Chapter 11

By Wednesday, the Program participants had settled into a routine. Well before the first session began, Bob gathered the proctors for a little meeting with the goal of regularly moving the proctors to different stations. It was clear that, with their specialized skills, Liz, Jeff and Matt were tethered to their posts, teaching the gymnastics and judo. Matt mentioned that he was doing double duty, supervising judo and the pugil stick work.

The four who had proctored outdoors all agreed that the outdoor work only required two proctors. Karen and Gabby chimed in that only one proctor was required in the Home Ec arena and that they would willingly alternate, allowing the other to work elsewhere. Katie and Kevin said the boxing work didn't require two proctors and, in any case, the students were able to do their own workouts without much intervention from proctors. The group decided to make an effort to rotate themselves through the remaining stations.

Bob confessed his inappropriate pleasure in having introduced Heather, Shannon and Mary to the pool, and apologized to them profusely. None of them would hear of it, charging instead that it was Bob's respect and dignity that had helped them overcome their inhibitions and to become comfortable. This talk plainly raised Karen and Gabby's radar to high alert. "What are you talking about?" squeaked Gabby.

After the rest looked at each other for a moment, grinning wickedly, it was Shannon who delivered the awful explanation that the uniform of the day in the pool area simply wasn't -- that nudity was enforced in the pool area. Both Karen and Gabby were of course horrified. Plainly enjoying her opportunity of delivering rather than receiving such bad news, Shannon went on to recite essentially the same speech she had received from Heather. With a great deal of support from the rest, both Karen and Gabby surrendered to their fate.

Gabby especially was petrified at the prospect of meeting her daughter Sarah at the pool for the first time. The entre was irresistible to Shannon, who gleefully reported, in excruciating detail, on Bob's first meeting of his daughter Sandy. Bob was of course mortified, but bore up well, abjectly confessing the veracity of every painful detail. He even shared Sandy's elegant rescue, reminiscing about the trip on the Pullman coach. The entire group was in stitches for a good long time. When they had recovered themselves, Gabby and Karen had been able to steel their resolve, although serious doubts remained. The rest assured them that only about five minutes were needed to overcome any problems.

That settled, they began to schedule themselves. Kevin opted to remain at the boxing station at least long enough to meet and prepare all the others for proctoring that segment. Gabby urged Karen to do likewise in the Home Ec department. Bob and Kevin were granted exemptions from assignment there, both being utterly helpless with sewing. Gabby was given her choice of whom she wished to have in the pool area with her for her first time. Deciding -- with a gracious smile -- that Shannon had had enough fun already at her expense, and very reluctant to face a man her first time, she prevailed upon Heather to be with her. Heather graciously agreed, and they both decided to begin their day in the pool, so Gabby could get her ordeal over with while she knew Sarah was in her academic section.

Katie chose her first assignment outdoors. Shannon agreed to join her. Liz and Jeff were on gymnastics. Mary wanted to cycle herself through the Home Ec department first. That left the pugil sticks for Bob. Matt countermanded, recommending that Bob get in a session with Kevin before someone took the pugil stick proctoring. They broke up their meeting and headed for their stations.

At lunch, Amy was drafted to prepare a written schedule for the proctors.

Amy had set to work early in the day on a newsletter for the community. Her lack of creativity caused her to struggle.

She reported on the success of CAP card scanning process, and encouraged people to get theirs scanned as soon as possible.

She remembered that family members, especially females, living out of town were wanted as part of the extraction. She wrote a blurb reporting that at least 17 females, and an unknown number of males, were known to be returning but that only one had yet arrived. She added text encouraging town folk to invite their children and other family to move back to town. She even discussed the slim opportunities for males with CAP scores too low to volunteer.

She went to some length to explain that the Program could possibly be cut short by the Confederacy, with the extraction occurring early and on very short notice. She encouraged the town folk to get their family members home as soon as possible. She reminded everyone that the CAP cards of new returnees should be scanned as soon as possible.

She encouraged folks to begin formally establishing their family groups via the database. She repeated the instructions written earlier.

She wrote a fairly long passage about including adults in the Program. She wrote that the Core Group had rejected the idea of establishing some selection process and instead had opted to open the Program to any and all who felt their participation might lead to success. She advised interested adults to contact herself or Jean at the school for details. She cautioned that the prospects of success for dedicated participants were unknown, even by the Confederacy, but were thought to be slim.

She praised the students participating in the Program and reported much progress and much promise.

