Message-ID: <7057eli$9801072257@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Atom Ant X-Good-Total-Length: yes Subject: CONSTANT.STY (MF, Cons, pedo) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19980107015837.11475.qmail@nym.alias.net> This story contains graphic descriptions of sexual activity which may offend the overtly sensative, if you find such material offensive don't read it. I did not write this story ========================== * * * * * * * * * * * * * CONSTANT.STY By Friar Dave (Copyright, 1994) * * * * * * * * * * * * * What follows is fiction. Hopefully, entertaining and not too heavy-handed. This work contains heterosexual activity between adult men and women, and between adults and legal minors. A little same-sex exploring between some minors. There is absolutely no domination, submission, violence, piercing or bathroom sports. There's a little nausea, but not related to the sex. The only drugs are some brew and some scotch. There's a bit of coercion, but not what you're probably thinking. If the presence or absence of any of the foregoing is disturbing to you, don't read this. And please don't inflict it on those who don't knowingly ask for it. --fd, 10/1/94 * * * * * * * * * * * * * Three weeks, she thought. Three more weeks. And then the pre-school preparations would get under way. Constance shook herself out of the reverie, tried to refocus her attention on the Thinkpad. She really had to finish the proposal for the school board. Her fingers went to the keys, but her eyes soon wandered back to the bay window. The day was gorgeous. Perfect, stereotypical Bergen County August sunshine flooded the yard, turning the hedges almost luminously green. From two hundred feet away, on the other side of the hedge and muffled by the glass in the window, came the sound of splashing and laughter. The neighbors' kids were true water babies. They reveled in the sunshine and rejoiced in the pool. Constance envied them for their dark complexions. She loved to sit out in the sun, but the genes that had given her bright red hair had also given her pale flesh, all-too- susceptible to melanoma. And Constance sunburned with the best of them, but never tanned. She recalled with longing the carefree days when she was fifteen, sixteen, seventeen -- barely older than the neighbor's kids. After the agonizing years of being called "shrimp" and "beanpole," how she'd savored the pleasure of knowing men's eyes followed her swimsuit-clad form to and from the surf, the concession stands, even the restrooms. Overnight, it seemed, her breasts had blossomed. No longer flat and mistaken for a kid three or four years younger, Constance suddenly was sporting C cups on a form that had filled out to "slender" from "skinny." In a tight two-piece, she could silence whole beach parties simply by nonchalantly strolling past, her pale skin glowing in the bright sun, her red hair blowing in the salt breeze. "Ah, well," she whispered, surprising herself with her own voice. A loud shriek and a splash made her smile for the kids in the pool. Kids -- technically, anyhow. She saved her unfinished file and shut down the laptop. She needed a break before she was going to get more work done on the proposal. She stared longingly at the sun-drenched lawn and the summer furniture. What the hell, she thought. I'm going to go have a sun-soak, even I have to lather on some goo with a 90 SPF, even if I can't enjoy turning men's heads the way I used to. In her dresser, she found the little black bikini. I wouldn't have dared wear this to the beach, she thought. Not back then. Constance stripped, efficiently folding her blouse and pants, unclipping the bra -- now a 34-D -- and skimming off the plain white panties. She'd loved wearing lacy little insinuations when she and Jack first married. He'd come home from work and start groping her and then she'd see the happy surprise in his eyes -- and elsewhere -- when he found a red lace bra or a skimpy black teddy under her prim school teacher clothing. That had been almost 10 years before, and he hadn't groped her on arrival in half as many years. She straightened and eyed her naked form critically in the mirror. At five-foot-six, she was not a bad-looking specimen for a woman of her age. "Oh, bullshit!" she spat aloud. She was still a fox. And her age was 32; she was just entering her full bloom. Her body was, if anything, better than when she'd first met Jack. Her hips were still lithe at 33 inches, and her waist was still a tiny 22 inches. Her tummy was flat, and her ass was tight. Her tits were still a shock on her slim form, thrusting and full and taut and milky white, with hints of the blue veining showing through. When she looked lower, past the slightly darker red fluff of her compact pubic mound, her too-sensitive flesh at the top of her trim thighs still didn't meet. Three days a week at the health club and a round of golf every Thursday went a long way to keeping her in bouncy good shape. "Face it, baby -- he's having an affair. Again." Seeing her reflection say the words, there in the very bedroom they shared... She sighed. At least his infidelities were discreet. And it wasn't as if he neglected her. It was just that when they made love, he was...mechanical. Predictable. The ritual, predictable foreplay. The ritual, predictable cunnilingus, bringing her -- as always -- to a powerful, if detached, orgasm. The ritual, predictable fucking: doggy- style, or him on top or her on top. Fucking. She'd cum three or four times before he did. And then they'd sleep. Period. End of session. And a few days later, it would be repeated. "At least he's discreet," she breathed, and began slipping into her indiscreet bikini. The bottom wasn't much more than a G-string, leaving two-thirds of her little ass exposed. The top was two string- linked triangular patches of cloth, each covering maybe two-thirds of a globular tit. She slipped her feet into thongs and padded through the split level toward the back door, grabbing up her straw hat, sunglasses and sunblock. She considered a book, decided against it. She opened the door to an inferno of an afternoon. The heat was a shock after the cool of the central air-conditioning. Ninety-two degrees, cloudless, no breeze. She took a deep breath, savoring the moisture already forming on her pale flesh. The air was redolent of green and living things, and the sound of the pool fun was louder, clearer. Enjoy yourselves, kids. Soon enough you'll have to learn to be discreet. Standing by the chaise longue, she began applying the thick, creamy lotion to her bare flesh. Discretion. She'd once made a boy cum in his swim trunks at the beach this way: applying lotion to herself. She smiled at the memory of his bulging eyes, reddened face. He'd recovered enough to speed off to the surf, his trunks still bulging with teenaged vigor. She felt her nipples crinkle as she dwelled on that: teenaged vigor. She'd loved it. No matter how often they came, they were ready again in moments -- and she'd always been more than ready. A true redhead, she told herself. She finished her legs, began on her abdomen. Yeah, those had been heady days. She loved sex, loved letting herself go with it -- and her body and face had always attracted plenty of throbbing young men eager to help her out. Constance spurted more of the white gunk into her palms. Looks like semen, she thought. She rubbed it lovingly into her shoulders and as much of her breasts as she could reach without staining the fabric-sample of her suit. But those days had been a long time ago, before the plague. Once, the worst fear was pregnancy -- avoided through the ever-blessed pill -- and the clap, banished with the snick of a needle, and a course of pills. Not any more. One indiscreet fuck now could kill a person. She hoped Jack was being discreet in his choice of fucks. Her nipples flattened. Constance lay back on the chaise, adjusting her straw hat to cover her eyes. The sun began massaging her willing flesh. Her ears tuned into the yelps and shrieks from the neighbors' pool. "Come on, Ronnnnnie!" someone yelled. Constance's lips twitched. Of course. It would be Ronnie and his friends. The noise had been unabated for almost an hour. Not that his sister didn't romp in the pool with her friends, but Nancy would have tired of it rather quickly. Her mind wandered back to her proposal. Ronnie and Nancy were ideal examples. They were a year apart. They were undeniably goodlooking youngsters. They were in excellent health. They were popular and accepted by their peers. They were brother and sister. And there the similarities ended. At 13, Nancy was advanced for her years. Poised and mature as most kids three or four years older, she was a quick learner, a voracious reader and an overachiever in school. Her I.Q. was in the low 130s. It was Constance's job to know. In fact, Nancy even looked more mature than her years. She was an early bloomer and probably could even get into some bars without being carded...if she was so inclined. At 12, Ronnie was behind his years in every way but physically. He had trouble learning new things and difficulty retaining classroom material. With individual attention, he did significantly better. He wasn't technically retarded; he was just at the low end of the normal curve. But he was a good-natured kid, friendly, outgoing and trying as hard as anyone. He's also getting to be quite a hunk...for a kid, Constance thought. Then: A hunk, period. Which was true. Tall for his age, stringy and gangly, he was strikingly handsome. Constance was sure that once he got past his awkwardness with girls, he was going to be a very busy young man. Assuming he wasn't gay. Her thoughts strayed back to the proposal: Set up a tutoring program of brighter kids working with slower ones. That was it. One on one. It would educate both, especially in teaching the more advanced students to understand the difficulty of not grasping a concept immediately, and the importance of being able to convey such concepts in simple, direct language. Constance smiled again. She wouldn't mind teaching Ronnie a few things herself. He'd surely be discreet. And grateful. Too bad he was just a kid. The growing warmth between her legs was not due to the sunshine.    "Ooooh, please, Jack, cum in me...I can't take any more of -- OH!" She convulsed in front of him, the long, black hair shimmering in the room's single bedside lamp. He felt her pussy tightening on his hard cock. He watched the strength go out of her, and followed her collapsing form down to the rumpled bedcovers. He held still inside her for a few seconds, his lips next to her ear as he held his weight off her. "I love it when you cum," he whispered. She panted heavily, her twat loosening just a bit. She turned her head weakly to the side. "Please, Jack, cum. I'm gonna pass out if this goes on. I can't keep cumming like this..." "I'm not hurting you, am I?" He was genuinely concerned. She was a tall woman, but slim and tight. "No -- just -- I'm scared. I'm cumming so much..." "Let yourself go, baby." He pushed himself back to his knees, pulling her hips and small, runway-model's ass up with him. Her upper body still lay limply on the bedsheets. Holding her by her trim hips, he pulled back, watching her tight pussy flesh and taut lips cling to his slick prick. He could feel her groan resonate through her body. He paused with just the head still inside her...and then slid slowly back in a-l-l-l-l the way. He ground his cock around inside her and felt the spasming begin in her cunt again. He grinned. This was the best, he thought. They'd been fucking for almost two hours, and now she was perpetually on the edge of orgasm or actually cumming. His balls were tightening again. Jack began pistoning his dick in her with long, uninhibited strokes that made the most of his cock for her. She was cumming again -- and again. Her hands gripped the sheets and then flopped limply as the orgasms went through her. She didn't seem able to stop cumming. Her cunt was convulsing and her ass cheeks were tightening as if vibrating. He felt the rumble of his semen rushing upward, felt the electric needle of the pleasure barreling through his penis, felt it swelling in her trim cunt still more. "Oh, yeah, baby -- uh!" His balls pumped, his dick lurched deeper into her again and again and she let out an odd little squeal, barely audible, with each fresh geyser pouring into her already full and sopping cunt. Finally the paroxysm passed. He let himself topple slowly to the side, bringing her with him so they lay nestled, still joined, with his arms around her. He nuzzled her neck and ear. She whimpered, her cunt still fluttering from time to time. "Feeling okay, baby?" "Jack, it's too much, too much. I feel completely wasted -- almost drugged." She drew a deep breath. "I can't even think." She raised a hand, brushing the thick, black hair from her flushed face. "Are you like this with you wife?" He grinned. "I used to be, but..." "But what? Wear her out?" "I don't know. She used to be insatiable; I loved it. Now it's like she