Message-ID: <32215asstr$998881802@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: From: kellis X-Original-Message-ID: MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII X-ASSTR-Arrival-Date: Sun, 26 Aug 2001 20:40:53 -0400 (EDT) Subject: {ASSM} The Last Fling: Ms. Creighton's Hobby {Varkel} (Mfm Mm oral bi) Date: Sun, 26 Aug 2001 23:10:02 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, kelly The Last Fling April to December Twice Presented as a Series of Episodes by Varkel Copyright (c) Varangian and Kellis, August, 2001 Episode 4: Ms. Creighton's Hobby "Just how old was Ms. Creighton anyway?" Jack asked, looking around the room of mirrors. It contained a huge custom-made bed equipped currently with a thick mattress but no bedclothes. The ceiling directly above the bed consisted of a set of mirrors. A large plate glass mirror lined the wall behind the headboard. Lou shook his head. "The real estate agent didn't know. All he could say was she died of heart failure." "Won't we all," muttered Jack dryly. He looked up at the mirrors and around at Lou's paunch, then grinned toward the two 18 year-old girls, presently wearing jeans and blouses. "Well, I see _two_ bodies that could make great reflections on that bed." The girls giggled but Anita, the slim brunette, sobered quickly. "Four!" she declared stoutly. The two girls and Jack were helping Lou make his decisions for new furnishings in the Creighton house, a recent purchase. Much of the late Ms. Creighton's furniture remained. Apparently her heirs had removed everything they wanted. "No, dear, though I thank you." Jack sighed. "One reflection of my wrinkles, gray hair and broken veins in the doors behind my hot tub was enough. It will last the rest of my life. Have you ordered anything for this room, Lou?" "Not yet. Guess I'll keep the bed, even if the bedclothes have to be custom made. It appears to be bolted to the floor. I was thinking of putting a dresser over there under that dark mirror. The room's large enough for a table, easy chairs and even a couch, but look -- not a single window! Can you imagine spending much time in here?" "Much time?" Jack snickered, winking at Betsy. "How much time does it take?" The blonde grinned widely. "More time is better." She rested her knee atop the mattress and bounced, causing the ample flesh within her blouse to undulate most attractively. She looked up at her reflection then askance at Lou. "Hey, this could be fun!" Lou took a deep breath and jotted something into his notebook while muttering, "Sheets for the big bed, top of the list." Jack grinned and turned to watch Anita examine the "dark mirror." In fact the glass was notably darker than the mirrors around the bed. It was relatively small, hardly a foot square, framed in molded mahogany. The slim brunette regarded Lou, asking, "Why you wanna keep this mirror? A big'un 'ould work lots better." As she spoke her hands gripped the ornate frame and pulled outward, only to lose their grasp. She staggered back. The mirror had not budged. "That's funny!" Lou turned and substituted his own hands to no greater avail. "What do you know? It's really bolted to the wall!" Jack's eyebrows rose. He approached and stood very close, staring into the glass, then grinned around at Lou. "I've seen this kind of thing before -- in police interrogation rooms." "You been to jail?" asked Anita in awe. "Not exactly," Jack explained. "I had a kid who went for me." Lou studied the mirror with narrowed eyes. "But that would have to mean ..." The other three trailed him as he purposefully left the room and followed the adjacent hall to the next doorway, which admitted into a bookcase-lined den. He ducked into the den but backed immediately out into the hall. "That wall is too long!" he proclaimed, staring back down the passage toward the mirror room doorway. "Too long?" repeated Jack. "Yeah. I'd bet on a six-foot gap, at least, between these two rooms. Come on. There must be a door into the gap, one that an old woman could use." The wall opposite the den doorway was also an outside wall of the house. The wall that should be shared with the mirror room was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookcases, now empty of books. Track lighting was arrayed above it to aid in book selection. Lou flipped on the lights and began to inspect the bookcase. "Aha!" he crowed. "Look at the fingerprints on this riser. I'll bet you a hundred bucks --" Something clicked under his probing fingers and a set of shelves moved almost imperceptibly. Pushing accomplished nothing, but when he pulled on a shelf, the entire set, from floor to ceiling, swung out on curved off-center hinges that allowed the moving section to clear adjacent ones. It constituted a 30-inch door, now standing open. "I'll be damned!" Lou declared, staring into the room beyond, unlit except for light from a foot-square plate in the opposite wall. Jack, looking over Lou's shoulder, crowed triumphantly, "And there's the back of your dark mirror!" "Oh, wow!" breathed Anita, looking under his armpit. "It's a secret room," declared blonde Betsy on tip-toe. "Just like on TV," the brunette submitted. Lou stepped past the bookcase section now become an open door and felt around on the inside wall. Something clicked and light flooded the interior. All four crowded into it. They found an oblong room, apparently L-shaped at the far end. It contained a couch on the left against the wall of the corridor they had traversed from the mirror room. Two straight chairs sat before a large desk under the one-way mirror. A rack of electronic equipment was on its right. A bulky television camera perched atop a wheeled tripod beyond that. While the men blinked around at the unexpected discoveries, Betsy darted to the far end of the room, Anita just behind. Momentarily they disappeared around the corner to the left but quickly returned. "You gotta see this!" proclaimed Betsy. When the men had followed, they found a narrow passage with a padded bench on one side lit only by a huge window on the other, through which the entire great bed and mirror room were clearly visible. "Another one-way mirror!" breathed Lou. "But this one is more modern," Jack said thoughtfully. "Its reflectivity on the other side is as good as the ceiling mirror." Suddenly he began to chuckle. "Ms. Creighton, what in the world were you up to?" "What do you think!" said Lou knowingly. "This whole setup is for spying on people in the mirror room." "Yeah," Jack