Serendipity - Version Bravo

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | Epilogue

Chapter Seven

When I woke up the next morning, I immediately knew something was terribly wrong.

That's because Caitlin was still in bed with me.

I felt a little like I had a hangover, even though I hadn't had a drop to drink. There had been more orgasms for Kat, and another for me as she sucked on my prong. The last thing I remembered was being in a fond embrace, kissing her over and over.

And now, here we were. Obviously we'd drifted off, lying in each other's arms. Caitlin would soon wake up and be able to pass a polygraph when she claimed to have slept with her uncle. Sure, there hadn't been any home runs, but all three bases were soaked with our sweat and sexual fluids and, knowing how teenagers think, Kat wouldn't feel like she was stretching anything if she informed the other musketeers that she'd "slept with me."

And I knew she would tell them that. It was inevitable. As sure as the sun was coming up, she'd tell them.

While I was worrying about that, (and before I could decide how to proceed,) said niece did wake up. Her reaction didn't quite meet my expectations.

"Morning," she said, her voice fuzzy with sleep.

"Hi," I said, still tense. I immediately felt stupid for using that word, in that situation.

She sat up.

"Ewww. I'm all sticky." She plucked at her torso, as if she could remove "sticky" that way. "And I smell awful, too," she moaned.

What do you tell a girl who is complaining because you literally massaged your sperm into her skin the night before? Sorry? It will never happen again? Welcome to the world of sex? Quit'cher bitchin' and man up?

"You're just as bad as me," she observed. "We need a shower, and then I'll make breakfast."

Why couldn't that one have been in the previous lineup? And why couldn't I have suggested it first?

Then I found out that when Kat said "we" needed a shower, she meant together, in the same shower enclosure, at the same time.

Women definitely think about sex differently than men. If you're a man, then you're thinking that we got in there, under the water, and soapy hands were involved, sliding all over the place, and people got excited, and we fucked standing up.

If you're a woman ... well, I have no idea what you're thinking.

But what happened was that we got in, under the water, and soapy hands were involved, sliding all over the place, and I got a raging hard on. There were even a couple of wet kisses. Then she bent over, getting her mouth right next to the long, hard penis she was stroking, and said, "I love you, little guy, but I'm going to save you for later."

Then she rinsed us both off and got out, saying, "I'm starving!" and dried off and left me standing there in the bathroom like a hair ribbon she'd decided not to wear that day.

I suppose I could have recovered from that, had it not been for the fact that I went to breakfast naked, and found her there completely dressed.

"Are you a nudist now?" she asked, smiling at me.

"I don't know," I said. I really was confused. She was acting like nothing had happened at all.

"It's okay with me if you are," she said.

"Are you?" I asked.

"Don't be silly," she laughed.

"What am I supposed to be?" I asked.

"Be yourself," she said, suddenly serious. "Just be yourself. That's the man we all fell in love with."

"Fell in love with?" My voice rose an octave during that sentence.

"Okay, got a monster crush on, then," she said, carelessly.

"Are you going to sleep with every boy you get a crush on?" I asked, as anger began to replace confusion.

"Now you're being silly again," she said. There was no laughter this time. "Besides, we didn't sleep together."

That knocked me off balance again.

"Well ... what did we do?" I asked.

She got up from the table, where she'd been teasing cereal into her mouth while she told me how silly I was being, and came over to me. Putting her arms around my neck, she leaned gently against me and pulled my head down until her lips were an inch from mine.

"You made me feel fabulous. I learned some wonderful things. You were kind, and gentle and I didn't want to get up and go to a cold, lonely bed." She touched her lips to mine in a way that was more than a peck, but didn't last as long as a real kiss, and then pulled back to look into my eyes. "I wish I could give you my virginity, but I know that would freak you out. Plus everybody says I'm too young and all that."

I got another of those "almost" kisses and then she pulled away.

"Thank you for a beautiful night that I'll never forget. That's what we did."

See what I mean about women thinking about sex differently than men? A man would never have said something like that.

I felt stupid walking around my kitchen naked, with her dressed, so I went and put something on before returning to get something to eat. I wasn't all that hungry. I think all my attention was on trying to figure out what was actually happening, and what all that stuff she'd said meant. It's not every day a man gets told by a cute young thing that she wishes she could give him her virginity.

Of course I knew that was out of the question. But then even talking about the giving up of one's virginity had been off the table, other than telling them I was glad they hadn't done that yet. A lot had changed in the week the girls had been experimenting.

