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 Eleven

Things did not get out of control. Well, any more than they'd already gotten out of control. I don't mean that I fucked Emma (or Ashley) that day. Ashley did have to get home, after all, and while Emma was quite happy sucking on my prong, I don't think she was ready for the real deal. I probably could have talked her into it, but when she got me hard with her mouth, which took quite a long time, I knew I could not perform as well as she deserved. Plus I didn't want to talk her into it.

So when Ashley finally stood up and smacked her lips, and said "You didn't have to call me a bitch!" Emma left off lovingly sucking my penis and said, "You were acting like one. Let's go. You can yell at each other tomorrow night, at the sleepover, while I'm losing my cherry to Uncle Bob."

That jerked a knot in Ashley's hissy. Caitlin didn't say anything. She was just lying there with a dreamy smile on her face. From her perspective, everything was just hunky dory. She'd gotten fucked a whole bunch, and then got to lie there while Ashley made her feel just fantastic.

Emma bent over and spoke to my penis, just like Caitlin had before this.

"I'll see you tomorrow night," she said. "You stay nice and hard for me, okay?"

If she'd have thought about it, she would have known Caitlin wasn't about to waste a good boner. Not with only four days before I dropped her off at her house in Santa Barbara and she went on enforced celibacy for at least a year.

In fact, I was a little worried that I'd have to cut Caitlin off, if I was going to have enough starch in my manhood to please both Ashley and Emma the next night.

"You can rest tomorrow," said Caitlin, standing and, apparently, reading my mind. "Tonight, you're mine."

I anticipated being with a young woman who had only recently become fully sexual and, because of that, would be driven to try to cram as much sex into the little time she had left with me as possible.

I was wrong.

Pretty much all my experience with women, prior to this, had been with women who were my own age. And we, meaning those women and I, had much in common, in terms of being in the same generation, having been raised in generally the same social atmosphere, and so on. If you've ever been to a social function where members of several different generations were present, you might have noticed that people from each age group tend to cluster together. That's natural. They simply have more in common, and are, therefore, more comfortable talking to people with the same life experience. Obviously we haven't all had exactly the same history, but generally, we're more comfortable with those who are more likely to understand what we're talking about when we complain about life.

That's what we do in big social situations. We cluster together and complain about things. It could be the weather, or our boss, or putting on weight, or politics or whatever. Most young people (meaning those under twenty five or so) don't care about the weather, haven't had a boss long enough to matter, aren't gaining weight, and neither care about nor understand politics. I know I'm making broad generalizations here, but the point is that the reason generations don't mix all that much (socially) is because they were raised under different conditions, and have different interests. Each generation simply looks at the world a little differently than the others. That's why society advances and changes over the years, instead of being stagnant.

I expected Kat to be urgent about getting as much fucking done as possible before she wore me out. I think that's because, when I was her age, that's exactly what I'd have done if I was in her situation.

Instead, she wanted to take her time. It was as if she had gotten a present and, after the initial euphoria of opening it, now wanted to examine it in detail.

I discovered this gradually. It began when she finished putting the supper dishes in the dish washer and came to where I was getting Netflix up on the gigantic flat screen TV in the living room.

"We're not watching TV tonight," she said. "It's time to go to bed."

"Already?" I grinned.

"Yes," she said, without a trace of humor.

And suddenly, from that moment on, she was in control. She was the one calling the shots. And she did it without saying a word.

For example, when we got to my bedroom and I started to pull my shirt off, she stopped me by reaching to grasp my hands. Then she gently slapped them away ... and removed my shirt herself. And she didn't just pull it off of me. She squatted a little and pushed it up my sides, looking at the skin as it was exposed, almost as if she was examining me for some flaw, or tattoo or whatever. She kissed random places on my chest and, while my arms were up and the shirt was confining them, she kissed my lips. It was a gentle kiss, not demanding, and not impatient, but full of passion that made my prick stand up like it was made of steel. I actually felt it happen while she kissed me.