agreed, "and I'll bet at least one piece of that equipment is a videocassette recorder." He hurried around Lou and the girls to examine the contents of the rack beside the desk. After peering and prodding he mused, "Not a VCR. Three V_T_Rs! Recognize them, Lou? We bought video tape recorders like these for our Audio-Visual rooms back in the Seventies." Lou nodded slowly. "What do you think she recorded on them?" "Yeah!" Jack leered at the adjacent rack. "There are the tapes, half-inch thick reels, picture and sound, one-hour each, as I recall." Lou donned his reading glasses and leaned close. Each boxed reel had a label attached, printed in a neat hand. Tilting his head sideways to match the labels, he read, "'Two into One, Day 3, January 12, 1977.' Huh! Get this one: 'Bob and the Reluctant Tart, August 4, 1977.' God, must be a hundred tapes here, and most of them have labels." An intrigued Betsy asked, "You mean they's something to hear on them tapes?" "And _see_," Jack explained. He grinned at her. "_Them_ tapes is video tapes." The brunette punched his arm lightly and admonished, "Talk right to us." He chuckled wryly. "If you know better, why don't _you_ talk better?" "We's learning," she answered defensively. Betsy touched the spine of a tape box tentatively. "How do you see what's in them?" Lou looked up at his friend. "That's the right question. Think you can figure it out?" Jack leered at him. "Have you forgotten who operated the equipment at those private parties you arranged in the audio-visual room? Hand me one of those tapes and we'll give it a whirl." "How about _Fall Fivesome of 1980_?" "Any one will do till I figure it out. Shouldn't take long." But Jack was mistaken. He was able to mount the reel on a VTR and cause it to play back, attested by a bouncing audio indicator, but flipping power onto the large monitor above the rack only resulted in snowy noise. Panels with many switches were below the monitor. He began to play with them while the reels turned slowly, muttering, "Why in hell did she need such an elaborate distribution system -- with separate video and audio amplifiers even?" The girls' attention span had been exceeded. Betsy asked, "You mind if'n we goes to the game room? We proved yesterday, the TV works." "Look out for the Playboy channel," Lou warned with a leer. "What's that?" asked the brunette. "Come on," the blonde retorted. "We'll find out." They stopped by the newly stocked refrigerator for cokes. The large-screen television in the game room was indeed usable, though its picture was blurry and dim. They settled on the couch after finding a morning drama on which two young women were assailing a young man apparently for his attention to a third woman. They both sighed with pleasure and swilled their sodas. This was material that they could appreciate, even as the man deftly set the two women arguing against each other. "Luke used to do that to us," Anita remarked. "Till I figured it out," Betsy retorted, adding smugly, "Then I got Bucky doing it to Luke." "Don't try it on Jack and Lou," warned the brunette. "They's been around too long." "I ain't," Betsy protested, "least not yet." They watched with pleased identification as the two women, nodding knowingly at each other, turned upon the man in unison again. The argument went on and on, satisfyingly interminable -- until suddenly the sound popped. At the same time the picture flashed and changed completely. Now a large room filled the screen. Two nude couples were copulating on a long couch -- no, one of them was a threesome. The sound contained moans, grunts and pants. A man's voice demanded, "Let _her_ suck awhile now." The picture zoomed into the threesome as a kneeler's penis was withdrawn from the mouth of the man on the bottom and presented to the woman just above him. Anita looked wide-eyed at Betsy. "This must be the Playboy channel. How'd you get it?" "I didn't do nothing," the blonde protested. She got to her feet. "The old guys need to know about this." They dashed down the hall to the den and the open bookshelf door of the secret room, where they found that the men had drawn up chairs before the rack-mounted monitor, on which the same scene of five copulators appeared. "You got Playboy too," Betsy remarked. "Playboy?" Lou looked around in puzzlement. "This is from that tape." He pointed to the turning reels. "But it's on the game room TV too." "Aha!" Jack proclaimed cryptically. "That's what GR means." The girls stood behind the men, hands on their shoulders, watching the scene unfold. "Who is them?" asked Betsy. Lou shrugged. "Who knows? They look to be fairly young, maybe in their twenties and thirties. But this happened over 20 years ago. I never saw any of them before." They watched the action silently for a while. When the configuration changed on the threesome, Jack muttered absently, "I figured a sandwich would be next." "I wish the camera would zoom up," Lou groused. "_I_ think he put his dick in beside the other one." "It's still a sandwich," declared Jack. "Not unless one is in her asshole," argued Lou. "You're getting your wish... Hmm. You're right. Both dicks are in her cunt. But it's still a sandwich." Lou apparently felt that the point had been pursued far enough. "Did you ever try that?" "No. I'm not the pervert that some of my assistants were." "Pervert? Watch out who you're calling names!" "I've tried it," Betsy declared. Both men turned to regard her. Lou asked, "With Luke and Bucky?" "No. With the motorcycle gang Luke loaned me to." Lou's expression showed horror. "Jesus Christ, honey!" She grinned languidly. "It wa'n't so bad. They asked me to stay with them." Her grin widened. "Maybe I should've." "Why didn't you?" asked Lou. "'Cause they didn't want 'Nita." "More fools they!" declared Jack. His hand rose and clasped the brunette's hand on his shoulder. "_We_ certainly want her!" "Oh, wow!" the girl breathed. "I love you, Jack." Attention returned to the monitor. After awhile the camera swung wider. "Huh!" exclaimed Betsy. She leaned toward the square that admitted light from the mirror room, but soon withdrew with wide eyes. "That's the same bed!" "Yeah," agreed Jack, "and the same room, just with more furniture and some pictures on the walls. But did you notice? It was before the headboard mirror went up. I'll bet these views were shot through this same little one-way mirror, using that camera there on the tripod." Lou asked speculatively, "By Ms. Creighton?" "Probably, unless