine.
She picked up the bar of soap and lathered my breasts. I reached for
hers, running my fingers over her slippery nipples. She moaned as we
kissed, and I felt her hands moving lower, down my body, resting between
my legs.
"I need to shave again," I said.
"Let me do that for you, sweetie," she said. Mia had me sit on the edge
of the tub, spraying shaving cream on my cleft, carefully removing the
light stubble on my mons and labia with a disposable razor. She did it
slowly, gently, careful not to nick my most delicate parts. Mia
splashed water on my sex, rinsing off the remnants of shaving cream from
my pussy.
"Thank you," I said.
"Would you do me?" she asked. "I want to surprise Frank."
"I'd love to," I said. I helped her up on the edge of the big black
marble tub and spread shaving cream over her mound and cleft, shaving
her as carefully as she'd done for me, rinsing the hair off when I was
done. She looked beautiful, naked, clean. I leaned forward and kissed
her bare mons, making her gasp with delight. Mia had trouble seeing
over her swollen belly, so I held up a shaving mirror so she could look
at the reflection of her newly shorn sex.
"This is going to itch, isn't it?" she asked me.
"Not if you moisturize," I said. "That's the fun part." We laughed,
rinsed off our soapy skin, and emerged from the tub, gently drying off
each other. Then we climbed into her bed with a bottle of skin lotion,
rubbing the moisturizer into each other's newly shaven parts. It turned
into more than just the application of lotion, though, much more. Our
busy fingers sought out each other's secret pearl, soft voices singing a
duet of pleasure.
"I'm going to love having you around, Annie," Mia whispered as I rubbed
lotion into her big round belly and swollen breasts. "Especially when
the baby is born."
"I don't know if I'll be here for that," I said.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I've decided to stay in Boston, at least until this summer."
"Why? You know we'd love to have you move in right away."
"I know, and I appreciate that, but I'm going to go to a very good
school up in Boston, one that will help me get into a good college. I
missed a whole year of classes and I think I should make up for it."
"This school is that good?" Mia asked.
"It is," I replied. "Forty percent of its graduates go on to the Ivy
League."
"That is good," Mia said. "The schools here are okay, but I would love
to have the kids to go to a private school. I wish we could afford
that."
"So you understand?"
"I do," Mia said, kissing me on the forehead. "You're a bright young
girl and it's good that you're thinking of your future. You can spend
the summer with us. We'll have fun. By then we should be in a bigger
house with a swimming pool."
"Thanks," I said, kissing her on the lips.
"Does your father know?"
"I haven't told him what I've decided yet."
"He's going to be upset," Mia said.
"I'll break it to him gently," I said. "We're going camping tomorrow,
and I think I'll tell him then."
"Right, camping," she said. "I hope you have fun. I never cared for
sleeping in the open."
"I've never been camping," I said, "except for one night in the backyard
in Maine with my stepbrothers."
"That must have been fun, the three of you in a tent, right?"
"It was," I said.
"Tell me, did you sleep with your stepfather, too?" I'd told Mia about
making love with my stepbrothers, so I guess she drew her own
conclusions.
"Yes, I did. After my mother died, he was so sad..."
"Poor baby," Mia said, putting her arm around me and drawing me close to
her warm body. "Annie, I have to ask you something."
"Anything," I said. I felt so close to her then.
"Have you done anything with David?"
"Yes," I replied. I couldn't lie to her.
"And Dana?"
"Yes," I said. "You must think I'm horrible."
"No, Anne. I don't." Mia held me tight, her lips on my neck, my cheek,
nibbling my ear. "You're just like your father, insatiable. Before we
were married we lived in an awful little apartment in Tempe, near the
university. He couldn't keep his hands off of me, all day, every day,
from the moment he woke up until just before we went to sleep. Five,
six times a day, easily. Sometimes I'd catch him in the bathroom,
jerking off on the toilet with a magazine in his lap. He couldn't help
himself. It was like he was wired that way, always horny, always erect.
We couldn't drive an hour without him having to pull over so I could
suck him. I was almost happy when he got me pregnant, at least at
first. I could get some work done without having him come into my
office and take me on the couch."
"And I'm my father's daughter," I said.
"You are your father's daughter," Mia said. We kissed again, our
tongues meeting, sparring, tip swirling over tip. I heard footsteps in
the hall and suddenly the door opened. A young woman in a plain light
blue uniform dress with a white apron stood in the doorway, fresh linen
in her hand.
"Excuse me," she said. "Sorry Senora Mercer, sorry, sorry." The
housekeeper blushed and backed out of the room as we burst out laughing.
"I guess I should get up," Mia said, reaching for her robe. "In five
minutes every housekeeper in the neighborhood will know what she saw."
Mia moved slowly, carefully, but I could tell her back was better; she
wasn't wincing from the pain.
I climbed out of bed and grabbed my nightie from the bathroom, not
bothering to put it on again. The housekeeper had already seen me naked
in bed with Mia. There was no point. I walked into Dana's room to get
dressed and there she was, the housekeeper, changing the sheets on
Dana's bed. She turned and looked me up and down, smiling.
"Como se llama?" I asked her.
"Maria," she replied. She was young, barely past eighteen, short and
slightly plump, but pretty, very pretty, with big brown eyes, high
cheekbones, and long dark hair braided into a single thick pigtail.
"Maria, me llamo Anne," I said, extending my hand. She took it and
gently squeezed it.
"Anita," she said.
"Maria, no hable de este, por favor," I said in my broken Spanish,
tilting my head in the direction of Mia's bedroom.
"I will not talk of that to anyone," she said. "I promise you."
"Thank you," I said, gently squeezing her arm.
"De nada," she replied, heading into David's room to change his sheets.
I got dressed, sweatshirt and sweatpants, and headed into the kitchen
for another cup of coffee. Mia had a meeting with a client that day,
and had to take Dana to dance class, so I was on my own until the
afternoon, nothing to do except walk the dog. I decided to spend the
morning at the clubhouse, swimming in the pool, so I put on my string
bikini, wearing my denim miniskirt and a white peasant blouse over that.
The pool was empty, as I'd expected on a weekday morning. I tied my
hair back into a ponytail, swam a few laps, took a dive off the high
board, and then settled down on one of the lounge chairs to read. It
was cool outside, mid-sixties, but much warmer inside the pool house
with the bright Arizona sun shining through the glass walls and ceiling.
I heard footsteps and looked up from my book, seeing an older man in a
short yellow terrycloth robe and flip-flops enter the pool house. He
doffed his robe, placing it on a chair on the other side of the pool
from where I was lying, and dove into the water, swimming the length of
the pool, back and forth, touching the edge and kicking off from the
side, reversing his direction. I returned to my reading -- I was
half way through _Fear of Flying_ -- and a few minutes later he emerged,
water dripping from his skin, matting his graying body hair. He picked
up a towel and dried himself, sitting down when he was done.
I glanced at him over my paperback. He was reading a magazine, licking
his thumb to turn the pages. Late fifties, maybe early sixties, a thick
head of graying hair, broad barrel-shaped chest, a bit of thickness at
the waist, deeply tanned skin. I figured him for one of the retirees
who owned about half of the homes here. Every so often he'd glance over
the top of his magazine at me and smile.
"Water's nice today," he called out across the pool.
"Yes, it is."
"Aren't you going in?"
"I just got out," I said, swinging my head so he could see my wet
ponytail.
"I'll bet you're a good swimmer," he said.
"I'm okay, I guess."
"I'll bet I could beat you."
"Beat me?"
"In a race," he chuckled.
"Oh, a race," I said. "I thought you meant with your fists."
"Heh, no. How about it? Loser buys lunch?"
I thought about it for a moment; I was hungry, and I hadn't had time to
eat a proper meal after getting the kids ready for school and making
breakfast in bed for Mia. He was a good swimmer, but not as fast as me.
What the hell, all I had to lose was a few bucks for a sandwich at the
clubhouse cafe.
"You're on," I said, putting my book aside. We walked to the end of the
pool, opposite the side with the diving boards.
"Jack," he said, extending his hand.
"Anne," I said, taking his hand and shaking it.
"Four laps, back and forth."
"Sounds good," I said. I stretched my arms and legs and took a deep
breath, standing at the edge of the pool, my toes curled over the side.
"Ready?"
"Ready," I replied.
"Set...go!" He dived into the pool, and I followed him a split-second
later. Jack had a two yard lead on me, but I closed the gap after the
first lap. I was a faster swimmer, but he had a powerful kick, and we
were neck-and-neck for the first two laps. By the end of the third,
though, I'd pulled away, and I finished the final lap a good six or
seven seconds before he did. We clung to the side of the pool, catching
our breath, and he held out his hand again.
"Congratulations," he said. "You're an excellent swimmer."
"Thank you," I said, climbing out of the pool. He followed me up the
steel ladder.
"Guess I owe you lunch."
"That's okay," I said. "You don't have to."
"Please, I always keep my word," Jack said. "Besides, I think dining
with a gorgeous girl like you should be my consolation prize."
"Well, okay," I said, blushing. "You can buy me a burger at the cafe."
"Deal," he said. We dried off and headed for the snack bar, but it was
closed, a sign on the door saying that it was only open Friday through
Sunday. The thought of a nice juicy hamburger made my stomach growl.
"Tell you what," Jack said. "Let's go back to my place and I'll whip
something up, okay?"
"Sure," I said. Jack wrapped his robe around my shoulders and we walked
a few blocks to his house, one of the newer ones. It was sparsely
furnished, as if he'd just moved in. There was a backhoe and other
construction equipment in the back yard, and a deep gash in the lawn.
"I'm having a pool installed," Jack said, opening the refrigerator and
peering inside, pulling out a plastic container. "Hope you don't mind
potato soup. I'm on a bland diet because of my ulcers."
"No, that's fine," I said. "Would you mind if I used your shower? They
put too much chlorine in that pool."
"Not at all, not at all," he said. "Bathroom's upstairs, there should
be fresh towels in the hall closet. Make yourself at home, Anne."
"Thanks," I said, heading upstairs. The bathroom was a room off of his
bedroom, also barely furnished, not much more than a bed, a dresser, and
a small night stand. I was surprised to see that he had a waterbed.
Carrie, Bradley and Helen's daughter, had one as well, but after she
moved in with her boyfriend in New York, Helen had it dismantled and
replaced with a queen-sized mattress and box spring. It leaked, and was
just too much trouble to maintain. I sat on Jack's bed, feeling it
undulate beneath my bottom.
After a quick shower, I put on my blouse and skirt, though I'd forgotten
to bring panties to wear. Guess I'll just have to keep my legs crossed,
I thought to myself. I headed back downstairs to the kitchen. Jack was
stirring the soup with a wooden spoon.
"Where can I put my wet suit?" I asked him.
"There's a chair on the patio," he replied. "Just put it next to mine."
"Thanks," I said, heading out to the back yard. I laid my wet bikini on
a painted wooden deck chair, next to his wet swim trunks and went back
inside.
"Just about ready," he said. There were two places set at the kitchen
table, hand-painted ceramic bowls, a loaf of black bread, and a tub of
margarine. I sat down and Jack ladled the soup into my bowl.
