Gangbang sisters
The process of growing up, of passing through the age of adolescence has, through the ages, been marked by great inner turmoil, uncertainty and tremendous pressures from family and peer group alike. Certainly, in our society today, the problems of youth appear to be more marked than ever before.
We hear constant reports of pervasive use of drugs in our schools. Of shoplifting and other petty crimes. Of promiscuity and dangerous VD epidemics.
GANG BANG SISTERS is the story of a group of teenagers and young people in their early twenties embarking on their own special journey into adulthood. All are filled with hidden fears and frustrations, and all are seeking the path that will lead them to their ultimate goal: happiness. Together they form a secret club, a club where sensuality and physical gratification reign supreme. Through their experiences there, they each grow emotionally and sexually, learning to cope with their feelings and to put their worlds in proper perspective.
A story of several young people coming of age. A lesson to us all. A reminder, once again, that growing up is not easy.
The Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
Cynthia was lying in the tub of warm water and shivering with pleasure. She parted her full lips and let her tongue slip in and out, wetly, while under water her hand rubbed gently at her soapy pussy, making hot, slow circles inside the drooling lips.
Her brother, Jay, was up to his old game and Cynthia knew, enjoyed knowing, that he was peeking in at her.
It was sort of a ritual with them -- Cynthia parading around the apartment braless, her nipples erect in hard little teenage buds, and her horny brother eyeing that area about her dampened velvety pubic triangle of girlish hair he had come to know so well.
Now she snaked a slender finger all the way into her drooling cunt. At the bathroom door, which was open just a crack, Jay's sturdy hard-on ached.
Cynthia smiled, almost hearing her brother's pounding heart, knowing his tight jockey shorts must be putting a kink in that thick cock of his.
"Enough of the games, now, Cynthia?" Jay finally panted. "You got one of your horny ones on today, huh, Sis?"
"If you only knew," she sighed. She leaned over the tub's edge, shoving her white boobs up toward Jay's bug-eyes.
"I know, believe me, I know!" her brother panted, and dropped his pants, pulling his shirt off at the same time. He eyed the full length of her lovely body as he stepped into the tub and lowered, ever so gently, his body over hers. His cock throbbed as it submerged in the warm water.
"Ohhhh! I feel what you're talking about," Cynthia cooed as his stiff meat surfaced again and slid along her belly. She let her head drop back and rest on the top of the tub, her hair dripping wet. She spread her legs up and out as Jay readied himself to work his pulsing cock into her cunt.
She grasped the throbbing organ firmly and guided it to her soap-filmed vaginal lips. The water gushed and swirled around their bodies, and Jay moved his hands under water to take a tight grasp on her soft and fleshy buttocks. Jay's body went taut, then shuddered with the sensational feel of the sudsy warm water and her moving body both caressing and exciting him to a peak of near-hysteria. His face was wet with sweat and bath water, and his cock was screaming mad messages up to his brain. His spine tingled as his chest rubbed against her elongated nipples. Jay screwed his eyes shut, battling with the load that was boiling inside his balls.
He opened his eyes again and hesitated long enough to take another devouring glance at the squirming body beneath him. Then he began his gyrations; pushing, thrusting, rotating until Cynthia heaved a big sigh and her big brown eyes flashed wildly. She dug her fingers into his back and clamped him, under water, inside her cunt. They both groaned and a wave of water splashed over the side of the tub as Jay slid into her.
"Mmmmm, isn't this great?" Cynthia said as he hovered over her. "Isn't it wild? Don't you wish you could screw under water forever? Hmmmm. So nice and warm...!"
Her arms came around slowly to enfold him as he plunged deeper and deeper into her submerged cunt. Her hard-nippled breasts rose against him, and he felt himself driving clear in the high, white, detailed sensations of oncoming orgasm.
He poised out over her, and she spread even wider under him and began to reciprocate with a slow unfolding of her juices into the warm water. He heard her grunt and moan and ease up and down under him, and he felt the shudders of her hands pass slowly over his shoulders, her body curling up in the tub and then unwinding slowly.
"Oh, isn't this good? Don't stop," she murmured through sensuous, wet lips, her slippery body still squirming.
"Stop? Not on your life," he replied through clenched teeth. "I'm not stopping 'til I've eaten you all up!"
"Mmmmm... that sounds delicious," she whispered, adding emphasis to "delicious" by squirming faster and squeezing harder on his deep-seated cock.
Her breasts rose high before him, and he dove to recover them in his mouth... and then he picked up the rhythm of the contours of her body again, feeling himself move up all the way in her.
The moment was near when he would throw his load into her sucking tunnel. He held back with all his might, concentrating on stopping the oncoming explosion. His balls were on fire and the warm water licked at them with little tongues of wetness. Everything was against his stopping now, but he squeezed his insides into a knot and waited, trying not to think about the tit that had just slipped out of his mouth and sent a bouncing nipple across his face. But he couldn't ignore the sobs and moans coming from Cynthia as she worked her warm water orgasm to its fullest.
"Take it, baby, take it..." he coaxed her on, gathering his come for the inevitable blast that was about to be triggered off.
Cynthia shook her head dreamily and smiled, feeling his come enter her depths, warm and filling, thick and shooting.
But Cynthia wasn't the least disappointed that his throbbing meat was filling her belly with creamy delight. This wasn't the end, she thought, only the beginning... and her thoughts went racing ahead as his big cock was still diving and dipping in, sliding in, opening the wet downy tunnel of her cunt completely as she whimpered and crouched down low for him. She knew he'd save the best for last and watched his face for a telltale sign as he withdrew. And she caught the sign... a cute smile as he ran his eyes over her body and licked his lips. It meant the gnawing hunger was beginning to chum inside him. That eating hunger that could drive her mad!
Jay slid back on his haunches and pulled Cynthia to a standing position before him. His eyes lapped up every inch of dripping softness, while his hands slid back over her hips and gripped the matched globes of her firm ass, squeezing and pulling the balls apart. Then his eyes locked on the dripping triangle of hair just inches from his face, and Cynthia's eyes became fixed on his mouth.