She advised the town that elements of the Program for shooting training and paintball exercises were being actively planned, with the hope that these would be ready for launch in the coming days.

She reported on the effort to obtain one or more CAP testing centers for the town.

Satisfied, and more than a little surprised at her output, Amy printed her report and asked Jean to review it. Jean wanted the town folk to pass along to her any items that should go on the agenda for the next town meeting. They wrote it up together. After some minor modifications and re-ordering of paragraphs, Jean pronounced it done. She thanked Amy profusely for her excellent work. Amy beamed and set about printing a large quantity of copies for distribution.

At the end of the day, Jean buttonholed Michael and told him that the newsletters were ready for distribution. Michael collected them and headed home to call in his cohort for the work. Within hours, all of the newsletters had been distributed.

Bob was in the boxing area before the first kids arrived. Kevin had him suit up with a full set of gear, including a mouth protector. Kevin did the same. Kevin couldn't resist a gibe about Bob's incident yesterday, with a snarky remark that Bob seemed to have the fine art of brawling well in hand. Bob simply grinned shyly and shook his head.

"All boys learn about fighting, but not many know about formal boxing," Kevin said. "Maybe you already know the drill: keep your hands up, keep moving, watch my eyes, enough shots to the upper arms or the abdomen will drain your opponent enough to open his defenses. Let's spar a bit. No power in your punches. If you land good ones, I'll acknowledge."

Bob, having last worn boxing gloves in high school, was stiff and ungainly at the beginning. But he was surprised that, after only a few minutes, he felt his motions becoming smoother. Kevin, of course, had been sparring off and on for two days and was far more proficient. The first team to arrive found Bob and Kevin squared off, sparring. Dropping his guard and turning to the kids, he said, "Get your gear on. Bob's here to learn to protect himself so he doesn't take another whuppin' like he did yesterday." Everyone laughed. The kids started to suit up.

As soon as the kids were finished getting their gear on, they paired off and began to spar. Bob was pleasantly surprised to find the matchups were all boy/girl. The boys seemed genuinely to want to help their girl teammates to learn. The boys made a point of not taking advantage of their longer reach, much less their height and weight advantages.

Before 8:30, there seemed little more for Kevin to impart to Bob. Kevin removed and put away his gear, stood for a few moments, and moved on to a new station of his own. Bob stood by, observing the sparring, and wondered why no one had thought to obtain a heavy punching bag for the room. He made a mental note to ask Dave about it.

The first team ended their workout, removed and stored their gear, and left the room. It was fully ten minutes before the next team arrived. Bob helped make the time pass by 'sparring' with a cinderblock wall in the room, again wishing for a heavy bag. The next team in thought Bob's hitting of the wall somewhat strange, but said nothing as they suited up.

This team paired off with only one pair as boy/girl. The boy/girl pair was at one end, the girl/girl pair was in the middle, and the boy/boy pair was on the other end. After observing for a while, Bob found that this, too, had advantages. The pair of girls were sparring with much more ferocity than he had seen the earlier boy/girl teams use. The boy/boy pair was plainly working on technique and the weight of the blows was modest. The two girls weren't hurting each other -- the protective gear saw to that -- but it was plainly difficult for each girl to control her anger, to turn her anger into true aggression. As their anger increased, their technique became increasingly sloppy.

At a signal, the pairs re-formed. Each of the two girls in the middle moved to a different side. One of the paired boys moved to the middle, and the girl from the boy/girl pair joined him. They started to spar again. Plainly, the boys on the end were working more than anything on getting the girls to re-center themselves, to calm themselves and to restore their good technique. Bob was deeply impressed.

Again, the pairs re-formed. This time, the two boys on the ends stepped into the middle. The other two pairs made no pretense of working together, instead watching the boys in the middle. This time, the boys meant business. Solid punches were landed at every opportunity. Oddly, Bob thought, the boys commented to their audience on what they were doing, and feeling. They didn't talk much -- concentration was required of them both. But the comments were plainly useful, the girls occasionally nodding with new understanding.

After a few minutes, the two boys called a brief halt and turned to their audience. The back and forth conversation was plainly helpful, especially to the girls. Soon, they again paired off, this time in all boy/girl pairs, and worked on technique.

The team ended their workout and began to store their gear. Bob checked the time and wondered whether another team would arrive this late in the session. Still in his gear, he went into the next room to observe for a bit.