"Smells good," I said.
"Thanks," Jack replied. "Made it myself. Help yourself to some bread."
The soup was good, though just a bit bland. Jack talked about how he
loved spicy food, and how hard it had been to give it up, even harder
than it had been to stop smoking. He offered me a glass of white wine,
something he wasn't supposed to have himself, but a half glass a day was
his only transgression.
"So, you're retired?" I asked him.
"Semi-retired."
"What do you do?"
"I'm a producer," Jack said. "Movies. I own a production company in
LA, Jalapeno Films."
"What kind of movies?" I asked him.
"You don't want to know."
"Tell me," I said.
"Adult movies," Jack said, sounding slightly embarrassed. "You know,
porno."
"Wow, cool," I said. "I made a movie once."
"You did?"
"Yeah, last year," I replied. "But the guy got busted."
"You made a...?" I thought Jack was going to choke on his bread.
"It was supposed to be called 'Punk Rock Hookers'."
"No shit," Jack said, looking at me with a different expression. "What
was it, soft core?"
"Soft core?"
"You know, simulated sex, no hard cocks, no close-up beaver shots."
"No, this was real," I said. "Me and two boys. They played in a punk
band and I was sort of a groupie type. That's why it was called 'Punk
Rock Hookers'." I finished my soup and took a sip of wine.
"And this guy who made it, he got busted?"
"Yeah, Cecil his name was," I said. "He tried to edit it at school. He
was a grad student."
"Dumbass," Jack muttered. "How old were you?"
"Fourteen."
"No wonder," he said. "When was this?"
"Last year."
"You're only fifteen?"
"Yes," I said. "How old did you think I was?"
"I don't know, seventeen? Eighteen?"
"Nope," I said. "How old are you?"
"Fifty-nine," Jack said.
"Married?"
"Divorced."
"Sorry," I said.
"Yeah, it was pretty tough," he replied. "She caught me in my office
with one of my actresses, Amber O'Toole. Not her real name, of course."
"That's a shame," I said.
"Eh, what can you do, right?"
"So, do you have any of your movies here?," I said. "I'd love to see
one."
"You're a bit young for that sort of thing, don't you think?"
"I did star in one," I said.
"I wouldn't feel right..."
"Please?" I said, giving him my best pleading look, eyes wide, lips set
in a pout, head tilted just so.
"Okay, fine," he relented. "Let me clean up the dishes first."
"I'll do that," I said. "You can set up the projector or whatever it
is."
"Video," Jack said, getting up from the table. "It's all going on video
these days. Used to be we'd run through forty, fifty thousand dollars
worth of film stock, and spend just as much at the lab, getting it
developed, color corrected, printed. Now we spend a fraction of that
amount on tape." He left the kitchen, heading for the living room. I
heard the sound of a television being turned on, the high-pitched whine
of the picture tube warming up, white noise as he tuned to an unused
channel, the clunk of a video cassette slipping into the player. I
washed our lunch dishes and joined him on the couch, handing him his
wine glass.
"Ready?" Jack said.
"Yes."
"Here we go," he said, pressing a button on a small device that was
connected to the videotape recorder by a long black cable. The tape
deck was just like the one Cecil had bought, with the word "U-MATIC" in
silver letters on the door that covered the tape slot. The player
whirred to life, and multi-colored bars appeared on the screen, a high-
pitched tone coming from the two speakers that flanked the large-screen
television. Jack hit another button and fast-forwarded to the beginning
of the movie.
"What are those things on the bottom of the picture?" I asked him.
There was a series of numbers superimposed on the bottom of the screen,
separated by colons, the last couple of digits moving so fast that I
couldn't read them.
"Time code," Jack replied. "Hours, minutes, seconds, frames. It's how
we catalog the footage and mark the edit points."
"Oh, I see."
"Here it comes," he said, pressing the play button on the remote. There
was a shot of a woman on a couch, reading a paperback, with the words
"HORNY HOUSEWIFE XII" splashed across the screen in big yellow letters.
The woman was gorgeous, with long platinum blonde hair, and enormous
breasts that spilled out of her skimpy dress. "Here's my name," Jack
said, as the title changed to "PRODUCED BY JACK HOFF".
"That's your name?," I asked him. "Jack Hoff?"
"It's really 'Hoffman'," he said. "I changed it."
"That's really funny." His name faded out, replaced by "STARRING AMBER
O'TOOLE". "So that's her?" I asked him.
"Yep."
"She's beautiful. Why isn't she a star?"
"She is a star, Anne."
"You know what I mean," I said.
"Why isn't she starring in a non-adult film?" Jack said. "Keep watching
and you'll find out." The credits ended and the wah-wah guitar
soundtrack faded into the background. There was the soft chime of a
doorbell and Amber put her book down to answer the door. A tall young
man in a grimy pair of overalls stood in the doorway, holding a toolbox.
"Did you call for a plumber, ma'am?" he said, sounding like he was
reading his lines from a card offstage.
"Yeah, come on in," she replied. As soon as she opened her mouth and
spoke, I knew why she'd never do anything but porn movies. Amber had a
squeaky, high-pitched voice and a thick Boston accent, pronouncing the
word "on" like "ahwn", and adding an "W" to the end of "Yeah, stretching
it into two syllables: "Ye-ahw".
"I see what you mean," I said to Jack.
"It's not like she didn't try," he said. "She had a voice coach and
everything."
We sat and sipped our wine as the movie rolled on, watching as the man,
played by Billy Long, followed Amber into the kitchen, stuck his head
under the sink, taking no longer than ten seconds to fix her pipes.
Then it was her turn to fix his pipe. She wasted no time in stripping
off his uniform and sinking to her knees, taking his huge cock in her
mouth, moaning as she hungrily sucked his member. He reached down and
freed her ample bosom from her dress, kneading her tits with his hands.
Soon she was draped across the kitchen table while he pounded her
snatch, making her breasts jiggle like Jello brand gelatin dessert. I'd
seen a few porn movies before, grainy 8mm films that Cecil had shown me,
as well as some better produced 16mm films that Bradley had brought home
to watch with Helen and me in their bedroom. They all had a certain
sameness to them, bad acting, cheesy dialogue, and the sex, which was
the whole point of these movies, had a mechanical quality to it, as if
the whole film could be reduced to a close-up of a cock inside a cunt
and it wouldn't make much of a difference.
Still, seeing Amber get pumped by Billy on the table had an effect on
me, and I crossed and re-crossed my legs as I sat on the couch next to
Jack, unable to keep from pressing my thighs together, feeling a hunger
growing in my belly. I could tell that Jack was sort of getting off,
too, not so much from the movie, which he no doubt had seen many times,
from shooting to editing, but from the fact that he was watching this in
the presence of a teenage girl, one who might have seemed innocent on
the surface but had actually made a film like this once. He kept
glancing over at me as I watched the movie, his arm draped across the
back of the couch, barely inches from my shoulder.
I reached back and took Jack's hand, placing it on my shoulder and
moving closer to him. He gently caressed my arm, moving his hand up to
the cap sleeve of my peasant blouse and tugging it off of my shoulder,
his fingers lightly grazing my neck. I looked over at him and smiled,
placing my hand on his bare thigh, running my fingers under the hem of
his short terrycloth robe.
"You like the movie?" he asked me.
"Yes, I do," I said, slowly moving my hand higher until I felt the tip
of his semi-erect penis laying along his hairy thigh. My fingers danced
over his shaft and he began to stiffen. Jack reached down and untied
his robe.
"Damn, you're huge," I said, seeing his cock for the first time. And he
wasn't even fully erect. Jack's cock was long, thick, circumcised, with
a fat mushroom head.
"That's how I broke into this business," Jack said.
"You starred in these movies?"
"Years ago," he replied. "Got out of the Navy in '46, couldn't find
work. I answered an ad in the paper and that was that. Would you like
to see one of my old movies?"
"Yes, please."
"Be back in a second," he said, getting up from the couch and rummaging
through a hall closet. He brought out a box of tapes, stopping Amber
and Billy in mid-thrust and ejecting their tape. He slotted a new one,
and hit the play button.
"I had some of my old loops transferred to tape," Jack said, shrugging
off his robe. His huge cock bobbed in front of him as he walked back to
the couch and sat down. I took off my top and slipped out of my skirt,
sitting next to him again and stroking his thick, veiny shaft while I
watched the film begin. Jack put his arm around me again, his hand
resting on my breast.
They were old films, grainy black and white, with streaks and spots that
zipped up the screen. No credits, no soundtrack, no dialog, just a
young Jack and a woman with a bobbed hairdo on a bed. Her breasts
looked pointy, as if they'd been molded in that shape by one of those
old bullet-shaped bras. Jack played with her breasts for a minute and
then she leaned into his crotch and began to suck his cock.
"Margaret Del Rio," Jack said, a distant look on his face. "Used to
date President Reagan, she did."
"Wow," I said, trying to picture her with the pompadoured ex-actor. Her
bobbed head bobbed up and down in Jack's lap, and then he pushed her on
her back and mounted her. It was hard to see what was going on, and the
camera didn't zoom in for a genital close-up, but I could see she was
having a good time as Jack pounded her hairy snatch. At least she was
acting like she was enjoying it.
"Damn, she was a vixen," Jack said wistfully. "She must be seventy
years old now." I gently squeezed his cock and leaned over, kissing the
tip of his fat glans, keeping one eye on the television screen. Jack
gasped as I tried to engulf his penis with my mouth, caressing my back
as I began to suck him.
I began to moan like Amber had, just because I thought it was something
Jack expected. He must have liked it, because I could feel him start to
twitch in my mouth, his big hairy balls contracting in my hand as I
cupped and fondled them. His breathing grew heavier and I heard him
groan as he began to erupt in my mouth. Expecting a huge amount of
semen, I clamped my lips around his throbbing organ, swirling my tongue
over his fat cockhead, but after a couple of hot spurts of cum there
were just a few dribbles. He began to soften almost immediately, and
after I cleaned him with my tongue I released him from my lips, letting
his softening penis fall to his thigh.
"I wish I was forty years younger," Jack said, holding me close.
"I like you the way you are," I said, running my hand over the grey hair
that covered his chest.
"Sweet of you to say that," he said, kissing me on the cheek. "You like
older men?"
"Older, younger, I don't care," I said. "You were handsome back then,
and I think you're really handsome now." I watched his younger self on
the video, pounding Miss Del Rio from behind, pulling out of her pussy
so she could suck him to completion, jerking his cock until he spurted
his seed all over her pointy knockers.
"Would you like to go upstairs?" Jack said.
"I'd really like that." He stood up and led me by the hand, up to his
bedroom.
"Let me look at you, sweetheart," he said, sitting on the edge of the
bed. I stood before him, letting him touch me, his hands roaming over
my breasts and belly, my bottom and thighs, his fingers grazing my
freshly shaved cunny. Finally, Jack leaned forward and kissed my tummy,
cupping my bottom in his hands. I ran my fingers through his thick grey
hair, enjoying the way he touched me.