The pause sent chills through her. She couldn't control herself and pressed the wet mop of hair against his face, then rubbed it over his mouth, nose and chin, until he stopped her with a snaking tongue-dive into her drooling cunt. Hot flashes shot through her mind from the probing, licking, sucking tongue.
When the fire in her was reaching a peak, Jay stopped and turned her around. She knelt and backed into his face, eyeing the upright cock whose head was just below the surface of the water.
Jay felt absolutely refreshed and relaxed now that he'd shot his load. He spread the smooth cheeks before him and buried his nose in the deep crevice, slobbering the crack with playful, wet kisses, enjoying the taste of this sleek, slippery skin that never saw daylight. His eyes feasted on the roundness, firmness and elasticity of her ass, marveling at the sexual desire her crack stirred in his balls.
"Where'd you ever get such a perfectly shaped ass?" he asked, admiring the overall view Cynthia presented in this position.
"My older brother whipped it into shape for me," she cooed back at him. "Kiss it, Jay, the way only you know how to kiss an ass."
There was no hesitation on Jay's part; he spread the cheeks wide, curled his tongue into a point and shot it into her asshole like a dart, snaking, twisting, driving it up and up the tight tunnel as far as he could go, running out of tongue but not tunnel.
"Ohhhh... Jaaaaayyyyy..." she groaned, then dunked her head in the water and filled her mouth with his swollen prick. She sucked and gobbled the sweet meat until her lungs screamed for air, then came up gasping, squeezing his tongue with the strong muscles that surrounded it.
Jay withdrew his tongue and proceeded to nibble on the firm balls of flesh, licking the crevice to send chills up her spine, blowing on her asshole, kissing, sucking and shooting his tongue into it. Meanwhile, Cynthia kept dunking her head into the water and devouring his swollen cock. But it wasn't until Jay realized that all he had to do was hold her head down, that he really got charged up over her suck-off. And on Cynthia's next dive he reached down and pressed his hand on the back of her head, stuffing her mouth and throat with his cock until she choked, then holding her head under the water so she couldn't breathe. It gave him wild thoughts of absolute power over her. Her life was now in his hands not to mention the sensations in her mouth as she gagged, choked and gasped for air. However, he let her go before she panicked and in so doing kept the fire alive in her cunt... even built it up a little.
Cynthia pinned his head against the wall of the tub by sitting on his face -- his nose buried in her crack -- while she caught her breath. The scare he had given her was a thrill now, but she didn't want a repeat performance, so she released the stopper on the tub. And while she waited for the water to run out, she pressed the fleshy pillows of her ass against his face with all the strength she had, and wiggled, choking off his air supply and eating up the sensation his chin and nose played on her cunt and asshole.
She lost interest in that when the water dropped and she was staring into the eye of his cock. She swooped down on it, capturing it again and letting it move back and forth into the heat of her throat. Jay's tongue was already busy reaming the walls of her drooling cunt and her whole mind could concentrate on getting that lump of ice cream through the straw. Her ravaging tongue wetly painted the length of his cock, tickling its tip and then at his balls, swooping it in, releasing it, capturing it again, her fingers tapping, tickling at his asshole, while a tongue of fire lashed inside her cunt.
The first taste of oozing cream sent her into her second orgasm, knowing now that she would have it all. Her head bobbed in vigorous cadence on his frenzied cock; her throat getting the first spray of juice, then another and another, as she swallowed furiously, trying to keep up with the gushing geyser.
Jay spiraled his tongue into the warmth of her honey-pot, reached overhead and gripped her buttocks, pulling her down on his face as hard as he could. The best shot was always his second, he thought. It lasted longer, hurt longer, and drained his balls of all their come; and the relief when it was over was exhausting -- momentarily -- then invigorating.
Both bodies squirmed and jerked until the last drop of passion was out. But Cynthia continued to suck his cock anyway, making sure she had it all. Then they separated, grinning and feeling silly inside.
Jay felt great and wanted to get out of the house before any of his seven other brothers and sisters saw him. His actions with Cynthia were one thing, but his real personality was locked inside his head. He was twenty-one now, but all the sex he had ever known was with his sister and he wanted desperately to spread his seed far and wide.
By nine-thirty Jay was tucked off in a corner booth with three of his buddies. All of them were a few years older than he, but with the same general frustrations... no money, no goal in life, no girls.
"The damn newspapers and magazines drive me nuts," said Ed Cramer, sitting on the outside next to Jay. He had average looks, light hair, medium build and a low IQ. "Everybody our age is supposed to be on dope and getting laid. Where'd I go wrong?"
"Ya gotta have bread," Jay stated his philosophy. The ham and cheese sandwich, which was all he had for dinner, didn't satisfy the pangs of hunger and influenced his thinking. The beers only increased his appetite and reminded him that he only had three dollars left until payday. Day after tomorrow.
"Bullshit!" the sharp tongue of Tom Dunn rang out. Tom sat on the end, opposite Ed Cramer, for a very good reason; it was closer to the bar and he was developing a problem with alcohol. A tall, very thin character, with thick glasses and a long pointed nose, it was natural that they nicknamed him Ichabod Crane. And Tom didn't disillusion himself about his looks. "We don't get any ass because we don't go about it in an intelligent manner."
In the corner, next to Tom, a short, fat, boyish figure became alert and nodded approval to Tom's statement. Not that Charles Krauss knew what Tom was leading to, he just wanted to hear more about it.
"I've said it before and I'll say it again," Tom continued, a bit smug in his attitude to let them know he was of superior intelligence. "We've got nothing going for us... no money, no car, no looks..."
"Speak for yourself," Jay cut in.
"The orangutan over there calls the rest of the world ugly," Tom snapped back at him. "What's the use? I've been trying to get you guys to start a social club for years now and you just sit on your fat asses and moan about not getting laid. You expect a broad to come in this piss-stenched bar, walk over to the table and ask you for a hump." He got up from the booth to get another beer and said over his shoulder, "Even then you'd probably want her to do it in the fuckin' booth!"
