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From: anais ninja <anais_ninja@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Wanderings   - Chapter Three - April's Fools (Mf mf inc)
Date: Tue, 19 Mar 2002 10:10:02 -0500
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Wanderings 
 
 
(c) 2002  Anais Ninja  anais_ninja@hotmail.com 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/index.html 
 
Note:  This is my story.  The names and details have been changed to 
protect the privacy of those involved.  Some of this account has been 
reconstructed from memory, but most of it has been based on a journal I 
kept during these years. 
 
 
Chapter Three - April's Fools (Mf mf inc) 
 
1980 
 
That winter and into the spring, Tina and I had more sex than a pair 
of thirteen-year-old girls ought to have.  In February we went to a 
free clinic in Miami to get fitted for diaphragms -- we were too young 
for birth control pills -- just so we could fuck Ramon, Del, and Paco 
without condoms.  I loved the feeling of a twitching, spasming cock 
filling my pussy with its hot, creamy load.  If Tina was there, she'd 
lick and suck my pussy clean, enjoying the mixture of semen and 
vaginal juices.  She almost always made me come that way. 
 
Ramon was happy.  He loved to fill my holes with his hot spunk and he 
even learned to like eating my pussy, but only if it hadn't been 
creamed.  He seemed to enjoy watching his sons fuck me, coaching them 
while we did it, teaching them new positions, even making sure they 
didn't finish until I came at least once. 
 
Tina would stay over once a week, usually on Saturday nights when her 
parents went out.  We'd take turns riding the three eager cocks at our 
disposal, sometimes taking all three at once.  Del, fourteen now, was 
beginning to last nearly as long as his father.  Paco, now twelve, had 
grown a lot since we first met.  His young cock was growing nicely and 
he'd begun to spurt his load instead of dribble a few scant drops. 
 
As far as life outside the bedroom went, I was getting pretty good 
grades despite doing all of the cooking and most of the housework.  
Ramon's family almost treated me like one of their own, though I 
wondered what they'd think if they knew what we did in private. 
 
My life changed again that spring, even more so than when my mother 
was killed. 
 
On April Fools' Day that year, Fidel Castro opened up the Cuban 
prisons and released thousands of criminals and mental patients who 
then commandeered fishing and pleasure boats and built makeshift rafts 
and crossed 90 miles of ocean, the survivors landing on the beaches of 
South Florida.  Some of them came ashore only blocks from our home.  
My father was working that day on the fishing boat and he helped 
rescue a dozen men from their foundering boat.  They repaid his 
kindness by trying to overpower the crew so they could return to Cuba 
for their friends.  Fortunately, the boat's captain had an old 
revolver and ended the impromptu mutiny.  But that was only the 
beginning of our problems. 
 
A man Ramon had known before emigrating, a petty thug from his village 
back in Cuba, was one of the Marielitos, as those involved in the 
boatlift were known.  Ramon was one of the people who helped put this 
man in prison and the man vowed revenge, even though over a decade had 
passed. 
 
That was just the beginning of our problems.  Over the next few weeks 
there was a crime wave sweeping through South Florida, and even our 
quiet neighborhood wasn't spared.  Two houses down from us, a retired 
couple was beaten, tied to chairs, and robbed.  Even worse, this 
creepy guy followed me home from school one day, though he ran off 
when Del went after him with a baseball bat. 
 
The week after school ended we began to get a series of phone calls.  
At first whoever was calling would just hang up, but then he grew 
bolder, making explicit death threats in Cuban-accented Spanish.  
Ramon went to the police with the tape from our answering machine, but 
there wasn't much they could do at that point. 
 
It was then that Ramon decided that we had to move away, to leave 
Florida for a while, maybe for good.  He'd managed to save a fair 
amount of money, along with most of my mother's life insurance 
benefits, almost $100,000 in all. 
 
"I have an old friend in Maine who owns a fishing boat and a house.  
He's ready to retire and wants to live in Florida," Ramon explained.  
He'd pay cash for the boat and we'd swap houses, and that would be 
that. 
 
"I don't want to go to Maine," I protested, tears starting to flow 
from my eyes.  Del put his arm around me, but I shrugged it off and 
ran out of the house. 
 
Tina was just sitting down to dinner with her family when I knocked on 
her door.  She asked me what was wrong while I wiped my tear-stained 
face with a tissue.  When I explained what was going to happen it was 
her turn to cry.  She let me lie down on her bed while she picked at 
her dinner, coming in afterwards to hold me while we both cried. 
 
"I'm going to miss you," I said. 
 
"I'll miss you, too.  And your brothers.  And your father." 
 
We hugged and sobbed for hours, mindful that her mother was watching 
from the open doorway.  She must have called Ramon, because he showed 
up to take me home.  He held my hand as we walked beck to our house. 
 
"I know it's tough," he said, "but we're not safe here.  Maybe when 
things settle down we can come back." 
 
"But...but I love her."  The tears started to come back. 
 
"I know, Anita.  But you love Del and Paco, too, right?  And you 
wouldn't want to see anything bad happen.  Am I right?" 
 
I squeezed his hand.  I knew he really meant that he loved me and this 
was partially for my benefit, my safety.  We walked home in silence 
and I went straight to my room and went to bed. 
 
I wanted to have one last sleepover with Tina, but the next two weeks 
were too busy.  There was so much to be done, so many boxes to pack.  
On the last day, when Ramon's van was loaded with our stuff, Tina came 
over to say goodbye. 
 
"I want you to have these," I said, handing her a brown paper bag.  
She looked inside.  It was the marriage manual and the pink plastic 
dildo Luci had given me when she moved away.  Tina smiled and we 
shared one last kiss, promising to write each other. 
 
"I'll never forget you," she said, wiping away a tear. 
 
"I love you, Tina." 
 
"I love you, too." 
 
And that was the last time I saw her.  She stood on our front lawn, 
clutching the paper bag and waving as we drove off. 
 
 
                             * * * 
 
I expected a long, boring trip north, but once we crossed the state 
line into Georgia things began to get interesting.  Neither I nor my 
stepbrothers had been further north than Daytona, and other than Cuba, 
Ramon had never been out of Florida.  I'd never seen a hill taller 
than a sand dune.  The trees looked alien.  The air smelled different.  
I sat in the van, looking out the window, imagining that we were in a 
spaceship, headed towards another planet. 
 
We spent our first night on the road in a motel in Fayetteville, North 
Carolina.  Paco was excited about the motel for some reason, but all I 
could think about was trips my mother and father and I used to take 
when they were still together, and how most of the places we stayed in 
were cheap motels like this one.  Faded paneling on the walls, 
threadbare carpets, saggy beds, and an old television in the corner. 
 
I sat down on one of the beds and started crying.  I missed Tina, I 
missed the old neighborhood. 
 
I missed my mother. 
 
I remember thinking that my father, wherever he was, wouldn't be able 
to find me now that I was moving so far away.  Not that he'd even try, 
but the thought made me feel like a little girl who just lost her 
parents at the mall and couldn't do anything but cry. 
 
It was Del, not Ramon, who came over and put his arm around me.  He 
didn't try to say anything.  He just stroked my back while I quietly 
sobbed into his chest.  Paco was flipping through stations on the 
television and Ramon was out cold and snoring in the next bed.  He'd 
never driven twelve hours straight before. 
 
The next day we were on the road by eight in the morning.  We had to 
be in Philadelphia in time to have dinner with one of Ramon's aunts.  
We'd be spending the night there as well.  Even though I had brought a 
book along to read during the long drive, I just stared out the window 
the whole way, lost in my gloom. 
 
We arrived a little late, having been caught in traffic around 
Washington D.C., and having gotten a little lost in the streets of 
Philadelphia.  Ramon's aunt and uncle lived in a house not much bigger 
than ours.  Pictures of their grown children and their grandchildren 
were everywhere.  His aunt was happy to have some kids to cook for, 
and Ramon's uncle was happy to have someone to drink with.  They 
didn't speak any English while I was there, and I could only manage to 
understand every fifth or sixth word. 
 
I could tell they were talking about me by the way Del looked at me 
and said as little as possible in return.  Some of Ramon's family 
thought  that I should have been shipped off to my father when my 
mother was killed, instead of Ramon assuming my legal guardianship. 
 
Sleeping arrangements were a bit weird.  There seemed to be some 
agreement that Ramon, Del, and Paco would share the guest room, 
leaving me to curl up on a lumpy couch in the living room.  I had 
trouble going to sleep that night with all those pictures of Ramon's 
cousins starting at me from the wall and the mantle. 
 
Breakfast was a huge affair, with eggs and chorizo sausage, mofungo, 
and dark, sweet coffee.  After Ramon's aunt and uncle kissed and 
hugged everyone except me, we were back on the highway, heading north. 
 
New York was impressive.  I had no idea it was that big.  Washington 
sort of impressed me with how spread out it was, not dense like Miami, 
where the buildings were taller and newer.  Philadelphia seemed pretty 
big.  But New York topped them all, being tall and spread out.  It 
seemed to go on forever, and that's just the parts we saw from the 
highway. 
 
By contrast, Connecticut and the rest of New England seemed like an 
ocean of green trees, the rolling hills like giant waves.  Not that it 
was any lusher than Florida, but that you could see thousands of trees 
from any one spot because of the hills. 
 
It was nearly dark when we crossed into Maine.  We had a couple of 
hours to go before we we'd arrive in Coopersport, so we stopped off 
for dinner in a roadside restaurant.  Ramon treated me to my first 
lobster; it was pretty good.  Paco thought it looked like a big bug. 
 
I suppose I had some mental image of the house we were going to live 
in, that it would be just like our house in Florida.  Ramon's aunt's 
house reinforced that image, being just like ours in a number of 
respects.  But nothing could have prepared me for the house in 
Coopersport. 
 
It looked like something out of a haunted house movie. 
 
Three stories tall, with a steep roof that surrounded the top floor 
windows, it was the oldest house I'd ever seen.  There was a separate 
garage building just as old, and a bunch of huge trees in an overgrown 
yard bordered by a weathered gray picket fence.  There was a pickup 
truck in the gravel driveway with an assortment of nets and floats in 
the bed.  Ramon pulled in beside it and turned off the van's engine. 
 
"I guess it needs a little work," he said. 
 
Paco and Del just stared at the place.  They almost seemed scared. 
 
"Ramon!  Hola!"  Ramon's friend came out of the house with a 
flashlight and shined it on the van.  His wife was right behind him, 
wiping her hands on her apron.  Ramon got out of the van and hugged 
his friend. 
 
We were shown inside by Carlos, Ramon's friend, and his wife Consuela.  
Unlike Ramon's aunt, she doted on me as well as Del and Paco, offering 
to cook us dinner even though we'd already eaten.  Del and Paco 
managed to down a plate of rice and beans anyway.  I sat quietly at 
the kitchen table and listened to Ramon talk with Carlos and Consuela.  
They were nearly the same age as Ramon's aunt and uncle, but they 
seemed older.  Their hair was almost the same color as the weathered 
picket fence.  Carlos's face was etched with fine lines, his 
complexion nearly as red as the flannel shirt he wore beneath his 
faded overalls. 
 
Carlos and Consuela were only half packed.  Cardboard boxes and 
shopping bags filled the living room and dining room, but the kitchen 
hadn't been packed yet, nor had their bedroom.  There was also a guest 
room and a room where Consuela did her sewing.  She supplemented 
Carlos's income by working at home as a seamstress, and she had a 
massive old sewing machine, bolts of cloth, and four scary old dress 
forms that looked like headless torsos on wheels. 
 
The third floor was largely empty, except for stacks of old newspapers 
in one room and a pair of old cots in another.  There was a bathroom 
that looked like it hadn't been used in years and a hatchway that lead 
to the attic crawlspace.  Even though it was early June, there was 
both a chill and the odor of mildew in the air. 
 
Del and Paco slept in the cots on the third floor, Ramon slept in the 
guest room, and I ended up on the day bed in Consuela's sewing room, 
headless mannequins watching me while I slept. 
 
The next day, after another big breakfast, Ramon went down to the town 
docks with Carlos to see the boat.  Del, Paco, and I helped Consuela 
pack the rest of their things.  Even though they weren't taking any of 
their furniture they still had a mountain of stuff; old clothes, boxes 
of family photos and letters, stacks of books.  Some of the books were 
in German and French and there were almost as many books in English as 
in Spanish.  Consuela saw me reading the spines. 
 
"Carlos taught in the university before Castro.  That was how we met," 
she said.  "He was chairman of the Department of Philosophy, I was in 
Mathematics." 
 
"Why is he a fisherman?  Why doesn't he teach here?" I asked. 
 
"Carlos says 'Philosophy, fishing, it's all the same'" she said. 
 
"Oh." 
 
Consuela ignored my confusion over that statement and took me on a 
tour of the house, pointing out her most valued furniture, items that 
required particular care.  Everything seemed to be an "heirloom" to 
her, a strange concept considering she'd come to this country twenty 
years before with nothing but the clothes on her back.  I patiently 
listened to her instructions. 
 
Consuela rewarded my patience by showing me a few simple stitches on 
her sewing machine.  It actually seemed pretty neat, and even though 
she was taking her machine with her when they left, she had another 
that she'd leave behind, an older, smaller machine on an antique stand 
of walnut and wrought iron, powered by a treadle.  She showed me how 
to use a dress pattern and which dimensions to reduce for someone my 
size.   
 
She seemed to enjoy giving this arcane knowledge to someone.  I was 
eager to learn, not that I cared about sewing, but because I felt like 
she accepted me.  She wasn't a member of Ramon's family, just the wife 
of his friend, and she could care less that Ramon had a skinny, 
blonde-haired, green-eyed daughter.  She knew Ramon had an Anglo 
second wife, but probably not for how long, and for all she knew I was 
his blood relation.  Looks aren't everything. 
 
I didn't feel like such an outsider, such a stranger in a strange 
place as Consuela showed me how to thread the machine, how to hem a 
skirt, how to sew in a zipper. 
 
Carlos and Consuela stayed for two weeks before leaving.  During that 
time Ramon took title on the boat, we finished helping them pack, and 
Consuela gave me a crash course in becoming a seamstress.  Their last 
night there Carlos and Ramon got drunk on rum and Carlos talked about 
all the times he'd almost been killed by the sea. 
 
I caught this whole conversation second-hand from Del in their 
temporary bedroom.  Paco was snoring under his blanket.  Afterwards, I 
went to leave.  Del caught my arm as I got up from the floor. 
 
"Hey.  Don't go," he said. 
 
"Just go to sleep, Del."  I couldn't have fit into that cot with him, 
anyway. 
 
"How about just a..."  He pulled away his blanket to reveal his 
erection. 
 
"We shouldn't do anything until they leave," I said. 
 
"Aw, c'mon." 
 
"Well...," I said, hesitating.  I hadn't felt even remotely horny 
since we arrived in Maine, but Del had an almost pleading look on his 
face.  I thought about how he held me while I cried in the motel room 
during the drive up here; I'd never felt so close to him before, even 
when we were intimate. 
 
I relented, taking Del's penis in my hand and gently stroking it 
before parting my lips and taking him into my mouth.  I sucked him 
slowly, trying not to make the old cot squeak.  Del reached into my 
blouse and under my bra, fondling my breasts while I fellated him.  
His hardness danced in my mouth, stiffening and twitching with each 
swirl of my tongue. 
 
We hadn't done anything sexual in two weeks, though I was sure he and 
Paco had kept up their usual routine of jerking off before going to 
sleep.  Even so, when Del's cock erupted in my mouth, it seemed as if 
he'd been saving up his sperm over the last fortnight.  His prick kept 
gushing and gushing, nearly as much as Ramon's did.  I milked his 
penis with my lips until the creamy geyser subsided.  After I cleaned 
him off with my tongue, I pulled the blanket back over his hips and 
kissed him. 
 
"Thanks," he said, smiling.  "Can I do you?" 
 
"No, that's okay.  I'm tired and we should wait until they leave." 
 
"Okay.  Good night, Annie." 
 
"Good night, Del." 
 
I kissed him again and headed to the sewing room.  The mannequins were 
gone, already loaded in the trailer that was hitched to Carlos's 
truck.  Only a few boxes remained.  I took off my blouse and jeans and 
laid down on the day bed in my bra and panties.  Though I was tired, 
sleep didn't come easily.  My bra felt uncomfortable so I took it off, 
skinning off my panties as well.  The woolen blanket Consuela had 
given me felt rough against my skin, so I threw it aside.  It was 
chilly in that old house, even in June.  Gooseflesh nipped at my skin 
and my nipples contracted into two pebbly patches. 
 
Sucking Del's cock had made me sort of horny; it always did.  I loved 
the way his hips moved when he was about to come, the softness of his 
balls, the hardness of his penis, the taste of his cum.  Though I 
still felt like I was in some stranger's house, and was afraid of 
making too much noise, I began to touch myself. 
 
For some reason I thought about Luci.  We would spent hours exploring 
each other.  I missed her gentle touch, the way her breath felt on my 
pussy just before she'd start to lick me.  I missed the softness of 
her thighs, her pliant lips, her probing tongue.  As I gently traced a 
line along the bottom of my breasts I wondered what she looked like 
now, whether her breasts had grown like mine.  We were two flat-
chested little girls when she moved away.  Now I was thirteen and 
outgrowing my training bras.  I longed to flick my tongue over her 
nipples again, except this time they'd be atop a pair of titties like 
mine. 
 
As my hands edged down my belly I began to regret not having packed my 
vibrator in my suitcase.  It was tucked away in a box of clothes that 
was still loaded in Ramon's van.  I still had my fingers, though.  I 
ran my hands over my thighs before concentrating on my sex, one hand 
parting my labia and the other teasing my clitty from its hood. 
 
As I dipped a finger in my vagina, feeling the heat and moisture 
there, I started to rue not letting Del fuck me in his room.  No doubt 
he was asleep by now.  As I slid my finger deeper I felt a peculiar 
longing for him.  Not just his cock, which would have felt great 
inside me just then, but for the feeling of his skin against mine, the 
feeling of his arms around me. 
 
I slipped a second finger inside my pussy, slowly rubbing my swollen 
clit with my other hand.  The day bed creaked when I moved my hips, so 
I tried to stay as still as possible.  This was harder than it 
sounded.  Every time I'd start to lose myself in my sex my hips would 
start to rock back and forth and the day bed would creak. 
 
It took nearly an hour of start and stop, each time bringing me closer 
to the edge.  I remembered one of the porno magazines Luci had, a 
German one with women tied up, some on beds, some on strange devices 
that seemed to be made just for that purpose.  I wondered what it 
would be like to be bound to a bed, not allowed to move, while a man 
did things to me with his tongue and fingers.  Not being able to move 
my hips while I masturbated was sort of like that, I thought. 
 
I was imagining Del teasing my pussy with a feather while I was tied 
to his old bunk bed when I finally came.  I didn't try to stop my hips 
at that point, hoping that everyone in the house was already asleep 
and that Carlos and Consuela weren't light sleepers.  Still, I tried 
not to cry out when I came and almost bit through my tongue with the 
effort. 
 
After I came down from my climax I noticed that the door was ajar and 
someone was watching me.  Whoever it was saw the look of surprise on 
my face and quickly moved away from the door.  I leaped out of the bed 
and slammed the door shut.  There was no way to lock it, so I pushed 
some of the boxes against it and went back to bed.  I hoped it was 
Ramon and not Carlos or Consuela, but I knew Ramon wouldn't have just 
stood outside the doorway and watched me masturbate.  We were far too 
close for that. 
 
The sky was beginning to lighten with the first rays of dawn when I 
finally fell asleep. 
 
                             * * * 
 
The next morning at breakfast, I tried to figure out who had spied on 
me.  Carlos was already loading boxes on his truck, Ramon and the boys 
giving him a hand.  It was just me and Consuela in the big old kitchen 
and I had my doubts about whether it was her.  It had to be Carlos.  
Even so, they were leaving that day and I looked forward to being able 
to salvage some of our old routine with Ramon, Del, and Paco.  At the 
very least I'd be able to masturbate without worrying about making 
noise or anything. 
 
As I stood on the lawn that afternoon, waving as Carlos and Consuela 
drove away in their truck, it occurred to me that this was the first 
time I was happy to see someone moving away. 
 
"I never thought they'd leave," Del said. 
 
"You and me both," I added, taking his hand and squeezing it. 
 
"C'mon, let's get the van unloaded," Ramon said.  We had an 
afternoon's work ahead of us. 
 
Ramon moved his things into Carlos's and Consuela's bedroom, so I 
chose the guest room as my own.  It had an antique four-poster bed and 
a huge old armoire.  As I lay down on the bed and stared up at the 
canopy, I realized that I finally had my own room again, and a rather 
romantic one at that. 
 
Del and Paco each chose a room on the third floor, though we had to 
move the day bed from the sewing room up the twisty staircase for Paco 
and drag my old mattress in from the van for Del.  They seemed 
delighted with their rooms, even though they were pretty small 
compared to the rest of the rooms in the house.  They'd never had 
their own rooms, though, not that they seemed to mind sharing one in 
Florida. 
 
After all the lifting and unpacking we did that day, I was too tired 
to cook dinner.  I just wanted to soak in a hot bath and let the hot 
water take care of my aching muscles.  The boys were hungry, though, 
so we went off in Ramon's van in search of a restaurant.  The nearest 
one was in the village, an all-night diner that served the town's 
fishermen and the truckers that hauled their catch to Portland and 
Boston.  We were all too hungry and tired to talk, so we wolfed down 
our food in silence. 
 
After dinner, I was lying in the claw-footed tub in the second floor 
bathroom, letting the hot water loosen my aching muscles.  I was half-
asleep when there was a knock on the door.  It was Ramon, and he had a 
bottle of rum and two glasses. 
 
"Drink?" he asked.  I nodded and he poured me a glass of rum.  I 
sipped it as he poured one for himself and sat on the edge of the 
bathtub. 
 
"Like your new room?" 
 
"Yes, very much," I replied. 
 
"I was hoping...," he said, hesitating. 
 
"What?" 
 
"I was hoping that you would share my bedroom," he said.  I reached 
out and placed my hand on his thigh, leaving a wet spot in the shape 
of my hand on his jeans.  He leaned over to kiss me, the sweet taste 
of rum on his lips and mine. 
 
"I will, sometimes," I said.  He smiled and gently brushed the hair 
from my face with his fingers.  I could see a bulge forming in his 
jeans, and I reached for it, grazing it with my fingertips as we 
kissed again.  I thought I felt him shiver. 
 
"You have a lot of cum for me, Papi?" I asked.  He smiled and nodded.  
I wanted to fuck him right on the bathroom floor, aching to feel his 
big cock worm its way inside me, but my diaphragm was in the other 
room.  I decided on the next best thing, and began to unbuckle his 
belt and undo his trousers. 
 
Ramon stood next to the bathtub and pulled down his jeans, while I sat 
up so my face was level with his crotch.  His erection was pointing 
right at my lips, but I didn't swallow him right away.  Instead, I 
teased him, gently stroking his shaft with my hands and cupping his 
heavy balls.  When I finally did take him in my mouth, I heard him 
groan, a low, guttural note that seemed to travel all the way to the 
tip of his penis. 
 
It had been two weeks since he'd come, so I tried to make him last, 
keeping him on the edge and backing off when he seemed to get close to 
coming.  I knew his orgasm was imminent from the many times I had 
pleasured him, how his balls would twitch and his cockhead seemed to 
flare like a cobra's hood.  I'd pull back when this happened, applying 
a gentle pressure on the base of his shaft, only the tip of my tongue 
lingering on his glans.  He'd tense up and then relax, and only then 
would I take him in my mouth again. 
 
I kept him like this for a while, so long that my bathwater began to 
get cold.  I decided to give him his release, enjoying the power I had 
over this older man. 
 
"Come for me, Papi," I cooed.  "Cover my face with your cream."  I 
stroked his cock quickly, looking up at his flushed face.  His tense 
features suddenly relaxed and he began to ejaculate like a fire hose.  
I opened my mouth to catch some of his cream, but most of it spurted 
over my nose, cheeks, and chin, dripping down to my breasts and into 
the bathwater.  Ramon groaned again, this time from satisfaction as he 
covered me with his spunk. 
 
He could barely stand while I took him back in my mouth, milking the 
last drops of semen from his softening cock.  He sat down on the edge 
of the tub while I ducked under the water, washing his sperm from my 
skin.  When I surfaced again, he kissed me on the lips, something he 
rarely did after I sucked him. 
 
"You're a good little girl, Annie," he said, handing me a towel as I 
stepped out of the now-lukewarm bath.  I dried off and backed into his 
lap, letting him run his hands over me. 
 
"I'm not so little anymore," I said, as he cupped my breasts. 
 
"You'll always be my little girl," he said. 
 
"Thank you, Papi."  We kissed again and he left after pouring some 
more rum for me.  I finished drying my hair and went to my bedroom.  
After putting in my diaphragm and donning my prettiest nightie I 
walked into Ramon's bedroom. 
 
Ramon was waiting on the bed, naked except for his boxer shorts.  Del 
and Paco were with him, also in their undershorts.  Ramon had given 
them glasses of rum to drink.  The bottle was nearly empty. 
 
"Come here, sweetheart," Ramon said.  "Let us show how much we love 
you." 
 
I climbed into the his bed and kissed him while Del and Paco caressed 
me, their hands roaming under my nightie and all over my body.  Del 
slipped the nightie over my head and I was gently laid on my back 
while three pairs of hands explored my skin.  I closed my eyes and 
surrendered to them; it felt even more soothing than the hot bath. 
 
Someone pulled my panties down and off my legs and began to kiss my 
thighs, slowly working up to my sex.  I had shaved off my bush before 
getting into the bath and I felt super-sensitive down there.  I looked 
down to see Del between my legs, his lips only an inch away from my 
slit.  He smiled before diving into my slit, his tongue probing me and 
teasing my clit. 
 
While Del ravished my pussy with his tongue, Ramon and Paco sat on 
either side of me, caressing my face and fondling my small breasts.  I 
reached out to fish their erections from their shorts; Ramon's fat 
cock in one hand, Paco's growing stiffy in my other hand.  I settled 
back into the big, soft bed as Del licked and sucked my slit. 
 
This time I didn't have to worry about making too much noise or having 
a stranger watch me when I started to come.  Del was never really good 
at oral sex, but this time he worked me like a pro, writing "I love 
you" with his tongue on my clit, over and over and over.  He grabbed 
my ass and brought my hips up to his face, his tongue lashing my 
nubbin.  That sent me over the edge, making my thighs quiver and my 
body go stiff as I came.  He even kept doing it until I had to make 
him stop, another first. 
 
Lost in the throes of my orgasm, I had let go of Ramon's and Paco's 
cocks, but when I opened my eyes they were stroking themselves, 
staying hard while I came.  Del knelt over me and we kissed, his lips 
wet and fragrant with my juices.  I desperately wanted to feel him 
inside me, but he moved aside, letting Paco position himself between 
my legs.  Paco skinned off his briefs, his stiffy throbbing in front 
of him.  I reached out for it, gently pulling him closer and guiding 
him inside me.  He slid in easily. 
 
Paco had never lasted so long before.  Maybe it was the rum, maybe 
he'd been masturbating a lot.  Maybe he was growing up.  His cock, no 
bigger than a finger when I first touched it three years before, was 
getting closer to Del's in size, and I appreciated every inch he had.  
I held his hips as he pumped his cock inside me, trying to keep him 
from fucking too fast and coming too soon.  It must have worked, 
because he didn't come until he'd brought me off, making my pussy 
spasm over his eager pole.  He didn't fill me with as much cum as Del 
or Ramon, but I felt his hot spurts nonetheless.  I held him after he 
came, wanting him to stay inside me, but he soon got up and let Del 
take his place. 
 
Del gently rolled me over on to my belly.  I thought he was going to 
put it in my bottom, but he slipped it into my messy slit instead.  I 
had my head in Ramon's lap, his cock brushing against my cheek.  As 
Del slowly fucked me from behind, I opened my mouth and accepted 
Ramon's big cock again. 
 
I felt like such a horny little slut, being filled from both ends by a 
father and his son.  Del poked me from behind with his long, smooth 
penis while Ramon filled my mouth with his fat, veiny meat.  I pushed 
my hips back against Del's as he thrust himself in and out of my 
hungry pussy.  It was like my body was making up for lost time, 
craving another orgasm and more semen, delicious semen.  Del's cock 
felt wonderful, hitting all the right places as he pumped my sex-
starved slit. 
 
I felt another mind-blowing climax building up, and I had to take 
Ramon's cock out of my mouth so I wouldn't bite him.  Instead, I 
licked his penis like a lollipop, up one side, over the tip, and down 
the other, stopping at the base of his shaft before working my tongue 
back up to the tip.  I managed to lick his pole three or four times 
before Del made me come by driving his cock deep inside me and 
rotating his hips.  I grabbed two fistfuls of bedsheet as I moaned and 
screamed from the intense waves of pleasure coursing through my body.  
It wasn't until my orgasm subsided that Del finally came, adding his 
semen to his brother's meager load before pulling out of me. 
 
I had enough strength to sit up and take Del's waning cock in my 
mouth, sucking the last drops of come and cleaning him with my tongue.  
He gently caressed me until I finished, and then he sat down on the 
bed, spent from his effort. 
 
Del and Paco were the appetizers; Ramon was the main course.  I lay 
back on the bed and spread my legs, eager to feel his fat prick inside 
me.  He knelt between my legs, noticing for the first time that I had 
shaved off my scant growth of pubic hair.  Unlike his sons, Ramon 
hadn't fucked me when my cunny was bald.  The sight of the hairless 
twat he was about to stuff delighted him. 
 
"Fuck me, Papi.  Fill me with your cum," I whispered, feeling like a 
complete slut.  He was more than happy to oblige, placing the tip of 
his cock at my oozing entrance and pressing it home.  I almost came 
right then, just from the feeling of his big member worming into my 
slit and stretching me. 
 
Ramon lay on top of me and began to thrust, each deep stroke pushing 
the wind out of me.  I could barely move under him, but I somehow 
managed to keep up with his movements, rocking my hips against his.  I 
wrapped my arms around his strong back, feeling the muscles moving 
beneath his skin, muscles that were working to push his cock in and 
out of me. 
 
"Oh, Papi...oh, Papi...yes...don't stop," I gasped, squirming under 
him as he fucked me like a machine.  Steady, relentless strokes, not 
slow, not fast, but with an constant speed and power.  It was like 
being fucked by a locomotive.  This was the difference between a boy 
and a man. 
 
"Papi...make me come, Papi," I pleaded, even though it was inevitable.  
Lubricated by his sons' semen and my juices, his cock churned my 
sucking snatch, making obscene little sounds as it pistoned in and 
out.  My grip on his back tightened just as my pussy's grip on his 
pole did in anticipation of the blessed release to come.  Ramon buried 
his face in my hair, his breath a warm cloud on my neck, as he picked 
up the pace ever so slightly, just enough to push me over the edge. 
 
"Papi...oh...oh...yes..."  I had never been so vocal when I'd come 
before, but this time felt different.  Maybe it was the hiatus, maybe 
it was the strange bed in a strange house.  It just felt good to call 
out his name, to vocalize my pleasure.  It wasn't long before my words 
became mere screams and cries, moans and grunts, as wave after wave of 
pleasure knocked me senseless. 
 
"Come for me, Papi.  Please come for me," I moaned.  The relentless 
motion of his cock within me became almost too much to bear.  I 
clenched myself around his pounding tool, trying to squeeze him with 
all my might.  He looked down for a moment, watching his glistening 
rod poke my newly-shorn cunt, and finally, he let go.  With a groan, 
he stuffed his cock into me with one last thrust and began to spurt 
his hot seed. 
 
In a way, it was too bad that I'd sucked him in the bathroom first.  I 
would have liked to feel him erupt inside me with that much force, 
that much volume.  Ramon stayed inside me while I clenched my pussy 
around his penis, trying to milk him with my twat.  When he had 
softened and began to slip out, he gently kissed me on the lips and 
withdrew, his flaccid cock shiny with our juices. 
 
I lay there on the bed for a while, feeling well and truly fucked.  
Then I reached for my glass, a drop of rum remaining at the bottom.  I 
rolled out of bed and squatted on the bedroom floor, holding the glass 
below my dripping pussy.  Semen oozed out of me and dripped into the 
glass.  Del and Paco watched, fascinated, as I drained my messy slit, 
poured a little more rum into the glass, swirled the mixture around, 
and sipped it like a fine liqueur.  Ramon could hardly stop laughing. 
 
I was still leaking sperm, so I slipped my panties back on before 
climbing back into bed to lay in Ramon's arms.  There was enough room 
for Del and Paco, too, and we had one last drink before Ramon turned 
out the lights. 

 
                             * * * 
 
(c) 2002  Anais Ninja  anais_ninja@hotmail.com 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/index.html

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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