one of those women is she -- such as that black-headed one who keeps turning her ass toward the camera. I think she knows it's there." "Then who's running the camera?" "Who knows? I've been hoping to hear someone's name. Who was on the deed for this place?" "Vivian Creighton as the owner and some man, signing for her estate." "Listen for Vivian ... or Viv or Vi." But the sounds on the tape remained incoherent grunts, gasps, pants and sighs -- until a door opened and a contralto woman's voice called, "All right, take a break, children." The camera was fixed on the couch, having zoomed back enough to include both sets of people. Its perspective did not change further. The entangled arms and legs separated. Five people sat up on the couch, looking to their right at someone beyond the picture. The voice sounded again. "Getting the second one is tough, isn't it! The tape is running low. Come on in the kitchen, grab a drink and a munch and give you guys more time to recuperate." Bodies gleaming with sweat got to their feet. The plump, auburn-haired but surprisingly tit-less sandwich meat acknowledged in a soprano voice, "Whatever you say, Vi." "I say come on." All five shuffled off-camera to the left, leaving the room empty. "She was right," remarked Jack, pointing at the nearly empty supply reel. He stopped the VTR. "Thought you said they's good for an hour," groused Betsy. "They are, but I wasted half of this one figuring out the setup." "You think this stuff still works?" "You just saw it working." "I mean, to take more pictures." "Probably. But we wouldn't use this old crap. It's obsolete as the dickens. It's older than you girls." Betsy looked at the brunette thoughtfully. "We could have some real fun in that room and laugh at it any time we wanted." Jack chuckled. "That was probably La Creighton's motive too." Lou regarded him with a cocked eyebrow and a leer. "Want to go in on some new video equipment, pal?" * * * "Where is everybody?" Lou called loudly, laying aside his book. He sat alone in a newly purchased recliner in the Creighton den. Though it was now the Mainwaring residence, Ms. Creighton had owned the house for more than 30 years and it was too well known under her name. When he had given the address to his own choice of maintenance company, the girl had exclaimed, "Oh, the Creighton House!" She had smiled at his protest. Hearing no response to his query, he strolled down the hall to the living room. Let's see: Betsy had taken a taxi to the mall, which one he did not inquire, for some feminine knick-knack in the essential category. Apparently she had not yet returned. Jack and Anita had been playing cribbage in the upstairs den at last notice. Oddly Anita had turned out to be talented at guessing the important next combination in that curious game, invented by a mad accountant in Lou's opinion but beloved by Jack, who had taught it to the girl and soon lost several games to her -- or so Lou had interpreted the groans and squeals overheard during the last few days. Jack had said something about returning to his own place for a change of clothing. Likely Anita had accompanied him. Lou gazed around the living room, not yet completely furnished to his liking. For a moment he took a certain comfort at being alone in the house, as a young boy on a Saturday morning with the new day ahead free for adventure. Then he sighed. Now he was a old man and lonely. He missed especially the chirping voices of the girls. Jack's growl would not be rejected either. What to do? Television? Yuck! He was tired of the book, a trifling Roth about an elderly college professor's dalliance with his student, chosen for its expectation of commentary on a situation similar to Lou and Jack's. The writer's refusal to obey the fiction format conventions and his self-indulgent concentration on academic issues left Lou unenlightened and unimpressed. There were always the Creighton tapes, if he could remember how to thread them up as Jack had explained on the obsolete VTR. By now they had sampled five or six, but nearly a hundred rested on the shelves in the secret room. Her own generation would have called Ms. Creighton a nymphomaniac for such an obsession with sex. A surprisingly varied mixture of people, white, black, yellow, male, female and some uncertain, appeared in the several hours they had watched. Jack had guessed that a tape entitled _Me with a Mouthful_, would reveal the face of Vivian Creighton herself. Apparently he had guessed right, judging by the frequent "Vi's" from the several males she had serviced. She had zoomed her camera to a particular spot on the couch, where she sat nude, and fellated them one after the other, nearly a dozen young men whose faces never appeared. Her own face, though usually distorted by the effect of one or two penises in the mouth, was readily visible because she required the men to approach her from the side. She knew of the camera even if they didn't. Unlike most porn flicks she had not permitted the men to jack their semen into her face, insisting instead that she extract it, during the orgasm at least, by her own efforts. Lou had found it the most inspiring tape so far examined. The bang of a car door in the driveway interrupted Lou's reverie. He moved into the foyer. The front door opened before he could reach it, revealing Betsy in the doorway with a large man towering behind her. "Hi, Lou." The girl smiled before she stepped forward to embrace him lightly and kiss his cheek. "You didn't miss me that quick, did you?" Lou, hackles rising, glared over her shoulder at the handsome young man who had entered behind her and stood with a half concealed smirk on his face, craning his neck to look about the luxurious house. He was over six feet tall, and his sleeveless shirt revealed sleek, well-muscled arms, one of which sported a large tattoo. This was not a boy, Lou confirmed with growing chagrin, not a lad to play with. He was imposing, if not actually threatening in his demeanor. "You said he was just sixteen," he accused Betsy, whose cheek touched his own. She opened her mouth to answer but he moved her to one side. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded, lifting himself to full stature as best he could. The young man responded with a sneering grin. He advanced another step into the house. Lou clenched his fists. Where were Jack and his damned pistol when you needed them? Betsy, recognizing the signs of trouble only too well, quickly moved between the two hostile males. "This is Emile, Lou, Jaimie's older brother," she said hurriedly with an elbow pressed into the young man's chest. "He just drove us here. Jaimie is getting my packages from the car trunk." "How do you do," muttered Lou perfunctorily. "Better than you," the young man responded in a humorous tone. "My furniture's cheap but it's in a cheap house. You don't have that excuse." Betsy looked wide-eyed at him over her shoulder. "What'cha mean?" With one hand, as if the power required were negligible, he lifted the glove table from against the wall until it was high enough for everyone to see its underside. "Look at that. Plywood, and it's not even stained underneath. The joints are clearly not tongue and groove. See this? That's the stamp of a North Carolina factory whose output was mostly for house trailers." "So what?" asked the girl, baffled. The young man looked at Lou. "Is that your response too?" Lou chuckled ironically. "So the Florida beaches are turning out interior designers these days -- with tattoos?" "The beaches and Seward Tech." Lou studied the man with somewhat less apprehension as he restored the table against the wall. "Are you actually a designer?" "When I graduate next spring." He grinned. "And here's your play toy." As he spoke a much slighter man appeared in the doorway bearing several packages. At the sight of his smooth, adolescent face, fresh and seemingly innocent, Lou relaxed further, although he remained attentive of Emile. The tall man grinned with a touch of sarcasm. "I doubt you'll do my brother much harm, old man. And Betsy, I'll talk to you later." "One moment," said Lou. "I just bought this place. If you're a designer, you know the importance of your _commission premiere_. Tell Betsy if this place interests you." About to turn away, the young man's whole demeanor changed from poorly concealed contempt to pleased surprise. "I'll tell _you_. Of course I'm interested!" Lou smiled. "Good. Betsy will contact you for me." "Thank you, _sir_!" The young man turned and departed briskly, pulling the door closed behind him. Betsy asked, "Coe ... mees, meesyoe -- What's that?" "The first commission, or job, for a young designer, very important to his reputation. Betsy, damn it, I warned you about bringing older guys over here!" "He gave us a ride, Lou." Her eyes twinkled. "He wanted to see what Jaimie was getting into, or maybe what was getting into Jaimie." The lad blushed but lifted his eyes and said clearly, "Hi. I'm Jaimie." He did not appear at all nervous, although as previously described by the two girls, Lou could still believe him to be shy. "And I'm Lou." The old man extended his hand, which the lad took passively, allowing Lou to shake gently. Betsy moved to the lad and put an arm around his waist. He set the packages on the floor and stood without responding as the girl kissed him more than playfully and ran a hand up and down the front of the slim body, finally cupping his groin. "Do you want me to undress him, Lou, or would you rather do it? He's your present." Betsy said this without the least sarcasm, stating it as a simple fact. Lou opened his mouth to protest indignantly against the idea of sex with a boy but realized he would never convince the girl, who knew him too well. He indeed wanted to see Jaimie naked, but he made no move toward the lad. "How old are you, Jaimie?" "Sixteen." "At least it's legal," Lou growled, actually stalling. "Whose idea was this? I thought you were going to buy hygiene stuff. Did Jack put you up to it?" Her eyebrows rose in astonishment. "Jack?" He had to chuckle. "Well, no, not Jack." "'Nita and me thought it up. Wait'll you see _all_ of him!" Betsy reached for the lad's belt, and very soon he stood in the middle room clad only in socks and underpants. There was nothing remarkable about the bulge in his shorts, Lou thought, assessing the boy. From there his eyes ranged higher to the brown hair in need of trimming and the downcast brown eyes. The lad was not unusual in any way, neither especially pretty nor hairy as an adult. He appeared as so many boys his age that one might see at the beach: fuzzy calves, sleek thighs and torso, some hair visible at an armpit when he playfully tousled the kneeling girl's head. His face still showed the round planes of boyhood. It was beardless except for a slight darkening on the upper lip. He had smooth, unblemished skin, and Lou was tempted to extend a hand to touch it. "What do you think, Lou?" the girl asked, eyes raised in anticipation. "Let's have fun." She turned back to the boy and pulled down his underpants to release a half erect, circumcised penis that quickly grew rigid under the staring eyes, suggesting that the claimed shyness was a sham. As the girls had promised, Jaimie was well hung. His fat organ jutted out over seven inches from an abundant pubic bush, curving slightly upward. Betsy popped half of it into her mouth and looked across at the man with a twinkle in her eyes. Lou reached for his shirt buttons, his attention on the mouth and embedded shaft, a sight that aroused him enormously. Betsy removed her mouth with a popping sound. "Do you want to taste it, Lou?" she asked playfully, her hand on the shaft pumping slowly. Lou could not answer, nor could he move toward the boy despite the long-held, secret desire rising in his chest. In the past, on those few occasions when he might have played with a boy, he had always found rationalizations to resist the shameful homosexual urge that he nevertheless recognized as latent in his psyche. He sought one now, but the boy defeated him. "I've done it with guys before," Jaimie said in a quiet voice, his eyes expressionless yet inviting. "Of course he has, Lou." Betsy grasped the naked boy's arm and pulled him close to the man. "Even with older guys like you. In fact, he hasn't had much experience with girls." Lou regained enough of his senses to remember where they were practicing this incipient bisexuality. What if Jack walked into the living room right now? He shuddered. "Pick up his clothes and let's go into the mirror room." The lad paused, last through the door, to stare at the huge bed and its mirrored surround. "Wow!" he cried, eyes huge. "Is that where we gonna fuck?" "In a minute," answered the blonde. "Want some help with your clothes, Lou?" "No, thanks. Get yours off too, Betsy. All the way. Get your shoes and socks too, Jaimie. Only whores go to bed with their shoes on." Lou had yet to decide on furniture for this