"Lay down for me, Anne," he whispered. I climbed into bed next to him,
laying my head on his pillow. He hovered over me, kissing me on the
lips for the first time. I expected him to be aggressive with his
tongue, but he wasn't, and I had to seek it out with my own. He broke
off our kiss and brushed my blonde hair away from my neck, kissing me
there, nibbling my earlobe, planting more kisses on my shoulder and my
collarbone before lingering on my breasts, teasing my nipples with his
lips, sending an electric sensation through me that shot straight to my
sex.
Jack's lips began to shift lower on my body, over my ribs and belly,
passing over my cleft to my knees and thighs. I spread my legs for him,
eager to feel him kiss me between my legs, but he teased me, kissing my
belly and hip bones, then my thighs again, purposely avoiding my hungry
slit.
"I hope you don't have to be somewhere else," Jack said. "It takes me a
while to get hard again."
"That's alright," I said. "This is where I want to be right now."
"Just what I wanted to hear," he said, smiling. Then he ducked his head
between my legs, kissing my nether lips, his tongue parting them,
probing my cleft, seeking my moisture and teasing my pearl from its
hooded lair. I squeezed his freckled shoulders as he began to lick me,
and his tongue felt as long as his cock, filling me, pleasuring me,
making me squirm on the rippling bed. I rocked my hips, feeling the
waves move up my back and then down, reflecting off of the side of the
waterbed.
"Jack...yes...yes...," I moaned, for real this time, not the simulated
cries of an actress. He cupped my bottom and drew me closer, drinking
from my chalice, his long, pointy tongue lashing my clit. A girl could
get used to this, I thought, closing my eyes and picturing myself on the
set of one of his movies, being taken by him on Amber's kitchen table,
with real lights, real cameras, professionals watching and filming our
every move instead of an amateur like Cecil.
Jack began to lick me faster, squeezing my ass, his tongue curling into
a cylinder and pressing into my passage. I felt the tip rubbing the top
wall of my cunny, my special spot, that sensitive area that only fingers
or cocks could reach. It was as if he knew about this, knew exactly
what I wanted to feel, and I began to come, my whole body shaking,
sending more ripples through the bed. He began to ravish my button
again, pushing me off another peak, a second climax, and I rocked my
hips back and forth, humping his expert tongue. I tugged at his
shoulder, letting him know that I wanted to feel him inside me. Jack
released his hold on my bottom, crawling up the bed and laying next to
me.
"That was wonderful," I whispered, running my hand over his chest,
moving lower, down his belly, taking his flaccid cock in my hand and
gently squeezing it.
"I could tell you liked it," Jack said, smiling and sticking out his
tongue. I lunged for it, sucking it into my mouth, swirling my tongue
over it as if it was a penis. He pulled me on top of him, his hands
stroking my back and bottom as we kissed.
"Let me make you hard again," I cooed. "I want to feel you inside me."
"Give it a try," he said. "It might take a while. I'm not a spring
chicken anymore."
I slithered down his body like a snake, planting a trail of kisses every
couple of inches, curling up between his legs. First I gave the tip of
his cock a tender kiss, gently lifting it and licking the muscular ridge
on the underside, nuzzling his hairy balls, sucking them into my mouth.
Then I engulfed his soft penis in my mouth, all the way to the base,
something I wouldn't have been able to do if he was hard. I felt him
begin to stir and engorge, his blood flowing into his member, making it
beat in my mouth as if it had a heart. I swirled my tongue over his
shaft, tracing every vein and bump, up to his fleshy glans. Jack let
out a soft moan as he began to harden between my lips.
I started stroking his shaft, bathing the tip of his cock with my
tongue, cradling his heavy nuts in my fingers. When I probed his crack
with my fingertip, his hips began to move, sending slow ripples through
the bed. He was halfway there, and I started to moan for him, letting
him know how much I loved his cock, how much I desired him, wanted to
please him, to feel him inside me.
"That's it, sweetheart," Jack murmured. "We're getting there." He was
almost fully erect but I didn't stop sucking him, even though he was
hard enough to enter me. I wanted to worship his thick pole some more,
to moan as I swirled my tongue over his fat cockhead, to be his little
porn star, not stopping until he was throbbing. Finally, I released him
from my mouth, giving his glans another kiss, moving up from between his
legs to straddle his hips, rubbing the tip of his cock over my wet
labia.
"Shit," I said, just as I was about to guide him inside me.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm not wearing my diaphragm," I said. I was going to put it in after
I went swimming, and I hadn't expected to meet someone at the pool.
"Don't worry," he said, pressing upwards with his hips. "Vasectomy."
"Really?"
"Yup, got snipped years ago," he said.
"That's the best news I've heard in all day," I said, slowly lowering
myself on to his hard meat, feeling him enter me, open me, fill me.
Jack reached up and cupped my breasts, flicking his thumbs over my stiff
nipples. As I began to slide up and down on his pole, he held my
bottom, guiding my rhythm, setting the pace of our coupling. He felt
huge inside me, and even though I never really cared about the size of a
man's penis, Jack's mighty cock satisfied me in ways I'd never felt
before. Almost immediately I felt that tingling in my belly, that heat
between my legs, as his thick veiny shaft wormed in and out of my hungry
cunny.
I collapsed to his chest and swiveled my hips, stirring my honeypot with
his big stick, savoring the feeling of his fleshy cockhead dragging over
my secret spot, the way the base of his shaft opened me at the bottom of
every stroke. Jack caressed my back, moving his hips in time with mine.
The waterbed didn't allow him much in the way of leverage, so it was up
to me to thrust for both of us. I didn't mind this at all. I wanted to
keep it nice and slow, savoring the feeling of his wonderful tool inside
me, wanting it to last forever.
Even so, as I felt my pleasure begin to rise, I began to hump him
faster, with shorter strokes, quicker movements, seeking just the right
combination of speed and depth that would push me over the edge. Jack
put his hands on my bottom again, squeezing my cheeks, urging me to
speed up slightly. I began to move even faster, making our thighs slap
together with every stroke. He began to twitch inside me, and I knew he
was getting close, so I closed my eyes and imagined a camera crew around
us, hot lights, the bedroom merely a set on a sound stage. That was
just what I needed to reach my climax, and I began to come, nearly
screaming as his cock pumped my needy hole. Jack smiled as he heard my
cries, guiding me up and down on his hardness, rocking his hips with
each thrust, his fingers digging into my flesh.
I thought he was close, but he wasn't, and as I reached a second, higher
peak of pleasure I clenched myself around his thick shaft, hoping to
feel him spurt his seed inside me while I was still in the throes of my
orgasm, something I loved to feel. Jack gasped when he felt my muscles
contract, and I felt his cock begin to spasm in my passage, a feeling of
warmth spreading through my sex as his semen gushed into my cleft. I
felt him begin to soften as soon as he came, and I slowed my movements,
hoping he wouldn't slip out of me right away. I laid my head on his
chest and let out a sigh, listening to his breathing and the beating of
his heart.
"Where'd you learn to do things like that?" Jack asked me, gently
caressing my hair.
"Things like what?"
"That thing you did with your pussy, the squeezing thing," he said.
"And that blow-job you gave me. I never get hard that fast."
"I guess I've had some good teachers," I said. "That squeezing thing I
learned from a magazine, Cosmopolitan, I think. I used to practice it
with a dildo." Jack chuckled at that and kissed me on the cheek. His
laughter made his cock slip out of me, so I rolled off of him and
snuggled up against his warm body.
"Some boy must be very lucky to have a sexy girlfriend like you," Jack
said.
"I don't have a boyfriend right now," I said. "I did, but now he won't
talk to me." I realized that I still felt bitter over Brad's silent
treatment.
"Sounds like a cad to me," he said. "A bounder." Now it was my turn to
laugh.
"Tell me, Jack," I said, "do you think I could be in one of your movies
someday?"
"You don't want to do that, Annie."
"Why not?"
"It's not that you're not sexy. You are," Jack said. "And it's not
that you're not pretty. You're very pretty. A beautiful young woman.
But starring in one of my movies isn't something you want to do. It's
not a choice you want to make. The girls I work with didn't come to
Hollywood to fuck for the camera in a rented house in the Valley. They
all came to become starlets, singers, dancers, and not the exotic kind
of dancing, either. Take Amber, for example. She couldn't even get a
spot on a feminine hygiene deodorant commercial, and it wasn't for lack
of trying. When I met her she was waiting tables at a chop house, down
to her last fifty dollars, just about to take the bus back to Cape Cod."
"Really?"
"Yeah, and that's not all. It's hard work, demanding work, three hours
under the lights to shoot enough footage for a ten minute segment, and
that's if nothing goes wrong. And Amber looks like she's having fun,
but she's miserable, on camera and off. You know where she is right
now?"
"Where?"
"She's in detox, Anne, a private place in Palm Springs, her third
thirty-day program in the last two years. Amber likes her pills, and
she drinks like a fucking fish. Right before she ended up back in detox
she got drunk on the set and threw up all over Tony Thicke's schlong.
Now his agent won't even return my calls, which really screws me over
because I wanted to feature him with Amber, with Dani Lamour, with Tina
Martin. The kid's a real fucking machine and now his agent wouldn't
piss on me if I was on fire."
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said, kissing him on the cheek.
"Hey, you and me both, kid." Jack put his arm around me, giving me a
gentle hug. "I know it sounds trite, but you should stay in school, go
to a good college, get a decent job so you won't have to earn a living
on your back."
"That's what I hope to do," I said.
"Good, that's great," he said. "How come I never saw you around before?
Did you just move here?"
"I'm just visiting," I replied. "I live in Boston, but my father's here
with his family."
"I see, I see," Jack said. "How long are you here for? I'd love to see
you again."
"I'd like that, but I go back on Sunday."
"Too bad," Jack said, kissing my forehead. "I'm flying out to Palm
Springs tomorrow to see Amber. She's going to be released on Saturday."
"Well, I'll be back, maybe for spring break, maybe this summer, too."
"Great," Jack said, hugging me again. "Something to look forward to."
"Me, too," I said, reaching for his flaccid penis and giving it a gentle
squeeze. "I've got to get back to the house."
"Yeah, just fuck me and run," Jack laughed. I gave his cock another
playful squeeze and kissed him on the lips before getting out of bed.
My clothes were downstairs, on the floor by the living room couch. As I
stood up, I could feel Jack's semen start to drip down my leg.
"Damn," I said, running to the bathroom for some toilet paper.
"What's the matter, sweetheart?"
"I forgot to wear panties when I left the house."
"You sound like a porn star already," Jack said. "Here, I've got some
for you." I wiped his cum from my thigh and returned to the bedroom.
Jack had opened a dresser drawer; it was filled with lingerie.
"You wear these?" I said, pulling a tiny red heart-shaped g-string
trimmed with white marabou from the drawer. I tried not to laugh as I
pictured Jack in this frilly confection, his hairy balls hanging out of
the tiny panties.
"Jeez, Annie. You think that would fit me? No, this is Amber's stuff.
She stays out here with me sometimes."