Jay and Ed sat motionless, but Charles was fidgeting, anxious for Tom to return. He started talking before Tom reached the booth: "We can use my uncle's store!"
"Huh?" Tom responded.
"My uncle has an empty store over a bowling alley that he can't rent. Too noisy. He said I could use it any time I wanted to. And it even has a three-room apartment behind it."
"Where is this place?"
"In Maspeth... on Old Fresh Pond Road."
"Yeh," Jay cut in, "we can all rent bicycles from Avis to get there."
"The bus on Palmetto Street goes right past the place," Charles answered. But Jay began to laugh at his own joke and paid no attention.
"Screw him," Tom said, dismissing Jay's presence. He knew the bowling alley Charles was talking about and it wasn't very far by bus. "When can we see the place?"
"Any time. I've even got a set of keys at home."
"Okay, Tom, now we have a store for our club," Ed said sarcastically. "How are you going to get broads?"
Silence.
"I mean, let's face it," Ed said, less sarcastic now, "if you can't get a girl to go out with you, how can you get them to come to the club?"
Tom Dunn just stared at him with contempt. He wasn't prepared to answer any questions... not yet, anyway. This whole idea was dreamed up on the spot, but he couldn't let them know he was bluffing. If they lost respect for his intelligence he was lost, since he didn't have anything else to feed his ego. And besides, he decided, the idea was developing into an interesting situation. So he instinctively hid behind an air of superiority and let the silence work to his advantage, giving Ed a slight, tolerant grin.
"It's all based on my theory of pyramiding reactions..."
"We gonna build pyramids?" Jay couldn't resist the pun. And everyone but Tom laughed. However, the groping for an answer was over. Tom realized he'd be able to elaborate on his "theory" to the satisfaction of his associates.
"... which, for the benefit of you imbeciles, I'll spell out in simple terms." He stood up and walked briskly to the bar, received a bottle of beer from the short German bartender, who just added the charge to his weekly bill.
Seated once again, he began talking as he poured the beer. "There are four of us starting the club. Four male chauvinist pigs. We will do all the basic work in putting the store into shape and consequently be the officers. We will carefully select two or three other guys as members. However, I insist on having the final say on who joins the club."
"Then, quite simply, we all bring one female to our first meeting."
"Well, we're right back at the beginning." Jay said it for them all.
This time Tom smiled, seeming to be getting a little mellow. He finished the beer in his glass, poured the balance of the bottle and announced softly, "I knew you were going to say that, because your brains are in your ass. However, my plan is so simple that even a dumb shit like you can get a girl to bring to the meetings."
With that he drained the glass and returned to the bar with the empty bottle, got another and returned to the booth. Charles asked him to wait a minute while he ran to the bar and bought three draft beers. He was excited by Tom's presentation and sure his idol had a carefully worked-out plan that couldn't fail.
They settled quickly and waited for Tom to reveal his plan. Signs of intoxication were creeping into his speech and manners, but they were accustomed to this. They didn't pronounce him drunk until he passed out. Even then he might wake up in fifteen minutes and be completely coherent again.
The noise in the bar was getting louder, as the Friday-night crowd reached its peak. Mostly men, old-timers from the neighborhood who stopped in nightly on the way home from work for a quick beer. One or two had their wives. The younger men, the ones under thirty, mixed in at the bar, mostly listening. And the smell of smoke and beer mixed in a dark cloud over the room to render a urine-like odor.
"I'll say it nice and slow. No big words to confuse anyone, so listen closely. I said, 'We all bring one female.' Just remember, I didn't specify anything but female..."
They were completely puzzled and he knew it. And he used it to build his ego.
"Look at it this way, gentlemen..." a pause for his ego to watch their intent faces, knowing they hung on every word, "... six guys go to a party and bring six girls. A girl for every guy present, but not necessarily the same girl he brought. As long as we keep in mind that when we get to the party we will not spend the night with the girl we invited... then shit, we can bring anyone. Right?"
Three heads nodded. They knew he had something, but they hadn't caught on to what it was.
"So... one guy brings his ex-girlfriend, or any girl he knows will accept. Another guy brings his cousin and another brings his sister... and so on and so forth."
"Holy shit!" Ed Cramer looked upset. "Who'd bring his sister to an orgy?"
"Don't get uptight. I told you it was for the first party. Or maybe the first few. After that my pyramid theory takes over. We tell the girls to bring their friends and pretty soon we ye got a whole new stable."
CHAPTER TWO
Upon inspection of the store the following morning Thomas I. Dunn, for the first time his friends could remember, expressed delight. Not even the bare walls, desperately in need of new paint, drew any criticism from his sharp tongue. Instead, Tom walked briskly from the front door through the store, into the next room, with his eyes peering over his glasses, and disappeared. They caught up to him in the kitchen, where he had just finished inspecting the bathroom and rear entrance.
"Charlie, old buddy, this is better than I ever dreamed possible. We couldn't find a place like this if we paid a couple of hundred bucks a month."
"My uncle said we could have it without rent until December. He usually rents it then for the holidays."
They all agreed that the store was terrific and Charlie Krauss was the hero of the day.
Then with a few more tours of the premises they set out to scrounge the neighborhood for furniture. They hadn't known this much enthusiasm since their early teens. Old chairs and tables were carted off from their basements in an old wagon and a dilapidated baby carriage. They confiscated lamps, knickknacks and ashtrays from their offices, restaurants and bars. The four made a systematic visit to all the cafeterias in the neighborhood and walked off with enough eating utensils, glasses, cups and saucers to serve a small army. And they were having a ball doing it.
The following Friday night, just a week after the germ of an idea began, they had their first party. And by that time no one was surprised at the female guest list. Jay brought Cynthia. Charles brought his seventeen-year-old sister Kay, who was a short fat kid with pimples. Ed brought a cousin, who had a terrific build and pretty face; not to mention a reputation in the neighborhood as being a whore. And Tom Dunn, being an only child and not having any relatives nearby, brought an ex-girlfriend. A tall, thin girl who was easily the homeliest girl in the group. But to add a touch of freshness to the stale group, Tom invited an Italian friend he worked with, who brought a buddy and two mod, good-looking chicks.