My shorts were next, and she knelt to pull them down, going slowly just like she had with my shirt. She had to reach into my shorts to free my penis, which got caught in the cloth as she pulled it down. She grasped my cock as if it were a kitten that had gotten into trouble while playing with a pile of cloth, and freed it gently.

When my shorts were at my knees, she stopped, and fondled my cock, using feather light fingertips to touch every bit of skin on it. One group of fingers went to my balls and tickled them gently.

Her first kiss on my penis was right on the tip. But in the next few minutes she had kissed every inch of it too. She didn't lick it, or bite it or take it in her mouth. She just kissed it all over with warm, soft lips.

When I was naked she pushed me with fingertips on my chest, guiding me to the bed, where she made me sit.

Then she disrobed.

"Let me -" I started, as she grasped the hem of the T shirt she was wearing.

She reached to put an index fingertip on my lips. Her meaning was clear. That's when I realized there would be no talking. It was strange, because I didn't know how long that would last, and that bothered me. Having speech removed from the equation made me feel like I was stranded on a desert island, and didn't have the materials needed to start a fire.

She took her own clothes off as slowly as she had removed mine, exposing a few inches of skin at a time.

The swell of the underneath of one breast made me hold my breath in anticipation of seeing the rest of it. But she lowered the cloth there, and raised it to expose most of the other breast instead. My eyes flickered to hers and I realized she was watching me, seeing how I responded to what she was doing.

So I found the patience, somewhere, to just enjoy the show.

When the shirt was finally above her breasts, I let out a long sigh. I didn't do it on purpose. I had just been holding my breath and finally let it out. She smiled, and pulled the shirt over her head quickly. When it hit the floor, I relaxed, and it wasn't until then that I realized I had been tense all over, leaning forward.

What she did next convinced me she had planned to do it. It wasn't a random movement, and I don't know where she saw it, or learned it, but she turned away from me and bent over at the waist, her legs straight, and her feet shoulder's width apart. Had she been in a gym, an observer would have thought she was stretching. But she wasn't stretching. She was showing me her ass. She moved her head to the left and looked at me over her left shoulder, still bent over. It was a stripper move, and yet she didn't look like a stripper. It's hard to describe.

She stood back up and thumbed her shorts down, exposing her ass. She was going commando again. Then she turned around and, with her fingertips, pushed the elastic waistband down, exposing her mons. She stopped the cloth just as it was at the top of her split. I could see the skin changing, where it would become folds of skin, rather than a flat expanse.

Her right index finger approached that place I couldn't quite see and, as if she were searching for something, slipped under the cloth. I knew she was pressing it on her clit. Her head tilted back a little, and her eyes closed. She didn't rub. She just put pressure on it.

In the only impatient movement I saw for the next two hours, she pushed the shorts down and kicked them ten feet with a flick of her foot. When that foot came back down on the carpet, it was twenty-four inches from the other one. Her knees bent. That finger slid through those bulging, flowering pussy lips, and entered her body. She looked straight at me.

"I'm going to fuck you tonight," she said, softly.

It was so strange to hear her say those words, which would normally be considered crude, almost a verbal assault, words that indicated no love or caring, but rather suggested only the base instincts of animal mating would be in play. Those same words have been used countless times in the beginning of fights in bars.

But her tone of voice, her inflection, and her subtle emphasis on the ”F” word didn't convey animal sexual desire at all. You had to be there, I guess, because what she meant by those words, was that we would mate ... but as lovers. What she meant was that her actions up to that point, and what was going to happen later, were intentional on her part. She wasn't acting out of seduction, or emotional overload. She wasn't in the grip of Mother Nature. She was doing this on purpose, because she chose to.

That said, she took her sweet, fucking time (no pun intended). My penis didn't enter her vagina for another forty-five minutes. And in those forty-five minutes she did everything except fuck me. She kept me at a fever's pitch the whole time. She wasn't the one who was impatient to have sex because it was new to her.

I was.