can take it or leave it, like she's doing a duty." He added, quickly: "Don't get me wrong. It's still good sex, she still gets off a lot, but...she just never initiates anything. It's like having prime shell steak for dinner every day. It's great, but...predictable." "So you decided to have some dim sum." He grunted. "That's not it, Mei, and you know it." She sighed. "I guess so..." "I mean it. You're gorgeous and sexy and you know it. The old man wanted a stunning, exotic-looking executive secretary for his image." "My predecessor was a beautiful black woman," she whispered. "Did you have an affair with her, too?" "If I did, that would be between her and me." "The word is that you did." He considered. Then: "The word is wrong. I wanted to. I would have loved to. She was so unbelievably hot...but I couldn't even get her to have coffee with me." "Hotter than me?" "I'll never know, but if you keep talking like this...something's going to come up." She groaned. "Oh, please, no -- I won't be able to go back to the office, I won't be able to function. I've already cum too much... noooo..." She moaned, unable to stop the movement of her hips as she felt his dick reinflating for the second time in her pussy. "Please, Jack, I'm too sore..." He slowly, regretfully pulled his hardening cock from her cunt. Copious juices, hers and his, dribbled out of her puffy, tenderized cunt onto the inside of her thigh. "Okay, okay...but I'm gonna have to think of some way to shrink this thing or I'll be walking around with a newspaper in my lap all day. Hey, have you ever -- ?" He lifted his prick and rubbed it between her buttocks. She gasped. "Wanna give it a try?" He saw the glint of mischief in her eyes, felt the renewed swelling of her little nipple in his palm. He nuzzled his glans against her anus. "Be gentle," she cautioned -- and sucked in a breath as she felt the knob begin spreading her sphincters. Despite her misgivings, excitement was building in her abdomen...and her pussy was tingling. "It feels so big -- oh!" With the glans securely lodged in her asshole, Jack grabbed onto her hips, still laying sideways, and slowly began working his stiff tool into her. Dim sum on a skewer, he thought, and slipped a little more into her butt.    Must've dozed off, she thought. Constance felt the difference in the sun's angle, heard the silence from the neighbors' pool. She knew she should go in the house, shower and change and get back to work on her proposal. The sun-induced lethargy was difficult to overcome, but she was just about to do just that when she heard something. She lay motionless, looking under the edge of her sunglasses and the brim of the straw hat. She heard the sound again. Her gaze went to her right, toward the neighbors. There they were. Three boys. She didn't recognize one of them, but she knew the boy in the middle -- Mikey, a friend of Ronnie's. And there was Ronnie. They were ogling her. Maybe I've still got it, she thought with a little leap of pleasure. Turning on a bunch of 12- and 13-year-old boys. They were straddling the fence between the hedges, hidden from their waists down. She saw Mike lean to Ronnie and whisper something. Ronnie blushed and then nodded, grinning that sweet, handsome grin of his. Mike turned and whispered to the other boy, who also blushed, but shook his head. Mike shrugged. Constance saw Mike's and Ronnie's arms move and then begin to shift back and forth rhythmically. The third boy, still blushing, climbed off the fence and departed. What -- Her nipples went stone stiff. They were whacking off together. Maybe it was restlessness. Maybe it was loneliness. Maybe it was too much sun. Whatever it was, Constance decided to be a bit indiscreet; she let her legs part slightly and shifted her shoulders so her bikini top covered even less of the side of her breast. The boys' eyes widened, their arms moved more quickly. First Mike, then Ronnie, stiffened and shook. Ronnie seemed to shake for a long time. Enjoy yourselves, boys, she thought. I wish I could do more for you. After they climbed off their voyeurs' perch and departed, Constance roused herself. She didn't bother readjusting her top. She took her lotion and ambled into the house. Not just a shower today, she resolved; a shower with the handheld sprayer.    Sid Sugerman groaned as the door closed behind Constance, and he leaned back from the spotter scope. What a piece of ass that broad was! He shifted on his stool and eased the length of his stiff tool down his trouser leg. I'd give anything to give that hot little bitch a ride, he thought. I'll bet that sweet little cunt couldn't get enough once she felt 10 inches of Sid Steak up her snatch! He looked back at the plate on his drafting table, but all he could see was Constance's big, milky breasts bobbling as she shifted in the tiny bikini. No, no chance of concentrating on the project -- even if it was the most lucrative yet. Usually, nothing could break Sid's concentration on a project; it was one of the traits that had put him among the three or four most successful custom home-builders in the Northeast. But Constance McEvoy sunning herself... Man, those gorgeous tits! Another of Sid's good qualities was that he was observant. As all- consuming as the sight of a nearly naked Constance had been, he'd noticed movement in the hedge and spotted the boys whacking off. He had to grin. Ronnie was a little slow in some ways, unlike his mother and father and his sister, but in at least one way he was his father's son -- the kid's boner was huge. Remember what that redheaded sex cart looks like, boy, and don't end up like your old man -- married to an overweight matron who stopped caring about her figure the minute the marriage was consummated. Yes, Sid was bitter about that. His gaze went back to the window. All he needed was one chance, one opportunity to slip the salami into that petite sex bomb's little re- furred cunt and then he wouldn't mind sharing his bed with his overweight wife of eighteen years...because he'd know the redheaded doll would be begging for more every afternoon. The gate to the pool area opened, the movement drawing his attention. Nancy, his little gem, with one of her friends...Lisa. The sight of his little girl made him beam and chased all thought of lust from his mind. His darling Nancy, who made him so proud with her grades and her science award and her essay award. He'd dreamed of passing his business on to his son, until it became obvious that it would never happen. More and more though, he envisioned Nancy, when she someday grew up, marrying a bright, ambitious guy and passing the business on to them. The girls were wearing simple one piece suits under wraps. They shucked the wraps. Nancy went to the diving board and did a perfect dive. His smile widened. She was a pretty girl and so graceful. Lisa, a year older than Nancy, took the board. Lisa with her short brown hair really had a hell of a build for a kid her age. When she raised her hands over her head for the dive, her titties drew up inside the suit, crescent mounds swelling over the top. Sid's prick began swelling again. She really *was* built. He wondered if -- "Stop it," he growled to himself. "Sick fucker, letting a little girl turn you on." But even as she splashed, a bit clumsily, into the water, his focus was zeroed-in on the ripe little teenybopper ass barely contained in her suit. He forced an image of Constance McEvoy into his mind. That was better. Yeah, Constance asking him to put some lotion on her, moaning when his fingers wandered, gasping at the size of the tent his hard cock made in his suit, begging to see it... He began rubbing his hand over the swollen limb of his prick through his trousers. Yeah, Constance fishing it out, pleading to taste it and suck it, those big tits heaving as she took it into her little mouth, her small hands groping the shaft, her young face framed by her short brown hair as he came... "Yeah," he groaned as his prick jerked and spurted, soaking the inside of his boxers and trousers. "Yeah..." ...and she tried to swallow, her teenybopper throat working to -- "Oh, shit," he moaned, angry and disgusted with himself. How the FUCK had a nice safe fantasy of Constance McEvoy sucking his cock twisted into the perverted image of a little girl only a year older than his baby doing it? "Sick, Sid, sick." He looked down at the dark stain in his pants. Cursing softly, he went to the bedroom, He'd change his clothes and get back to work. He wouldn't stop until the plans were drawn. That was the answer. Just don't think about sex with Constance or his wife or anyone -- especially little 14-year-old girls with big titties -- until he was done and exhausted. Yeah, that was the answer. But then his fingers were moving to the spotter scope, changing its angle with the certainty of practice, to the second floor window where sometimes -- just occasionally -- his neighbor neglected to close the drapes while she changed her clothes. Subject: CONSTANCE2 (ff;cons;pedo) From: friar.dave@teamhbbs.com (FRIAR DAVE) * * * * * * * * * * * * * CONSTANT.STY By Friar Dave (Copyright, 1994) * * * "Sure, honey. Want me to keep something warm for you?" There'd been a time when they'd both chuckled at the double entendre. Now she just listened to his predictable reply: "No, I'll just order takeout or something. See you later." "Later," she echoed. She looked at the dead phone and hung it up. They were up to twice a week now -- "working late." Soon there'd be a couple of "business trips." And then it would taper off pretty quickly. At least he was discreet. "But that's the fucking key to it!" she exploded and immediately calmed herself. Easy, girl. She took the orange juice from the refrigerator, pouring a big glass. Her husband had the opportunity to be discreet. He commuted into Manhattan for work. Once he stepped out of his office, no one knew him, no one would wonder about him being with a woman, especially -- she was sure -- a younger and prettier one. Constance didn't have that opportunity. She worked in the town, whose resident population probably wouldn't fill a single Manhattan block of office buildings. She was known. She was a school supervisor. She was not reticent at town meetings. She'd even been interviewed by the Bergen Record. She took a long, slow pull on the orange juice. Plus, she was visible because she was -- face it, kiddo -- sexy as hell. With her bright red hair and luscious little figure, she was noticed wherever she went. And if she went wandering off to the Holiday Inn with some young stud or -- more brazen -- have some goodlooking fellow come to her house when she was alone, why -- the horror! She'd heard the rumors about the mousiest and least attractive of local wives who'd so much as had Larry, the portly, aging mailman with the sour breath, come in for a cup of coffee. Someone as attractive as herself dare not even linger at the door for long with anyone over the age of -- She froze, the glass halfway to the counter. Why not? she wondered. * * * "Sid." He looked up from the newspaper. His wife was wearing a pair of baggy short, a baggy top, and still nothing concealed the extra padding. At 37, she looked 10 years older than his own 40. When they'd met, Rose was a long-legged beauty, a curvy size six with the most luscious tits and ass he'd ever touched. And from the moment they'd returned from an admittedly terrific honeymoon cruise, she'd never done a damn thing to maintain her appearance. "Sid, you've gotta talk to Ronnie." She held a laundry sack in one hand. "Again?" "Even more. Sid, that kid is going to hurt himself. He must be doing it every hour on the hour. I can't even get some of the stains out." He sighed. On one hand, he knew she was right. Not that he would hurt himself -- that was unlikely -- but he was going to develop a fixation till the only way he could get off was with his hand. "I'll talk to him in a little while. Can I help you with the wash?" "No, that's okay." She turned, then stopped. "Oh, yeah. Constance -- Mrs. McEvoy next door?" "Mmm -- yeah. What about her?" "She wants to clean some stuff out of her attic and thought maybe the kids would like to make a few bucks helping her. I thought that was pretty sweet of her. She's willing to pay them twenty bucks each for three hours' work." "That's nice of her. Nancy has her summer class, though." And he wondered how Constance the school teacher and school board member had forgotten Nancy was taking an advanced algebra class at Farleigh- Dickenson with some other bright overachievers. "I'll talk to Ronnie," "You can call her afterward. I'm going to take a nice soak in the hottub. Maybe you'd like to join me..." She winked. He tried not to imagine her bulk, naked and bobbing in the hot tub. Constance, on the other hand... "I doubt it, dear. I want to finish the plans for the new project." "Of course; I forgot." She turned again, and again stopped. "And Nancy is staying over at Lisa's tonight." "Sure, dear." She left him to his newspaper and images of Constance, with her lush, big, pale titties floating in