And there was a week left, before I had to drive Caitlin home, to California.

It suddenly occurred to me that she would be a senior when she went back to school this year. The realization hit me hard that this was probably the last time I would ever host my niece for a month in the summer. She'd go off to college and meet a man, and get married. And he would be the one to make babies with her.

Nor could I justify "breaking her in" for some other guy, so that there would be no pain on her wedding night, or some such drivel. That sounds great in those novels they sell in the back room of the local used book joint, but real life just doesn't work that way.

But the worst thing that morning was that I realized I had moved from the solid foundation of only fantasizing about fucking my niece (and her two delicious little friends) to the shifting sands of contemplating scenarios in which that might actually happen. Of course I imagined that she'd be sleeping in my bed for the next seven nights. After all, wouldn't her bed be just as cold and lonely on all those nights as it had been last night? And once I'd accepted that she'd be there, naked, every night, mightn't I wake up and, groggy with sleep, mistake her for the last woman who slept in that bed? What was that woman's name? Judy?

But that one broke down immediately, since she'd obviously wake up during the process and react in an entirely different manner than Judy did. Come to think of it, Judy never went out with me again after that.

The point is that the whole day started kind of off balance.

I had all this time to think about things because right after breakfast Kat decided she was going for a run. I knew when she came out of her room that it would be a long one. She never took her iPod unless she was going five or more miles.

So I tried to do some work. I had been contracted by a guy I went to college with, and who lived in Texas, to design and draw the plans for an addition to his house that would initially be used for the physical therapy his son required after a bad car accident. Instead of going to a rehab center and paying those rates, he had decided it would make more sense to do it at home, and then turn that space into a home gym afterwards. His wife was into yoga, and he wanted to get a universal gym. His son was learning to walk again, so that required a set of parallel bars and other equipment he'd sent me a list of. They wanted the plans soon, since their son would be getting out of the hospital in less than a month, and they needed to get a contractor working on building the room.

That actually distracted me for a while, until I heard Ashley and Emma come through the front door like they lived here.

There were calls of "Kat?" and Ashley yelled something like "Mission accomplished, Kat. You won't believe what that was like!" Finally they showed up at my office door. Ashley had a small, brown paper bag in her hand, but I noticed that only in passing. That's because she had on short shorts and a halter top that advertised her breasts instead of covering them. Well, it covered them, but you know what I mean. Emma had on a dress, of all things.

"She went for a run," I said, staring at both young women.

"Oh," said Ashley. "Can we wait in her room?"

"Of course," I said, automatically. They actually did almost live there, at least while Caitlin was in town.

As it turned out, Caitlin finished her run only ten minutes later. Well, to be precise, I should say she came in the house after her run, ten minutes later. She was one of those runners who cools down from actually running by walking half a mile.

Why would I quibble about something like that? Because my life had suddenly become a string of little vignettes, in which crazy things happened, such as Emma diving down on my dick and sucking my balls dry, only to share my cum with her two friends in sloppy, spermy kisses. And, while maybe it's the same kind of technicality I mentioned about her running habits, I was trying hard to hold on to the fact that, technically, I hadn't had sex with half the neighborhood girls. Not to mention my own niece.

So technicalities are important sometimes. If only to assuage one's guilt about something he thought about doing, dreamed about doing, wanted to do ... but so far had not.

I was trying like crazy to chalk all this frenzy of erotic behavior to curiosity, on the part of the girls. That's all it was, I kept telling myself. They're just curious, and they can't experiment like this with boys their own age, or with the average man they might be acquainted with. It was merely a fluke, a sort of cosmic joke, that put me in the precise place and time where three horny, curious girls could take advantage of the situation.

Yes! That was it! They ... were taking advantage ... of me!

This insane (but only upon retrospect, in my old age) theory was proven true when Kat, still naked and damp from her after-run shower, appeared in my office doorway. She was drying her hair vigorously with a towel in both her hands, which made her breasts jump and shimmy in a delightful way.

"If you have time, we need to borrow you for a little bit," she said. She stopped rubbing. "Well, actually, we need to borrow your penis."

"I see," I said, gravely. I didn't see at all. I was just trying to appear to be wiser than I was. "And what if I don't have time right now?"

"Do you?" she asked. Women must be born with the instinct to ignore the kind of questions they aren't interested in answering, and turn attention back to what they are focusing on. She started to rub again. More jiggle. Man! Her body called to me like the sirens must have called to Odysseus. I felt like I had to regain some measure of control, so I asked another stupid question.