She reduced me to a moaning wreck. She masturbated me to orgasm, and then stopped at the critical moment. Because I was about to spurt, and didn't want to without her hand, or mouth, or pussy involved, I made the mistake of pinching my cock off at the base, to stop me from ejaculating.

She was a smart girl. She figured out what I had done.

And she did it herself after that ... three times!

She used her mouth two of those times, and her hand again the last.

Again, I don't know whether she saw this in some porn video or what, but when she finally decided to let me inside her, she got off the bed and pulled me off too. Then she crawled back onto the bed, stopping with her knees at the edge, about a foot apart. She looked over her shoulder at me, and then let her head fall down onto the covers, presenting her pussy to me like a gift.

I moved forward. The height was perfect. I swabbed the tip of my cock between wet swollen folds of skin, and she purred. I wanted to ram into her and spurt. But her patience up to this point called for me to step up.

So I slid in slowly, listing to her groan of satisfaction. I gripped her hips and gave her a few experimental strokes. I couldn't resist. I slapped one tight butt cheek, stinging the perfect skin there, and reddening it.

"Owww!" she yelled, and in a maneuver that showed how flexible she really was, she raised one leg and rolled, landing on her back. I had anticipated that, though, and moved so I was between her widespread legs. I reached down and grabbed her hips, pulling her butt to the edge of the bed. My cock hung just above her recently abandoned entrance.

I reached and swabbed her loose pussy folds with the tip of my cock again.

I looked at her face. Her head was raised, and she was just looking at me. She raised her heels, and put them on my pecks, as if she was going to push me away. But her hand reached for my prick ... and pulled.

As I slid into her, I leaned forward and her feet rose to rest on my shoulders. I leaned down to suck her nipples, and her hands came to play with the hair on my head.

In that position, I could get into her, but not as deeply as I wanted to. I leaned into her and abandoned her breasts to push. It still wasn't enough, and I was at the wrong angle to rub her clit with my cock. So I shrugged her feet off my shoulders and, as they fell, I slid my hands into her arm pits and pulled. I sensed that if I tried to do what I had in mind slowly, it would fail. So I clamped with my hands and jerked her up. She gave a startled "Awwp!" and reached for my neck with her hands instinctively. That was perfect, because that let me slide my hands down to grip her hips and pull while I stood up.

I was amazed when it worked perfectly. Instinct also caused her legs to wrap around me, and suddenly I was standing, with her impaled on my prick. I was so excited there must have been some adrenaline involved, because she felt like she weighed almost nothing.

I did a little adjusting and suddenly I was as deep as I had wanted to go. She gave a groan of satisfaction as her clit was crushed.

I bounced her a few times, but it was better to simply let her weight down on me, and flex my penis inside her. I had no urge to cum. It just felt good to be balls deep in my lover.

Her face came up and it was impossible not to kiss her. We just stood there, frozen in coitus, as that kiss lasted a good two or three minutes.

Eventually I felt it in my lower back, and I knew I'd held her up for as long as I could. So I walked toward the bed. There was no gentle way to transition to the bed without coming out of her, and that was the last thing I wanted to do. So I gave a little leap and, to avoid crushing her, turned us sideways so we crashed down on the bed, still joined at groin and face.

It didn't work, of course, and as we hit, the kiss broke and our falling bodies pulled me out of her. She laughed, though and with incredible speed she pushed me onto my back and crawled on top of me. Seconds later I felt the heat of her sexual furnace all around my member again and she sat up to sink down into her favorite position. That involved her wiggling such that the tip of my cock pushed and massaged her cervix. I don't know if she knew what was happening or not, but that was what she loved to do the most.

A fleeting thought whipped through my mind and I remembered an article I'd read about the mucus plug women have which protects the womb from the entry of foreign matter. Nature has made that mucus plug resistant to anything except sperm cells, which work their way through it, weeding out the weak ones, so that only the strongest and best get through to fertilize the egg. I wondered if the tip of a penis, rubbing against the cervix, could dislodge that plug. If so, that would allow millions more sperm cells to enter the womb, and if there was an egg anywhere near, it would be swamped.