Matt was dividing his time between his judo students, who were practicing their technique at safe falling, and Kevin and the team on the pugil sticks. Kevin wore the same complete set of protective gear as Bob's and was casually holding a pugil stick. Matt wore only his judo uniform. Kevin concurred with Bob's remark that the late hour likely meant no more business for the boxing area until the second session. Kevin volunteered to stand watch over the empty boxing area, in case they were wrong about an arriving team. Matt agreed to give Bob a lesson with the pugil sticks.

Matt collected a pugil stick and gave Bob an overview of the technique. Soon they were sparring in slow, deliberate motions. Matt spoke to Bob the entire time, making recommendations, warning of a coming motion, advising on foot placement. Owing especially to the slow and deliberate pace, but plainly also due to evident skill and experience, Matt was able to block all of Bob's attacks. Not so with Bob. None of Matt's blows were hard, but Bob could tell that that was only because of Matt's restraint.

Presently, their sparring ended. Matt said that the rest was simply a matter of practice. By this time, the student team had stored their gear and left, headed for the showers. Bob thanked Matt for his help and went back to the boxing area.

Kevin had shed his gear and put it away in the boxing room, although it had come from the adjacent room. He invited Bob to shed his own gear and join him for a cup of coffee. When Bob agreed, Kevin excused himself for a quick pit stop. They rejoined each other and headed for the cafeteria.

By the beginning of the second session, Bob was back in the boxing area, this time sans gear. And of course the first team to arrive was Sandy's. Her face shone with surprise and delight. After glancing around to ensure enough clear space, she executed a forward flip. The landing was wobbly but she was evidently pleased with herself. Bob laughed and applauded. She made to curtsey, smiling shyly but brightly.

After the kids had geared up, Bob saw yet a third configuration for training. The team split in half, a pair in each half squaring off and beginning to spar, the third observing and delivering running commentary in support of both the fighters' technique. The blows landed were solid but not vicious. The girls, especially, had to work as hard on maintaining control over their rising anger and frustration as they did on the fighting technique itself. The observers spoke calmly but firmly, directing the fighters to keep themselves centered and under control.

Sandy's opponent was much older, much bigger and much heavier. He clearly had great advantage of reach, able to stand out of Sandy's reach while delivering punishing blows of his own. Her observer teammate kept encouraging her to step into her opponent, to use his arm length advantage against him, to take the fight to him. Tears of frustration and anger running freely down her face, Sandy did as instructed, determination painted on her face, and to good effect.

They called a break, huddled the entire team together, and discussed what had happened. The praise lauded upon Sandy made her shyly beam. Pairs re-formed, this time with boys paired and girls paired, with Sandy and a boy as observers. It was evident from her remarks that Sandy was learning as well as teaching.

The school maintenance man entered the room, pulling carts holding a heavy boxing bag and sundry tools and equipment. He and Bob discussed placement of the heavy bag. Once a decision had been reached, the man set about installing the supporting framework in the ceiling.

Soon enough, another team trouped into the room. Seeing their peers, Sandy's team called a halt to their workout and began to shed their gear. On her way out the door, Sandy stepped in and collected a big hug from her dad. "I love you, Dad," was all she said before skipping out the door.

Before the next team had finished getting their gear on, Jeff walked in. Complaining of boredom now that the kids had only to perfect their gymnastic technique without much need of his guidance, he asked Bob to 'show him the ropes' of boxing proctoring and then trade places with him. With a nod from Bob, both began to suit up.

When they had finished, Bob suggested they observe the students rather than simply sparring. Bob was surprised at the quantity of useful information he was able to impart to Jeff as they watched. Only when his store of knowledge and observations had been exhausted did they square off on each other and begin sparring.

Jeff was younger but in excellent condition, the strength needed to perform his gymnastics plainly evident. Not least in his own defense, Bob instructed that they should concentrate on good technique. He radically slowed his punches, explaining as he went. Jeff immediately followed suit, saving Bob's body from the strength of Jeff's blows.

When Bob had imparted what little he knew about boxing to Jeff, he shed his gear and put it away. After parting remarks, Bob headed to the gymnastics room. When he arrived, he found three students doing headstands, away from the wall, holding their position for an admirable length of time. The other three were practicing somersaults, the trampoline abandoned in favor of the step stool.