the jets of bubbling water... * * * Nervously, Constance twisted at the towel in her pale fingers. Was she out of her mind? She was planning the seduction of a 12-year-old boy. She could be ruined if -- But she knew she was safe. The kid would be thrilled and he'd never tell anyone who'd believe him. And all she'd have to do is look troubled and deny it like crazy. Still, what was she -- The jangling of the phone was a shock. "H-hello?" "Constance, this is Sid -- next door." "Hi, Sid. How are you?" "Just fine, thank you. Constance, Ronnie would be thrilled to help you tomorrow, but Nancy has her summer class in algebra, so she couldn't come." Yes, but I could, she thought. "Of course; how could I be so forgetful? I certainly would appreciate Ronnie's help, though, if you're sure he wants to come." She couldn't believe she'd said that." "He's tickled at the chance to make come money. What time do you want him?" Right now, she thought. "Say, one o'clock?" "He'll be there. And if you run into anything too heavy, give a ring, and I'll come by." "Thanks, Sid, but I'm sure we can manage it." "Good night." She hung up the phone, fingers trembling. Was she out of her mind? She looked down at the front of her white blouse, saw the nubbins of her nipples swollen against the fabric. She realized her thighs were clenched together and rubbing. What the hell is the matter with me? With all the things I'm involed in, suddenly I'm thinking about sex all the time. And then she thought of the boy shaking and shuddering in pleasure. Ronnie, she told herself, I am going to teach you what that sweet little-boy dick was designed for. * * * "You *saw* him do it? Euuuuwww!" Lisa closed her eyes and shivered for effect. The two girls then collapsed in giggles. "It's hard not to see him do it," Nancy said, brushing out her light brown hair. "I mean, he's doing it all the time. He does it in his room, in the bathroom, in the hottub -- " "How do you know?" "Well, for one thing, you can hear it. For another, sometimes he doesn't clean up all his stuff. When he did it in the hottub -- " "Yeah?" "There was this white stuff still floating in the water." Nancy switched the brush and began doing the other side. "It was kind of cute, really." "That's where you saw him do it?" "Nahhh." She watched Lisa uncurl from the bed and retrieve a magazine -- Sassy -- from the dresser. "He was in the rec room watching one of Dad's tapes." Lisa stopped and stared. She was standing in front of one of the lamps and the lightweight summer nightgown -- almost a baby-doll -- was quite sheer. Nancy could admire her girlfriend's lush figure without feeling jealous; she had nothing to be ashamed of, herself, especially since she only 13. Still, Lisa's breasts were awfully pretty. "You mean -- porno?" Lisa whispered. "Softcore -- a Playmate video. But he had the old johnson out and was flogging away. Had no idea I was even in the house." She put the brush down. Lisa sat facing her, indian-style. "And it was all hard and everything?" "And big -- I mean really big." Nancy held her hand about a foot apart, the reconsidered and narrowed the space. "And thick. He could just about get his hand around it." "Wow." "My little brother definitely has a magic johnson." They giggled. "And he kept grunting and everything until this stuff just came, like, flying out of it. I mean, it was like a bunch of eruptions. It seemed to go on for a long time." "Geez, I wish I had a brother. I'd like to see that, too, but I'm afraid. You know. Maybe next time I stay over at your house I'll get to see it." "All you have to do is flash those boobies of yours at him and he'll be flagging the bone in no time. He's always staring at them. Of course, he's always staring at mine, too. Heck, he gets a hard-on looking at pears in the supermarket!" More giggles. "I wonder what it feels like," Lisa mused. "It feels hard and hot and kind of soft, too -- and it throbs." Lisa's mouth fell open. "You don't mean you and -- your brother -- you -- " "Not my brother," Nancy said. "Then who, girl?" Lisa demanded, grabbing Nancy's shoulders. "Well, there's this guy at Farleigh, an older guy, like about 16. And, well, sometimes on break we go out by the stadium and, you know, fool around." "And? And?" "Well, a couple of times we've gotten kind of hot and heavy into it, like, and -- well, I could always feel this hard *thing* pushing against me. So one time he put my hand on it through his pants. And I asked him if i could take it out. I thought he was going to worship me!" "Is he cute?" "He's okay, maybe a little geeky, but he's really smart and really nice." She reached for the Sassy. "So?" "Oh, well, he unzipped and brought this nice hard thingy out. It looked like my brother's, but not nearly as big and scary looking, So I put my hand on it and he put his hand on mind and showed me how to do it." "And -- his stuff came out." "In about thirty seconds. And it was all over the place. I thought I cleaned it all off with some tissue, but on the way to class I saw some on my sleeve and licked it off." "Euuwwwwww! That's gross!" Nancy shook her head. "No, not really. It was kinda salty, and a little gamy -- but not bad at all." Lisa looked unsure. "Well, did you let him, uh, do anything for you?" "Sometimes we have enough time and he'll kiss and suck my nipples, and every now and then he gets his hand in my panties, but he doesn't really know what to do or where to touch. If we get the chance, I'll show him." "You liked it?" Nancy closed her eyes and smiled dreamily. "When he's sucking my nipples, sometimes I almost get off..." Lisa's prolonged silence prompted Nancy's eyelids up. She found her friend looking morose. "What?" "I, uh..." Mummble-mumble-mumble. "Huh? "I wish I -- nothing." However, Nancy was, as noted, very bright. "Lisa?" "Mmm?" "I can show you what it feels like." Lisa shifted uncomfortably, nervously, when she realized what her best friend was saying. "That'd be like dykes..." "Crap." "But -- " "But nothing. Wouldn't you rather have a guy doing it?" Lisa shrugged, her tits jiggling perkily inside the nightgown. "Well, sure, but -- " "And didn't we tongue kiss like two years ago to see what it was like?" "It was sloppy was what it was like," Lisa said, but then, thoughtfully, added: "And kinda nice." Nancy chuckled. "Well, this might be the same thing." Lisa raised her gaze to meet her pretty friend's. "You -- you really don't mind?" Nancy moved slowly forward onto all fours, a small smile forming on her small mouth as she noted Lisa's nipples swollen inside the night gown. Like a stalking cat, she oozed forward and pushed her friend slowly and not unwillingly onto her back and began raising the hem of Lisa's baby-doll top. "Mind?" Nancy echoed. "Actually, I'm kind of curious to find out what it's like to be the sucker instead of the suckee..." She pulled the top off Lisa, then ducked her head, licking her girlfriend's throat and then bringing her tongue down to the rounded, pear-like orbs of 14-year-old breasts. She moved her mouth slowly, gently, around and around, enjoying the softness and warmth, the gentle curves and rich firmness. And when her lips finally found and fastened to Lisa's nipple, Nancy sighed happily; this was *nice*... Lisa moaned and began running her hands over Nancy's recently brushed hair as she let the pleasures and security of being with her best friend take her to new places... * * * Ten minutes. Constance was quite sure the clock had stopped. It had read ten to one for about four hours, it seemed. Maybe she should pour herself another OJ with just a little spritz of gin. Ponderously, the minute hand ticked slowly forward. Nine minutes. Outside the kitchen window, the thermometer was already somewhere around 95, and still not a cloud in sight. A water alert was being declared. Hot, inside and out, she thought. This is the weather that makes people do crazy things, she thought. No, it isn't, she replied. You know exactly what you're doing. She stopped her pacing, strode quickly to the bathroom. She checked herself in the full length mirror inside the door. Do I look like I mean business? Depends on the business, she told herself. Move stuff out of the attic. That's what she'd said she needed the help with. Which meant crawling and crouching in a dusty space with a low ceiling. Dirty work. So why wasn't she wearing jeans, to protect her knees, instead of the old, tight cutoffs? Why braless in one of Jack's old shirts with the tails tied high around her midriff? Why a ponytail instead of a scarf? It'll never occur to him to ask, she assured herself. She returned to the kitchen. Seven minutes. Still time to call it off. No! Maybe, she thought, she should confront Jack -- and then suggest that they make it a threesome. He'd hinted at it often enough, and she wondered now if it might not be just the right thing for them. After all, she wasn't repulsed by the idea. In fact, sometimes she fantasized about it, recalling Amy, her roommate on the group tour through France and Italy during her junior summer. Yes, that was wonderful... She found herself almost unconsciously rubbing her mound through the old, tight jeans, felt the pressure and warmth and need growing. The doorbell sounded like Big Ben. Constance froze. This was it. Now or never. Do and die...no, no, no -- do *or* die. She thawed from her cunt outward. She was just beginning to move when the bell rang again. "Coming!" she yelled and almost burst into nervous laughter. Well, not quite, she thought. He was right there when she opened the door. Maybe two or three inches taller than she, all bursting with youth and vigor and vitality and guileless impulses... ...and boyish semen... ...and whatever fine 12-year-old fantasies he had masked behind his easy smile and friendly, respectful charm. "Hi, Mrs. McEvoy -- is everything okay? I mean I can come back another time." She shook her head, reached for the door, noted his long=sleeved shirt, the bandana around his forehead, the work gloves in his hand, the old jeans...so well-filled. "No, no -- this is fine." "Are you sure? You look a little red." The red grew more than a little. "Come on in, and we'll get to work." "Okay!" He followed her to the dropdown ladder to the attic. She tugged the cord and the trapdoor opened, the steps unfolded. The heat welled down onto her face and neck. She could feel his eyes on her ass, on the bare flesh of her back above it, on the place where the buttons were undone on the blouse. She could feel his youth and vitality throbbing behind her. "Gee, Mrs. McEvoy, maybe you should get something else to wear since the attic will be dusty." "Uh...I actually didn't think -- " "That's why my dad told me to wear this hot stuff." "I see." She made a show of thinking it over. "Well, I figured it's going to be hot up there. I mean, I can always take a shower to wash off dirt." He bobbed his head. "Yeah!" She swallowed. "Well, up we go -- follow me." She grasped the wooden steps and started climbing. She knew he was looking up. She could feel his gaze. Or maybe it was just the crotch seam of the tight cutoffs. * * * Jack McEvoy frowned listening to his voicemail. Mei's voice, trembling. Commack, the CEO, wanted to see him as soon as he'd returned. Jack deleted the message and headed for the executive suite. All along the way, he was trying to review his work, to see if he'd screwed the pooch. Nothing came to mind. Of course, there was always the other possibility -- that this was not a chewing out. He had, after all led the top sales team for five consecutive months and two of the last three years. He entered the reception room. Mei looked up from her console. She was wearing that damn burgundy cheong sam, the one that clung to every lovely inch of her while revealing none of her, the one that set such a stunning contrast to her raven hair -- especially when her hair was draped in a loose fall over one shoulder, the one that would tantalize with a flashing glimpse of one long leg all the way to mid-thigh with every stride. He suddenly suspected he was going to be working late again. Easy, boy, he told himself. Focus on the moment. And it was too easy to forget how sharp her mind was when she looked so alluring. "Mr. Commack wanted to see me." She nodded. "A moment." She pressed buttons, murmured into her headset with it's all-but-invisible mike, listened, murmured again. Then she removed the headset and stood. She was wearing her high heels, making her all the more lissome and undeniable. "Follow me, please." "Anywhere," he murmured, enjoying the touch of color in her cheeks. She opened the door to the Throne Room. He stepped past her. Commack sat his desk, immaculate with Armani suit, his manicured hands, his Calvin Klein tie, his private-barbered steel gray hair combed straight back to frame a square, tanned, leathered face. "Please stay, Miss Fong. Close the door." That gave Jack pause. "You wanted to see me." "I'm well aware of that." As if Jack had insulted him. "Mr. McEvoy, we have a situation on our hands." "Sir?" "Miss Fong has given her notice." He paused. Jack