As it turned out, the first party was a complete bomb. If it hadn't been for the bowling alley downstairs, they would have sat in complete silence and stared at each other. However, the league was bowling for position that night and just as Tom finished a fast dance with Cynthia, the music ended, Tom and Cynthia bowed, and a loud cheer rang out below. Everyone laughed. Tom told a joke, punctuated by bowling balls crashing into pins and ending with a cheer from downstairs. Everyone laughed. But the party ended without a single couple getting laid, which constituted a failure.
It was especially a bad blow to Charles Krauss, who had put a great deal of faith in Tom's ability to get them laid. A case of hero-worship that had existed for several years was almost shattered. But Tom scolded him for expecting too much from the first party and Charles was content. At twenty-three, he had to believe in someone or he'd die a virgin, if you didn't count his sister.
The standards of this German neighborhood -- a section of Queens County, New York -- were very strict. Any display of affection in public was out of the question. Dating was only for those getting married. Sex -- God forbid -- was only for married people who were trying to have children. And there were many, many rules governing the conduct of young people -- anyone under thirty.
Then, keeping this in mind at all times, everyone but the old ladies who watched suspiciously from their windows set out to break the rules without getting caught. Incest was the most popular way out. A forty-year-old man, whose wife was now fat and unattractive, found new delights with his daughter. Brothers and sisters just carried their childhood games into their teens. And everyone suffered from guilt complexes, but never let it interfere with their fun.
Still disappointed with the party, Charles turned down an invitation to join Tom, Ed and Jay at the corner bar. Instead he took Kay home. But rather than going upstairs to their apartment, where their parents would be sleeping by now, Charles gave Kay a gentle nudge in the direction of the basement stairs. She followed his lead, down steep, creaking wooden stairs to the damp basement and back to a storage-bin in the rear. A small light barely lit the cubicle, but as soon as it was turned on Charles retraced his steps and unscrewed the bulbs in the other sockets so no one could see them from outside.
"It wasn't a bad party," Kay whispered.
"I guess so," Charles sighed moodily.
"Tommy sure was funny."
"Yeah. He sure was."
Charles opened the buttons on his sister's blouse, then unhooked her bra. Kay quickly slipped them off. Desperately trying to work up some enthusiasm, he caressed one of her big tits and watched the nipple grow hard. He bent over and kissed the nipple, sucked on it, and finally bit it gently. Then, disappointed because it didn't arouse him, he let go.
Kay sensed his lack of enthusiasm and tried to give him a spark of life. She opened his zipper, slid her chubby hand into his shorts and started to play with the limp cock. It remained limp. Even while he removed her panties and squeezed her ass the limp noodle remained uninterested. She tried harder.
"Want me to bury it between my tits?" she asked.
"No, not really," he answered in a bored tone.
Kay felt frustrated. She jerked the rubbery tube and nothing happened. She bent down and kissed it, her big eyes looking up into his for approval, but still no signs of appreciation, and now she was out of ideas. Men weren't suppose to be limp, she told herself in defense of her pride. But the sight of his cock churned up the juices in her own sex box and she was curious about the male apparatus anyway. Usually her brother was jamming it into her mouth, cunt or ass and she never got to examine it like this. She decided on the spot that it was "cute" when it was soft and wrinkled; no big veins popping out and no puffing head dribbling cream, she reasoned.
Since Charles was just standing their doing nothing, she proceeded to give him an examination. She took the soft meat in her hand and closed a tight fist over it for protection and warmth, lifted it and gazed at the wrinkled prunes dangling from the base... cupped them in her other hand and squeezed gently. Then, starting at the tip of his cock, she ran the tip of her tongue down the shaft to his balls and back up again. Charles spread his legs wide apart for her and she used her pink tongue, letting it lounge around his hot and swollen balls, licking and sipping with those pouty red lips of hers. Then she slid the bottom of her tongue back down over the bottom of his heat, feathering it, before her lips formed into a hot, moist circle to clamp firmly around the pulsing head, sucking on it and nursing it wetly.
The oiled and steaming spear slid far back in her mouth, into the slowly gulping throat, and she used those muscles to milk it, swallow on it, draw at it.
Her head was bobbing on it and little animal-lust moans were slipping out of her, along with saliva that ran down over his balls and nestled in the crack just behind. Her eyelids fluttered and her tongue washed in circles up 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 mother was called "Crazy Mary"; the father was singled out as "the meanest man in Ridgewood"; and even Margaret's sister was said to be a tramp. So the Leche family stuck together, and even though there was an age difference of eleven years between Margaret and Stella, they were always seen together.
Margaret blocked the back door until precisely eight o'clock, then opened the door and gave the order to enter. At ten after eight she told Ed to lock the door.
"Okay, you guys," she barked, "in to the dressing room and don't dilly-dally."
The men shuffled into the adjoining room.
At exactly eight-twenty she opened the door and herded the girls into the now-vacant dressing room. Her hawk-eyes guaranteed the complete disrobing of the girls, which made them leery of her real reason for watching. Even the girls that didn't know her felt uneasy.
Draped from the neck down in their cone-shaped robes, fastened at the neck with a single clasp, they filed into the next room with the men. A muffled giggle went through the group at the sight of stark white faces floating on black teepees. All talking was in the kind of whispers reserved for church. Most of the guys puffed nervously on cigarettes that Ed Cramer had the foresight to carry into the waiting room. Since it was almost time to enter the Mass, the girls took drags from the lit cigarettes.
For the next five minutes the group just stood in silence, staring at each other, some considering the reason they were attending this fiendish meeting, while others wondered what devious plans Tom Dunn would impose on them. The dead silence was short-lived; the crash of pins rang out below as the league started to bowl. Nervous laughs went around the room and a few more cigarettes were lit. Even Margaret Leche was beginning to show nervousness now.