"Wouldn't she mind someone else wearing her undies?" I asked him.
"Take what you want," Jack said. "Hell, I bought it all for her. She
won't even notice what's missing."
"Thanks," I said. "I just need a pair of panties. I can bring them
back later."
"Don't worry about that," he said. "Think of it as a souvenir."
I rummaged through the drawer, trying to find something that wasn't a g-
string or crotchless, neither of which would keep Jack's semen from
dripping down my leg as I walked home. I thought about putting my wet
bikini bottoms on when I found something made of cotton at the bottom of
the drawer. I pulled it out, and it wasn't much more than a g-string,
but the back was wider and there was enough coverage over the crotch to
suffice for my immediate needs. While Jack disappeared into the
bathroom to empty his bladder, I stepped into the tiny panties and
pulled them up my thighs. The front covered about as much as a string
bikini would, but the back was tiny, exposing my cheeks. I turned
around and looked in the mirror on the closet door.
"It's a good look for you," Jack said, patting my nearly bare bottom.
"Amber called it a 'thing' or a 'thong' or something. Big in Brazil,
she says."
"Feels weird," I said.
"She also calls it 'butt floss'."
"I can see why." There was a thin strip of material running between my
cheeks, though not as thin as a g-string's ribbon. Jack and I shared
another kiss in front of the mirror and then we headed back downstairs.
I got dressed, finished my wine, and grabbed my wet swim suit from the
patio, giving Jack one more kiss before I left. He pulled on his robe
and saw me to the door, reaching into his pocket for his wallet and
pulling out a card.
"Listen, if you're ever in L.A., give me a call," he said. "We'll have
dinner or something, and I'll take you on the set of one of my movies.
You can see for yourself what a pain in the ass they are to shoot."
"Thanks, Jack," I said, taking the card. "I hope everything goes well
with Amber."
"Sweet of you to say that," he said, leaning over to kiss me on the
cheek, a fatherly kiss, not the kiss of a lover. "Stay in school,
Annie. Promise me that, willya?"
"I promise." I took his hand and squeezed it, heading down the walkway,
waving when I got to the sidewalk.
I arrived home a few minutes later. Mia still wasn't home, neither was
Dana, but the door to David's bedroom was closed. I headed into Dana's
bedroom, intending to change out of Amber's thong, but by now I was
getting used to the feeling of the thin strip of cotton between my
cheeks, and there was something naughty about wearing tiny panties that
belonged to a porn star. I kept them on and took my bathing suit into
the bathroom, hanging it over the shower curtain pole.
That's when I heard it, a woman's voice coming from David's room. She
was moaning, almost crying, repeating something over and over. Quietly,
I slid open the door that led from the bathroom to his bedroom and
peered through the gap.
"Dios mio...Dios mio...Dios mio..." It was Maria, the housekeeper. She
was tied to the David's bed, spread-eagle, face down, a pillow under her
hips, her big round bottom jutting into the air. David was on top of
her, pounding away at her pussy, his hard cock wrapped in a latex
condom. I wondered if this was consensual, whether David was really
raping her, but she turned her head and I saw her expression. Her smile
was unmistakable.
"Si...David...si...chinga...chinga me..." Maria pronounced his name
like "Da-veed", and I knew enough Spanish to know what "chinga me"
meant: "fuck me". Sex, the universal language.
"Take it, bitch," David muttered, slamming into the housekeeper's sex.
She cried out, writhing underneath him, straining at the bonds that held
her as she came. I could see this had a galvanic effect on David, and
his thrusts got even harder, faster, until he buried himself inside her,
his whole body stiffening as he filled the condom with his semen. He
fell on to her back, kissing her neck as he caught his breath. They
laid like this for a while and then he climbed off of her, untying her
arms and legs. She rubbed the raw spots on her wrists where the ropes
had dug into her skin.
Maria leaned forward and kissed David, and then he did something that
surprised me. He peeled the condom from his softening penis and gave it
to her.
"Drink it," he said. Maria smiled and emptied the contents of the
rubber into her mouth, swishing his semen around before swallowing it.
Then David leaned in and kissed her again, hard this time, locking lips
with her, squeezing her full breasts, his tongue making her cheek bulge.
They broke off their kiss and she laughed, reaching down to the carpet
to collect her clothing. David laid on the bed and watched as the
housekeeper put on her underwear, tattered cotton panties and an old
worn bra, her pantyhose and slip, her light blue uniform dress and
starched white apron, and finally her white shoes. She gave David
another kiss, on the cheek this time, and left his bedroom, humming to
herself.
I watched as David untied the ropes from his bed post and coiled them
up, placing them in the bottom of one of his desk drawers. Then he
pulled a magazine from under one of his pillows, the one that was all
bondage pictures, and sat down on his bed, lighting a joint. I knocked
on his door and opened it.
"Wanna hit?" he said, offering the joint to me.
"Sure, thanks," I said, taking it from him as I sat down on his bed.
"Where'd you go?" David asked. "I looked for you when I got home from
school."
"I went swimming," I said. "David, I have to tell you something."
"What is it?"
"I saw what you were doing with Maria."
"You were spying on me?"
"Sort of, yes," I said, handing the joint back to him. "I thought you
were, well..."
"What?"
"I thought you were raping her," I confessed. "I had to make sure."
"Me? Raping her?" David said, indignant. "That's bullshit. Don't you
know me better than that?"
"Davy, I've only known you for a week," I said, reaching for his hand.
"I'm sorry."
"No, you don't have to apologize," he said, intertwining his fingers
with mine. "I could see how you would think that."
"I'm glad you understand," I said. "You liked tying her up, didn't
you?"
"Yes," David said, smiling sheepishly. "She came in with the laundry
and caught me jerking off, and then one thing led to another..."
"And she didn't mind it when you tied her up?"
"It was more her idea than mine," David said. "She saw the magazine
and..."
"I see. Did you have a safe word?"
"A what?"
"A safe word," I said. "A way for her to let you know that you're
hurting her or that she wants you to stop."
"No," David replied. "I just figured she'd tell me."
"Okay, but promise me you'll agree on one next time. Something other
than 'no' or 'stop'."
"Like what?" David asked. "What would be a good word?"
"Something that has nothing at all to do with sex, like 'chicken' or
'raspberry'."
"Chicken," he laughed. "That's a good one."
"It's the word I used with Julia."
"Julia?"
"A woman I knew in Maine," I said. "We were lovers."
"Chicken," he said again. We passed the joint back and forth and looked
at the magazine together. After we finished the weed, I gave him a kiss
and went to take the dog for a walk. When I returned, Maria was mopping
the kitchen floor, still humming to herself. As I hung up the dog's
leash, I imagined her on all fours, naked, the dog's black leather
collar around her neck. I pictured myself holding the leash, pulling
her head between my legs and making her lick me while David took her
from behind. Maria saw me enter the kitchen, smiled, and went back to
her mopping.
I thought about showing David how to torture her with pleasure, to bind
her and keep her on the edge of her climax until she begged for her
release, to make her come so hard she would pass out, just as Julia had
done for me. There wasn't time, though. I had to get ready for my
dinner with Krystle and her husband. As I headed back to Dana's
bedroom, I heard her and Mia coming through the front door. Mia greeted
me with a kiss on the cheek, and I got a big hug from Dana. She was
wearing her black velvet leotard, white tights, and pink legwarmers, her
hair tied into two thick, curly pigtails. She looked cute enough to
eat.
While Dana changed out of her dance clothes and sat down to do her
homework, I took a shower and shampooed my hair. I'd already taken a
bath with Mia after breakfast, spent the morning at the pool, had
another shower at Jack's place, and now I was in the shower again.
Considering that I was visiting a city in the middle of a desert, I was
spending a lot of time under water. I wanted to look good for dinner,
though, and there was the matter of Jack's cum, still oozing from my
cunny. I finished my shower quickly, dried my hair, and wrapped myself
in a towel.
Dana was seated at her desk, a textbook open before her, writing notes
on a spiral-bound pad. She looked up and smiled, and I gave her a quick
kiss on the cheek before getting ready. I had an hour before I had to
be at Krystle's house, so I had to hurry. Dana closed her books and
watched as I dressed, helping me hook my lacy black bra and attach the
garter belt's tabs to my stockings. I took my time with my makeup,
wanting to look perfect for dinner with Krystle and her husband, knowing
that they might have me for dessert.
I slipped on the black sheath dress I'd worn to dinner the week before.
Dana zipped up the dress and clasped the pearl necklace Helen had given
me, looking on as I put on my earrings, a gift from Julia, one of the
few things I'd managed to keep my room mate at the foster home from
stealing. I put on a pair of black pumps and stood in front of the
mirror, straightening the hem and straps of my dress.
"You look beautiful," Dana said.
"Thank you, sweetie." I gave her an air kiss, not wanting to smear my
lipstick. Dana followed me out to the kitchen, where Mia was cooking
dinner.
"Stunning," Mia said, "Absolutely stunning."
"Thanks," I said. "How's your back?"
"Better, thank you." Mia sat down at the table, and I could tell from
her deliberate, slow movements that her back was still bothering her.
"Maybe you should see a doctor or something."
"I'll be fine," she said, taking a sip of wine. "If it still bothers
me tomorrow, I'll see if I can get an appointment with my chiropractor."
"Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?" I asked her.
"No, but thanks," Mia said. "I'm going to lie down for a bit while the
boulliabaise simmers. And Dana's here to help me, right sweetie?"
"Yes, Mommy," Dana said, holding on to her stepmother's hand and nodding
eagerly.
"Do you need a ride, Annie?" Mia said. "I can drive you to Krystle's
place."
"No, thanks," I said. "It's not far. I can walk."
"Call us if you need a ride back," she said. "And have fun."
"I'm sure I will," I said, leaning over to give Mia a light kiss on the
cheek. I checked my makeup one last time in the mirror in the front
hall, checking my purse to make sure I had my lipstick and keys, and
left the house, stepping into the twilight.
* * *
Krystle greeted me at the door, welcoming me with a hug and a kiss,
inviting me inside. Her hair was freshly styled, and she wore a lovely
blue silk cocktail dress, low cut, showing plenty of cleavage. She took
my hand and ushered me into the living room. Her house was much larger
than my father's, and the furniture more expensive. She earned more
than twice as much as my father, and it showed.
"You look gorgeous, Anne," Krystle said.
"Thank you," I replied. "So do you. That's a beautiful dress."
"Thanks, hon. Steve should be down in a minute," she said. "Would you
like a drink?"
"Please."
"We have soda, wine, whatever you like."
"What are you having?" I asked her.
"Steve and I like a martini or two before dinner," she said. "Would you
like one?"
"I've never had a martini."
"Then you're in for a treat," Krystle said. "Miguel mixes the best
martinis on the planet."
"Miguel?"
"One of our servants," she explained. "We employ a housekeeper and a
cook, but I hire extra people when we have friends for dinner. I just
don't have the time to entertain, what with work and all." Krystle went
to fetch Miguel, and I sat on the black leather couch, looking around
the room. Everything looked new and shiny, but there was a glitzy
quality to the furniture and knick-knacks, as if one was meant to know
how expensive these things were. Helen's house was also luxurious, but
it was a subtle luxury, not gaudy like Krystle's chrome and glass
furnishings.