waited. Jack could be a very patient man. Well, not *that* patient, "And you wanted to see me because -- ?" "Because she's going back to her family. To have a baby." Jack felt a rush of coldness through his veins. Too many unknowns were at work here. Behind him, Mei sniffled. "Oh, Jack, I'm so sorry. I lied. I was never on the pill..." He turned to stare at her for a moment. Pieces were clicking into place. Who was behind this? Capitano? He was the likeliest. The horny sonofabitch had never made a secret of envying Jack his position, his ability as a manager, his lovely wife -- nor had he been discreet in condemning Jack for his success in philandering. "...and I know I could never expect you to leave your wife..." And it might have been Cho, in MIS, who'd been cold and even downright nasty to Jack since about the second time he and Mei had slipped away for a nooner. "...and I wouldn't ask you to and besides, I've met the most wonderful man, who doesn't care about a baby belonging to someone else..." Jack wheeled slowly around to face Commack. Who looked smug. Commack was fond of dropping pointed hints that he never wanted to catch anyone boffing "his girls." "You believe this?" "I got the hotel receipts." He took a pile of slips from a desk drawer and ceremoniously dropped them in an ominous pile on his compulsively clear desktop. "I admire the kind of man who takes the committed approach, Mr. McEvoy -- the kind of man who keeps his word. The kind of man who learns his girlfriend has not only been unfaithful, but is carrying another man's child...and proposes to her. That's the kind of man I want as my vice president of sales. He may not be the most skilled or successful sales manager, but at least I can trust Dominick Capitano." "I see. And you think Mei's carrying my child." Commack reddened. "I'm sure of it. She's at least honest enough to admit she lied. Do the right thing -- admit your deed, forgive her, resign and clean out your desk." "My deed?" "Your -- your responsibility for her condition." "It's not my loaf in her oven." Commack jerked to his feet. "She's *admitted* she's not -- " "I had a vasectomy eight years ago." Commack went gray in the face. "Right after Constance had the miscarriage. The OB/GYN said any pregnancy would endanger her -- any. So I opted for a vasectomy rather than ask her to go on the pill or go through other procedures. It seemed like I had to take some responsibility." He turned to Mei, who had never looked paler or less healthy. "So if you're carrying my kid, you must have broken into the sperm bank." He turned back to Commack. "And I'm not about to resign, even though you took the unsubstantiated word of a secretary's without so much as asking me if it could be true." The numbness was slipping away; Jack was trembling -- with fury. "No -- you're going to have to fire me and face the messiest lawsuit you can imagine...or buy me out. Generously." "I-- I--" "Be a great case. We'll do DNA tests on the infant -- and me. And maybe her loyal fiancee, Mr. Dominick Can't Add Capitano." And then something else occurred to him. "Who else might we test, Mr. Commack?" The man went positively white. "Well? Do we have an arrangement?" "Yes, yes...I'll have the papers drawn up and forwarded to you as soon as possible and -- " "As soon as possible is right fucking now." Commack began to pant. "Jefferson, your pills!" Mei squealed, and ran to Commack's side. So that's what the "J" in "J.T. Commack" stood for, he thought. "Don't die before you sign," Jack muttered, going to the phone and dialing the corporate counsel's office.  ~From: friar.dave@teamhbbs.com (FRIAR DAVE) ~Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories ~Subject: Constanc3 (mf;pedo;cons) * * * * * * * * * * * * * Part Three To her surprise, Constance found that there really was a lot of junk to get out of the attic. Pushing a stray strand of fiery red hair from her sweaty forehead with a dusty hand, she surveyed the five cartons of soon-to-be-landfill. She heard the water run in the bathroom. A moment later, Ronnie appeared, face and hands clean. The light shirt was filthy and sweat-plastered to him. She marveled at the lean, stringy muscles on his frame. He really was going to be a hunk. "We got a lot done in an hour, didn't we, Ronnie?" "We sure did, Mrs. McEvoy." His eyes kept dropping to her bust, where perspiration had soaked the fabric to transparency and plastered it to her tits. "Can I have a drink of water?" "Of course -- I should have offered. Help yourself to whatever you like." She swung the refrigerator door open, knowing what the cold air would do to her nipples under the damp shirt. "In fact, I have some Gatorade here somewhere..." She dropped to a crouch and reached into the refrigerator, knowing the posture tested the loose knot in the shirttails. In the chrome edging, she could see the reflection of his eyes, his gaze searching the front of her shirt. Her nipples were hardening. "There it is." She reached a...little...farther. Her fingers closed on the cold glass. She withdrew it stood, closed the door. As he took the bottle, the shirt tails let go. The damp cloth clung to her breasts, revealing the inner swells. "Ooops." Constance grabbed the tails and quickly retied them. Ronnie snapped his eyes away a moment too late. He blushed. "I'm sorry, Mrs. McEvoy." "That's okay, Ronnie. No harm done. I don't mind you looking at me." The blush deepened. "Do you like looking at me?" "Gosh, yeah!" "Then go ahead and look. I don't mind." "You don't?" "Why should I? You're a nice young man, and I know you'd never tell anyone." "Never in a hundred million years." "So you just go ahead and look. In fact, I like it when a handsome young man I can trust -- like you -- looks at me." His gaze began exploring -- tentatively, at first, then more boldly. Once or twice he looked at her face, and she smiled in encouragement. She didn't fail to notice the lump in his jeans. After a few more seconds, he swallowed. "Well, uh, I guess we better get back to work, huh?" "There's no hurry, Ronnie. We already got more done than I hoped. But if you don't want to look at me anymore -- " "Oh, I do!" He clamped his mouth shut. "It's just that, well, when I look at you I start to, I dunno, I start to -- " "You start to get hard?" He nodded guiltily. "That's okay. I like knowing I can make you get hard." "It's just that, well, it's just that then I need to -- I dunno -- I need to -- you know -- " Her pussy was getting very damp. "You need to take it out and rub it until you shoot." He nodded a bit too quickly. "Like you did yesterday, when you jerked off looking at me in the yard." His eyes widened in horror, and he was about to say something -- probably apologetic, she guessed. "No, no, no -- that's fine, Ronnie." She stepped close to him. His bulging eyes followed her tits as they approached -- and stopped just short of his chest. "I'm so happy that looking at me made you want to jerk off." "You are?" he breathed. "Sure. I just wish I could have seen it." He looked confused for a moment, then uncertain -- and then amazed. "You mean you want -- " Her fingers moved up the inner edge of her damp shirt, following the line of stitching -- on one side the buttons, on the other, the matching holes. How appropriate, she thought. She toyed with the fabric, tugging, fondling, feeling it pull and move, sometimes reluctantly, on her tits, taking satisfaction in thinking of the number of times Jack had but the buttons into the holes of this same shirt, then tossed it aside when it grew a bit older, a bit worn, a bit too familiar. "Please," she whispered, lifting the cotton and pulling it slowly back. "Please show me." She uncovered her breasts. "Unnnnhhh..." He looked almost delirious. His fingers were clumsy on his belt, clumsier on the waist snap. "Let me?" she cooed, opening his jeans. Now committed, she was eager to see his fresh little-boy cock. She kept her eyes on his as she bent her knees, pushing the jeans down over his lean hips. She left them at his knees, still watching his face. Her hands trailed up his thighs to his hips, to the elastic waist of his briefs. Only as she began peeling them down did she look at his crotch again. "Oh!" The sound escaped. She hadn't expected *this*! The head of his cock and fully half the shaft was protruding out of the legs of his briefs. "Oh, that must hurt...." she cooed, dropping to one knee, then both, and carefully working the briefs down. His dick bobbed up at her face level, throbbing and bobbing at an angle of 60 to 40 degrees "That must be very uncomfortable..." "Un-huh." Well, I didn't get into this for the conversation, she reminded herself. "And you hold it like -- this, right?" She closed her right hand around the shaft at the midpoint. Barely closed her hand. He was quite thick. Much thicker than Jack. "Ahhhhh -- yes, Mrs. McEvoy." "And you jerk it like -- this?" She began to move her hand up and down on his shaft. "Y-y-yes, ma'am!" So polite. "Mmmmmm -- I like doing this, Ronnie." She looked up into his face, saw the slack-jawed pleasure replacing the slack-jawed astonishment. "Do you like it when I do this for you?" "Oh, yes, Mrs. McEvoy!" And it was true for both of them. She was enjoying it, though not as much as he was in terms of sheer, physical sensation. In fact, why shouldn't she enjoy some sensation. Her gaze still on his face, she raised her left hand and cupped her right tit, enjoying even the touch of her own fingers, savoring the weight and firmness of her own breast. She ran her palm and fingers over the globe of fatty and erectile tissue and applied the pads of thumb and forefinger to the aureole and, finally, the engorged tissue of her nozzle. The look on his face would have been enough to cause involuntary vaginal secretions, but the physical sensations and the psychological trappings and associations of the situation added to the quantity and viscosity of the secreted lubricant being generated within her vagina and to the excitement impelled engorgement of her labia majora. Meantime, his cock had begun to ooze. "Oh, look," she breathed. "It's starting to leak. Does that mean you're going to shoot soon?" "Hu...hu....hu....hu..." She translated that to "Yes." "Can't make a mess, so..." Constance Gudsmonsdotter McEvoy leaned forward and licked the tip of the fat glans. Then, C.G. McE. -- granddaughter of an Icelandic immigrant banker and a Wisconsin schoolteacher, winner of the Miss Propriety Medal in sixth grade and Bible Studies Award in the summer of her twelfth year at the Green Bay Church of the All Holy Sunday School, runner-up in the wet tee-shirt contest at the Northwestern U Lambda Chi Alpha Rush Week Bauhaus -- calmly opened her mouth very wide (the boy really did have quite a fat dick) and sucked his glans into her mouth. The effect on the kid was -- well, cataclysmic. "Oh, Mrs. McEvoy! I'm -- " Which ended the verbal intercourse. The fat cock in her mouth swelled still more and an ooze of precum became a gusher of semen. Constance was amazed. She'd expected him to cum very quickly -- but not instantly. And she'd expected a lot -- but there was a limit to her expectations. Then she was stunned. Where *was* it all coming from? It seemed like he'd been hooked to a pool, a reservoir, a lake of semen -- and still it came. Her cheeks literally bulged before the first spurt -- spurt, hell; it was a geyser -- stopped. And then it started again, before she'd finished swallowing. He came enormously. Again her mouth filled and her cheeks swelled, this time so much that her lips parted and some spilled out. More than most guys can cum spilled out, she thought. She swallowed and he grunted again. Sploosh! Her mouth was filled. She sucked as hard as she could, hoping to drain him before she lost control and started coughing. He just grunted and spasmed in her mouth again. And, suddenly -- surprisingly, because swallowing semen hadn't been her favorite thing even when she'd done it more often -- she found herself aroused. *I'm* doing this, she thought. *I'm* inspiring this beautiful young boy to cum this much. *I'm* his first woman. He'll never dismiss me or take me for granted or forget me, she realized, and an immense tenderness grew in her. Yes, baby, she encouraged him in her head. Give me it all! Sploosh! Another tremendous wad of 12-year-old cum rocketed into her mouth. More leaked, more dripped down her chin, onto her heaving tits and her tit-manipulating hand and forearm. Goosh! Another big load...but perhaps a bit less? Yes, definitely. Not much, but some. "Oh, Missus -- Missus -- " Splurt! Certainly somewhat less now. She swallowed, sucked and moved her tongue on the underside of her glans as she whacked her hand up and down the stalk of his fat dick. Mistake. Her tongue and suction were novelties that inflamed and inspired him; her hand's movement was familiar and relaxing. His prick swelled still more and then he unleashed a torrent of cum into her mouth. It came and came and came, like a hose in her mouth. She swallowed desperately, but it was still ejaculating and she wasn't