At eight forty-five a small brass bell sounded; three district rings; then the door opened. The crowd looked into a seemingly black room.
"Enter," a voice ordered. Even straining for a deep, solemn tone, it was recognized as Tom's.
Another moment of hesitation before Jay Schmidtline, feigning confidence, swaggered toward the door. Cynthia quickly caught up to him and entered with at least the protection of her big brother. The others filed in behind them. The smell of incense immediately choked off any giggles or levity. It burned their nostrils and brought the group to a sense of serious alertness.
Slowly their eyes adjusted to the darkness and they could distinguish Tom Dunn's face, which seemed to hang between two candle flames. Closer examination revealed the black candles, the lectern which Tom was standing behind, and a bulky object on the floor in front of the lectern. They formed a semicircle around the form, which someone identified in a whisper as a coffin. They stared into Tom's face.
"Welcome, my brothers and sisters, to Satan's Black Mass." Tom's voice was back to normal, but his sinister grin and sparkling eyes sent a chill up the backs of everyone that knew him. They knew he was capable of dreaming up sordid games, having seen him in action before, and that grin was always the tip-off.
"Let's all bow our heads and pray to the Angel of Evil... our beloved Satan..."
The cadence was familiar, but the words seemed to be jibberish. Only Charles Krauss recognized what Tom was doing... saying the Lord's Prayer with the words backward! At the conclusion Charles surprised himself, as well as the others by saying aloud and in unison with Tom: "Nema."
"We are gathered here tonight to dedicate ourselves to Satan. We will make our offerings and sacrifices to become his faithful servants."
From under the lectern he produced an object draped in black cloth, then proceeded to ceremoniously remove and fold the cloth. The exposed chalice strongly resembled the bowling trophy from the display window next door. He lifted it high and announced: "This is the blood of the sacrificed, virgin, oh Satan. Whosoever drinks from this cup shall be purged from all cleanliness of mind and soul, becoming your faithful follower."
He lifted the cup with both hands and drank. A problem presented itself; every time both hands were out of the cape, his body was exposed! Behind the lectern no one could see, but he certainly didn't want to expose himself to the gins too soon and possibly lose his grip on the ceremony. He stalled for a few moments, pretending to be taking a big drink, and decided he'd have to get someone else to help him serve the congregation.
"Sister Margaret... please approach the altar." When she was by his side he took the chalice with one hand and presented it to her. His eyes widened as she took the heavy cup with both hands, revealing large, tight-nippled breasts, a fat stomach and dark shadows. No detail at all in the shadows, he realized.
"Drink, my daughter, and join the ranks of Satan's Apostles."
Margaret drank the wine and was handing back the chalice when he whispered, "You'll serve with me. Just hand each one the cup and I'll follow with the candle."
He took a lit candle and the two approached the circle.
Ann's girlfriend was first, and as she took the cup Tom lowered the candle about even with his chest... there was light in the shadows!
"The Devil smiles on all those who drink from the cup of evil," he chanted. Now he wandered if his damn hard-on was poking its head out!
One by one they drank from the cup, while Tom and Margaret eyed their naked bodies. All cocks were shriveled, Tom noticed, a sign that he had them nervous.
That finished, he returned to the lectern and replenished the wine in the cup, announcing, "Now that you have sipped the blood of the sacrificed virgin we are all united under Satan. And by his will the virgin will arise."
A blue spotlight from one corner of the room and a red spotlight from another splashed light on the coffin. Dramatically, the lid began to rise by itself. Everyone took a step backward. Slowly it opened, revealing the form of a girl laid out in a black cape.
Margaret smiled proudly at the sight of her sister in the coffin. Kay Krauss realized now what had happened to the sixteenth cape she had made. And Stella played the role of a corpse with seriousness -- staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.
"Rise now, daughter of Satan. Virgin no more."
Stella stood in the box and Tom came to help her step out. The cover was dropped and Stella was helped up on what was now the stage. On cue she placed her arms out straight and they all fixed their eyes on her body. Small, just-blooming breasts, flat stomach, and triangle of... no wait, there was hair, but it was powdered white. So was her entire body.
Tom ran an open hand over her small breasts -- her nipples quivered -- down her stomach and between her legs. Stepping back he signaled to Margaret to come forward and said, "Touch the child of Satan."
Margaret had difficulty keeping the grin off her face as she ran her hands down Stella's front and between her legs. Next was Charles, who was visibly shaking as he extended his hand to touch the powder-smooth skin of the lean girl, who stood straight and proud before him. His hand slid gently over the extended, tight-nippled tits and down her silky stomach, paused briefly and then slipped between her legs. A hint of dampness greeted his fingers, sending chills through him.
Stella also began to enjoy the great attention and lingering hands of these admirers. But Margaret had warned her about the dirty things men would try to do to her, so she just paid attention and waited. For the most part, the girls touched her quickly and moved away. Jay Schmidtline took the longest, feeling each tit sensuously and letting his hand linger between her legs, his fingers probing at the crevice in the rear. Juices tingled in her virgin cunt and she pressed hard on the palm of his hand to relieve some of the itch.
As soon as everyone had a turn, the chalice was passed around and everyone drank deeply.
Tom took Stella's arm and assisted her from the stage, turned to face the group and stood motionless as Stella parted his cloak and ran her hands down his chest. All eyes watched intently as she reached the upright cock and slowly stroked the smooth long rod. Then she turned from Tom and repeated the ritual on the others.
Up to now it was all calculated. Tom had figured from past experience that there was little hope of getting any of the girls to volunteer for the role of being the first one undressed, touched, or fucked. And until the ice was broken, there would never be any sexual activity in the group. It wasn't easy talking Margaret into letting Stella participate, but he decided that once they had all touched the girl, they couldn't very well reject being touched by her. Now, as he had promised Margaret, he must remove Stella from the center stage and replace her with one of the older girls.