"Here we go," Krystle said, returning with Miguel, a tall, handsome
young man in a short black waistcoat and perfectly pressed trousers. He
set about the task of mixing a pitcher of martinis, adding gin and just
a hint of vermouth to a shaker filled with ice. He capped the decanter
and shook it vigorously, pouring the clear mixture into three martini
glasses, adding an olive to each. Just then Steve appeared, entering
through the living-room's double doors, dressed in a sharp blue suit.
He was taller than my father, with closely-cropped red hair that was
starting to thin on top. Despite that, he was handsome, with clear
hazel eyes and a cleft chin.
"Anne, this is my husband, Steve," Krystle said.
"A pleasure to meet you," he said, extending his hand for a shake.
"The pleasure is mine," I said.
"Krys tells me that you're quite good with computers," Steve said,
accepting a martini from Miguel.
"I guess," I replied. "I'd never touched one until the other day."
"Steve's company makes those," Krystle said.
"Just the chips," he said. "The parts inside, processor, memory,
controllers. Here..." Steve picked up a lucite cube from the coffee
table and handed it to me. Embedded within was a square black wafer.
One side was covered with little gold pins. The other bore a white
stencil with the name of Steve's company and a series of tiny numbers.
"That's the brain of a computer," he said. Steve took a seat in one of
the leather armchairs, across from the couch.
"Cool." It was pretty neat, and I wanted to hear more. My curiosity
had been piqued.
"Don't get him started, Annie," Krystle said. "He can go on all night
about these things. Try your martini, let me know if you like it." She
sat down on the couch next to me.
I took a sip of my drink. It was strong but smooth, with an interesting
aftertaste, ever so slightly fruity.
"It's very good," I said. I would have liked a glass of wine instead,
but sipping this martini made me feel grown-up, sophisticated.
"Don't drink too fast," Krystle said. "These go right to your head." I
took her advice and paced myself, taking small sips, one for every two
of hers. Miguel mixed another round and then excused himself, bowing
slightly before leaving us. Steve poured the second round, and we made
small talk while we waited for dinner to be served.
In between listening to Krystle talk about the latest Paris fashions,
Steve talking about the new plant his company was building in Malaysia,
and answering their questions about Boston and the school I was going to
attend, I felt a distinct sexual tension in the room. Maybe it was the
way Steve was looking at me, or perhaps the way Krystle placed her hand
on my knee, squeezing it to punctuate what she was saying. I was just
about to put my hand on hers when a maid entered the room.
"Dinner is served, ma'am," she said. She wore a formal maids' uniform,
not the skimpy, frothy French kind, like the servants who attended
Bradley and Helen's swing parties wore, rather a long, charcoal grey
dress that came down above the knees, with a starched white apron tied
around her neck and waist. The maid was buxom, slightly chubby, like
Mia's housekeeper, but her high cheekbones and copper-colored skin
betrayed more than a hint of Native-American blood somewhere in her
ancestry.
"Thank you, Pilar," Steve said. She bowed and left the room.
"Shall we?" Krystle said. She stood up and held out her hand, leading
me into the dining room.
The table was the one piece of furniture I actually liked. A thick
glass oval sat upon a curved pedestal carved from green-tinted granite,
a welcome change from the chrome furniture in the living room. As I
took my seat, a second maid emerged from the kitchen with a soup tureen,
ladling gazpacho into my bowl. I'd never had that before, and I took a
small taste first. It was pretty good.
After the soup there was a salad course, and then roast game hen.
Miguel stood at attention while we ate and conversed, ready to refill a
water glass or pour more wine. Dessert was served afterwards, chocolate
mousse with freshly whipped cream, and coffee. As the maids cleared the
table, we returned to the living room, where Miguel poured snifters of
brandy, lighting Steve's cigar with a gold lighter.
"Bring me the tray Miguel," Steve said to the servant. Miguel snapped
to attention and left the room, returning with a silver tray which he
placed on the coffee table. It held six even lines of white powder and
a long chrome cylinder.
"Would you like some coke, Annie?" Krystle asked.
"Yes, please," I said. Krystle held my hair back as I leaned over the
coffee table and snorted one of the lines. I sat up and tilted my head
back, feeling the rush spread through my whole body.
"Oh my," I said, passing the chrome straw to Krystle, my heart beating
faster, a feeling of exhilaration coursing through my veins. "Oh my."
"Good stuff," Steve said. "Peruvian flake."
Krystle did a line and handed the straw to Steve. He snorted one and
passed it to me. As I did the second line, I could feel the first one
start to drip down the back of my throat, numbing it. After we finished
the coke, Steve pulled a gold cigarette case from his jacket, pulling
out a joint and lighting it. As good as the coke was, the pot was even
better, sweet tasting, with an almost skunky odor. I took a sip of
brandy and felt a sheen of perspiration on my forehead.
"You look hot, dear," Krystle said. "We can turn up the air
conditioning if you'd like."
"Don't bother," I said, reaching back and tugging at the zipper of my
dress. "I hope you don't mind." I stepped out of my black sheath and
sat down on the couch in my lace bra and panties. My inhibitions had
left with that first line of coke. Besides, I knew why I was here.
"That's a good idea," Krystle said. "Would you unzip me, Anne?" She
wore an expensive pale blue lace bra and matching panty underneath her
dress, no stockings or hose. As we passed the joint around, I felt her
hand on the small of my back, gently caressing me with a slow circular
motion.
Some people get very talkative when they do cocaine. I wasn't one of
those people, but Steve and Krystle were. Over the next half hour I
heard more than I needed to know about them, where they grew up, where
they went to school, just about everything. Krystle had been born and
raised in New Mexico, on a cattle ranch, one of eight children. She'd
dropped out of high school to wait tables in a diner, but she managed to
get an equivalency certificate and get accepted into a community
college. From there she transferred to New Mexico State and got a
degree in business management, moving to Tucson first before coming to
Phoenix, picking up her real estate license along the way. It was here
that she met Steve.
He'd grown up outside of Seattle, and studied electrical engineering at
Cal Tech, getting a position with Boeing right before the first energy
crisis in the early Seventies. Being a new employee, he was the first
to go when the layoffs began. For a while, the only work he could find
was on a used car lot, cleaning automobiles. When a sales position
opened, he took it, figuring that business would pick up soon, and he'd
be re-hired by Boeing.
After two years it looked like that would never happen, so Steve headed
south. If he was going to sell cars, he might as well do it where it
didn't rain three hundred days each year. He worked in San Jose, then
Las Vegas, before finding a sales position at a new car dealership in
Phoenix, where he worked with my father. And just as my father had met
Mia when her parents flew down from Montreal to buy her a Jeep, Steve
met Krystle when she came in to the showroom to price a new car. They
dated, got engaged, and right before the wedding the company Steve now
works for began to hire engineers. It was only a couple of years before
he was made a manager, on the fast track for a vice presidency.
Then it was my turn. As Krystle sat next to me, stroking my hair and
caressing my thighs, Steve asked me whether I'd decided on a college.
"I have a couple of years before I have to decide," I said.
"Wait, I thought you're at least seventeen," Steve said. "How old are
you?"
"I just turned fifteen."
"I told you how old she is," Krystle said.
"No you didn't," he complained.
"Yes I did," she said. "Last night. Don't you remember?"
"What, when we were in bed?"
"Right after Johnny's monologue," Krystle said. "Weren't you
listening?"
"Sorry, Krys," he said. "I must've been half asleep. What's the age of
consent here?"
"Eighteen, I think," she said. "Not that they ever enforce that,
especially on the reservations."
"Shit," Steve said. "Get dressed, Anne. I'll drive you home."
"No," I said.
"What?" Steve looked as if he'd just been slapped in the back of the
head.
"I said 'no'. I came here to get laid, and that's what I want to do."
Krystle squeezed my thigh and laughed.
"I told you she was a wild one," she said. "Let's do some more lines."
"Okay, if you say so," Steve said, somewhat reluctantly. He summoned
Miguel, who had been waiting in the dining room. The servant took the
tray and left, returning a minute later with six more lines of cocaine.
While he was gone, Krystle had reached behind my back and unhooked my
bra. I shrugged the straps off of my shoulders and say back on the
couch while she cupped and fondled my breasts. Eighteen or not, I could
tell Steve was getting aroused as he watched his wife play with my
little titties. I unclasped her bra and caressed her full breasts,
teasing her nipples, feeling them stiffen between my fingers.
We snorted the cocaine and smoked another joint. Miguel poured more
brandy, and I could see his hardness pressing against the leg of his
trousers. He managed to keep a deadpan expression, though there was a
stiffness to his gait. I suppose it's not easy to walk with an
erection.
Steve took off his jacket and loosened his tie, undoing the top button
of his shirt. By this time Krystle and I were making out on the couch,
our lips locked together, our hands roaming over each other, caressing,
squeezing, pinching. Steve got up from his armchair and sat down on the
couch next to me, gently exploring my body. I felt him pull my hair
away from my neck and start to kiss me there, working up to my earlobe,
nibbling it as he squeezed my breasts. I leaned against the back of the
couch and let Steve and Krystle have their way with me.
"Let's go upstairs," Krystle whispered. She stood up from the couch and
helped me to my feet, taking my hand and leading me upstairs. Steve was
right behind me, his hand on my bottom, cupping my cheeks through my
black lace panties. We walked down a carpeted hallway, framed prints on
the walls, past their big bedroom and through a doorway.
"This is our playroom," Krystle said. "It's supposed to be our guest
bedroom, but our guests usually don't get much sleep."
The room was large, as big as my father's bedroom. There was a king-
sized bed with straps attached to the bedposts at each corner. Next to
it was an armoire, the drawers partially open, revealing an assortment
of toys: dildos, vibrators, massage oils, lubricants, handcuffs, whips
and paddles. Another drawer contained lingerie, feather boas, some
leather items that I couldn't identify. Opposite the bed was a door
that led to a bathroom, and I could see a large plastic sheet covering
the tile floor.
"Who are your guests?" I asked.
"Just people we meet in bars," Steve said. "Men, women, couples."
"Sometimes we place a personal ad in the paper," Krystle added.
"Variety is the spice of life."
There was a knock on the door and Miguel entered, carrying the tray of
cocaine in one hand, and a bottle of champagne in the other. Behind him
was one of the maids, carrying a tray with three champagne flutes and a
silver bucket filled with ice. Miguel placed the cocaine on the bedside
table and opened the bottle. The cork made a loud popping sound and a
bit of foam bubbled out of the neck. Then he poured it into the three
glasses, put the bottle in the ice bucket, bowed slightly, and left with
the maid.
"To Anne," Krystle said, clinking her glass against mine. "A lovely,
sexy young woman."
"I'll drink to that," Steve said. I took a sip of champagne and put
down the glass. My head was starting to spin from all the alcohol and
drugs, and I didn't want to insult my hosts by throwing up and passing
out.