breathing easily. She pulled her mouth off his prick and he hosed her face. The eruption paused and then he proceeded to spatter her face, neck, exposed breasts and hands with a greatly diminished load, i.e., about the quantity usual to a guy in his 30s. He sagged, his knees buckling for a moment before he caught himself. They were both panting. The fat shaft in her hand had shrunk to about half-mast. Almost for the first time she noticed that he had only the faintest sprinkling of dark hairs around the base of his cock. Twelve years old, she thought, recalling with a mental shiver that males didn't hit their sexual prime till five to eight years later. Oh, my, she thought. She turned her sperm-slick face toward his, taking proper note of the insistent heat in her crotch -- not to mention the humidity down there. "I liked that, Ronnie, but now I have to wash off." She put on a thoughtful expression. "We both should. Will you help me get washed?" His expression was sorely puzzled. "Let's take a little shower, stud. You and me. Naked. Wet. Slippery. Okay?" Still befuddled, he managed to pant, "O-okay, Mrs. McEvoy." She stood, still with a handful of fat, young cock, and gently led the boy toward the bathroom -- the one off the master bedroom. * * * "Anyone home?" Nancy pushed the door open, puzzled. It was unlocked, so someone had to be home. But there'd been no answer to the doorbell, even after she'd held it down and counted one-Mississippi 75 times. But someone had to be home. Lisa's dad worked out of his house sometimes, and he -- Well, she thought, maybe not today. And Lisa's mom did have a job in Ridgewood, as a receptionist for a doctor's office. Still, the door wasn't locked. Lisa should be home. "Hello?" She closed the door behind her. She remembered movies where innocent girls had entered empty homes that should have been full. Some deranged escapee from a mental hospital could be in here. Arab terrorists. Wait a second, she reminded herself. My great-grandmother is from Iraq. Or a crazed rapist. Or Freddy Krueger. "Freddy Krueger?" she muttered. "Can you say, 'par-a-noi-a'?" "Lisa!" she breathed. "Where the hell are you?" She froze. Was that a noise from upstairs? Where Lisa's room was? Time to visit the kitchen. That was where the movie-of-the-week heroine always found the tools of defending hearth and home. "You're 13 years old," she said aloud. "You are not Mrs. Peel." She froze, hearing a sound from above again. "Fuck Mrs. Peel," she said, grabbing the first utensil at hand -- in this case, hot-dog tongs. Her best friend might well be in trouble. Hot-dog tongs in hand, Nancy left her shoulder bag on the kitchen counter and headed for the stairway to the second floor of the split- level post-war VA-approved house (with 3 brs, furn rec rm, wbfplc, 2- cr grg & babbling brook at rear of hedge-brdrd yrd!!!). Her best bud might need her, might be in deep goo. No time to get squeamish, she told herself, tightening her grip on the hot-dog tongs and cat-footing it up the stairs. * * * "Oh, YES!" Constance wailed, as the 12-year-old with an IQ of 80 slammed eight fat inches of turgid meat deep into her hungering cunt. Her knees were next to her ears, her thighs and tits were bruised, her pussy was sore, and she hadn't cum so much since she'd been on the honeymoon cruise to Acapulco with Jack about six hundred years before. "Is this okay, Mrs. McEvoy?" "YES! Don't stop!" He slammed to her limit again, his shoulders driving her legs back and forcing her pelvis -- and cunt -- higher. She felt his swollen, tight young nuts against her asshole. "YES!" * * * Sid's eyes were watering. That was how he knew it had been too long since he'd blinked. Still -- That's my boy! he exulted. He couldn't believe what he was seeing through the scope. There was Mrs. Constance Big-Tits McEvoy getting ploughed by his own son -- and loving it. And the boy didn't seem exactly to be in pain. Again and again the kid put it to her, again and again she was obviously getting her cookies, again and again, Sid was cheering for his boy. That's the way, kid! he whooped inwardly. Show the bitch a good time and LAY THAT PIPE! Of course, he was starting to get a sore arm. After all, he was no kid himself anymore; at 40, he was a bit old to be choking the chicken for the second time in a half hour. But he really couldn't help himself. With the spotter scope fixed on the uncovered window of Mrs. Constance Redheaded Big-Tits McEvoy's bedroom, he had a great view. There she was with her legs up over the kid's shoulders, mouth open, boobies jiggling and obviously cumming to beat the band. He envied the kid. He wished he could have been in there. He wished Mrs. Howley next door in boyhood Brooklyn would have shown him the ropes the way Mrs. Constance Tight-Little-Ass McEvy was teaching his son. The important thing was that it was getting done. He wondered if he could cum again, but then he saw her legs tighten over his son's shoulders and he imagined her little red-furred pussy tightening and Sid knew he was going to cum again. He pressed his eye to the lense. She was rolling over onto her hands and knees, the gorgeous little ass up and begging, one hand between her legs to guide Ronnie's swollen stalk home in a single thrust and -- She was cumming again! * * * Constance screamed into the pillow, burying her face in the sweat- dampened cotton. Behind her, Ronnie was on his knees. He'd cum in her twice in the last 30 minutes, but now it seemed like his oversized young cock had been anesthetized. He pumped her pussy rapidly, relentlessly, artlessly -- and effectively. She couldn't seem to stop cumming. To her amazement, though, he was obviously ready to let loose again. His strokes got shorter and -- incredibly -- faster and then she felt him cumming inside her again. Constance was amazed: She could feel it -- still, despite the enormous previous loads he'd poured into her pussy. She felt another gut-wrenching orgasm rising inside herself as his semen and her juices squished out around the stretched edges of her cunt and dribbled down her shivering, quivering thighs. Again and again, he surged into her. Constance was almost faint with pleasure. When he'd finally slowed and his prick seemed -- she wasn't sure -- to lose a trace of its rigidity, Constance straightened one leg, pulled the other up close to her heaving, swollen tits and executed a surprisingly nimble shift that ended with her on her back and him atop her, still locked inside her. After long moments of gasping, he raised his head and looked down at her, his face a study in confused doubt and satisfaction. "Mrs. McEvoy?" She tried to still her panting. She tightened her hold on the young stud above her...still buried in her. "Yes, Ronnie?" "Mrs. McEvoy, is this...okay?" "What do you mean, Ronnie?" "I mean -- well, what we're doing feels so good for me, It seems like it must be wrong." She considered...carefully. "Ronnie, did you want to do it?" "I guess." "You guess?" He looked a bit puzzled for a moment. "Well, I knew about how to do it, but I never thought it would feel this nice." "It's not easy to describe how nice cumming feels." "Not that part," he said, snuggling his face against her hair. She heard him suck in a deep breath through his nose. "I know how good it feels to cum. I've been shooting my stuff for a year. But -- this." He hugged her. "This close stuff, the being-together-after part. Just, kind of, like having something together, just you and me -- just together. It's so nice." Constance felt a sudden upwelling of loving and closeness. She tightened her arms and legs -- and pussy -- around him. "Wow!" he gasped. "I felt that!" She tightened again -- just her pussy. His 12-year-old prick began swelling in her again. She groaned softly. "Want to do it again?" she asked. He nodded vigorously. "Well, it isn't hurting you, and it isn't hurting me, and we're the only ones here -- so I guess it can't be too wrong." She clenched him again. He smiled down at her. "I think you're right." And began moving his hips. * * * "Hi, Ralph." Jack settled onto the stool and took a few beer nuts from the bowl on the bar. "Mr. McEvoy, you're a bit early today. The usual?" "Please." The bartender filled a stein with stout and set it on the bar top. "Special occasion?" "Celebrating, Ralph. I just lost my job." "I, uh, always got the impression you enjoyed your work, Mr. McEvoy." Jack took a couple of long swallows. "Tell you the truth, Ralph: I did. And the perqs could be great. But I was going nowhere fast." "Got something else lined up, eh?" Jack nodded. "One of my neighbors has been telling me for about a year that he wants to start a small business with an equity partner. He's also been telling me for about a year that if had someone in it who could sell like I can, we'd be printing money inside of a month." He took another slug of the stout, enjoying the spreading warmth in his belly. "Well, with the buyout I just got, I can be an equity partner." "That sounds terrific, Mr. McEvoy. What kind of business is it?" Jack finished his stout. "I'm not sure. It's some kind of virtual reality gizmo for home computers. Hey. lemme have another one, willya?" "Sure thing." Jack glanced at his watch. Well, sure, he had time for another one. He'd take the 3:50 home, surprise Constance with the good news. Maybe even get a rise out of her. No hurry. When he'd called Harry from the office -- his last call from the office -- he wasn't home, but he'd left a message with his daughter. She always seemed like an awfully bright kid. "Thanks, Ralph." He was sure Harry'd get his message; Lisa was dependable.  ~From: friar.dave@teamhbbs.com (FRIAR DAVE) ~Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories ~Subject: Constanc4 (mf;pedo;cons) * * * * * * * * * * * * * Part Four Constance groaned into the boy's shoulder, then panted for breath. "Are you okay, Mrs. McEvoy?" She raised her head, brushed her thoroughly wrecked red hair from her face and smiled dreamily at him. "Ronnie, I haven't been this okay in a long time. I'm not too heavy for you, am I?" "Oh, no! You feel good on top of me. I like feeling your breasts smooshed down against me." "Good." She lay her head back on his shoulder. His young prick was still inside her, but completely soft for the first time in almost an hour and a half. His last orgasm, as she'd rode her hungry pussy up and down over his long shaft, had been significantly smaller than the first three. When she'd dangled her breasts over his face, he'd suckled first one nipple, then the other, and her orgasms had just kept on going and going and going... She glanced at the clock, an old-analogue dial model that glistened in the afternoon sunshine. She'd better get moving. "Ronnie?" "Mmmm?" "Ronnie, we better get up and get dressed. It's getting late." "O-kay..." She kissed his chin and pulled herself off him. As soon as his soft shaft slurped wetly out of her pussy, a thick mixture of her juices and his semen began drooling out. She grabbed her husband's old shirt to stanch the flow. His cock lay long and limber on his abdomen, gleaming with their juices. She couldn't resist. "That feels so good, Mrs. McEvoy," he groaned as she licked her juices and his off his prick. "Just want to get you all clean," she whispered -- and then her eyes widened. He was getting hard again. Well, she decided, she couldn't send him home in *that* state. Constance popped the fat head of his cock into her mouth and began working her hand on his shaft. * * * Way to go, kid! Sid exulted. * * * Nancy tracked the sounds to Lisa's bedroom door -- but now she relaxed. They were sounds of pleasure. Undeniable pleasure. But was Lisa alone? She dropped to one knee and peered through the keyhole. Yes, Lisa was alone -- and madly pumping a small vibrator in and out of herself. "Un--yeah--un--" And cumming. Nancy smiled. In some ways, Lisa was way ahead of her. Her friend often gave the impression that she was hesitant, even fearful, when it came to experimenting and enjoying herself -- but Nancy understood where that came from. Way to go, pal of mine, she silently cheered. No need for Lisa to know she'd been discovered. She started back down the stairs, quietly. She'd lock the door behind her, though; she wasn't about to let her best friend be vulnerable. * * * Jack stared out the window of the commuter train. It was mostly empty at this hour. Too early for the rush and after the schools had let out. He sucked some more beer through the straw leading to the paper-bagged can he'd bought at Hoboken, where he changedg trains. He was feeling pretty good. Maybe I ought to go right to Harry's place, meet him when he comes home. Constance probably wouldn't give a damn. * * * Constance finished toweling herself off. She felt so damn...good. No regrets, no guilt -- just good. She'd cum like gangbusters and the fact that she'd been able to coax yet another ejaculation from the kid only convinced her that the problem with her marriage was not that she was lacking in appeal. Cheerfully brushing her teeth, she watched her breasts jiggle with the