"And what purpose do you wish to put my penis to, if I may ask?"

"We wish to cover it up," she said. Her left foot moved sideways to improve her balance, and her sexual cleft peeked out at me. Her bulging vulva seemed to shake too, though I know that's silly. Still, my John Thomas stood up to salute in my pants.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Just come to my bedroom. You won't need your pants. We have everything else we need."

Now you have to try to put yourself in my position. That means you have to imagine being a thirty-four year old single male, who makes enough money that his eventual retirement will be sweet. He is, in all humility, a chick magnet, at least in singles bars. It is not unheard of for women to be interested in his sexual equipment, and wish to play bedroom games with it. Now, in that context, try to imagine what "cover it up" means, when there are three girls involved who have all happily sucked your cock.

I had visions of whipped cream, or maybe chocolate sauce, being used to hide the object of their desires, so they could lovingly suck all that tasty covering off.

Would there be sprinkles?

I was giddy with expectation, as I left a trail of pants and socks in the hallway, following the bouncing buttocks of the gorgeous girl in front of me.

I was met with giggles and the comment, "You look funny!"

She had said I needed no pants. So I'd removed them. I'd also taken off the socks because that's what you do when you take off your pants, right? But I had not removed my shirt. My sexual dowsing rod was eagerly pointing at them, saying "See? Aren't you proud of me? I found them again!" Except, instead of being received as the chiseled, conquering Roman soldier, come to claim his booty, all I got was that I was still wearing my shirt.

And looked ... funny.

I almost started to cavil about that. I had a strong argument that the instructions I had received had specified pants, not shirt. And just as I opened my mouth, about to make myself look even "funnier" I realized that I was, perhaps, thinking a little too legalistically.

"I waited to take my shirt off because I wanted to unveil my massive, astonishing six pack, thereby driving the three of you wild with desire, and rendering you incapable of fending off my intended sexual advances." I tried to leer as I uncovered the slight, round bulge of my abdomen.

"That's pretty massive," giggled Ashley, obviously making fun of me. But at least she wasn't making fun of me for being pedantic.

"That's why we need you," said Caitlin, who wasn't joining the joke, and sounded completely serious. "We need to be able to fend boys off at the critical moment, and that's what we're going to practice doing today. Please lie down on the bed."

Again, imagine this setting. It's Kat's room, and even though she's only an infrequent visitor, over the years, she's put posters on the wall, and left little belongings there. The important thing is that I'm about to lie down on her bed. As in the one she sleeps in naked. It will smell like her, since I haven't washed the sheets in more than a week. And, while a woman deciding to stay in your bed for the night is a fantastic development, having her invite you into her bed is even better.

Now, on top of that (somewhat unsubstantiated) fantasy, add one naked girl who has, in fact, chosen to stay in your bed for the night, and two of her best friends who, even though still clothed, are at least avid participants in whatever is about to happen.

The technical term for this is called "fodder for sexual fantasies".

I saw no whipped cream or chocolate sauce sitting around, so that part of the fantasy drifted away like smoke. It had to be replaced with something, so I tried to imagine what "fending off boys at the critical moment" meant. That evolved into a mind picture of her, spread eagled on the bed, with me hovering over her, my rampant prick in my fist, which was moving the tip of said rampant cock up and down between her oily labia, preparing to drive my lance into her belly. Then she would practice doing whatever she was going to do in that situation. Like push at my chest and whimper, "No!"

Of course that wouldn't be enough to stave off my intentions, and it was important that she learn that now , before she let some boy get her in that position. So of course I'd slide in, to show her how ineffectual such a "defense" was. Or maybe only halfway in. After all, I was just supposed to be helping her learn, not fuck her.

"You lie down first," I said, my voice somewhat ragged with passion. I was already gripping my penis, leaving the tip exposed for my imagined assault.

"What?" Her obvious confusion broke my concentration, and the fantasy wavered. "No, you need to lie down on the bed so we can get started."

"I don't understand," I finally admitted.

Ashley held up a foil-wrapped packet, about an inch and a half square.

"We're going to practice putting a condom on you," she said.

Remember when you were seven or eight, when you still believed in Santa, and you woke up Christmas morning and were sure that that train set you wanted so desperately would be under the tree? Or maybe it was a pony. Or a Red Ryder B-B gun. I don't know what girls wanted, and never got, because I'm not a girl, but I'm sure they had high hopes too, which were then dashed when they unwrapped packages of socks and underwear, just like us guys had to do. I hear that doesn't happen these days, because times are better. But I'm sure you've wanted something for Christmas and got something else that was disappointing.