One of the boys called "pyramid!" Without hesitation, the entire team assembled themselves in a three-tier, hands-and-knees pyramid in about ten seconds. Laughing in delight, the kids looked to Bob for approval. He was unstinting in his praise and admiration. With a wicked grin, the boy in the middle relaxed his right arm and threw back his right foot, collapsing the pyramid onto himself amid screams and shouts from the whole team. The heap of surprised but unhurt kids untangled themselves, laughing accusations.

After the briefest of visits with Bob, the kids got back to work. Liz joined Bob, and they discussed the goings-on in the room. "This looks like a sure-fire way for an old man to break his neck!" laughed Bob. As though to prove his point, Liz executed a perfect back flip and then did a handstand. She laughed as she resumed her footing, agreeing with Bob.

With a wave to Liz, Bob next made his way outdoors. There, Sarah's team was just finishing a tour of the balance beams. She saw Bob and approached. "Hi there, Bob!" she chirped. "We're headed for a run. Will you join us, please?"

Bob shrugged and followed Sarah toward the football field. The rest of the team ran ahead. Sarah hung back, falling in with Bob as he began to trot. They ran in silence through an entire circuit of the field. Finally, Sarah simply said, "I wish my dad was like you."

Nonplussed, Bob didn't answer for a while. "Your dad's a lot of man," he allowed. "What makes you think I'm not an ogre in my own domain?"

She snorted. "Ogres don't worship their wives. Ogres don't treat their daughters like a princess."

More jogging in silence. "Guilty as charged," he finally said.

More than half a lap around the field passed before either spoke. Out of the blue, she said, "Thank you."

After waiting for more, and realizing that no more was forthcoming, he answered "You're welcome." A few yards down the field, Bob asked, "Thank me for what?"

Sarah turned her head and smiled at him. "Thank you for all of the effort you have already put in for us. Thank you for your dedication."

More yards passed in silence. Then Bob said, "I thought you meant 'thank you for saving my life' or some such. I've been accused of heroism recently. I'm no hero. I'm just a guy who loves his family more than life itself, and would pay any price for their safety."

"OK, you're no hero," she allowed. "Maybe someone else would have thought of it eventually. Your idea took the town by storm. Maybe if someone else had spoken up, you'd still be here today, huffing and puffing, trying not to pay attention to the way my tits bounce as I run. Not a hero, but certainly deserving of our heartfelt thanks for everything you do, everything you are."

Caught ogling the beautiful young woman running alongside him, he blushed and stammered an apology.

"I do not accept your apology," she huffed, grinning. "I am pleased with your positive appraisal of my young body. Without a word, you made me feel desirable. You have rewarded me more than you know. Lots of boys check me out, but I can see the desire for conquest in their eyes. Afterward, I might not even get a 'thank you, ma'am' from most of them. They make me feel dirty."

A lot of turf passed under their feet before she spoke again. "I've been thinking a lot about two things from the meeting last night. They've woven themselves together, and I can't stop thinking about them. One is the fact that our extraction may come far sooner than we'd planned, and quite suddenly. The other is Jean's report about the terror felt by the virgin girls in school."

Bob waited for her to continue. Presently, she did. "I've heard the girls talk in school myself. The girls aren't going to wait, and risk their first time being in public."

A few paces further along, she said, "I need to ask you to help, Bob." Then, blushing crimson, "Well, *I* don't need your help. But a lot of girls do. They don't have a dad or brother to do the deed. Their boyfriends would be shouting it from the rafters the very next day, and they'd be whores. Breaking the damn flap with a hairbrush or something *does not* count as your first time. Soon, they'll be in bed with their lord and master, and two or more other women, always wondering if it had to be that way.

"A girl needs to be a princess on that one special night, Bob. They need a caring, attentive lover to help them to the most wonderful night of their young lives."

Gobsmacked. Bob was simply gobsmacked. They ran in silence for quite a while. "Sure, Sarah, have 'em call Kathy to schedule an appointment." He snorted.

"You'd do it, then, if Kathy went along?" she asked.

"That's like saying I'll do it when pigs fly," answered Bob. "You've put me in the position where either I refuse to help girls who sound like they really need it, or I destroy the love and respect I so desperately need from my wife."

"Now you underestimate Kathy," said Sarah. "I admit it'd be a tough sell if you brought it up to her. But Bob, her heart is nearly as big as yours. I'll talk to her. I got you to agree, didn't I?" she giggled.

"No wonder you're senior class president. You're a hell of a politician, Sarah." She blushed.