"You should see her pretty little pussy, Steve," Krystle said. As he
started to undress, Krystle knelt behind me and tugged at my panties,
pulling them down over my thighs, exposing my shaved cunny to her
husband. He smiled as he stepped out of his trousers and took off his
shirt. I could see his hardness poking at the front of his red silk
boxer shorts, making a tent in the shiny fabric.
"You've seen it before?" Steve asked.
"Tuesday, when I was with her and Frank in the model home at Corazon,"
she replied.
"Wait a second, you and Frank?" Steve said, frowning. "I thought we
agreed..."
"We agreed not to fall in love with anyone else," Krystle said. "You
don't think I'd fall for one of my salesmen, do you?"
"No, but..."
"Steve, honey, he's just a swinging dick to me," she said. "Nothing
more. Besides, you're going to fuck his little girl. I think it's a
fair deal for everyone."
"I guess," Steve said. He didn't sound convinced, but that didn't stop
him from coming up to me and kissing me on the lips, his tongue seeking
mine, his hands squeezing my bottom as his wife caressed my back and
cupped my breasts.
"Taste her, Steve," Krystle said. "Stick your tongue in that lovely
little pussy of hers. Lay down, baby." I laid down across the bed and
Krystle stretched out next to me, pressing her lips against mine, her
hands busy with my breasts, kneading them, pinching my nipples.
Steve went straight for my sex. No teasing, no kisses on the thighs or
the backs of my knees. He started lashing my clit almost immediately
with his tongue, sucking it with his lips, his fingers probing my
passage. I could feel his knuckle pressing against my sensitive inner
spot, and as Krystle began to suckle my breasts, I felt my pleasure
build, spurred on by the coke we'd snorted, the pot we smoked, the
martinis, the wine, the brandy, the champagne. It made it easy to let
myself go. I closed my eyes and felt like I was reduced to a clit and a
pair of nipples, that this was all that was left of my body, the rest
having melted away like an ice cube in the Arizona sun.
And then I felt it, a cold, wet sensation on my breasts. Krystle had
taken a piece of ice from the bucket and held it between her lips, using
it to circle my nipples. I almost jumped out of my skin when I felt it,
not because of the cold, but from surprise, the unexpected sensation
that drew me back into the moment. But then I let go of myself again,
savoring this new feeling as the ice stiffened my nipples and sent
chills through my whole body. Steve was still ravishing my sex, licking
and sucking my pearl, his fingers busily sawing in and out of my slit.
Krystle swallowed what was left of the ice cube and lightly grazed my
nipples with her teeth, and that was what sent me over the edge,
trembling in her arms and pinning Steve between my quivering thighs. He
looked up from between my legs and smiled, and then he stood up and
stepped out of his silk boxers.
I now understood what Krystle saw in my father. Steve's hard cock was
no bigger than David's, and it wasn't very thick, either, though his
purplish glans was nice and fat. His balls, though, were enormous, the
biggest pair I'd ever seen. They wouldn't have been out of place
between the legs of a horse, although they made his penis look even
smaller by comparison. I sat up on the bed and reached for him,
stroking his cock, cupping his huge sack. He had almost no body hair,
just sparse red patches on his chest and groin, and almost none on his
scrotum. I thought he'd shaved himself, but I could feel a fine, almost
invisible fur. I leaned forward and began to lick and suck his big
nuts. Steve sighed and stroked my hair, his hips rocking slowly as I
started to fellate him.
"Take her, Steve," Krystle said, climbing off of the bed and selecting a
vibrator from the armoire. "I want to see you fuck Frank's little
girl."
"Please," I said, pulling his cock from my mouth and looking up at him.
"Fuck me. Please."
Steve and Krystle's horniness was rubbing off on me, and the thought of
her watching me as I took her husband's cock in my hungry cunny made me
ache inside. He gently pushed me back on the bed and mounted me,
reaching down to guide his hardness into my passage. I wrapped my arms
and legs around his body and held him as he began to thrust with short,
shallow strokes. Krystle returned to the bed and turned on the
vibrator, a long pink phallus with a fat head and prominent veins molded
into the latex skin. She touched it to my nipples, my belly, her
husband's swaying balls, and between his buttocks before using it on
herself, rubbing it up and down her cleft as she laid next to us,
watching us fuck.
Steve may not have had the biggest cock in the world, but he did have
stamina, probably a by-product of the cocaine. As his wife squirmed and
writhed on the bed next to us, the big vibe buried in her snatch, he
pumped me for what seemed like an hour, alternating between those short
strokes and hard thrusts that nearly knocked the wind out of me. After
Krystle came she turned the vibrator on me again, pushing me towards
another climax as she rubbed it over my nipples. I could feel her
juices on the vibrator, drying on my areolae, feeling almost as cold as
the ice. I clamped my muscles down on Steve's throbbing cock when I
came, and he gasped, his glans flaring inside me as he began to spurt, a
flow of hot, thick semen that I thought would never end. It seemed like
he'd never stop coming, and I could feel his cream start to seep out of
my messy snatch even before he stopped thrusting and pulled out. There
were clots of sperm all over his softening cock, and Krystle leaned over
to clean him with her tongue, scooping the cum from his shaft and
swallowing it.
Steve wasn't one for cuddling afterwards, but Krystle was, snuggling up
against my body and holding me while he sipped his champagne and watched
us coo and kiss. Her hair was uncharacteristically messy, but she
didn't seem to care. She just wanted to rock me in her arms and kiss me
on the cheek and neck.
"Such a sexy little girl," she whispered. "I hope I have a girl like
you someday."
"Thank you, Krys," I said, kissing her on the lips. We laid together
for a while and then sat up to drink some champagne. My mouth was dry
from all the moaning I'd done, and it felt good to wet my lips with the
bubbly wine.
"Another line?" Steve asked, passing me the tray. We did a line each
and chased it with another joint and more champagne. I began to feel
the urgent need to use the bathroom, so I started to get up from the
bed.
"Gotta go, honey?" Krystle asked.
"Yes, please."
"Let's not let it go to waste," Steve said. "Mind if we join you?"
"You want to...?" I said, suddenly remembering what Krystle had said in
the bathroom that day when we were about to take a shower together.
She'd made me sit on her lap and pee on her, and I remembered her saying
that her husband was into this sort of thing.
"If you'd rather not," Steve said, starting to look disappointed.
"No, I don't mind," I said. When in Rome...
"Wonderful," Krystle said, reaching into the armoire and pulling out a
dog collar and leash. "Let's take our pretty little doggy for a walk."
"Outside? No way," I said.
"No, dear. Just to the bathroom," she said, slipping the leather collar
around my neck and buckling it, just tight enough to keep it from
slipping down to my collarbone. She unhooked my garter belt and rolled
down my stockings, attaching the leash to the collar, and I got down on
my hands and knees as she gently tugged on the tether. She and Steve
walked me into the bathroom, and the plastic sheeting made a crinkling
nose as I crawled over it.
"Would you like to go first, Krys?" Steve said.
"Thank you, honey. Don't mind if I do." She handed him the leash and
laid down on the floor, lying on her back. Steve tugged at the leash
and made me crawl on top of her. His cum was oozing from my slit,
dripping over Krystle's thighs and pooling on the clear plastic.
"I don't know if I can...," I said. I had to pee badly, but it was hard
to do this in front of them, let alone on Krystle.
"Just close your eyes and relax, Annie," Steve said, kneeling next to me
and stroking my back. I took a deep breath and let go, just a trickle
at first, and then a stream of hot urine began to pour from my cleft,
all over Krystle's neatly trimmed pubes, flowing down her sex. She
began to sigh and moan, squeezing her big tits as she smiled at me.
Right before my bladder emptied she shuddered, pinching her nipples as a
mini-orgasm washed through her body.
"Let me clean you," she said. Steve positioned me over her face and she
began to lick my messy hole, swallowing her husband's semen and licking
the beads of piss from my labia. I let out just a bit more pee, the
last drops from my bladder, and she greedily drank it all.
"Mmmm...that was good," Krystle said. "Your turn, now."
I didn't know what she meant by that, but I found out soon enough. I
felt a warm stream of piss flowing down my back, streaming over my
bottom and the back of my thighs. As her husband peed on me, Krystle
reached between my legs and played with my pussy, rubbing my clit,
probing my bottom, making her husband's urine splash against my nether
lips. He must have had a gallon of piss saved up for me, almost a
couple of minute's worth. His flow finally waned to a trickle, and I
felt him shaking off the last few drops.
"Did you like that, Annie?" Steve asked me, helping me to my feet and
removing the leash from my collar.
"Sort of, yeah," I said. Just like when I'd done this with Margaret, at
Julia's house in Maine, I felt nasty, dirty, like there wasn't anything
I wouldn't do, short of something really gross or painful. Krystle
seemed to love it, though, and I could tell Steve was really into it,
from the way his cock was starting to get hard.
"Your turn, dear," she said. Steve laid down on the plastic, not
seeming to mind the pool of urine he was laying in, and Krystle squatted
over him, letting out a steaming stream of piss, all over his cock and
balls. Before she was even finished he was hard again, and I watched as
Krystle kneeled on the floor and Steve mounted her, taking her from
behind. As they fucked doggy-style, I squatted next to her and played
with her swaying breasts, reaching between her legs to rub her big
swollen clit, making her come as her husband pounded her with his stubby
cock. He didn't last as long this time, digging his fingers into her
ass cheeks as he filled her with his cum, almost as much as he'd spurted
inside my cunny.
They must have done this often, because they had the clean-up down to a
science. There was a stack of fresh towels next to the sink, and
Krystle used half of them to blot up the urine that pooled on the
plastic while Steve rolled the sheets up like a rug. Then we stepped
into the shower, my third one that day, not counting what Steve had done
on me, and we lathered each other, rinsing off the residue of our wet
little game.
We dried each other off and Krystle took the dog collar off of my neck,
returning to their playroom to snort some more cocaine. Steve looked as
if he was done for the night, his soft cock looking tiny compared to his
enormous balls. He sat on the bed and watched as his wife and I kissed
and felt each other up, and then laying head to toe, our heads nestled
between each other's thighs, kissing and licking each other's cleft,
making each other quiver and writhe on the bed.
I could taste a lingering trace of urine on her labia, the bitter taste
mixing with her husband's cream and her nectar, but I lapped up the
mixture anyway, making her squirm and pin me between her thighs as she
came. She returned the favor, her lips clamped to my sex as I felt my
whole body tingle. Steve decided to join in, laying behind me and
probing my nether hole with my tongue, his fingers manipulating my slit
as his wife's tongue danced over my clit. I came so hard that I had to
squirm away from them, shaking like a leaf and trying to catch my
breath. Krystle held me in her arms, laying my head on her bosom until
I could feel my strength begin to return.
"Let's go down to the hot tub," Krystle said.
"Hot tub?" I began to wonder if all this water would start to make my
skin dry out, and I made a mental note to use some moisturizer when I
got back home.
"I could use a good soak right now," Steve said. "Come, it's
downstairs."