I had lost control. I had talked myself into believing I was getting that pony. Okay, not the pony, because I was sure I was going to get to fuck something, and I'm not at all into bestiality. The point is that B-B gun is to socks as what I had been fantasizing about is to condom practice.

You get that. I know you do.

So there I was, lying on the bed naked, having been brought low by three girls who were interested in nothing more than playing with balloons, rather than getting down to real business.

Remember the dejection you felt when you picked up a brightly wrapped package and just the feel of it told you it was a shirt, rather than a Captain Marvel shield of invincibility, with accompanying gauntlets of power and a matching decoder ring? Or whatever.

Well, that kind of dejection will flatten an erection in about two point three seconds.

And that was with Caitlin standing there naked!

I suspect you're laughing, but this was no laughing matter. I was embarrassed as all get out. Reality came crashing down and my passion cooled, and I realized I'd gotten completely out of control. I had been ready to fuck Caitlin - rape her, for all practical purposes - and all because these girls were making me so horny that it was affecting my common sense, and ability to think rationally.

"Hey!" That was Ashley. "He went all soft!"

She sounded outraged, upset, on the level of, "Who took my piece of pie out of the fridge and ate it?!" Or, for you non foodies, "Who used my toothbrush?!"

It was very quiet while the girls stared at something that was relatively rare, in their experience. They weren't used to seeing me flaccid, limp and unthreatening. At least not unless they made it that way by abusing it until it finally gave up to the little death. Meanwhile, I was having the epiphany I mentioned a couple of paragraphs ago, and feeling sorry for myself. I wasn't about to share all that with them, especially the part where I had planned on sneaking my cock into poor, unsuspecting Caitlin's pussy without her consent or approval.

So it was real quiet for a little bit.

"What's wrong, Uncle Bob?" Caitlin finally asked.

"It's complicated," I said.

"Are you sick?"

There you go, men. When you fuck things up like I had, you can expect women to believe that, unless you're ill with some dread disease, you'll have a rampaging erection, at least most of the time.

"I had some bad thoughts," I said. "I'm a little ashamed of them. It's hard to feel sexy and ashamed at the same time."

"What bad thoughts?" asked Emma, her voice full of concern.

"Never mind that," I said. "I'm sure we can overcome this temporary setback, deal with the situation and you girls can get on with your education."

"You mean we should suck it," said Emma. Her eyebrows rose. "Right? That is what you meant ... right? But shouldn't we wait until you feel better?"

Here's another lesson for you, and this one is for both men and women. Shame is strong, but it tatters pretty quickly when a beautiful young girl suggests sucking your dick to make you feel better. I know that's not precisely what she said, but it's what I heard. The point is that things started happening as soon as she said it.

"I'm feeling better already," I said, lifting my head to look at my penis.

"So we should suck it?" asked Emma, who sounded worried that she might be considered a slut for suggesting it.

"Please do. And it would please me immensely if you did so while naked," I said, pedantically.

Emma is a carefree girl, when she's not being shy. And the carefree way in which she ripped her clothes off, relatively speaking, and tossed them this way and that, made it clear she was having fun getting naked to please me.

By the time she stood there with her breasts heaving gently, I was a little more than half hard. The tip of my cock had lifted off of my belly maybe half an inch. I imagined it doing a pushup with no arms and was, sad to say, a little proud.

Don't ask. That's just how I think sometimes.

Ashley, being a musketeer, had interpreted my instruction to Emma to include her, and soon things were much more "normal" for the girls. They were naked. I was naked. And my cock, if not rock hard, at least resembled a sapling more than a pile of cooked spinach.

I was feeling better, because order, of a sort, had been restored. I was mildly turned on, but it wasn't that dangerous, animalistic, I-want-to-fuck -something kind of thing. And the girls were more curious than they were excited. Still, I was a little ambivalent about events. None of them had ever installed a condom on a boy, which I was happy about and which, I admit, made me feel a little superior. At the same time, their level of excitement about learning this arcane ritual made it seem like they couldn't wait to go out into the world afterwards, and find some boys to sheathe. That didn't excite me at all. Not one, little bit.

So it started out pretty well, in terms of me regaining control, and the girls not being tempted to do anything stupid.