room. The maintenance people had made up the outsized bed using Ms. Creighton's sheets and pillows. Jaimie sat on the carpeted floor to tug off his sneakers. "Whores!" he said with a grin. "That's me." "You consider yourself a whore, Jaimie?" asked Lou, stepping out of his shorts. "When Betsy pays the twenty she promised." "Jaimie!" cried the girl. "I told you not to tell --" Lou waved a hand. "Never mind, sweetie. It's probably better this way. I'll pay him. Ah! I understand. You didn't want to play with an old man who has a paunch like this, is that right?" The boy shrugged and chuckled. "I ain't gonna suck your paunch." Lou caught his breath at the clear implication. He took the boy's hand and helped him, now completely nude, to his feet. Standing in contact, shoulder and hip, he ran a hand across the slim chest, a light touch of exploration, his palm brushing the tiny nipples. He looked into the young, expectant face and knew that a kiss was permissible, that Betsy would want to see it. He leaned forward and kissed the boy's lips briefly. His hand hovered just above the impressive manhood. His heart was racing giddily. He trembled at the power of his temptation. Would he at least once before he died have sex with a boy? He took a very deep breath. "First of all I want to watch you two fuck." "Let's do it!" the blonde exclaimed. She flung herself onto the side of the large, high bed, on her back with large breasts bouncing and legs dangling over. Lou stepped up to the girl and confirmed that without even bending his knees he would be able to penetrate her. But he stood aside. With unmistakable gestures he invited Jaimie, about his own height, to slip between the eager legs instead. Betsy lifted her feet onto the mattress, raised her knees high and hunched her lower body forward to provide a better target. Jaimie needed no encouragement, although Lou pressed the boy forward with a hand on a perky butt cheek. Lou watched breathlessly as the boy's shaft quickly disappeared into Betsy's pubic bush and half emerged before plunging again. Jaimie thrust with arms akimbo, dimples appearing and vanishing in his buttocks cheeks, grinning around at Lou, whose one hand caressed the lad's shoulder while the other cupped the girl's nearby knee. Betsy's legs closed above the boy's hips. She also stared at the fascinated spectator but with eyes that became increasingly unfocused. Lips parted, the upper one curling slightly, she found her clit with two fingers and lost herself in blissful sex. Lou had dreamed of such an opportunity. Reaching through the boy's straining legs, he slipped both hands between boy and girl at the point of contact, thumbs spread to grasp the plunging penis, palms resting on clitoris and perineum. At the bottom of each thrust his hands were compressed between the two well-fitting bodies. He clearly felt the scrotum bouncing on the back of the lower hand. Suddenly possessed of the idea, he advanced the lower fingers along the slippery shaft, worming into the vagina beside it. The girl gasped and began to moan. He clearly felt her sphincters clip fingers along with penis. The odor of hot female rose to his nostrils. "This is _terrific_!" he mumbled involuntarily, curling the first digits of the engaged hand's remaining two fingers into her anus, wishing that he had thought to get beneath her and furnish his own penis to plug that tight spot. He realized that another such avenue was fully available. Releasing the heaving bodies reluctantly, he moved behind Jamie and encircled the narrow waist with both arms, a rigid penis pressed to the lad's lower back. Stooping only slightly would allow access to this puckered anus. He was mustering the courage to venture a dry penetration, when a spasm shook the boy, who groaned aloud. "No! Don't stop now!" Betsy screamed in frustration, when Jaimie heaved back, his wet shaft falling free of the girl. Lou pushed the boy aside and took his place before her, easily slipping his cock into the sloppy hole. "Ah-h-h," she sighed, her closed eyes neither seeing nor caring which hero would assist her achieve the ecstasy so near at hand. Lou watched her pretty face reveal the onset of orgasm by means of grimaces and flaring nostrils. She moaned, whined and soon gasped as the pleasure struck powerfully and caused her blushing body to shiver. After a moment her eyes opened and she smiled at the man who continued to piston in and out in search of his own reward. "Do you want to fuck Jaimie now?" she asked dreamily. "You won't have to pretend this time. He's a real boy." "I'm almost there, darling, almost there," Lou moaned, quite content with his current partner -- except that a headache was forming in his temples. "Oh, no!" he cried, raising one hand to his head. Betsy's eyes narrowed in concern. She raised her sweating body against him. "No, Lou, not standing up! Come, get on the bed. I'll lie on top of you. Here, Jaimie, help us." "What's the matter?" asked the bewildered lad, contentedly jacking out his last drops. "Never mind!" the girl snarled, pulling Lou down upon the bed beside her. With a powerful heave she rolled him on his back and scampered atop him, feeling for the rigid organ. "Hold his legs up!" she ordered over her shoulder, in response to which the lad caught Lou's legs, dangling off the bed to the floor, and raised them to waist height by the ankles. Lying prone promised to eliminate the pain in his head, but now Lou had another. "Oh, my knees!" he cried. As her vagina found its objective, the girl, still looking back, commanded, "Kneel down and put his legs over your shoulders." Again the boy obeyed, asking, "Why don't you just move him further up on the bed?" She snarled, "I would have if'n you didn't stand there a-jacking yourself like a bedtime story." Lou, feeling much better, made a note to ask the girl how a bedtime story might jack off. But at that moment his orgasm, only somewhat delayed by tumult and now-vanquished pain, chose to arrive. "Oh, god!" he screamed, feeling a wonderful intensity. Something foreign squeezed the base of his shaft concurrently with the first dribble. Briefly the sweet vaginal compression vanished -- only to reappear more tightly elsewhere. Lou screamed with each spasm until mercifully the pressure vanished. The girl was panting from the earlier exercise that Lou had endured only briefly. He looked up at her breasts, jiggling just above him, and demanded, "What happened?" The blonde's eyes twinkled. She called