But that thought was fleeting. I knew that, when the time came, I'd stay just as deep inside her as I could when I reached my own orgasm. That was a given. It was stupid, but it was a given.

In the meantime, I was going to work on giving her as many orgasms as I could.

That turned out to be three on top of me, and two more under me as I finally pinned her to the bed and rutted into her, my patience gone, and the urge to finish almost at a frantic level in me.

I had expected her to try to cram as much sex into the night as possible.

But it was me who, after I finally got to cum inside her, tried two more times during the night to do it again.

When I woke up, she was gone, and not just from my bed. There was a note on the kitchen counter that said, "Gone to Ashley's. Won't be home all day. Giving you a break to rest up for tonight. Love, Caitlin."

So I went back to bed and slept until almost noon.

I'll be right up front about this. Up to this point, I had never attended an orgy. Maybe you have, but not me. And while the sleepover that was planned to kick off in just eight(?) hours probably wasn't going to rise to the level of a full blown orgy, that's how it looked on my personal horizon.

Basically, I had no idea how I was going to handle three women. No pun intended.

As it turned out, again things didn't happen the way I thought they would. The possible exception was Caitlin, who I expected to play a low key role in things, in terms of actually coupling with me. By now she had a pretty good idea of how much sex could be dragged from my body, and she also knew that this night was really for her two best friends, and not her.

This is not to say she didn't play a sexual role. No, siree. That night, the walls of confidentiality and secret keeping crumbled as if they were made of sugar cubes and a thunderstorm showed up.

I expected Ashley to try to take the lead. That was her style. I thought she'd walk in, get naked, and say something like "Finally! Let's get this show on the road!"

Not only did she not do any of those things, when they arrived, there were moments when I wondered if our Ashley had been abducted by aliens, and a surrogate Ashley had been left behind to take her place. Her eyes darted everywhere except to me, initially, and she was nervous to the point that Caitlin yelled at her for biting her nails.

And guess who stepped up to be the mistress of ceremonies? You got it. Emma.

She came straight to me for a hug and enough kisses that I expected Ashley to complain Emma was hogging me. But that didn't happen. Instead, Emma basically body fucked me, rubbing all over me. When she finally stopped kissing me, she whispered, "I can't wait!"

But she did. We didn't get naked and fuck like monkeys. Or gerbils, or whatever animal it is where the male runs from female to female fucking them until he falls over from exhaustion.

Nor did we go skinny dipping.

Instead, we watched a movie while Ashley and Emma cuddled with me on the couch. Caitlin sat between my legs and leaned against the front of the couch.

The movie was one Caitlin chose, called Lemonade Mouth, which was a strange title. But the movie wasn't strange at all. Basically, it was about some kids who formed a band that ended up being called Lemonade Mouth. I won't go into all that, but it's worth watching it if you like good music. The final number made me wish they really were a band, and had a CD out. I'd have bought it hands down.

Anyway, there are two girls in this movie who were the same, wholesome, girl-next-door types as the ones I was cuddling with ... and who I knew I'd be having sex with later that night. That made the girls on the screen have different potential than the people who made that movie would have approved of. I think it might have been Disney. Basically, I was completely surrounded, both on the screen and in person, by pretty, nubile young women who, as a man, I desperately wanted to fuck.

I know that's crude. But the point is, it wasn't the girls who were anxious to get on with things. It was me.

That I could tell you about the movie at all is amazing, because I acted like a sixteen-year-old boy out on a date with a hot girl. I had my arms around each girl, and I let my hands "accidentally" fall onto their breasts. But I didn't suffer the usual fate of that sixteen-year-old boy. Nobody reached to knock my hand away. In fact, I got to grope my "dates" all I wanted.

There were some kisses too, though the movie actually held everyone's attention. I think that movie was, in a sense, visual foreplay. It was a typical teen movie, aimed at that demographic, but I had a great time watching it, and not just because I got to molest two girls in the process.