They led me downstairs, through a hallway, past the kitchen, stopping at
the doorway. I could see Miguel, his trousers down around his ankles,
while Pilar, the maid with the high cheekbones, knelt at his feet,
sucking his long, tanned cock. Steve and Krystle didn't seem to be
self-conscious about letting the servants see them naked, but I stood
behind her, peeking over her shoulder as I watched Miguel fuck the
maid's mouth.
"Miguelito," Steve said. "Bring the champagne and the tray down to the
tub when you get a chance, okay?"
"Si, Senor," Miguel replied. "I will do that right...now." He began to
come in the maid's mouth, making her cheek bulge with his throbbing
member. I could see her throat moving as she swallowed his semen, but
she began to choke on it, coughing wetly and releasing his rod from her
lips. Miguel spurted a couple of ropy jets of sperm all over her face
and the bodice of her apron, but the maid seemed to like this, smiling
as she extended her tongue and began to clean the head of his penis.
"What a stud that boy is," Steve said, leading me down the hall, past
the kitchen and the servants' quarters, through a door that led to a
glazed enclosure, like a small greenhouse. There was a redwood hot tub
in the middle of the room, along with a couple of wooden benches.
Krystle checked the temperature on the heating unit and dipped her hand
in the steaming water.
"Could be a little warmer," she said.
"That's okay," Steve said, checking the gauge and testing the water with
his toe. "I don't like it too hot." As they eased into the warm water,
I followed them, slowly settling into the big wooden tub. I felt
wonderful, soothing, almost like being back in the womb. Krystle sat
next to me, her arm around my shoulder, her breasts bobbing just beneath
the surface.
Miguel and the maid came in a few minutes later, bringing the ice bucket
with the champagne bottle and the silver tray with six freshly cut lines
of coke. He had a contented smile, almost a smirk. The maid had wiped
his cum from her face, but her apron still had a telltale stain. He
held the tray for us as we snorted the lines and then poured us some
more champagne.
"We'd like some more lines, Miguel" Steve said. "And a joint would be
nice."
"Si, Senor," he replied, leaving with Pilar. They returned a few
minutes later with the silver tray and Steve's gold cigarette case. I
was feeling pretty wired at that point, and I could only do one line.
"What's the matter, Annie?" Krystle asked.
"I'll never get to sleep tonight," I said. "I'm supposed to get up
early tomorrow. We're going camping."
"I can give you something to help you get to sleep," Steve said. "Knock
you right out."
"Thanks," I said. "Would you mind if I gave this line to Miguel?"
"Not at all," Krystle said. "He dips into our stash, anyway." Miguel
blushed and smiled sheepishly, and he took the tray, snorting half of
the line and giving the other half to Pilar.
"Su esposa?" I asked him as he lit the joint and passed it to Krystle.
"Pilar es mi hermana," he replied. The maid smiled and curtseyed.
"What did he say?" Krystle asked me.
"I asked him if she was his wife," I said. "He said she's his sister."
"I could have told you that," Steve said, taking a deep drag on the
joint and passing it to me.
"Miguel worked for our landscaping contractor," Krystle said. "I
thought he was too handsome to be pulling weeds all day. We hired him
and Pilar to be our live-in help. He's a wonderful cook with a
beautiful cock." She accepted the joint from me and took a deep drag.
"Miguelito, show our guest your cock," Steve said.
"Si, senor," he said, unbuttoning his trousers and pulling down his
zipper. Pilar helped him push his trousers and briefs down around his
thighs.
"It's glorious," Krystle said. "You'll love it."
I'd only caught a glimpse of his member in the kitchen. Even flaccid,
it was nice and thick, with a purplish head peeking out of the hood of
his foreskin.
"Ven aqui," I said. Miguel came closer, stepping up on the platform
that surrounded the tub.
"May I?" I asked him, reaching out to touch his thick shaft.
"Si."
As I began to stroke him back to life, Pilar came closer, watching as he
hardened between my fingers. I turned around so I was leaning on the
rim of the tub and ducked my head between his legs, taking him into my
mouth. I could feel Krystle's and Steve's hands on me, cupping my
breasts, dipping between my nether lips, teasing my clit. Pilar gently
brushed my hair away from my cheek as I sucked her brother's cock,
caressing my neck and shoulder.
I heard movement behind me. It was Steve, his hands on my hips, his
stubby prick pressing into me. Krystle reached under me and began to
rub my clit, her full breasts pressing into my arm. As Steve began to
slowly thrust inside me, Miguel rocked his hips to his rhythm, two hard
cocks filling me, one in my mouth, the other pumping my tender hole.
The only thing better than two cocks was three, I thought. I felt a
finger probing my bottom, maybe Steve's, maybe Krystle's, as if my
wishes had been answered. I felt so nasty, so slutty, a husband fucking
me while his wife watched and diddled my clit, and sucking a handsome
young man's meat while his sister fondled his balls. Steve felt bigger
than he had before, his cock fatter, his thrusts harder. Whoever was
fingering my ass had their whole digit inside me, up to the knuckle,
sawing in and out in time with Steve's stubby prick.
I bathed Miguel's cockhead with my tongue, stroking the portion of his
shaft that my lips couldn't reach, feeling that kernel of pleasure
growing within my belly, spreading outward, making me tremble in the
warm water. There were hands all over me, caressing, kneading,
squeezing, and I began to come, releasing Miguel's hardness from my
mouth so I could give voice to my pleasure. Before I closed my eyes, I
saw Pilar take over, turning him so she could continue what I had
started, hungrily gobbling her brother's hard meat.
"She's a wild one," Krystle said, pinching my clit and making me gasp
with surprise and delight.
"Fuck...yes...fuck me...fuck me...," I moaned, urging Steve to pound me
harder, faster, to send me over another peak of pleasure. I opened my
eyes again and saw Pilar hoist her dress and lay down on one of the
benches. Her brother squatted over her, tugged the crotch of her
panties aside, pushed his hardness into her hungry hole, and they began
to fuck furiously as we watched from the hot tub. Suddenly, I felt
Steve's cock twitching in my snatch, erupting in a gusher of his hot
seed, making me cry out as he filled my passage with his thick cream.
His thrusting slowed as Miguel's sped up, and soon the room echoed with
Pilar's cries instead of my own.
Steve slipped out of my slit and sat down again, reaching for his
champagne and taking a sip to quench his thirst. I settled back down on
the seat that ran around the inside of the hot tub, nestling into
Krystle's loving arms. She kissed me on the cheek and I turned my head,
seeking her lips with my own. As Pilar moaned and cried in the throes
of her climax, I reached between Krystle's legs and began to pet her
down there, seeking out her swollen pearl with my fingertips. She began
to sigh, holding me close as I toyed with her sex, wanting her to feel
the pleasure I had experienced at the end of her husband's cock. She
came quickly for me, rocking her hips under the warm water, making
little waves that splashed along the side of the tub.
I heard Miguel start to grunt behind me, and we turned to watch him come
in his sister's snatch, his copious emission making her pussy emit soft
sucking sounds as his thrusts began to slow. Then he pulled out of her
and she sat up, licking his cum and her juices from his softening meat,
kissing his purple glans when she was finished. Pilar helped him pull
his boxers and trousers back up, and he held out his hand to help her to
her feet.
"Thank you, Miguel, Pilar," Steve said. "That will be all."
"Si, Senor. Gracias." He and Pilar left, taking the tray with them. I
heard Miguel say something that made his sister giggle as their
footsteps receded down the hall.
We relaxed in the tub for a while, sipping the last of the champagne.
Krystle asked if she could open another bottle for me, but I declined.
The coke was wearing off, and the warm water had started to make me
drowsy. Steve helped me out of the tub and his wife dried me off with a
plush terrycloth towel, wrapping it around me and leading me back
upstairs to help me get dressed. Steve had gone into the living room to
pour himself a drink and light up a fresh cigar.
"Thank you," I said to her as I sat on the edge of their playroom bed
while she rolled my stockings up my legs. I leaned forward and kissed
her on the forehead.
"You're quite welcome, Anne," she said. "We loved having you for
dinner."
"Can I ask you a question?" I said. "It's sort of personal."
"Sure," she said, attaching my garter belt's tabs to my stockings.
"You and Steve, do you love each other?"
"Of course we do, Annie?" she said. "Why would you think otherwise?"
"I don't," I replied. "I was just curious. I mean, you both see other
people, right?"
"Yes, Annie," Krystle said. "We do."
"The people I live with in Boston, Bradley and Helen, sometimes they
share their bed with other people. But they always do it together."
"Every marriage is different, Anne," she said, leaning forward and
planting a tender kiss between my breasts. "I guess Steve and I just
have bigger appetites than most other people. But if we couldn't see
anyone else, I'd still be happy with him. He's a sweet guy, a
gentleman, and I do love him, Annie. I'm glad we have our
'understanding', that we can see other people, as long as it doesn't
jeopardize the love we have with each other. Does that answer your
question?"
"Yes, thanks," I said. I kissed her on the lips and then she helped me
to my feet, holding me steady while I slipped on my panties and stepped
into my heels. We stood together for a moment, just holding each other.
"Your father says that you might move in with him," Krystle said. "I
hope you do. We'd love to see more of you."
"I'd like that," I said. We kissed again, and she led me back
downstairs to the living room, where I'd left my bra and my dress.
Steve was sitting in one of the armchairs, a towel wrapped around his
waist, drink in hand, puffing on a cigar. He watched as I got dressed
and then stood up to give me a kiss as Krystle zipped up my dress.
"Can I give you a ride home?" he asked.
"No thanks," I said. "I'd like to walk. It's not far."
"I hope we can see you again," Steve said.
"I'm flying home on Sunday, but I might be back for spring vacation," I
said.
"I hope you can call this your home someday," Krystle said. She and
Steve gave me a hug and a kiss and then I left, stepping into the cool
night air.
The route I took home brought me past Jack's place, and I stood outside
his house trying to see if there was a light on inside. I'd been well
and truly fucked by Steve, and Krystle had gone to town on my cunny, but
I still had a yen for the feeling of Jack's huge cock stretching my
tender little hole. I waited a few minutes, trying to see if the
bedroom light was on, but he must have been asleep, even though it was
just past ten o'clock. I let out a little sigh of disappointment and
walked back to the house.
Schultzie was there to greet me at the door, wagging his tail, having
heard my key in the lock. I gave him a friendly scratch behind the ear
and a pat on his furry flank, heading down the hall to Dana's bedroom.
Her door was open and the light was on, but she wasn't in bed. I could
see a light on in David's room through the gap under his door, and I
heard the sound of his unplugged guitar, a tortoise shell pick on steel
strings, the squeak of fingers on the neck.
I heard a giggle and a hushed voice, Dana's voice, coming from inside my
father's den. I stood by the door and listened, and then I knocked
softly.
"Come in," my father said.
He was seated on the couch, wearing just a t-shirt and boxer shorts.
Dana was on his lap, dressed only in her little pink cotton panties, her
arm around his shoulder. There was a nearly-empty bottle of tequila on
the floor in front of the couch, along with his instant camera and a
couple of dozen photographs. I sat down next to them.