But then they started sucking on my penis, to get it nice and hard.

They took turns, as all good Mouseketeers do.

Oops! Sorry. I meant Musketeers. I'm sure I did. Or, perhaps, it was a little Freudian slip. It's not important. You already know I'm a pervert.

Anyway, I was amazed at how different each mouth felt as it lovingly engulfed my cock. Each had a different technique. Ashley actually used her teeth, but she must have had some instinct that guided her on how much tooth to use, because it wasn't uncomfortable at all. It felt kind of dangerous, but she didn't do that all the time, and it felt more like teasing than anything else. I suspect Emma had seen some videos of this activity, because she constantly tried to get more and more into her mouth. I think she was trying to mimic the girls she had seen deep throating, but as soon as her gag reflex kicked in, she backed off. Then she'd try again, but before she could bite off more than she could chew (sorry, guys) someone else would take her place. Caitlin liked to suck just the knob, while her fingers played with the skin on the shaft, and my balls. When I looked at her, her cheeks caved in as she sucked hard, like she was trying to drink a thick milk shake with a too-small straw.

And what caused things to begin tilting again was that they kept taking turns sucking, even after the object they wanted to practice on was in perfect shape to slide a condom down onto. It didn't help that I started getting really excited again, and wasn't much interested in having them cover my cock. Instead, I wanted them to keep sucking until I reached sweet Nirvana.

It was Caitlin who stomped her foot on the brake pedal. She pulled off of me and licked her lips.

"Uh oh," she said. "I taste him. We'd better stop or he'll shoot and get soft again."

"Ohhh," sighed Emma, which caused muscles inside me to squeeze a drip of precum out into the open.

"Yup," said Ashley, smearing the droplet with her index finger and then sucking it clean. "He's ready to pop."

"Who wants to go first?" asked Caitlin.

Those fantasies started battering at the shutters of my mind again.

"You should," said Emma. "He's your uncle."

"Okay," said Caitlin.

"I'll open it," said Ashley, who commenced to try to figure out how to do that.

"It's probably like one of those Taco Bell sauce packets," said Caitlin, helpfully. "Look for a little cut in the edge somewhere."

"Found it!" said Ashley, triumphantly. The fingers of each hand moved in opposite directions.

"Ewww!" she yipped. "It's dripping something!"

"That's lubricant," I said, trying to stop imagining what I was imagining.

Kat reached between her legs and slid a finger into her pussy.

"I've got plenty of lubrication already," she commented casually.

Those shutters broke loose and started banging against the sides of the house in the winds of my sexual fantasies.

"It looks funny," said Ashley, pulling the disk out of the torn package.

"Give it to me," said Caitlin.

She took it and examined it. Such things are pretty self explanatory if you know what they're intended for. But knowing what you're supposed to do with it, and making it do that, are not necessarily the same thing. That disk doesn't stretch much when it's all rolled up. Further, it's lubricated, which means it's slippery. And if they guy is excited, like I was, then he's lubricated too. Finally, if she doesn't know what to look for, she has a fifty-fifty chance of trying to put it on inside out, and it won't unroll.

It was comical as she tried to get things started. Except I knew better than to laugh or tease. One look at her face would have told anybody this was serious business.

If you're a guy, maybe you've been in this situation before. Condoms can be a real problem, in terms of being a buzz kill. I'm not talking about actually using one. Condoms these days are relatively sensitive, and they do offer some peace of mind to those who aren't in the mood to make a baby. But putting the thing on isn't sexy. If you do it yourself, she's watching, and you feel like you're going to be judged on your technique or something. Did you install it smoothly, suggesting you're a pro at this? Did you get the reservoir right the first time, or did you have to roll it back up to take a second stab. That can suggest you're not too good at this, and that she might want to rethink things. And if you know you put it on too tightly and then ignore that, will she be experienced enough to know how dangerous that is, and call a screaming halt to the proceedings? It can be a little nerve wracking, at least the first few times you do that with a woman. You keep thinking about her holding up a card with a number on it when you're finished. Anything below an eight and you're not having sex after all.

On the other hand, I suppose it could be argued that having a woman tenderly and lovingly install a condom could be sexy. And you're not giving a performance any more. Perhaps she is, but guys don't think about it like that. All they are thinking is something along the lines of "She wants to fuck me! She's getting ready to fuck me! Oh boy, oh, boy, oh boy, oh boy!"

Actually, in retrospect, their desire to practice this particular skill was brilliant.