motion of her arm. Nice tits, lady, she told herself. And, on impulse, decided she was going to treat herself to dinner tonight. Alone. At that seafood place in Fort Lee, the one with the great lobsters. She gargled with Scope -- Nothing better for rinsing away the taste of boy cum, she thought -- and stepped back into the bedroom. Oh, yeah, the drapes. Well, who could see in? The hell with it. But the place reeked of sex. She opened the window despite the heat and quickly stripped the bed linen, tossing it into the laundry chute. Then Constance pulled on a halter and some shorts and remade the bed with fresh linen. Catching a glimpse of her curvaceous reflection in the bedroom mirror, Constance decided to indulge herself one more long-missed pleasure. From her closet, she pulled the lightweight summer dress, the one that was nearly backless, the one she usually wore over a light, short-sleeved shirt for the sake of modesty. Hmmmm...lobster and hungry stares. Yeah, she could live with that. She'd leave Jack a note -- not that he'd miss her. Hell, he was probably going to be working late, anyhow. Tomorrow, she told herself, I'm going to teach Ronnie how to eat a woman properly. He'd quickly learned the rudiments, but he needed practice. Smiling, she stripped off her halter and shorts, slipped into a pair of panties and pulled on the dress. * * * It took Jack four tries, but he finally managed to connect with the doorbell. He waited for a few minutes and rang again. Nothing. Damn, and he really needed to get in there and use the head. And maybe sit down for a few minutes; he wasn't feeling too steady. In fact, he decided, maybe he better sit down on the steps for a few minute. He managed to sit without falling and dumbly contemplated a slightly blurred world. "Hello?" He didn't see anyone. "Are you alright?" Legs came into view. He looked up, fumbled through his somewhat numbed memory. Harry's daughter... "Mr. McEvoy?" "Oh, hi...Lisa." "Mr. McEvoy, my mom and dad aren't home yet. They're going out to dinner." "Oh. Okay. No problem." He struggled to stand, started to lose his balance. Lisa steadied him, and he nearly fell on her. "Um, can I use your bathroom? Too much beer." "I guessed. Sure. Come on inside." "Apologize." She led him inside, pointed and watched him stagger toward the bathroom. * * * "Hi, Ronnie." She dropped her shoulder bag on the pass-through counter to the kitchen. Ronnie was sitting on one of the stools, staring at the remaining half of what appeared to be a peanut-butter and marshmallow fluff sandwich. "Hi," he said quietly. "Mom and Dad home?" She took some apple juice from the refrigerator. "Dad's upstairs working." She peered at his face. "Are you okay, Ronnie? You look awfully tired." He took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired." "Maybe you ought to lay down for a while." He stared at the half-sandwich for a moment. "Maybe I will." The phoned chirped. Nancy grabbed the cordless from the counter. She was worried about her handsome younger brother. She'd never seen him this subdued. "Sugarman residence," she said. "Nancy, it's me." Lisa's voice. "I need some help." "Sure." Nancy tried not to smile; Lisa had seemed to be helping herself out just fine. "What's up?" "You know Mrs. McEvoy's husband?" "Sure." "He's here, he's drunk and he's almost passed out. Can you help me get him home before someone sees the husband of the only nice person on the school board falling down drunk?" "Five minutes." She hung up. "Ronnie, I'm going to help Lisa with something. Tell Dad and Mom for me, okay?" "'kay." She hoped her brother wasn't coming down with something. * * * She'd enjoyed the valet's stares so much she almost missed the maitre'd's polite, "Ma'am?" "Sorry -- woolgathering. Table for one." "Do you have a reservation?" Constance smiled. "I have no reservations, pal." "Well, ma'am -- " "Your place is nearly empty -- except for the bar -- and I want dinner. Now." "I'm sorry, ma'am, but we have a policy requiring -- " Uh-oh. She suddenly realized what was happening. A sexy woman in a backless, low cut sundress in a restaraunt with a bar frequented by businessmen. "Get the manager. Now. Please." "But -- " A small Japanese man emerged from the bar area. He wore an impeccable three-piece suit. He looked to be about fifty, maybe sixty. "Excuse me, but may I be of some assistance?" "I'm sorry, Mr. Hiroko, but this lady -- " There was a decided emphasis on the two syllables -- "doesn't have a reservation." "I see. I'm sure we can accommodate her, Clarence. This is Ms. Constance McEvoy, who is on the school board. I recognize her from the meetings. Allow me?" He gestured Clarence away. "Ms. McEvoy, where would you like to dine?" "Thank you. By the window?" "Of course." He led her to the table and held a chair for her. As she settled herself, he beckoned. A waiter appeared with menus, a wine list and cold water. "If you wish anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask for me." He handed her his card. "Thank you, sir." She glanced at the card -- English on one side, Japanese on the other. When she looked up, she caught him staring down the front of her dress. He was totally unembarrassed. "Thank you. I hope you will enjoy yourself." He bowed slightly and left. As she examined the menu, Constance smiled. Yes, this was the way it was supposed to be: An afternoon of cumming with an insatiable, big-dicked youth, and now an evening driving the businessmen nuts. * * * It was better than a porno movie, Sid decided. Watching Mrs. Constance Big Boobies McEvoy fucking and sucking his son. And then having her stand almost completely naked at the window and open it. Almost like she knew he was watching. Almost like she was saying, Here it is, big boy! Come 'n' get it! His balls ached from jerking off so much. Oh, well, he told himself. Finish off the fucking project plans and deliver them. Get your mind back on your work. He bent over the drafting table and meticulously worked at the perspective drawing. He knew it was his best work yet. * * * "I didn't think we were going to make it," Nancy puffed, The drunken man could barely stand, let alone walk, and they'd nearly carried him for most of the four blocks. "I'm not sure we have," Lisa rasped back, closing the door and savoring the cool air of the house after the hot sun. Jack McEvoy was sprawled on the couch. He was a mess. His clothes were rumpled and stained, his hair was unkempt and his left hand had a small scratch where he'd lurched against the door on the way in. As the two samaritans watched, he tried to stand. Twice. The second time he made it upright before falling back to the couch. "Mr. McEvoy," Nancy said, "why don't you just stretch out and take a nap?" "Gotta...gotta...too much beer." "No shit, Sherlock," Lisa muttered. He climbed to his feet again and lurched toward the stairs. "Uh-oh." Nancy darted toward him. She had a vision of him falling down the stairs. "No, Mr. McEvoy, please..." Lisa cooed, trying to divert him from the stairs. "I have to take a leak, scuse the spression." He dropped to his hands and knees and started crawling up the stairs. "We better make sure he doesn't crack his head," Lisa said. Nancy nodded and they stayed right behind him all the way to the top. Still on his hands and knees, he went to the door of the master bedroom. Nancy turned the knob for him. "What the -- " The bedroom was broiling. Someone had left the window open to the midday heat. Nancy quickly closed the window and pulled the drape to block the sun. "We've got trouble," Lisa said. Nancy turned, saw Jack's ashen complexion. She scanned the room, saw the open door to the bathroom. "Come on." Nancy grabbed one of his arms, Lisa took the other and they dragged him to the bathroom. Somehow, he pulled his head up over the bowl. "Gross," Lisa muttered. They backed out of the bathroom as he began to expel. Nancy shivered. She was feeling a bit ill herself. "You okay?" Lisa asked. "Not really. Hearing that kinda gets me." Lisa shrugged. "Doesn't bother me that way. Hey, thanks for the rescue, pal." "Anytime, bud. Listen, I'm going to go home. Ronnie doesn't look like he's feels very good. Dad's going to deliver some plans for his new project tonight and Mom's playing bridge with her pals, so I want to keep an eye on him." "Sure. If anything interesting comes up, give me a call." Lisa grinned lewdly. "Perv." Nancy grinned back. They heard a groan from the bathroom. "I'm gonna stick around for a few minutes, keep an eye on him." "Sure." Nancy hurried downstairs, now enjoying the prospect of hot, fresh air and the scent of green. * * * "Is everything to your satisfaction, Ms. McEvoy?" "It's wonderful, Mr. Hiroko. Thank you. Would you care to join me over desert?" "Thank you, but would I offend if I limited myself to tea?" "Not at all." "You are very gracious." Constance smiled. She knew that Mr. Hiroko was now the envy of every man in the bar. Play it for all its worth, she told herself. * * * "Oh, geez, Mr. McEvoy..." Lisa moaned. "You barfed on yourself." He nodded weakly, sitting propped against the edge of the tub. Lisa switched on the ventilator and flushed the bowl. "If you can help me get up..." "Okay." She bent and slipped her hands under his shoulders. Which was when she realized that if he was sufficiently conscious, he was getting a good view down the front of her tee-shirt. Grunting with effort, working together, they managed to get him to his feet. He held on to the top of the sliding doors on the tub. "That's good. Thanks. I can take it from here." "Are you sure?" "Yeah." She hesitated, uncertain. "Well, look, maybe I can make some coffee or something for you and --" He turned slightly green. "Please don't mention food." "Gotcha." She slipped out of the bathroom. She was about to exit the bedroom and head for home when she realized he wasn't that steady yet, and a lot of people got hurt falling in the tub. She decided to wait till she was sure he was okay. And where the hell was his pretty wife? Lisa went to the window and drew the drapes back. Must be close to five, she decided. She glanced at herself in the bedroom mirror. And stared. Had she really gone out of the house dressed like that -- in the old, tight denim shorts and just that thin tee-shirt. Perspiration had soaked the shirt to her tits; it was nearly transparent. Of course, she *had* dressed in a hurry. The doorbell had awakened her from a slight doze brought on by, oh, about a thousand orgasms with the vibrator. She grinned. She'd actually worn out the batteries! And even then, it had its uses. She wondered sometimes if there was something wrong with her, the way she'd cum and cum and cum; it didn't seem natural. Even now, she thought, seeing her nipples bulge with arousal. Then she heard the shower running. Inspiration struck. * * * "Hi, Dad." Nancy spotted her dad as soon as she walked in the doorway. "Finished the plans?" "Oh, hi, sweetheart. Yes, all done." He had the cylinder under his arm, the one that he used to carry project plans. He put it aside to receive her hug, tensing slightly at the press of her firm, well- developed body against his side. His penis began to fill, and he cursed himself; how could he let himself get turned on by his little girl? He pulled away. "Gonna take them over now. Want to come with me?" "I dunno, Dad. Ronnie looked like he wasn't feeling too well. He just said he's tired, but I don't know. I want to keep an eye on him." "He probably wore himself out this afternoon helping Mrs. McEvoy clean out her attic." And clean out her pipes, he thought. "Anyhow, I got some studying to do." "Okay, sweetheart. I won't be back for a couple of hours. You'll be okay?" "I can take care of myself, Dad." "That's my baby." He gave her a chaste peck on the forehead, grabbed his plans case and headed out the door. * * * I wonder where his wife is? Lisa had thought, prowling the first floor. And then she'd spotted the note under the magnetic clip on the refrigerator door. Aha! The shower had stopped running about five minutes before. If she had it figured right, he should be just about finished rinsing his mouth and toweling off -- and just about ready to fall onto the bed. Naked. "Brazen," she whispered, starting her slow creep up the stairs. Halfway down the hall, she heard the thump of a limp body hitting the mattress. "Brazen." She mouthed the word, soundless, listening at the door. After a few minutes, she heard the soft snoring. Even better, she thought -- because no one snores on their belly. He's face up. And I'm gonna get to see a real one...finally! She put her hand on the door knob and slowly began to turn it. * * * "Good evening, Mr. Sugarman. Work or dinner tonight?" "Work, I'm afraid, Clarence." "Mr. Hiroko is at a customer's table right now -- " "Can you give these to him when he's finished?" The maitre 'd smiled. "No, sir, he said to bring you right to him when you arrived. Follow me." He led Sid through the tables, which were slowly filling, toward the window seats. "He's right there -- " Sid didn't hear the rest of it. He'd spotted his