"Kay Krauss," he said as Stella finished the "feeling-up" ceremony. "Please come forward." Kay stepped to the center of the group, between Tom and Stella, facing the audience. "As a member of Satan's beloved daughters, do you solemnly swear to abide by his laws and commandments?"
"Yes," she gulped.
"Step up on the coffin," he ordered. She obeyed and he prayed the reinforcements he had built into the cardboard box would support her weight. They did!
With a bit of showmanship, he stepped before her, opened the clasp and the cape dropped to her feet. Tom ran his fingers over her body, quickly at first, then slow, almost as though he were examining her for the audience.
"Bend over, please," Tom instructed, indicating that her ass was to be aimed at the viewers. She turned and bent. A white spotlight went on and the stage was now well lit. Tom spread the fat balls of flesh for all to see her small, puckered asshole. A flush of embarrassment went through Kay. Then he had her sit on the coffin and spread her legs. All eyes centered on the pink lips, which Tom spread with his fingers. Kay wanted to scream from embarrassment, but couldn't. And Tom was extremely pleased with her reaction to this ritual, which he considered an important breakthrough, shattering old taboos they had all been brought up to respect. He was sure their sex life, like his own was restricted to a single partner in a dark room: not any more!
"You have pleased Satan with your obedience," he told Kay, taking her by the hand and leading her to the center of the circle, where Stella stood holding a small jar. Ceremoniously, Tom dipped a finger in the jar and applied the purple rouge to her nipples. Another dot at the navel and a circle on her buttocks, at the approximate location of her hidden asshole.
All this attention sent tingles through Kay's body, which grew into flames when Stella began to caress her big tits. She felt the girls fingers dance down her stomach, around to her ass, back to her stomach and finally tiptoe through the hair between her legs, to tantalize those moist, pink lips. She wouldn't dare utter a sound, but her mind screamed, MORE!
While Stella continued to delight Kay, Tom brought Jay to the center and took his robe, revealing a big fat cock, oozing with anticipation. Jay sucked in his belly for the benefit of the crowd and grinned at his victim.
This was it! Kay told herself.
Tom produced a sturdy, low table and Kay was directed to sit on it. They Jay was given the "dancing finger" treatment by Stella as she led him between Kay's legs.
You could hear the panting of the other members as they watched wide-eyed. The girls all eyed the big slab of meat that was going to spear into Kay's belly, their own cunts twitching with envy. Only Stella, who wasn't yew bright anyway, watched with curiosity, wondering if Margaret wasn't even aware of her sister's presence.
Jay's body glistened with perspiration, the odor mixing with the incense and losing its sting. Kay, who was also perspiring, broke out in a cold sweat when the purple, heart-shaped head touched her dew covered cuntlips. He paused and she wrapped her chubby legs around him to pull. He pushed, she pulled.
"Ohhhh..." she moaned.
"Oh?" he groaned.
There was a wall of resistance holding back his plunge into ecstasy. The huge head quivered and lunged forward. Nothing. The third lunge drove deep into Kay's belly; she shrieked and startled everyone, but it was short-lived. The shock quickly turned to pleasure and Kay's shriek ended in, "Mmmmmmmmmm!"
The gathering sighed and grew impatient to join in the fun. They watched Jay, whose feet were still planted on the floor, reach down to fondle Kay's flattened boobs, keeping his arms straight so there would be plenty of space between their bodies for the audience to see his cock slide in and out. Kay just sucked her thumb and cooed.
Tom stepped out of the circle to do something about the heat, smoke and strong smell of incense. They were all perspiring, but not aware of their discomfort while their attention was fixed on the scene at center-stage. Rather than open the transom over the front door, which would risk having someone on the street hear or possibly see what was happening, Tom decided to open the skylight that took up a eight-by-eight foot area in the center of the store's ceiling. He had difficulty finding the chain in the dark, but once he located it and cracked open the large windows, the smoke billowed out.
Tom remained in the shadows for a while, viewing his masterpiece. The greatest show on earth, he told himself. Two people fucking! Then his eyes scanned the audience and he noticed unusual movements on some, as they watched Jay and Kay with hypnotic stares. Closer examination revealed what Margaret Leche was doing under her parted cape -- probably what Hans and Gloria Schmidtline were doing too -- masturbating! Do you believe it? Diddling themselves, when they could be fucking! He was pissed off.
Without saying a word, he marched over to Margaret and took off her cloak, then beckoned Hans with his finger and led them to the coffin. Margaret was positioned face down, so Hans wouldn't be turned off by her looks, her ass straight up for penetration. Hans didn't need coning; his cock ran up the dripping wet cunt so fast he lost his balance and fell on top of her. The weight crushed the coffin under them and Margaret gave out a breathless "Ohhhh..." as they fell, and... "WOW!" as they landed and she reached the best climax she'd ever known. Hans was coming when Tom turned to give directions to the others.
The couple Charles had invited was on the floor fucking between their black capes. Looked like a sandwich, Tom thought as he turned to consider Charles. Maybe later, he decided, spotting come all over Charles' cape, shoes and the floor.
Ed Cramer was taking Gloria into the shadows and Tom decided to get Cynthia now, while the getting was good. Besides, Ed's cousin, Ann, was doing her thing with the girl she had brought, and Stella was just watching everything with curiosity.
Cynthia didn't wait for Tom to get to her; she was on top of him before he knew what hit him and he found himself in a "69" position. Her wet mouth devoured his cock, while his mouth tried to get at her cunt, but she kept moving it away from his drooling lips. Then he got the picture; he spread the cheeks of her ass and sucked her tight little asshole.
"Ohhh... yehhhh," she cooed. "Make it tingle."
"Just keep suckin'. I'll make it tingle."
"Mmmmm..." she purred, filling her mouth with hot throbbing cock.
Tom curled his tongue into a point and shot it up the tight tunnel of her asshole with one fast, penetrating drive; at the other end he pumped her mouth full of sperm. Honey dripped from her cunt and trickled down his neck. As soon as the fragrance reached his nostrils he pulled back his tongue, moved her slightly and shot it into her pussy. Cynthia sucked now like someone drowning and squirmed all over his face, feeling his tongue ream the walls of oozing dew right up to her belly and into her brain.