They really did need the practice.

But this wasn't a "typical" situation in which a condom would be installed. For example, it took both Ashley and Caitlin working in concert to get that first one started. There was all that lubrication that resisted their efforts. Then my foreskin caused them problems. Once they retracted it and the roll snapped down behind the head, the foreskin tried to go back and cover things up again, and they couldn't get a grip on the roll to extend it down the shaft.

"Oww!" I warned, as sharp fingernails tried to get a grip.

"This is hard," complained Caitlin.

"Let me," said Emma, who leaned forward.

She'd been watching them, and thinking about things. Her solution was to grip the shaft in her dainty, pink fingers, and then push down brutally, stretching the skin on the shaft to the breaking point. Suddenly, what was left of the roll was right there, happily waiting to be rolled downwards.

Meanwhile I took in a deep breath and groaned a little.

"Does that feel good?" asked Kat, mistaking my groan for passion instead of pain.

"Just keep going," I whispered.

In short order, my penis was fully encased in latex. All that skin Emma had shoved toward my balls pushed back, making a thick looking collar where the condom stopped.

"That looks weird," observed Ashley.

"Is the tip right?" asked Caitlin, leaning over to peer at the reservoir.

I lifted my head to look too, and saw immediately that it was entirely too small.

"Looks good to me," I said, rather than tell them to start all over.

"Let's try it again," said Emma.

Kat reached for my penis, but instead of removing the latex, she tried to jack on it. The lubrication on both condom and hand allowed her to slide her hand downward, but I knew the skin underneath wasn't moving very much. All the skin that allowed that kind of movement was bunched up around the neck of the condom.

"It feels funny too," said my niece.

She slid her hand back up, and all the loose skin happily followed. The neck of the condom was suddenly halfway up my cock.

"Is it supposed to do that?" asked Emma. "It looks half on, all of a sudden."

"It's perfect," I said. "That allows the skin to move like it's supposed to.

"Wow," said Emma, awe in her voice. "We did it!"

Now maybe she was just happy about what she perceived as the success of a newly attempted enterprise. But something cruel in my mind reminded me that they were practicing this for the purposes of future enterprises involving teenage boys. And if they installed a condom on some boy, like they had just installed on me, the condom was likely to fail.

I think it was the thought of that, more than anything else, that finally drove me to actually teach them something.

"You got a good start," I corrected Emma. "It's actually not on as correctly as it could be, and it would be a bad idea to let a penis in you that was covered like this one is."

"Why? What's wrong with it?" asked Ashley, sounding unhappy.

I gripped my cock and masturbated for eight or nine strokes. When I took my hand away, the neck of the condom was now only two inches from the tip. But none of that "excess" latex had slid up over the head, and the reservoir was still too small. I pointed that out. Then I cheated and gripped my cock below the condom, jacking it again. I was able to, for all intents and purposes, masturbate the condom off my penis.

"Fuck!" said Ashley, sounding even more unhappy.

"How do we keep it from doing that?" asked Caitlin.

So I finally showed them how to install a condom on a penis that has a foreskin. It's a tedious operation, at least in my opinion, and it takes a lot longer than sliding one down a circumcised cock. But if you're not cut, that loose skin along the shaft is tricky, and if you want the thing to work right, you have to be a lot more careful.

Like I said ... buzz kill.

As they say, however, there's an exception to every rule.

The exception, in this case, was that there were three lovely, naked young women working on me, all at the same time. And if my cock started to flag a bit, they simply sucked it back to full rigidity like professional fluffers on a porn video set. Ashley had gotten a twelve pack, and by the time they were actually pretty good at it, there were only two left. And my cock had been played with, and sucked and jacked on for over an hour.

"We're done," I finally said. "I'm done. What I mean is I need to be done."

"Why?" asked Emma.

"Because I'm excited, and my balls hurt a little, and I need to cum," I explained.

"Oh," said Emma, who actually blushed, for some strange reason. "Can we help?"

"You're the cause ," I said.

"Oh," said Emma. Her voice was entirely different when she said it this time. She sounded pleased.

"Let me try it this time," said Caitlin.

"Try what?" asked Ashley.

"Getting it in my mouth and sharing it with you guys," she said.

I groaned, and almost reached for my cock to jack off.

I'm glad I didn't.

I groaned again five minutes later, as I watched my sperm leak from the corners of Caitlin's mouth, and drip onto the chests of her friends while they kissed.

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