client, but his eyes were on the customer. * * * Nancy was puzzled -- and concerned. Usually, if her brother was in his room at this hour, he was whacking off; not today. In fact, from the sounds she could barely make out through his door, he was actually dozing. That was a first. * * * "Oh, you know each other?" "Yes," Constance replied, smiling. "We're neighbors." "In fact, Constance had my son help her out today. I hope he did a good job." "Oh, he was quite good. And very energetic" Sid nodded too rapidly. "Glad to hear it. I wouldn't want the Sugarman name ever to be associated with less than satisfactory work." Hiroko laughed, Constance smiled. Why did she have the feeling Sid was saying more than he seemed to be? Had the kid talked? "Well, we got a lot more done than I'd hoped, but I still have some more work for him." "Excellent. Hey, I'm available, too, if you have need some really big stuff moved." "Thanks, Sid, but I'm sure Ronnie can handle it." "He's a hard worker, alright -- a real Sugarman." "And these are the final plans?" Hiroko asked gently. Sid's eyes and smile made Constance uneasy, but Hiroko was diverting the man's attention. Constance took a small sip of her coffee and tried to relax. * * * Geez, what's the big deal; it looks like a worm. Lisa was a bit disappointed and knew she shouldn't be. After all, the guy was drunk and asleep; damned unlikely she'd get to see a real hard-on. She stood beside the bed, staring down at him. He was a good- looking man, and he was pretty well built. And she just adored the sprinkling of light brown hair on his chest and the thick patch of curly pubic hair. She really wanted to see his balls. Lisa took a deep breath and decided to chance it. She crawled carefully onto the bed, between his legs. She bent low, lower... Weird looking, she decided. Somehow, she hadn't expected them to be so big or hang so loose. The only scrotums she'd ever seen were on babies. She crawled closer, gingerly avoiding touching him. At a range of about eighteen inches, she studied his genitals with fascinated eyes. She wished she could see it hard. She wondered what it felt like. Almost in horror, she watched her hand reach up. She let her fingertips graze the wrinkled shaft, surprised at its warmth. "Snarf." She snatched her hand back and froze in terror, immobilized for long seconds. His breathing slowly became regular again. And she noticed that his cock had stretched a bit. Maybe, she thought. Maybe. Very carefully, she reached up and again let her fingertips rest on his cock. She moved them down and back up again, barely touching him. To her delight and wonderment, his prick began swell and fill. Cool! She kept up the movement of her fingers, then grasped his cock at midpoint between thumb and forefinger. It was so -- amazing! It was hard and hot, yet velvety soft. And it was still growing. He moaned, muttered something in his sleep. She couldn't make sense of it. This was August and he was mumbling about May. But he wasn't waking up. She continued lightly jacking his cock until it was fully erect. Lisa was impressed. It was a bit longer than her vibrator and notably thicker. Since her toy was six inches long and an inch in diameter, it made her wonder about Nancy's brother and his magic johnson; could something that much bigger actually go into a woman? Her pussy was damp. I wonder if I can get him to shoot his stuff in his sleep. Guys have wet dreams, so... She needed some kind of lubricant, she decided, so she drooled saliva onto her hand and resumed jacking. Subject: CONSTAN5(mf;pedo;nec;end) From: friar.dave@teamhbbs.com (FRIAR DAVE) * * * * * * * * * * * * * CONSTANT.STY By Friar Dave (Copyright, 1994) Sid was seething while he waited for his car. Obviously, Mrs. Prim and Proper Tight Ass McEvoy was into something with the old Jap. But how could that be? The old bastard probably couldn't even get it up anymore! He tipped the valet and got into the BMW. Who could figure? At least one Sugarman was taking care of business, though. As he headed for Route 17, an idea occurred to him: Maybe she was dumping him. Maybe that was it. The kid had done so well by her that she was no longer interested in the little Jap. "Sure," he said aloud. "That's the ticket." * * * "Have a nice nap?" "Yeah, sis. I feel a lot better now." He looked better, too. Nancy was relieved. She really loved her baby brother. She wanted everything to be okay for him. "Anyhow, I'm gonna soak in the hottub." She smiled. "Sure. See you later." Now THAT was the Ronnie she knew! * * * Lisa loved it. Here was this big, strong grownup man humping and groaning in his sleep -- and all because of her hand on his hard prick. But it was frustrating, too -- because she wanted to see that stuff shoot out. She really wanted to make him cum. She also really wanted to rub her bare pussy, not just through the shorts. No sense in going halfway, she decided. She crawled off the bed and quickly shucked her shorts and shirt. Then she knelt between his legs, leaned over his throbbing prick and led some spit dribble onto the knobby end. She grabbed his cock, spread the lubricating saliva with her hand and began jacking again. Her firm, 14-year-old B-cup titties jiggled perkily with her motions. Her other hand went between her legs, to her aching, quivering pussy and clit. She didn't remember ever being this wet. * * * Nancy stood under the hot spray of her shower. She wondered what would happen if she simply walked in on her brother and joined him in the hottub. He'd probably freak out, she decided. But maybe he'd let her touch it...and practice the things that she wanted to do as well as everything else she undertook. She could practice licking and sucking it, maybe even...everything. Her nipples hardened as she thought of lowering herself on his stiff dick. She let one hand dally over her compact little pussy with its few downy sprouts. But then -- No, she told herself. It'd be nice for him and for me, but not smart. She knew she was going to have to watch out for her slower-witted baby brother, and if they started playing sex games, she'd be unable to relate to him the way she would have to. She rinsed herself and stepped out of the shower. As she dried off, she told herself that it was a shame things worked out the way they did. And of course, given the size of his penis -- well she was *awfully* tight down there. In her room, Nancy contemplated her attire for the balance of the evening. And then she contemplated what she'd seen Lisa doing. Nancy didn't have a vibrator. But she did have an electric toothbrush. With a wicked little grin of pleasure, she stepped quickly -- and briefly -- back into her bathroom. * * * "Ummmm! Ummmm!" His groans were louder, his humping more urgent, his erection throbbing more intensely -- and still he wouldn't cum! Lisa was having trouble stifling her own groans. Her busy little fingers kept her near orgasm...but never quite there. She wanted to hold off, cum at the same time he did. But she was aching for her cum. She stared down at the flaring slit in his cockhead and licked her lips. Time for another first, she decided, and ducked her head down, her mouth open. * * * Sid unlocked the front door and let himself into his home. The kids were nowhere to be seen. Nancy was probably studying, he figured, but where was Ronnie? He looked into the basement -- the kid was nuts for his video games -- but came up empty. Then he heard the water running. Sure, the hottub. Ronnie had long since discovered the pleasures of the Jacuzzi jets on his nuts while whacking off. That's my boy, he thought proudly. Knock off a couple dozen quick ones with Mrs. Hot Ass Constance McEvoy and then come home and polish the pole some more. With a sigh of resignation regarding his sexy neighbor, Sid decided to look over his notes one more time, maybe play with some of the sketches for his dream house. He'd bought some lovely land in Vermont, near a lake. He was planning to design his personal dream house for the site. His wife hated the Vermont cold, but who cared? It was his money and his dream house. She could stay in Bergen County, if she liked. And now that Ronnie had gotten a taste of premium cooze, he'd probably be loathe to leave it behind, especially since he wasn't crazy for Vermont in the winter. At least his precious little girl would like it; Nancy loved cross-country skiing. He climbed the stairs to the second floor and headed for the steep steps up to his little studio. As he passed Nancy's door, he heard an odd noise -- and gasping. What the fuck? Sid quietly put his ear to the door. The whirring was louder -- and so were her grunts. He was about to knock when he heard: "Ahhhh! Yesyesyesyesyes..." He went numb. He knew that sound, knew what it meant. Among other things, it meant he was getting a hard-on. Fucking pervert! he cursed himself. That's my little girl! Still he couldn't resist dropping to one knee, looking through the keyhole... All he could see was one foot, upturned and toes curled, jerking in time to her groaning. Sid got to his feet and slowly, quietly, climbed the stairs to his studio. I have to get help, he told himself. Getting a hard-on from hearing my little baby doing -- well, THAT. * * * Cocksucking wasn't bad at all, Lisa thought, but she obviously needed more experience. She'd always heard that this made guys cum too fast, and ten minutes of it had done nothing but increase the volume and pathos of his moans and give her a sore jaw. His dick was really a lot thicker than her vibrator. In the meantime, her pussy was positively yowling for attention. She straightened and looked down at his angrily throbbing -- and largely beer-anesthetized -- erection. You've gone this far, girl, she told herself. Might as well put that thing to good use. Carefully, Lisa crouched with one foot on either side of his hips. She reached down and grabbed the now-familiar cock, aiming it at her pussy. She was suddenly beset by doubt. His cock looked awfully, awfully thick compared to her lightly furred -- and soaking wet -- pussy. Oh, what the hell, she thought. She began pushing down. * * * "This is lovely, Mr. Hiroko." "Please, call me John." He smiled and closed the door behind her as she looked around his private dining room. Constance was impressed. The room was paneled in cherrywood and the walls were lined with leather banquettes. To one side was a low, Japanese dining table surrounded by cushions. She felt quite at ease with him. "May I offer you a refreshment?" he asked, politely gesturing for her to be seated. "Thank you...John." "I have a premium scotch, single-malt. Do you indulge?" "A very, very small one, neat please. I have to drive." "Of course. And it would not do for you to appear tipsy, as I fear I may already have compromised you." he stood with his back to her, busy with a small liquor cabinet. Constance was a bit confused. "Compromised me? I don't understand." He turned, holding two cut crystal -- Waterford, she realized -- glasses of smoky liquid. "Mrs. McEvoy -- " "Constance, please." "Thank you. Constance, I have been enjoying our conversation so much, I did not realize until I invited you in here that -- well, the appearance." He offered her the scotch, then sat a few feet from her, facing her across the soft leather. Constance smiled. "I'm sure no one would come to the wrong assumption, John. You're a well-respected businessman with a wife and children." He actually blushed and looked downward for a moment. "The delicate fact, Constance, is that this room has been used for... indulgences in the past. Most of my acquaintances in this community are aware of the significance when an attractive woman accompanies me here." She blinked. Hiroko with mistresses? Hey, she thought, there may be snow on the roof, et cetera. "But, your wife -- I'm sorry." She took a sip of the scotch. "My wife...is understanding and traditional. It is a not-uncommon situation in Tokyo. Our devotion to each other is unshakable, but people have needs." "I...quite understand." And to her astonishment, she realized she was actually considering -- Her nipples were swelling. "So I fear my acquaintances may make the incorrect assumption." She eyed him slowly. He was really quite an appealing man. And so attentive, yet not fawning. "John, do you really think I'm an attractive woman?" "Undeniably." She put her scotch on the back of the banquet and stood. "Well, we certainly can't have people making the wrong assumptions." And with that, Constance reached behind her neck and pulled loose the knot holding up the front of her dress. The fabric floated downward, revealing her breasts and her swollen nipples. "O kage samme de!" he exclaimed. "I'm glad you think so." She smiled and stepped toward him. * * * Lisa could not believe how big it felt in her -- or how hot. This, she decided, was much better than the vibrator. But it was stretching her so much! And she only had the tip of it in her! "Oh, May, May, May..." He kept murmuring it over and over again in his sleep. Still crouching, still gripping his shaft with one hand, Lisa bit her lower