"You know, don't you, that she'll be right there with you, every step of the way? This will be her gift to the community, her gift of womanhood to a lot of girls."

"A LOT?" he croaked.

"Do the math yourself," she smiled. "Some girls are easy. Some are sexually active, but discreet. Some have tried once or twice. But most girls, especially the younger ones, are still virgins."

More yardage passed as they ran, woolgathering. The kilometer mark had long since passed. Bob was surprised that he hadn't yet collapsed. In fact, he was surprised that he wasn't even terribly winded. The rest of Sarah's team had long since headed indoors.

"Now," said Sarah, "I need you to consider for a while, and then make a recommendation. No, I don't mean you, although I wish otherwise. Bob, I'm starting to think about the family I'll be building soon. I'm especially worried about who will be the dad for all our kids. I don't mean the father. I mean the dad.

"I'm going to be the sponsor, Bob. I don't want to ever worry about having to fight for my position against a male concubine. I don't want someone like my father. I don't want a boy. I want a man with quiet strength, who will support me and the rest of the family all the way. A kindly grandfather type, maybe, gentle but no pushover for the kids.

"Will you chew on that for a few days, or a week, and tell me who might fit the bill?"

Bob smiled at her and nodded. They finished up their run and went in.

Megan had finished collecting all of the CAP card scans of the town folk. She turned her attention to the task of finding the right people to join her mom and dad's combined families. They each needed a 'motherly' concubine, and those women were supposed to be youngish.

That wasn't a lot of guidance. She tried to find a rational approach for her search. Young mothers would have young children. So, she realized, perhaps searching through the children in the database would be fruitful.

Before she began to search, she made some notes. The criteria for the 'motherlies' included five years' childrearing experience, whether with a five-year-old or with kids whose ages added to five; a CAP score of 5.0 or above; and 'good maternal sub-scores', whatever that meant.

They had to be available. It seemed likely to her that, if the motherly were married to a volunteer, she'd be going with him. If it was her common law husband, and/or if she hadn't changed her name to his, she might still not be available. If her name was the same as his, but she didn't want to go with him, she'd fall through the cracks of Megan's search. Megan decided she couldn't help that.

Young mothers, Megan thought. The older the child, the older the mother, probably. She needed to search for two young siblings. Like a four-year-old and a two-year-old, or such. With a shrug, she decided she'd organized her thoughts as much as she could for the time being. She turned to the database.

She started to build a table of all children age five or younger. That struck her as a bit confining so she changed the ages. Six or younger, she decided. She included the name and CAP score of the people connected to the record of the child. She alphabetized the list by the child's last name. She printed the result, so she could make notes right on the list. She set to work.

First, she highlighted children with the same last name, apparent siblings, whose ages added to five or more. She went back, scanning through mothers' names, and discovered some apparent cousins, same last name but different mother names. They wouldn't do for her search.

She suddenly realized that she had neglected to include in the table whether the mother had already agreed to be the concubine of another, husband or not. With a sigh, she re-built the table and printed it out. She discarded the first printout, fearing that confusion might otherwise result. She started again with her highlighting.

A few of the mothers were automatically rejected, as their CAP scores were below 5.0. One had insufficient maternal sub-scores, in spite of having two children. Megan wondered what their stories were, but didn't waste time. When she was done, she had a fairly large number of candidates. She showed the list to her mother, who rejected one whom she knew to be entirely too ditzy to live with. They discussed the remaining candidates, and how to go about evaluating them.

They decided that Megan would call on them at their homes during the day, in hopes that the candidate's man would be away at work. If the candidate wasn't at home, Megan was to re-visit the home at least two times. If Megan was still unsuccessful, they would make inquiries in an attempt to see what the candidate might be doing during the day. Jean and Megan went over Megan's pitch, making sure that Megan didn't come on too strongly, or make any promises. Megan would wind up the interview saying that she'd share her findings with her mom and dad and promptly communicate the results.

One of the benefits of living in such a small town was that living costs were low. Families could afford to have the wife and mother remain at home with small children. Usually, the mother would grow bored after the kids began to be in school all day, and found at least part-time work. Of course, some mothers worked and used childcare, and some mothers were single and had no choice but to provide for their families, but most intact families saw the mother of small children at home.

So Megan was able to meet with a number of candidates right away. They were all at least a few years older than Megan, but she was acquainted with all of them. As they visited together, Megan learned what she could about the mother herself and observed as best that she could the interplay of the mother with the children, and the children with each other.