over her shoulder, "Show him, Jaimie." The grinning boy moved up on the bed beside them. He leaned down and opened his mouth carefully. Lou plainly saw the watery white contents. Yes, of course. The lad ostentatiously swallowed, Adams-apple bobbing. He re-opened an empty mouth and grinned even wider. Lou, sexual motivations momentarily extinguished, turned his face away. Jaimie asked, "Betsy, how'd you know I didn't swallow it already?" "'Cause you like to taste it." She reached behind her to grasp the rapidly softening organ. "Want us to suck on you some, Lou?" "I'm finished now, Betsy," he wheezed. "I think I'll take a nap." When she rolled off him, he turned away and curled into a fetal position. The bed jiggled as Betsy crawled off it. The two young people whispered together beside it. He heard Betsy declaim under her breath, "He really wants it, I don't care what he says." Lou felt the mattress sag as another body arrived upon it from behind and lay next to him. "Can I take a nap with you, Lou?" It was the boy. Lou turned over. His sex drive was exhausted but not his curiosity. Here lay the naked body of a boy, somewhat beyond adolescence but yet far from full adulthood, available to his hand and anything else he cared to employ. His earlier excitement returned unbidden. He palmed a smooth cheek and pulled the boy closer to kiss the ready lips and receive the mutual return. He looked around. Betsy was no longer in the room. "Why are you doing this, Jaimie?" he asked. "Because of the money." The lad's tone added "obviously." Obvious indeed, the man thought to himself. Why else would a lad tolerate such a reminder of his own eventual decrepitude? At least Betsy was spending his money for a good cause. He almost grinned. Truly only $20? "You haven't dealt much with old men, have you, Jaimie?" "No. But they ain't so bad." "I'm glad you think so. Tell me something, if you will. You obviously like girls and I suspect they like you. Why do you fool with men at all?" "Girls hide everything." "What do you mean?" "But a dick jizzes. I like that." "Betsy was right, you like to taste it." "Yeah. Sometimes, if you hold it in your mouth, it turns sweet." Lou's stomach did a flip-flop. "Never heard of that." He inhaled deeply before continuing. "Then I take it you're willing to do everything, even butt fucking?" He squirmed his naked body against the youth's. "Sure, Lou. I'll even fuck you, if you want." The man shuddered at the thought, although he did not entirely dismiss the possibility. His interest was building. His penis was half erect again. This was a unique opportunity. He resolved to go all the way this once on the solemn promise to himself never to do it again. Taking a deep breath, he grasped the boy's manly shaft, unsurprised to find it fully erect, and began to kiss down the sleek body in that direction. The rattle of a doorknob led to a draft and Betsy's cry, "No, Jack, no! Don't go in there. Please!" Jack had arrived? Lou flopped away from the boy and jerked erect. Jack, his face a dark cloud, was marching into the room with Betsy, now dressed in halter and shorts, hanging on his arm. Anita, dressed similarly, stood in the doorway with a solemn face but a twinkle in her eyes. "Lou!" cried Jack, drawing near. "Damn it, what's come over you? I'm going to save --" Lou held one hand palm up and declared loudly, "Jack, remember where you are, damn it!" Jack halted as if the hand were pressed into his chest. He blinked and his mouth fell open. He swallowed. "Lou ..." "Did you want to see me about something?" Jack actually blushed. So far he had avoided looking at the naked lad, now also sitting up with a sly grin. The tall man squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. "Lou, do you recall the Adelaide Ventures affair?" "Yes, of course." "You talked me out of a very bad decision. You told me I wouldn't be able to sleep at night if I went ahead. You were right. That is, you would have been if I hadn't listened." "So?" "So I'm telling you the same thing." "But that was about a new acquisition." Jack's eyes narrowed. "So is this." Chin high, Jack spun on his heel and marched out of the room with dignity. Betsy shrugged eloquently at Lou and closed the door behind all three. "What did that mean?" asked Jaimie. "It means the party's over." Lou got up tiredly from the bed and stooped for his clothing. "Better get dressed. Betsy will pay you." "You mean I gotta leave? But she said I'd be here all afternoon!" "I'm afraid not, at least not this time. She'll call you a taxi." "Huh! A taxi?" The lad's derision changed to grudging acceptance. "Okay. I guess a taxi will actually come to this neighborhood." "It won't to yours?" "Nah." "Whose fault is that?" "Chicken drivers." "Uh-huh. Tell me something, Jaimie. Why doesn't a 16 year-old boy have his own car?" The lad's face soured. "I did. A girl wrecked it." "Then you have a driver's license." "Well, a limited one. I can't drive after dark." "At least you truly are sixteen!" Lou, feeling better, went to the door and called for Betsy. While he waited his reacquired equanimity collapsed. He had finally recalled the one-way mirrors. * * * Betsy took her seat beside Lou with obvious reluctance. "Do I really gotta do this?" "No, of course not," he answered, turning the ignition switch and rotating slightly in his seat before backing the car from its stall. "But you do want pretty teeth, don't you?" She heaved a sigh. "How can they be pretty if'n they ain't in my mouth?" He chuckled indulgently as the car rolled slowly into the street. "The dentist explained that, honey. The reason your front teeth are so crooked is that they're crowded from behind. With four pulled you'll have enough room and the braces can straighten them all out. They'll fill up the gap where the four came from." "Yeah, I know what he _said_. But ain't they some other way?" "Like what?" The car accelerated along the boulevard. "_I_ ain't no dentist! How do I know. Maybe shaving a little off each tooth to make room?" He said admiringly, "That almost sounds reasonable! I wonder if they ever tried it." Her eyes lit. "Let's ask him!" He shook his head. "Believe me, honey, if it would work, they'd offer it. Dentists are as greedy as everybody else. I only know of one alternative." "Anything's better'n pulling four teeth!" "Maybe not. My alternative is to pull all of them and give you dentures instead. In a week you'd have perfect-looking teeth." "Pull _all_ of them?" She was aghast. "This oral surgeon could do it for you." She made a gagging sound. "That makes me wanta throw up." Her face showed an ugly snarl. "I'd rather be dead than be like granny." He cut an eye around at her. "But think about it. You could give the best head in the county." "What?" She sniffed. He could feel her glare until suddenly she giggled. "You's teasing me again, ain't'cha? Besides, I already give the best head in the county." He chuckled. "Pretty close." "You think Jaimie does it better?" "What? He didn't ... really ..." "He just caught the juice. That's the easy part. Cranking it up is the real work." "How did you arranged that with him?" "_I_ didn't do it. He thought of it. Jaimie likes girls but he loves jism too. He woulda done anything you wanted. He even told you that." "Ah, uh, well, if Jack hadn't come in ..." Lou actually squirmed. "You _knew_ they were watching us, didn't you!" She giggled. The man continued aggrievedly, "I should've known, when you turned your ass to that big mirror." She shook her head. "Lou, you's always after 'Nita about playing the boy. I thought you'd go nuts over a real one that likes it. I left you alone with him just for that." "Thanks, I guess," he said dryly. "You _guess_?" "Betsy, next time stick around, will you? It's not so ... unspeakable when a girl is part of it." She studied him wonderingly but didn't argue. Instead she asked, "You handled his cock. You think it's as big as Jack's?" "Huh! I never got a close look at Jack's." "It ain't _that_ big, but it's bigger'n most. If'n you wanta do anything with it or fuck Jaimie's ass, say the word and I'll get him back." "When?" he asked. "Whenever you say." Her hand squeezed his thigh and she gulped. "Lou, promise me you won't let them pull but four." He shrugged. "They're your teeth, honey. Four it is. But if you're not sure you want it, I'll turn the car around. We'll cancel your appointment." She sighed. "I'd be a fool, wouldn't I?" "Let me put it this way. With straight teeth you'll have a dazzling smile." "Like 'Nita." Betsy sighed again. "'Nita's so lucky!" "You think so? Everything about her is small, including her teeth. But I guess you've noticed, I prefer my big girl." "You just like big boobs." "Yes, honey, and do you ever have them! And that's not all." "Yeah. I got a big ass too." "And that I truly love. You won't be much surprised, I suspect, to hear that I've, ah, fooled with a lot of women in my time. Betsy, you've got the best ass of them all." "Really, Lou?" "That squeezing trick you do is unmatched." She giggled. "Good thing I ain't got no teeth down there, ain't it?" "Oh, yes!" he responded emphatically. She added in tones of disgust, "'Cause if I did they'd pro'ly need straightening too." In the surgeon's waiting room Betsy fidgeted uncomfortably for the two or three minutes she had to wait after being announced. Then the nurse stood in the door, calling for "Betsy Elaine Coggins." The blonde answered with a grimace, "That's me," and got to her feet with obvious reluctance. "Good luck," murmured Lou, patting her tense arm. She disappeared through the door without looking back. He sighed and found himself a copy of _Florida Beach Life_, a magazine noted for its bikini foldouts. Ten minutes later his chin sagged to his chest. The magazine slid to the floor, displaying a picture of the mansion next to Creighton House, the beach view of which he had failed to recognize. He was fast asleep. The woman waiting across the room knelt before him long enough to pick up the colorful magazine. She returned to her seat and leafed through it, sniffing at the bikinis but pausing at a sequence of young men playing beach volleyball. It was a popular magazine. "Excuse me. Are you Mr. Mainwaring?" Lou snapped awake to find a young nurse bent toward him. "Th-that's me," he stuttered. "Would you please come with me, sir? Dr. Coltrane wants to speak to you." He stared up at her. "Who's Dr. Coltrane?" "This is his office. It's about your granddaughter." "She's not ... Ah, very well. I'll speak to the doctor." Lou stumbled to his feet and followed the crisply uniformed young lady to a door marked _Private_. The woman knocked and ushered him in. The door closed and he found himself facing a man in a white coat seated behind a desk, who demanded harshly, "You're the grandfather of Betsy Coggins?" Not for the first time Lou wondered if claiming a girl could become binding in the manner of a common-law marriage. But from long experience in boardrooms he recognized a confrontational attitude. He barked, "What if I am?" "Then I have to decide whether or not to sue you, if you're the responsible party." "Sue me? Because I let her teeth get crooked?" "I'm a surgeon, not a lawyer, so I don't know exactly what claim to make. Disruption of my office routine, perhaps; making me a laughingstock to my employees; personal assault, surely." "Oh?" Lou squinted. "Where's your black eye?" "It's not visible," the man retorted, his voice rising. Lou had not been invited to sit. He crossed his arms. "What happened? Are you the doctor?" "I am Dr. Coltrane. I removed four of your granddaughter's teeth a few minutes ago. Before that, however, she had very deliberately and precisely struck me in the testicles with her fist." The man's face had reddened until it was almost purple. Lou had seen a similar darkening upon Jack just before nitroglycerine was called for. Choking back an incredulous laugh, he raised a placating hand. "Take it easy, doctor. It's dangerous to get so angry. I gather you're satisfied she did it on purpose, but I assure you, I know my granddaughter most intimately, and I've never heard of her striking a man there, accidentally or otherwise. Why are you convinced it was deliberate?" "Because she cursed me first." Lou studied the man's face. "What had you done to her, doctor?" Much of the ruddiness departed. The doctor took a breath. "I was applying the anesthetic. My needle slipped and apparently struck a nerve before it could be deadened. This is not at all an uncommon occurrence." He conceded, "I suppose the effect was rather painful for her." "Oh, yes!" Lou shuddered. "Where is she now, doctor?" "Still in the chair, recovering consciousness." He glanced at his wristwatch. "She should be able to leave in another ten minutes." "'Recovering consciousness?'" The doctor sniffed. "Strictly from the effects of the anesthetic." "May I wait with her?" The man thought a moment. "I don't see why not." He pressed a button on his desk. "I