As it turned out, only Charles didn't get laid. He dropped two loads watching though, and considered himself lucky, confident he'd make it the next time.
On the trip back to Ridgewood Tom settled into deep thought. Amateurs! Rank amateurs, that was what they were! Next week would be different... he'd see to that. No more Mr. Nice Guy!
CHAPTER FOUR
The success of the Halloween Party gave Tom, Charles, Jay and Ed a whole new lease on life. It gave them something to think about -- day and night -- making even their jobs seem less boring and their friendship closer. They felt revitalized, more energetic and bubbling over with enthusiasm. Now they had something to work for, something to do; instead of sitting in the dingy corner bar drinking beer and talking about what they should be doing -- they were doing it.
All their spare time was spent in the store. They cleaned it, rearranged the furniture and continued to bring things that would make it more attractive or more effective. Tom filled the refrigerator with beer, so he could devote his time to the premises without constantly running out to quench his thirst -- he didn't even mind when the others helped themselves to a bottle. When there was nothing to do they just sat around reminiscing about the party and throwing out ideas for future parties.
"Why can't we have a few meetings a week?" Jay asked. "This waiting till Saturday night is driving me bananas."
"We don't want to ruin a good thing," Tom answered. "We'll just take it slow for a while. See how it develops. Then maybe we'll add a meeting for Wednesday nights. Let's see how it goes first."
"Your girlfriend was the only one disappointed Saturday night," said Ed Cramer. "Says you ignored her and she didn't get any of the fun."
"She's not my fuckin' girlfriend," Tom snapped back. "I used to take her out once in a while. That's all. And shit... who wants to fuck that skinny beast anyway?"
"Nobody else complained," Jay said, throwing out his chest with a bit of arrogance. "Not with 'The Kid' there to service them. They don't call me 'The German Oak' for nothing."
They all laughed at that, accepting the statement as part of the privilege of being a member.
"Don't you guys go shooting off your mouths about our parties," Tom Dunn got serious. "We'll have the fuckin' cops raiding us, or some jerks trying to crash in. Just keep it quiet."
"That's right," Charles added with a touch of nervousness showing.
"Hey look..." Ed said, "who wants anybody else getting in on the act? Broads, okay, but not guys. The next thing you know you're competing. And I say we've got a good thing going -- so let them get their own ass."
The others agreed wholeheartedly.
They were sitting on mattresses they had positioned around the walls of the store. Tom got up to get another beer and added, for emphasis, "Then don't go bragging to anybody or you'll blow the whole thing."
He returned with bottles for everyone, amazing them with his sudden generosity and thoughtfulness. Then they realized they had all changed. Each one had become friendlier, more cooperative, with a much happier outlook.
"Are you going to invite Margaret Leche again?" Ed asked. "She gives me the creeps."
"I wasn't going to. I figured I'd drop her and her sister after the first meeting -- Lillian too, but they were the first to pay their dues for this week. What could I say?"
"Who cares?" Jay defended the action. "The more broads the better. You've got to have a few in the bullpen just in case."
That made sense to Ed, noticing the change in Jay had been for the better too. Jay was getting smarter, he decided.
"There's a few things you should know, Tom," said Charles. "In a Black Mass ritual, the Lord's Prayer is not only said with words backwards; the entire prayer is reversed. You start with 'Amen' -- or 'Nema' -- and end with 'Our'. I've been reading up on it."
"Who gives a shit!" Tom exploded.
"Well, I... just thought you'd like to know."
"What do I look like, the Pope?" Tom cut him off. "We're only doing this to get laid -- not to have a spiritual experience!"
"I know, but..." Charles tried to cover his need for perfection, while still trying to make his point, "... I just figured it would be more realistic."
"Fuck it! I don't have time to go through Satan's seminary. Just sit back and enjoy the fun. Stop worrying about the services and start thinking about getting the broad you want."
Jay and Ed agreed with Tom. Charles went back to thinking about his other problem; getting laid. He considered himself a virgin, since Kay was the only one he ever fucked and she didn't count because she was his sister. At the party he found himself so engrossed in what the others were doing he didn't get any for himself. Although, he recalled, he did come, watching Jay jam it into his sister, and again when he saw Tom and Cynthia in the sixty-nine position. But he wanted his own experience at the next party and had been making plans all week on how to go about it.
The second Black Mass was entered in the same manner as the first, only this time everyone was anxious to get started and not nearly as nervous. The three bells beckoned at eight-thirty and they filed into the dark store. The "casket" wasn't replaced after Hans and Margaret collapsed it; just the lectern, the two black candles and Tom Dunn were visible.
When the room became silent, Tom started the ritual as before: "Welcome, my brother and sisters, to Satan's Black Mass..." He sounded more relaxed, a bit more sinister. "Let's all bow our heads and pray to the Angel of Evil... our beloved Satan."
"Ruo rebtaf, ohw..." he chanted in a crisp, more practiced voice, obviously continuing his own version in defiance of Charles' suggestion. Once again he went through the ritual with the chalice, Margaret Leche giving him assistance. Then he returned to the lectern and gave a little sermon about how pleased they had all made Satan at the last mass. And their continued obedience would be rewarded. He switched on the blue and red spotlights, which were focused on a low platform at the foot of the lectern.
"Now I call the Devil's Virgin..." Tom announced. A puff of red smoke billowed up from the lectern and Stella's head seemed to materialize next to him. As he led her around to the platform the gathering looked from one to the other for a clue as to how he managed that little trick. They could see that she hadn't popped up from behind the lectern. Her head appeared so fast and from the neck up -- definitely not the way it would happen if she just popped up. Tom had a difficult time containing his grin, pleased with their surprised faces.