Both Ashley and Emma had worn jeans and button up blouses to the house. It was the most formal I think I'd ever seen them. By the time the movie was over, though, both girl's blouses were unbuttoned and there were two bras lying on the floor next to Caitlin.

It wasn't rushed at all. As much as Emma had said she couldn't wait, she waited for hours. After the movie we ate. Both Emma and Ashley left their blouses on, but hanging open, showing me glimpses of breasts as they moved around, setting the table and helping prepare the meal. During that process Emma came to me for kisses multiple times, and I got to fondle her naked breasts while we did that. Ashley had let me play all I wanted during the movie, but she was still withdrawn. Finally I forced the issue.

"Ashley," I said.


"Come here, please."

She did, and I took her into an embrace.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I know," called out Emma from across the table.

"You shut up," snapped Ashley, pushing at my chest. I didn't let her escape.

"You want to talk about it in private?" I asked.

"No," she said, sullenly.

"You want to go home?" I asked.

She looked alarmed.

"No! It's just ..."

"It's just that she's scared," said Emma.

"I told you to shut up!" yelled Ashley.

"There's nothing wrong with being worried," I said, using a different word than the one that seemed to make her angry. "In fact, it shows you're intelligent. This is nothing to jump into, and being concerned about it, and thinking about it is a good thing."

"I want to," moaned Ashley. "That's the whole thing. I want to. But I'm scared to."

"Don't worry about it," I said. "Nothing is going to happen tonight that you don't want to happen."

"You sound like you're talking to Emma," she moaned.

"That applies to her too," I said.

"I can't wait!" said Emma.

Ashley slumped in my arms and put her face in my chest.

" I'm supposed to be the strong one," she muttered. "I'm supposed to be the brave one. I'm supposed to be the crazy one."

"Just be you," I said. " You are the one I want to go to bed with, not some role you're playing."

She looked up at me. There were actually tears in her eyes.

I looked at the others.

"Ashley and I are going to go have some private time," I said.

Emma was alert, all of a sudden.


"Don't worry," I said. "It's not for sex."

She relaxed. "Okay." Then she perked up again. "Do you promise?"

"Why would I need to promise?" I asked.

"Because we have to be there when it happens," she said.

"Oh, that," I sighed.

"Yes, that."

"Not to worry. I won't do anything with her that you haven't seen me do already."

"What are you going to do?" asked Emma.

"I don't know yet. I just won't do anything you haven't seen me do, okay?" I let a little anger creep into my voice. Things weren't going anything like I'd expected them to. I didn't want Ashley to be upset, because that would put a damper on the whole night.

"Okay, okay," said Emma, raising both hands, palms facing me in acquiescence.

"Come on," I said, guiding Ashley toward my bedroom.

When we got there she was still nervous. It was so strange, because Ashley was the one who usually put the pedal to the metal and blundered forward with little thought to the consequences.

"C'mere," I said, pulling her into my embrace again. She came willingly, but felt stiff in my arms. "I'd like to tell you something."

"What?" she asked into my chest.

"How long have we known each other?" I asked.

"That's not telling. That's asking," she said. It was the first spark of the usual Ashley I'd seen since she got there.

"How long?"

"Six years," she said.

"That's right. I had the privilege of seeing you turn from a gangly, gawky, flat-chested little girl, into a beautiful, strong, sexy woman who I quite literally can't keep my hands off of."

I let my hands come around to slide up her naked flanks and cup her breasts. I gave them a little squeeze.

"For years, I wanted to do this." I rolled her nipples. Actually, I should say I pinched the skin on the tips of her breasts. Her nipples weren't defined yet, and were so flat you couldn't feel them by touch.

"But I couldn't, because you were off limits."

I kissed her very lightly on the lips, just a little extended peck.

"I used to stand in the window and watch you swimming, and imagine doing this."

I leaned down to lick and suck one nipple, which was finally beginning to protrude from her breast flesh. She made a small noise in her throat and I stood back up.

"I wanted you in my bed in the worst way," I said. "It was terrible, and I felt awful, because I knew it would never happen. I knew you'd laugh in my face if I suggested I could make you feel good like that."