lip and forced her straining young cunt lower, managed to somehow wedge another inch or so of his cock into her. With it securely lodged -- Secure, hell; she wasn't sure she could get it out. -- she carefully switched to a kneeling position over him, which rammed a little more of his hard prick up into her. "So hot, May, so hot..." On her knees, carrying her upper body weight with her hands braced on either side of him, Lisa began twisting her hips and slowly working him out and back in, taking just a little more each time. It felt good, but it wasn't easy getting her young pussy to accept more of this fat prick. But at the halfway point, when she pulled up and then pushed down again, the liquid slide of his throbbing cock in her velvety cunt sent a shiver of pleasure through her. Yes! * * * Relaxed, sated, refreshed, Nancy bounced down the stairs and went into the kitchen, She was always hungry after she came. She spotted her brother's uneaten half-sandwich in the refrigerator. Gotta replace those calories, she thought, and grabbed it. Not five minutes later, Ronnie appeared. He was in his bathrobe, and clearly relaxed and feeling better. He really was cute, she thought, and again wished things were different. "Sorry about the sandwich," she mumbled, waving what was left of it at him. "That's okay," he said brightly. "I'll make another one." Nancy wolfed down the last of it and took a big swig of cold Evian. Too big a swig. Some of it overran her lips and ran down to soak the front of her yellow blouse. And of course she was braless. Her nips hardened up under the coolness. She suddenly became aware her brother was staring at her. Uh-oh... "Ronnie?" He shook himself and looked at her face. "Yeah?" "What were you thinking?" "Well -- you sure have pretty titties." "Thank you." "And..." "And what?" She figured this had better be quashed now. "Well, I learned something new today, but I need practice at it." He was trying to be evasive. "What did you learn?" "Ummmm...how to use my tongue to make a...girl person feel good." She frowned. "Who'd you learn this from?" "I promised not to tell." I'll bet, she thought. So Mrs. McEvoy isn't all that prim after all. "But, I thought, maybe I could practice with you." Keeping her face calm, she took her brother by the hand and sat him on the stool at the pass-through counter. "Ronnie, we can never do things like that. We can never even talk about them if anyone else is around. It could get a lot of people in a lot of trouble." "Is it bad to do that stuff?" She shook her head. "No, but people get upset." "I don't understand." "Neither do they, but I'll try to explain it..." * * * At 7:20 p.m. in late August in Bergen County, New Jersey, the sun is just beginning to seriously drop in the evening sky. Sid Sugarman's studio faced east; the McEvoys' master bedroom faced west. The light of the setting sun was just perfect for illuminating the interior of the bedroom. And the bed. "I don't fucking believe it!" Sid muttered, catching a glimpse of sun- brightened flesh moving on the bed. He leaned over and peered through the spotter scope. Two things were immediately obvious: the woman on the bed was doing the work and the woman on the bed was not Mrs. Constance Big Boobed Redhead McEvoy. Almost of its own volition, his hand was rubbing his cock through his pants leg. * * * Jack couldn't believe how good her pussy felt, how tight and hot and wet. His cock felt bigger than ever in her sweet cunt, and he felt like it would never end. Musta been a dream, he thought, as he lay back and let Mei bounce happily on his stiff penis. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" she gasped, and he felt her pussy contracting powerfully, spastically on his dick. He groaned her name as he felt the cum rising in his balls. Almost immediately, she resumed the bouncing. He just wished she'd take him all the way in. He brought his hands up and put them on her ass. She had the tightest, firmest little butt he'd touched since he was fifteen. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Yes!" she groaned as he tightened his hold on her butt and began hunching up at her and he pulled her down. She started spasming on him again as his cock hit the end of her pussy. Huh? For the first time, Jack opened his eyes. He expected to see Mei Fong's long black hair and exquisite Chinese features and perfect palm-filling titties. He expected to see his gorgeous bed-friend riding him to a post-nap orgasm, bringing him back from the strange dream. Instead, he was looking up into the face of a wildly orgasmic fourteen-year-old girl with short brown hair and full, thrusting young tits capped with stiff spikes of nipples. A fourteen-year-old girl who looked ready to pass out with pleasure. "Oh, shit!" Her eyes focused on his face. "Please don't stop!" she hissed and bounced her nimble young ass over him. * * * "Constance?" "Mmmmm?" "That was lovely." She lay back on the banquet, one foot on the floor, the other on the back of the built-in. "I hope this room is soundproof." He smiled and drew her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest. "Quite. I never anticipated that you might be so vocally expressive." "John, I have never felt anything like that in my life. The way your tongue felt...mmmmm." "You are delicious." "And I thought all Asian men had, well, rather less sizable endowments." "Like most stereotypes..." "I should say so. And very impressive self-control." "At my age, it's necessary to be sure that a one-time activity lasts as long as necessary to truly savor it." His hands lightly followed the curves of her breasts. "Mmmmm -- I wish there was a way to arrange an encore." He smiled. "From your lips, as they say, to --" "Now there's an idea." She disentangled herself and slid to her knees on the carpeted floor. "John, have you ever had your cock sucked by a horny redhead with a 22-inch waist and D-cup tits?" * * * "Lisa!" he gasped. "Stop it! What are you doing?" "Fucking my brains out," she hissed and bounced all the faster. Jack looked down to where her cunt slid up and down on his aching prick and wondered how she'd managed to get him into her. Her pussy appeared to be turning inside out with each stroke. He knew he should throw her off him, knew he should stop her. He also knew he couldn't do either. "Cum! Cum!" she spat him. "Cum in me! AHHH!" The convulsions of her tight teenaged cunt around his prick were the last straw. With a groan of surrender, Jack McEvoy lurched up at her and his balls started pumping. Above him, Lisa's eyes went wide. She froze momentarily, and then seemed intent on forcing every last inch of his prick up her cunt. Jack's cum ended rather quickly, and his cock started softening immediately. Lisa reached between her legs and furiously rubbed her clit until she came yet again, and then let herself fall onto his chest. * * * "So how was Mrs. McEvoy's chore today?" Ronnie never took his eyes off the screen, where he was playing Mortal Kombat. "Not bad at all. She's real nice. She gave me twenty bucks." "Good." At least the rehearsal went well, she thought, and then Nancy wondered how nice Mrs. McEvoy would be when she found her husband sleeping it off. In the meantime, though, Nancy had an idea. She went to her room and dialed Lisa's number. She was going to arrange for two of the most special people in her world to be a lot happier. Besides, Ronnie needed the practice. * * * "But why not someone your own age?" She shook her head. "Look, Jack, I don't get much chance to do anything with anyone. I'm just an innocent little girl, which status will not change until 12:01 a.m. on my eighteenth birthday, at which time I will miraculously understand how everything is supposed to work. I'm not allowed on dates. I have to be chaperoned to the mall. Everything I know about sex I've had to learn from library books that I can't even check out on my card...or through trial and error." "Well, it's normal for parents to want to protect their kids -- " She whirled and glared. "Protect? Oh, Jack, what unbelievable bullshit! I'm only fourteen -- and I'm probably the last girl in my glass at St. Barnabus to get fucked. I know -- personally -- three girls who've had abortions. One of them thought you can't get pregnant the first time. You call that protection?" "You took a chance with -- " "You had a vasectomy. I know, because my mother talked about you wanting to avoid a high-risk pregnancy for your wife. And the only reason I know what a vasectomy means is the reading room at the library -- before they made those books off-limits to us little kids." He cupped her breasts and bent her head toward. "Hear that, little kids?" He pursed his lips, then: "It's parents' responsibility to teach their kids -- " "DON'T YOU GET IT?" she screamed. "My parents don't want to think I'll ever grow up. You should have heard the fight when my mother said I needed a bra! 'Not my little girl!' Dad's yelling. They're convinced I won't get horny if nobody says anything -- as if I didn't discover my clitoris the first time the shower spray hit it! I'm supposed to be intact and ignorant as a babe so I can know the joy of womanhood when I get my hymen ruptured by some rutting, equally ignorant dork on my wedding night. Not -- this -- kid!" Jack sighed. "Why me, though?" It sound like a complaint. She snorted. "You, sir, were what is known as a target of opportunity." Then she shrugged, making her tits bobble. "Besides, you're kind of cute." He still lay naked and sweaty on the bed. His pubic hair was matted with her juices and his. He shook his head from side to side. "I thought it was a dream," he mumbled. She pulled on her shorts. "Yeah, you kept mumbling, This is August. What happened in May?" He groaned. She smiled. "Anyhow, I gotta tell you -- I really enjoyed this. I mean, you were my first man -- even if I wasn't technically a virgin. I liked it with you, a lot. You don't suppose we could do this again sometime, do you?" "You've got to be kidding! What if someone found out?" "I won't tell if you won't." She came to the side of the bed and bent over him, her taut young breats hanging down. He couldn't take his eyes off those beautiful, precocious tits. "What do you say?" "I don't think it would be a good idea..." "My wet little pussy thinks it is. Any other precincts reporting?" She ducked her head, looking past her boobies at his still-limp dick. "Hung over. Well, if there're any other votes, phone 'em in." She kissed his nose, then bounced up, striding past the window in search of the shirt she'd tossed aside earlier. She found it, pulled it over her head and strode to the bedroom door. "Anyhow, I gotta go. Thanks again, stud." And was gone. Jack groaned. * * * Sid finished swabbing his leg and pulled his pants back up. He resumed his perch and looked through the scope. He'd gotten a good look at the full-breasted lass when she'd strolled past the sunlit window, just seconds after he'd finished jerking off. He still couldn't believe it. He would have believed a lot of things about Jack McEvoy, but not that he was a pedophile. No wonder the beautiful, sensitive redhead who'd married him had to find satisfaction elsewhere. She'd married a child-molester. Someone should do something about it, he thought, but what? Then it came to him. Of course. And he knew how to do it. Go to one of the video stores in Times Square and buy a kiddie porn tape. Maybe one of those Traci Lords tapes. Sid had really enjoyed her big, firm- nippled tits and braying orgasms until he'd learned she'd made the tapes when she was underage, at which point he'd burned all of his videos. Not that he could ever forget them. But he could probably find some in Times Square. And then mail one to Jack McEvoy -- and call the Post Office with an anonymous tip. Possession of kiddie porn, even unsolicited, would fuck up that pervert's life. But good. Yeah, that was the ticket. Who knew? Maybe Mrs. Big Tits Hot Little Ass Redhead Constance McEvoy would enjoy some grownup solace. And since Lisa was already -- He thrust the thought from his mind and bent to his drawing table. He had to finish the plans for the house in Vermont. He had to get it built and move the family up there, so his innocent little girl would be safe from people like Jack McEvoy. -- end -- * Stupid Footnotes Section * This one has been kind of an experiment for me. I honestly have no idea if it works. Please tell me. All comments and criticisms welcomed via Email or posts (but please post only in .alt.sex.story.DISCUSS). If you liked this, the greatest compliment and appreciation anyone could possibly pay me would be to discuss in public posts in alt.sex.stories.DISCUSS the ideas it raises. Sorry, but I can't Email sections. The folks giving me access have to pay by the pound for their traffic, and they're just a small group, not some big, well-funded organization. The next one will be an oldie for me (but possibly not to this group) DUNNING should come up shorter than this one. I'll start posting in a coupla-three days.  -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |