and around and over and under the thick swell of meat. His thighs trembled slightly and he arched up to piston in and out of the warm mouth.
Her tongue moved faster, eyes closed now, and her temples beat like a heavy drum, cheeks hollowed to the suckings.
Her teasing fingers traced his contours, and this showed new results in the throbbing, rosy rigidity and restless movements of his hips.
He felt the electric strokings of her fingers, stroking along the lines of his inner thighs. Inching, impressing, gently upward, a little more firmly each time, and her tongue a million dartings of fire. He spread his legs even wider apart for her, hunching his shoulders, a cue, and so she proceeded past his balls on the next licking trip to his ass. She sat between his legs and looked up. It was an interesting angle, she thought, but not as interesting as Charles made it sound, when he was viewing her from this position.
She ran a finger down the crack of his ass and probed the little entrance she found there, but couldn't get her chubby finger in the tight opening… decided she wanted to and wet the finger in her mouth, then tried again. It squeezed in this time about a knuckle's worth and she noticed a twinge of life come into his dangling cock. She twisted and pushed at the sucking tunnel and managed to get another joint into him. He seemed to like the feeling, because he was helping by spreading his cheeks and drawing the finger into himself with muscular contractions, but it didn't seem to harden his prick any more than it already was.
Charles suddenly pulled her to her feet. 'Just squat a little,' he directed, placing his hand between her legs and snugging into her pussy.
'Shove it where it belongs, Chuck,' she said over her shoulder.
He moaned and gave in to her suggestion, jamming his cock into her panting cunt with a vengeance.
'Ooooo… nnnice…' she sighed, and the stiff cock with delight.
Charles drove the hot meat in and out, squeezing the white meat of her ass with all his might, oblivious to his sister's furious orgasm. He reached around and cupped her large tits, using them as handles to push and pull her on and off his throbbing prick, delighting Kay even more by holding her aching breasts while he filled her tight cunt with his expanding muscle. She gurgled from deep in her throat with the pleasure he inflicted between her legs and imagined the hard shaft was coming up the back of her throat and out.
Kay was overwhelmed with the sensations her brother created throughout her body and wondered why he ever wanted to do it any other way.
Especially up her ass. Charles at the same time was pretending he did have it in her asshole, and drove harder and faster into her body, spurred on by the slapping of her soft, meaty buttocks on his belly. The fit of her cunt was tight enough, but he wanted to hear the moans and groans she gave out when he penetrated into the wrong tunnel, where her muscles would fight back to expel the probe.
Charles came with an agonizing cry of relief. Kay clamped him inside her and drooled as the splash of sperm hit the walls of her cunt.
The next three parties were just as bad as the first, but Tom continued to fight back with new ideas.
'Next week,' Tom announced, just before leaving the fourth party, 'is Halloween… and I've decided to conduct a Black Mass.'
At long last there was a spark of excitement in the group. Chatter and giggles, whispered explanations to the uninformed about Black Mass rituals, more giggles and nervous laughing. Then silence, as they waited for their leader to give them the details. And Tom Dunn, coming up with another idea that caught the imagination of the crowd, was the center of attraction. Again he seized the opportunity to build his ego.
He tested the strength of his hold on them by adding. 'To pay for the incidentals needed to conduct the service, I'll need two dollars from each of you.'
The overwhelming response startled him, as the money quickly materialized on the table before him. A new confidence surged through him and he refused to let go until he had played it for all it was worth.
'Each participant at a Black Mass is required to wear a black cape. Nothing else!'
Mumbling ran through the group and he thought he may have gone too far. It turned out they didn't know where to get black capes and considered the case hopeless.
'For Chrisake… who's got a sewing machine?'
Kay Krauss answered with a raised hand.
'Can you make eight capes?'
She shrugged her shoulders. 'I guess I could if you show me what they look like.'
'Just a simple piece of cloth that wraps around the shoulders and reaches to the floor.'
She was negative about the whole thing, but willing to cooperate. It was decided that Tom and Cynthia would go to her house to help her with the design. Everyone was to be measured and they had to donate more money. And surprisingly, no complaints from anyone. Not even Jay, who was always crying how broke he was.
'Okay, here's what we do next week… I'll set everything up. Alone! At eight o'clock I'll unlock the back door and you can all enter. No one is to enter before eight. Got that?'
Everyone nodded obediently. They stared with wide eyes, hanging on his every word, drawn deeper into the game by the complexity of the rules he was dictating.
'Everyone must be in the kitchen by ten after eight. At that time you lock the back door, Ed. Then the guys go into the room off the kitchen and put on their capes. All clothes are to be removed except shoes and socks…'
A stir of excitement went through the group. Nervous grins were flashed and the girls giggled softly.
'You've got exactly ten minutes. Then you leave that room and go into the next room, just behind the store, and wait. At eight-twenty, the girls do the same. You've also got exactly ten minutes. And remove everything but your shoes. If anyone cheats, it's up to the others to kick them out before they enter the store. I'll ring a bell signaling the beginning of the Mass. Then, and only then, do you open the door and enter.'
On the bus ride back to Ridgewood the group was in high spirits. The other passengers were confused by all the attention everyone gave to 'Ichabod Crane'.
By Saturday, Kay had made sixteen capes instead of eight. There was more money in the treasury than Tom needed, and best of all, the guest list consisted of nine females and only six male names.
CHAPTER THREE
Surprisingly, Tom enlisted Jay Schmidtline to help him decorate the store. A convenient puppet to run errands, help hang the black-and-orange crepe paper along the walls, and any other odd jobs, 'the brain' wanted done. It was Jay who was sent out to find a cardboard box that could be made into a coffin. It took three evenings, after working all day, to go from store to store in the shopping areas of Maspeth and Ridgewood, before he found a suitable box.
Since it was too big to take on the bus, he had to carry the awkward container about a mile and a half. Then he was dismissed and Tom put the finishing touches on the room.
By seven-thirty that Saturday night, everyone was gathered in front of the store. Kids were running up and down the streets dressed in costumes. The members of the club decided to move to the back entrance to get away from the wild kids on the streets. After the introductions were made the girls chatted nervously in one group, while the guys chain-smoked and joked in another.
Two additional Schmidtlines were present; nineteen-year-old brother Hans and their sister Gloria. The Schmidtlines had one thing in common – none of them looked alike. Hans was six-foot-three, lean, with rodent-like features. Gloria was much prettier than Cynthia; not as tail, but more feminine. And while Cynthia kept her long brown hair straight to the shoulder, Gloria's blonde hair was short and wavy. Jay, Cynthia and Hans had dark- brown eyes, Gloria had soft blue eyes.
The other new guests included a couple Charles had invited; his sister Kay brought a girlfriend; and Ed's cousin, Ann, brought a girlfriend. But the biggest surprise to the group was the presence of Margaret Leche, who must have arrived with Tom, since she was the first one there and gave them last-minute instructions about their behavior. A typical Margaret Leche habit anyway, which they all hated her for. They also despised her short, squat build that she carried like a muscle-bound truck driver. Rumor had it that she was a bull dyke, but no one had any evidence to prove it. It didn't matter anyway, since rumors circulated about all members of the Leche family. The
