released, he straightened slowly and stiffly, saying nothing as he moved to the floor of the barn and turned to face his captors. Three gorgeously stacked nudes, clustered close together in arm-locked wonder, watched and waited for him to speak.
'No more?' He looked painfully at Denise, trying to fathom the sense of that order. 'You mean, only this time and never, ever again?'
'Maybe ever again, but only if I give special permission and that isn't likely.'
'But, why?' He was clearly hurting at the thought that one time in paradise was only a start. 'I would never say a word.'
'Too much dynamite for any of us to handle, Bryan. You could be hurt… my girls could be… it's a small town.'
'Come here!' He grabbed impetuously for Denise's wrist and wrestled her quickly to the impromptu mattress on the quilt. 'And you!' He caught Sandy's arm and with his other hand seized Pammy, spilling the two girls in a happy, squealing tumble across their mother's willing body.
'I want something to remember.' His strength and the cooperation from the girls caught by his desperation, made lining their bodies and their three cunty centers one atop the other no problem.
Cunnilingus hopscotch. Thirst wetted by the magic found earlier at Sandy's quim gates, he drove the three females to gasping, screaming climaxes.
'More… please, Bryan, more!' cried Sandy after he had tongue-whipped each through two orgasms and suddenly broke from the play.
'Don't go.' Denise grabbed and missed as he slipped past them and snatched his bathing trunks from the floor. 'Look at yourself! You still need it.'
'I know. And it's going to get lots worse.' Fully freshened and horny wild, his erection bolted at his front in outraged want. Purposefully he strutted to the barn door, determined to let the three see what they were driving from their lives. There, flinging open the two-sided-door, he calmly bent and dragged his swim trunks up his legs till they were directly under his genitals.
'So, if I'm out, I'm out!' he snorted, grabbing his stiffened cock and stroking himself suggestively. 'This is how you caught me and this is what I'll go back to.'
Furious as he was, Bryan was entranced by the trio of females embracing each other and staring at his masturbation. Forgotten by him in his frenzy to try to make Mrs. Pritchard retract her ultimatum, was that he was visible to a second floor window in his home next door. At that second in that window appeared an astonished face.
'Dear God! Bryan!' Jennifer Quinby, dumbstruck by a performance she never believed possible in her fifteen-year-old, pressed her fist against her lips. There before her incredulous stare, was a possessed son, facing back into the barn garage on the Pritchard grounds, obviously masturbating.
Was someone watching next door? Surely with three women around that house! In sheer terror she scanned first the downstairs, then the upstairs windows of the house. Not a soul in sight. Whatever possessed her boy, wondered a spellbound Jennifer, horrified and entranced simultaneously as a stream of silvery spray shot from the tip of his cock and splattered to the ground.
Almost matter-of-factly, he restored his modesty, stepped back inside the barn door, and a moment later reappeared with the lawnmower. He had done it, but there wasn't a guilty sign in his expression. Jennifer watched unseen behind a drape as he mowed along the hedge line.
That evening at supper table, strained and uncomfortable, she studied him covertly as he sat nonchalantly at her elbow. He talked animatedly about his chance for the first string football team in his first year of high school.
'Bryan, I would like to see you clean up your room tonight,' she interrupted finally, exasperated by his cool. 'You know Celeste arrives in a few days and it's a disgrace.'
'Sure, Mom, glad to.' His thoughts were where they had been all through the day after leaving the three temptresses. Three wonderful females had led him into manhood and set him on fire for sex. It was beautiful and it was beastly, at the same instant. Just as she paid him for the lawn work, Denise reminded him a final time, 'Once is once and no more. Understood, Bryan?'
'Sure… yeah, guess so.' He had left in ecstasy and in misery. Now as he headed up the stairs to clean his room, the misery deepened. All that remained was to busy himself in football and try to endure the old maid prima donna his mother tried to convince him would be fun to have around. Fun, hell! Even her name, Celeste, sounded sort of like the end of the world to a frustrated Bryan. Why couldn't they park Celeste next door and bring over Denise… or Sandy… or Pammy?
Deep in gloom that Mrs. Pritchard was completely serious in her warning to him to keep hands off further adventures next door, he dropped exhausted into his bed and promptly fell asleep.
CHAPTER THREE
The Quinby home was terribly quiet. 'Any decent household should be at two a.m.' Frank muttered to a restless Jennifer.
'But something moved somewhere,' she complained. 'Maybe Celeste is trying to find the kitchen for a snack. It's black in the hall, Frank.'
Her husband groaned and shifted to his elbows to glare sleepily at his wife. 'Look, if I check it out will you let me go to sleep?'
'Oh, thank you. If it's Celeste, maybe you can help her. She likes an after-show nibble and I forgot the kitchen night light.'
'Probably Bryan,' grumbled Frank, groping for his robe, then remembering. 'Wrong. He's on the all-night bus run back from the game.'
'Thank heavens he made the team,' murmured Jennifer. 'He's a worry. So much boy and so anxious to be man.'
'I'll be right back,' Frank sighed. 'I'm awake now. Probably make myself a sandwich.'
'Be careful,' an anxious wife whispered after his departure. Her happiness was complete, she told herself. She had been loved wildly by Frank before he fell asleep; her home was safe in his protection and to make life sheer joy, her best friend was with them and staying on longer than planned.
Now one more thing remained to complete her joy. Jennifer thought of Celeste. Sweet, gorgeous Celeste, looking more vibrant and beautiful than in conservatory years, had taken her family by storm.
She was the perfect house guest, making herself at home, slipping in quietly after her evening performance, remembering there was a man in the house who had to go to work early. To crown her happiness, Jennifer had watched Bryan make varsity football. That, more than anything, should get him away from any preoccupation with himself or with girls. But she knew it wouldn't. He seemed absolutely in awe, almost afraid of Celeste, and smitten as his eyes said he was with her beauty, he was rarely near her. Sighing contentedly at the new prospects ahead, Jennifer leisurely stretched, then sat up in bed.
Downstairs Frank felt his heart race as he moved through the dining room darkness toward the kitchen. Not from fear of an intruder, but hope that it might be Celeste on a snack-prowling expedition. He paused by the table as a light flared low in the next room, then went out. Must have been the refrigerator light, he decided. At the door into the kitchen he waited and listened, identifying first the lightness of footstep and then the fragrance of perfume as belonging to their house guest. Jennifer rarely used perfume.
'Celeste?' he called softly. 'It's me, Frank. You all right?' he asked quickly to wipe out any fright.
'I'll be fine if you don't turn on the light,' came back the low voiced response. 'I'm practically in the buff.'
Violent heart race now and with it a surging charge in his loins. He had already seen a nearly nude Celeste at their pool and also in her latest contemporary Carmen concert. She was pure man-maddening wench. Someone really screwed the calendar when they tried to make her in mid-thirties. Youngish Jennifer had faked out the years with her fabulous figure. But Celeste was like a girl who stayed a girl in every way. And she was also slightly terrifying. So real and so genuine and so all woman – but so famous and so talented she was like someone