Once on the platform and when the room became silent, Stella opened the clasp on her cape, letting it fall to her feet. Her body was all white from the dusting with talcum powder and once again the audience was entranced by her firm, just-developing body. They watched as Tom slowly ran his hands over the swells of her blossoming breasts, squeezing them gently to highlight the small, pointed nipples that hardened even more with his touch. He proceeded to slide his right hand down the front of her and his left hand down the back. The girl stood motionless, though apparently pleased with the feeling he gave her body. She spread her legs when his hand approached her downy fluff and he slid it between her legs, rubbing her sensually.
Margaret was the next to feel the girl all over, followed by Charles, who was visibly shaking when he touched Stella. But he didn't rush through the ceremony; he closed his eyes and drank in the delightful feel of her tight girl-flesh.
After each took a turn at feeling Stella, the chalice was passed around -- this time Stella managed to get a drink -- and then she proceeded to feel each of the participants in the gathering. Another passing of the chalice and again Stella insisted on participating in the wine ritual.
"Charles Krauss," Tom announced gravely, "please come forward."
Charles wasn't prepared for this. He was expecting a repeat of the last service where a girl was brought out and used as the demonstration model. The nervousness showed as he took his place on the platform. It was worse when Tom Dunn removed his robe and he had nothing to do with his hands but drop them to his sides.
Tom reached over the lectern and switched on the bright white spotlight. Charles was mortified. They were all looking at his hard-on, he kept saying to himself, barely aware of what was going on around him.
"Sister Ann," Tom was saying, which caught Charles' attention. He had been admiring Ed's cousin since the first party. Now all at once he was going to have to perform something -- he didn't know what -- in front of everyone.
"Since the penis is Satan's scepter, it is one of the most revered parts of the male anatomy," Tom addressed the audience. "Sister Ann will show her dedication to Satan by kissing his scepter."
Ann smiled, walked up to Charles and knelt before him on the platform. Tom quickly went to them and rearranged them so Charles was facing sideways so the audience could see what Ann was doing.
The sight of Ann kneeling before him, her pretty face smiling up at him, sent Charles into a frenzy. His cock was throbbing and he knew the slightest touch would set off his orgasm. Taking a deep breath, he put all his concentration into holding back the climax, but watching her smiling face all the same. Probably the very thing that was making him come, he thought, but he couldn't take his eyes off her. Those sensuous, moist lips -- that were smiling now -- would soon pucker and kiss his cock... and the thought almost exploded the charge in his balls.
Ann puckered up, as he expected, and gave the ballooning head of his cock a soft, wet, tight-lipped kiss. As she moved away he could see a drop of come on her lips and his cock was dribbling a few drops on the floor. Ann licked her lips and smiled up at him again. Everyone else was dead silent, thoroughly captivated by the scene, which Ann played with such expertise.
Fear, tension and worry filled Charles' brain with distressing signals. What would Ann say when she found out he was dripping come? he worried. Have to hold it back, he told himself. Mustn't get it in her mouth. But Ann's lips were back on the head of his cock and he could see the white cream oozing out, right on those soft red lips. She licked the goo off her lips and went back for more. She licked all the come off his cock and then sucked it into her mouth.
The warmth, the excitement, the realization that she didn't mind the taste of his semen, relaxed him long enough to forget about holding back the ejaculation. He shot a squirt of warm liquid into the back of Ann's throat, realized what he had done and expected the worse. She sucked on his cock and swallowed. Although he didn't have any control of the following explosions, he stopped holding back and just let it blast into her sucking, swallowing, gulping mouth, watching as it oozed out the corners of her lips and down her chin. What a relief! he thought.
Tom noticed Jay make a move to take Ann's girlfriend, Carol, back to the mattresses. The couple Charles had invited, Frank and Joan, were also breaking from the circle.
"Would you please all wait until the ceremonies are over?" Tom called out. The two couples returned to their places in the circle.
Charles was panting from exhaustion and Ann was smiling with delight. Tom asked them to step down, which they did, taking their place back with the group.
"Frank, please step up to the platform," Tom announced, "Sister Lillian, would you please come forward?"
There was a little resistance from Frank, but Tom quickly put him in his place with a sharp look. On signal, Stella pushed the "sacrifice table" into the middle of the circle and Lil was disrobed and placed face down on it, her feet still on the floor. Next Frank's cape was taken and Stella's small hand wrapped around his stiff cock. She led him over to Lil, placing the head of his cock between the thin, flat buttocks that poised before him.
It was all very interesting to Stella, who wasn't quite sure what it was all about, or exactly what they were doing. She knew she liked what she saw; liked to have everyone feel her, especially between her legs, and she liked feeling them. But since she didn't have any friends, with Margaret as her only source of intimate information, she didn't know why they were doing it or what they were doing. The wine had made her a little tipsy and she decided to stay close to this action to see for herself, despite Tom's signal to move away.
The performance wasn't very interesting to the others though. Frank spread Lillian's legs and began to insert his cock. There was resistance. He pushed a little harder. Then Stella bent closer, spread Lillian's buttocks to see where he was sticking that "man thing". Tom looked over to see what Margaret had to say about all this, saw a glazed look in her eyes, her cape moving in that telltale way to indicate she was masturbating again.
The fact that he was fucking a virgin, with another inquisitive virgin sticking her nose practically in the middle of it, gave Frank the stimulus to go on. He backed up, giving Stella a chance to see where he was sticking it, then lunged forward, ripping his way into the depths of Lillian's cunt.
"Ooww!" Lillian cried one minute, followed by "Mmmmm..." the next.
It confused Stella. She didn't know if the girl liked it or didn't like it; whether it hurt or felt good. But she was satisfied that she at least knew what they were doing to each other. However, she decided she'd just be satisfied with being felt by everyone, or feeling them, and let it go at that.
Frank's performance was poor and it dragged out too long. But Tom had accomplished one thing -- he got Lil fucked. That was a big accomplishment, he figured. He looked over the faces of the audience and could see they were getting anxious to do their own thing. His eyes picked up a reddish glow that seemed to be moving in a ghost-like waving motion on the wall. He took off his gasses and cleaned them on a piece of his cape. When he put the glasses back on the glow was gone.
The couple on the table were dripping wit perspira
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