"I wouldn't have laughed," she said immediately. "You know that!"

"I know that now," I said, gently. "But I didn't know it then. That's why I feel so privileged."


"Ashley, honey, most girls, when they have sex the first time, do not find that it matches their expectations. It's the same with guys. It's so new, and they have so little preparation, that they fumble around and it's usually not all that much fun."

"I know what you mean," she said. "I've heard that from some of my friends at school."

"But I'm being offered the chance to be with you that first time, and I do know what I'm doing," I said. "I'm not blowing my own horn or anything. It's just that I have enough experience that at least one of us will know what to do when the time comes."

I paused to just gaze into her eyes.

"If the time comes," I said.

She blinked. Then she swallowed. Ashley was scared, and Ashley didn't like being scared.

"I'm afraid it will hurt. I don't want it to hurt. I don't want any part of it to be negative."

"I can't promise anything," I said, "but I can assure you we'll go at whatever pace you think is best. You want to be on top? You can control things a lot better that way."

She shook her head and her hair flew, gently.

"Emma and I both want you to be on top, the first time."

"You actually talked about this?"

"Endlessly," she sighed. "We've wanted this to happen for two or three years now."

"Why me on top?"

"Because we want you to take us, like in the romance novels."

I managed not to groan, and instead, said, "Don't get me wrong. I'm honored, and all that, but that's silly. It isn't going to be like any romance novel. It's going to be you and me, sharing something for the first time."

"I know," she sighed. "It was so much fun to think about. But now it's real."

"And that's why I'm looking forward to it so much," I said.


"Sweetheart, I can't wait to get you into bed," I said. "What I'm worried about is that I'll be too excited to take my time and make sure you have a good time."

"That just sounds so strange," she said.

"Why? You're a sexy, smart, sexy, beautiful, sexy, fun to be around sex pot."

"You're so silly sometimes." But she smiled. "I'm not that sexy."

"Let me show you something," I said.


I stood back and pushed my shorts to my knees. My cock was hanging limp, because I was more worried about her than getting off.

"You've seen this before, but I want you to think about it." I stood, looking at her. "I'm looking at you now, thinking about being in bed with you."

My cock started to respond.

"I'm thinking about kissing you, and sucking your nipples, and licking your pussy."

Things got to the point where she could see the changes going on.

"I'm thinking about being inside you, and hearing you moan, and feeling you push up against me."

Now I was hanging at a 45 degree angle.

"I'm thinking about telling you I'm about to cum, and you saying I can't, because we forgot the condom."

Now it lifted straight. It was hard, but not rock hard.

"I'm thinking about doing it to you the fourth or fifth time, now, and you whining that we keep forgetting the condom, and how I'm going to get you pregnant."

Now it got really hard. I felt like a pervert, telling this poor girl I wanted to impregnate her.

"I'm thinking about you coming back again and again, because you love it, even if it's dangerous."

"You're nasty!" she moaned.

"That's what you do to me," I said, finally reaching for my cock and stroking it a few times.

"Do you really want to get me knocked up?"

"No, not actually. But the thought of it makes me horny. Just the thought of being in you at all makes me horny."

"But you'll wear a condom when we do it ... right?"

"Of course," I said. "I just wanted you to understand that you are sexy, and that I'm not doing this as a charity fuck."

"Charity fuck?!" She sounded shocked. "That's an awful thing to call it."

"It's a stupid word," I said. "But it was the only word I could think of."

"Well think of something else!" she barked. "I'm not going to bed with some guy who thinks about women that way."

Finally, the aliens had brought Ashley back to us.

"Okay," I said, trying to act like a scolded puppy. "I'll just go use this with Emma."

"Wait!" She surged toward me, ending up almost, but not quite touching me with the tips of her breasts.

"Do you promise to try to make it so it doesn't hurt?"

"I promise," I said. "And you're nowhere even near being in the same room with a charity fuck." I grinned.

"You're a pig," she said, but her eyes sparkled when she said it.

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