"I missed you, Annie," Dana said, reaching out for a hug.
"I missed you, too, baby," I said, kissing her button nose.
"How was dinner?" my father asked.
"It was fun," I replied. "Come on, Dana. It's time for bed."
"But Daddy said I could stay up a little longer."
"It's a school night, sweetie," I said. "Wash up and brush your teeth
and I'll tuck you in, okay?"
"Okay," she said, and she left the room. As my father took a swig from
the bottle, I leaned over and sifted through the pictures he'd taken,
all of Dana in various stages of undress. In one shot, she'd pulled
aside the crotch of her panties and exposed her bald little cunny.
"I'm going to put her to bed," I said to my father. "I'll be back in a
minute."
"Fine," he said.
After I helped Dana into her nightie and tucked her into bed, giving her
a kiss on the lips before turning out the light, I went back into my
father's office. He was still on the couch, flipping through the
photographs, his erection tenting his shorts.
"Where's Mia?" I asked him.
"She took something for her back and fell asleep."
"Dana's too young for this, Daddy," I said, looking at a picture of her
sitting on the couch, her legs spread wide, her panties pulled tight
over her labia.
"I know, Annie," he said. "I didn't touch her. I just took some
pictures."
"Dana's curious about you, Daddy. She saw me suck you in her room that
night," I said, snuggling up to him. "She asked me if it would hurt."
"What would hurt?"
"Your cock, Daddy." I reached into his boxer shorts and fished out his
erection. My father put his arm around my shoulder, caressing my arm.
"I wouldn't do anything to hurt her," he said. "I promise."
"Thank you, Daddy," I said, slowly stroking his thick shaft. I felt him
reaching behind me, unzipping my dress, slipping his hand inside and
rubbing my back.
"What did you do at Krystle's?"
"We had cocktails, and then dinner, and then we went upstairs."
"Steve fucked you?"
"Twice."
"Was he good?" my father asked.
"Not as good as you, Daddy," I said, leaning my head against his
shoulder.
"That's my girl," he said, kissing me on the cheek.
"Krystle told him."
"Told him what?"
"About you and her," I said.
"She did?" my father said, surprised. "How did he take it?"
"Okay, I guess. I think being with me sort of made up for it."
"I'll bet," he said. "Tell me about it. I want to hear."
"They have a whole room they call a 'playroom'. Big bed, a chest full
of toys and stuff, plastic sheets on the bathroom floor..."
"Plastic sheets?"
"They like to pee on each other. Didn't you know that?"
"I knew she was into some kinky stuff, but not this," my father said.
"So, she pissed on you?"
"Actually, I did it on her." My father had the bottle to his lips and
was taking a sip, but he choked when he heard me say this, spewing
tequila all over the place.
"Let me get this straight," he said. "You urinated on my boss. Is that
right? You pissed on the person who signs my paychecks?"
"Yes, Daddy," I said. "Are you angry?"
"Angry? That's the funniest fucking thing I've ever heard," he said,
hugging me, kissing me on the cheek, handing me the bottle. I took a
small sip and passed it back to him. I'd had plenty to drink that
night, even though the cocaine kept me from feeling too drunk and
drowsy. "So then what happened?"
"We washed off and then Steve watched me and Krys for a while," I said.
"Then we went down to their hot tub." I didn't feel like getting into
details, or telling him about Miguel and Pilar, or all the drugs we'd
done. It just didn't feel right, like I was betraying a confidence.
I'd told him just enough to satisfy his curiosity.
"I wish I could have been there," my father said. "Even as a fly on the
wall."
"Maybe some other time," I said. "They want to have me back."
"I'm sure they do," he said. "Who wouldn't want to be with a pretty
girl like you?"
"Thank you, Daddy," I said, gently squeezing his hard cock.
"Take off your dress for me, baby," he said. "I want to see what you're
wearing underneath." I stood up and shrugged my black sheath dress off
of my shoulders and stepped out of it, standing in front of my father in
my lacy black undies and stockings. He pulled me close, running his
hands over my thighs and bottom, leaning forward to kiss my belly. I
slowly got down on my knees, kneeling between his legs, taking his
hardness in my hands again, stroking it, squeezing it, leaning forward
and kissing the tip, parting my lips and engulfing him, swirling my
tongue over his glans.
My father stroked my hair, my shoulders, my back as I slowly sucked him.
I reached into his boxers and cupped his balls, fondling his testicles
as I pleasured him with my mouth. I knew he was close to his release as
soon as my lips closed around his shaft. He must have been hard all
evening, as he snapped pictures of a nearly naked Dana posing on the
couch. My father's cock began to twitch in my mouth, a steady drip of
precum oozing from the tip. Suddenly he squeezed my shoulder and I felt
him begin to throb, his glans flaring as he erupted in a big gusher of
cum. It tasted sweeter than usual, and I knew he'd been hitting the
bottle all night. I swallowed his thick cream, milking him with my lips
until the last dribble of semen passed through his penis, keeping him in
my mouth until he began to soften. Then he pulled me on to his lap and
kissed me on the lips, his tongue seeking out his own essence, his hands
roaming over my skin.
He yawned after our kiss, looking sleepier by the second. I sat in his
lap for a minute or two, my arm around his shoulder, hugging him. Then
I kissed him on the lips again and got up, collecting my dress and
Dana's clothes from the floor.
"Good night, Daddy," I said.
"'night, Annie," he replied. "I'll get you up early tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay, Daddy." I blew him a kiss and left him in his office, as he took
another sip from the bottle.
Dana was sound asleep, so I undressed as quietly as I could and went
into the bathroom, wrapped in a plush towel. I remembered that I needed
to moisturize my skin, which felt dry and scratchy from being in water
all day, three showers, a bath with Mia, the pool, the hot tub. There
was a bottle of Jergen's in the medicine cabinet, and I started with my
arms, rubbing the soothing lotion into my skin. I could hear David,
still awake, still playing guitar. I knocked on the door that led to
his room from the bathroom. David was sitting on his bed, the guitar in
his lap, a book of sheet music open next to him.
"Hey," he said. "How'd it go tonight?"
"It was fun," I said. "Could you do me a big favor, Davy?"
"Sure, anything."
"Could you rub this into my skin?" I said, handing him the bottle of
lotion.
"I'd love to," he said, putting the guitar aside. I dropped my towel
and laid down on his bed, on my back. David knelt next to me,
squeezing moisturizer into his palm and rubbing his hands together.
"Like this?" he asked, starting at my shoulders, gently working the
lotion into my dry skin.
"Perfect," I said. "That really feels nice."
David massaged my shoulders and arms, and then he squirted more lotion
on his hand and gently rubbed it into my breasts, leaning down to kiss
my nipples, making them stand at attention. I closed my eyes and
savored the feeling of his hands on me, his fingers sculpting the curves
and hollows of my body. He began to massage my belly, my hips, working
down my thighs and calves, rubbing my feet, even my toes.
"Roll over," he said. "Let me do your back." I turned over and heard
David squeeze the bottle of lotion. It made a flatulent sound, and we
both laughed at that. He pulled my hair away from my neck and began to
massage my shoulders.
"You have such wonderful hands," I said. "Strong and gentle at the same
time."
"Thanks," David replied, working the lotion into the concave dips
between my shoulder blades. "If you move in with us I'd do this every
night for you."
"It's a deal," I murmured, feeling wonderfully relaxed as he rubbed my
back. I heard another fart-like squirt of lotion and David began to
knead my cheeks, giving me a tender kiss right on my tail bone. He
stopped for a second and I heard the sound of clothes rustling, the
vrrrrp of a zipper. I turned my head and saw him getting undressed, his
lovely cock stirring between his legs.
"I don't want to get this stuff on my jeans," he said, pouring more
lotion on his palm and massaging the backs of my thighs.
"Yeah, right," I laughed. He worked his way down my legs, all the way
to my ankles, and then I felt him straddle me, his hard penis nestled in
my crack, his hands working up again, kneading the knots from my back
and shoulders.
"How was that?" David asked.
"Heavenly," I replied. He stretched out over my back and kissed me on
the neck, nibbling my earlobe, kissing my cheek.
"I love you," he whispered.
"I love you, too," I said. "Put some lotion in my bottom, Davy." He
lifted himself off of my back and I heard another squirt from the
bottle, feeling his slick fingers probing my crack, lubricating my
nether hole. I didn't have to tell him to be gentle this time; he knew
exactly what to do, slipping one finger and then two inside me,
moistening my tight hole, opening me, stretching me. I heard the sound
of more lotion being applied, this time to his penis, that telltale
slapping sound as he stroked himself. And then he was on top of me
again, pressing the tip of his cock to my bottom, slowly pushing inside
me. There was no resistance, no pain. All that coke and alcohol had
deadened my senses, and his wonderful massage had left me in a state of
complete relaxation. His slick shaft slowly slipped inside me, and he
stretched out on my back again, kissing my cheek as he filled my bottom.
David reached for my hands, slipping his fingers between mine as he
began to thrust, slowly pulling back and pushing forward, his sweet
prick sliding in and out of my ass. I brought his hands down to my
breasts, and he held on to them as he pumped my bottom, rubbing my
nipples between his fingers. Reaching down under my belly, I slipped my
hand between my legs, toying with my cleft, teasing my button from its
hiding place. I was numb, though, from all the sex, from the drugs and
booze, and I knew it would take ages to come, if at all. I slipped a
fingertip between my lips, feeling the remnants of Steve's cream that
oozed from my passage.
"I love you, Annie," David whispered in my ear. "I love you, I love
you, I love you..." His words had a galvanic effect on me, and I felt
some sensation returning, a tingling between my legs. I scooped some of
Steve's semen from my slit and used it as a lubricant, rubbing it over
my clit, frigging myself quickly as I pushed my ass back against David's
hips.
"Davy...my baby...my beautiful boy..."
"Annie..."
"Davy..."
I felt my passion begin to rise, a tension in my belly that smoldered
like an ember, a wave of heat that spread through my whole body. I
rubbed myself furiously, trying to fan the flames, to spontaneously
combust beneath David's beautiful boycock, to find my release. It
arrived sooner than I thought, and I began to shudder beneath him,
squeezing his shaft with my bottom, the tension in my body erupting in
an explosion of pleasure. I could feel his cock begin to throb inside
me, the muscular ridge along the underside of his smooth shaft pulsing
like a heartbeat. He caught his breath, a sharp inhalation that
whistled past his lips and then he began to come inside me, filling my
bottom with the heat of his emission, his warm seed flowing from the tip
of his stem. His thrusts began to slow and stop, and he kissed me on
the lips, gently nibbling them with his own.
"Stay in me," I whispered, bearing down on his rigid shaft, clamping my
thighs together to trap him inside me. We rolled over on our sides, and
somehow he didn't slip out of my bottom. As he caressed my belly and
kissed my neck, I felt my exhaustion catch up with me, and I drifted off
to sleep, still connected to my beautiful stepbrother.
* * *
(c) 2003 Anais Ninja anais_ninja@hotmail.com
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/index.html