apologize for her excessive response," Lou said with level gaze, "and offer you a piece of advice. You say you're the laughingstock of your employees. That won't be a problem when they recall who pays their salaries. But if you sue Betsy, I guarantee you'll be the laughingstock of the city too." The door opened behind Lou, admitting the same nurse. The doctor glowered. "She should have no complications, but if she does, kindly do not bring her back here. The dentist will find an alternative. Nurse, please conduct Mr. Mainwaring to Chair Five." She reminded him, "It's occupied, sir." "Don't argue with me, especially not _now_!" "Yes, sir. This way, Mr. Mainwaring." The nurse left him in a small room full of cabinets and weirdly connected metal arms, closing the door behind her. Betsy lay on a fully reclined dental chair, a bloody bib over her chest, her arms dangling almost to the floor. Lou's first act was to raise her hands to lie within the short armrests. He pushed back the segmented dental trays, drew up a stool and sat close on her right. She seemed asleep, chest rising and falling peacefully. He raised enough to lean over and kiss her forehead gently. As he removed his lips from contact, he saw that she had smiled. One eye had opened to study him. The pupil was dilated. "You made it, honey," he whispered. Her shoulder twitched. Her hand freed itself from the armrest and crept up the inseam of his pants. He was standing bent over her as the surgeon must have done. He sincerely hoped that she didn't mistake him -- But she caressed the present set of testicles gently. He heard steps in the hall, reached between his legs and withdrew her hand, clasping it in his own. He brought it up to his lips and kissed the fingers lovingly. "Mm-mmm," she tried to say. A tear rolled out the corner of her eye to be absorbed by her golden hair. "They've got your mouth packed," he told her. "Someone will come in shortly to clean it out. I'll bet your lips are dry." He looked around. Where was the bowl of constantly spinning water he recalled in dentists' offices, where they often advised you to spit? He shrugged, gathered saliva to his tongue, leaned over again and laved her lips. He tasted blood. The hand he still held squeezed his knuckles. "You're welcome," he responded gravely. A nurse popped through the door. "Well, Ms. Cog-- Sir, who are you? You're not allowed in here!" "I have the doctor's permission," Lou replied. "I'm her grandfather." "Oh. Did he speak to you?" Her eyes were definitely twinkling. "Yes." The woman leaned over the chair and whispered, "This girl is a hero, you know." "I know," Lou said quietly. "Did his needle do any damage?" "Not compared to pulling four teeth." The woman snickered. "All the real damage was done to that arrogant bastard's dignity." She raised her voice to normal levels. "Good! You're awake, Ms. Coggins. Let's get all that junk out of your mouth so you can go home. If you'll just stand back, sir ..." Lou supported the sagging girl with one arm while he waited at the checkout counter for the clerk to record his credit card. He took their papers, jammed them into his pocket and turned to go. The woman muttered something. He leaned closer. "I'm sorry?" Her eyes twinkled. She murmured, "Wish I'd been in the room," then raised her voice to a normal level. "Thank you, Mr. Coggins." "Mainwar-- Yes. Okay." He assisted Betsy from office to car. She behaved much like a drunk, leaning heavily on Lou, arm around his neck. She was snifling, tears running down both cheeks. "Oh, Lou," she murmured. "Oh, Lou, oh, Lou." As Lou fumbled with the buttons on his keychain to unlock the car, a young woman in a dress ran up to him, holding out Betsy's purse in an extended hand. "You left this, Miss Coggins," she called. Lou took it. "Thank you, ma'am. Look at this girl, won't you, please. Why is she crying? What else did they do to her?" The woman's eyes sparkled. "Oh, you can bet that Dr. Coltrane was _very_ careful after his little accident! That's just typical of the anesthetic wearing off. She'll be her old self in ten minutes." "Okay. Thank you." "No, thank _her_ when she recovers -- from all the girls in Coltrane's office." Opening the car door, Lou grinned at her. "He must be a son of a bitch." "He is! He just cut everyone's salary." Lou forbore pointing out that a cut might be preferable to discharging half of the staff -- though perhaps only to the ones who would otherwise have been fired. He had applied such cuts more than once himself. He made sure Betsy was belted into her seat beside him and started home. She leaned her head on his shoulder. "Oh, Lou." "You'll feel better soon," he told her, maneuvering in lunch-time traffic. Shortly she began to giggle. She said distinctly, "You shoulda seen his face!" "You _are_ feeling better!" A bit farther along the giggles ceased. "I can't believe I slammed the doctor in the balls!" "I'll bet it happens more often than you ever hear. The dentist stands there with his balls hanging right over your hand." "He sat down backwards," she said, her voice conveying astonishment, "and puked on the floor. The nurse had to clean it up." "What did he say?" "Sort of a little squeak." "He said you cursed him first." "Huh! I tried to, but all I could get out was a grunt. My mouth was full of crap." "I don't suppose he had any trouble interpreting your grunt. Didn't he apologize?" "I didn't give him the chance." "Well, honey, as a general rule, you know you can't go around whacking your doctors in the balls." "I guess not. Will it cause you any trouble, Lou?" "He might sue me, but I doubt it after he thinks it over. Did he say anything to you after he recovered?" "That's funny. The last thing I remember was him puking on the floor ... until you kissed my head. Oh, Lou!" She craned her neck and kissed the edge of his chin. Her breath smelled bloody. "I'm so glad you came with me!" "So am I." She straightened a bit, withdrawing her arm. "I'm hungry. When we get home, I'm gonna nuke two dinners." "Better take it easy. They gave me a sheet of directions for you." "It better let me eat, or I'll hit it in the balls too!" He laughed. But the anesthetic was truly wearing thin when they arrived at Creighton House. Betsy popped three of the Darvoset pills wrapped with the recovery instructions and went to bed. END Episode 4 Next: _Home Schooling_ Contacts Varangian: ludmax11@hotmail.com Kellis: kellis@dhp.com -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+