Megan kept firmly in mind that she would be spending a great deal of time with the two young mothers who were selected. She tried her best to evaluate whether the candidate could become Megan's friend, whether she felt a lot of friction between them was likely, and that sort of thing. She wanted friends, but she knew she also needed women who would pitch in and actively cooperate in the rearing of the children and, perhaps, the running of the household.

By the end of the day, she had copious notes on each of the women she had met with. She returned to her mother's office and shared her findings. Jean was delighted, and praised Megan for her work. Megan promised to return to the task again the following morning.

"Kayla wants a rematch," Stacy gaily told Jenny and Michael over dinner. "She wants to fuck you boneless next time, instead of the other way around."

"Any time," Michael blushed. "I like Kayla. Next time, I get to be on top!" They laughed.

"Rachel's coming over tonight for a sleepover," Stacy announced.

"Oh, I bet you're gonna give me a hard time," Michael quipped.

"We had the other way around in mind," Stacy giggled.

Michael said, "I've gotta help distribute the newsletter in town first. I'll be back in an hour or so."

"That's cool," said Stacy. "We'll go to my room and tell nasty lies to each other," she winked.

Michael returned from his chore and made a beeline for the shower. Wanting some stamina for later, he tossed a load of jizz onto the shower wall. He rinsed away the evidence and climbed out of the shower. He returned to his room and pulled a clean long-sleeved tee shirt and sweat pants from his dresser. Worried that his imagination and anticipation would result in leakage in his crotch, he decided against going commando. He pulled on a pair of underwear and the rest of his clothes. He sat down in front of his computer and began to browse.

Half an hour or so later, there was a knock at his door. Rather than calling out, he opened his door to find Stacy and Rachel standing there, blushing and wearing nightgowns. "Michael, we need your help," said Stacy.

"Sure," said Michael, "come on in."

"Could you come to my room?" asked Stacy. He nodded and followed the girls. Once inside, Stacy and Rachel climbed to the top of the bed, sat down and turned to face him. Stacy nodded toward the door, and Michael closed it. She motioned toward the end of the bed and Michael sat down, facing them. The overhead light was off, but lamps on bedside tables on both sides of the bed, and a lamp on Stacy's desk, were on.

"What can I do to help?" asked Michael.

The girls alternated looking at each other and at Michael, blushing and shyly smiling. Finally, Stacy said, "We want to know about boys."

"Sure," said Michael. "Ask away."

"Michael," Stacy blushed, "We don't want to hear about boys, we want to *see* a boy."

Feigning shock and doubt, Michael took a moment to respond. "OK," he stretched out the word. "Whatever you want. My price is, whatever you get to see on me, I get to see on you. Whatever you do to me, I get to do to you. Agree?"

The girls looked at each other in surprise. Well, Rachel's surprise was real, but Stacy's wasn't. After they'd looked at each other, Rachel nodded ever-so-slightly. Stacy turned to Michael and said, "OK. Will you undress, please?"

"How about," Michael countered, "you take my clothes off instead. You can go as fast or as slow as you want. How do you want me to be?"

Again the girls consulted each other visually. "Say, you stay where you are. We'll take off your clothes. When we're done, you move up and lie down on the pillow on your back and lie still." Michael nodded acceptance and, after a pause while the girls steeled their nerve, they climbed off the bed and approached Michael.

Each of the girls collected a cuff of his shirt and began to pull. Michael's arms popped back inside his shirt and they released the sleeves. They each grabbed one side of the hem of his shirt and began to slowly lift, revealing first his abdomen, then his chest, then his neck until finally the shirt popped over his head.

"Rachel," whispered Stacy. "Touch his upper arm with your hand, like this, and then feel mine." Rachel hesitantly did as directed. "Now, feel our jaws and necks." She did, hesitation fading. "Here, let's feel his chest and tummy." Stacy did want Rachel to notice the very real differences, but what she really wanted was to make sure Rachel found a rock-hard cock when the pants came off.

"Stand up, Michael," Stacy directed. She collected the waistband of his sweatpants and, when Rachel had followed suit, began to pull downward. His underwear remained in place, revealed more and more as the pants went down. When she reached his knees, she released her grip. When Rachel did the same, the pants fell in a heap at his ankles.

They reached up and collected the band of his underwear and, this time more slowly, repeated their effort. When Michael's cock sprang free, Rachel gasped and covered her mouth. Stacy reached down and helped Michael step free of his clothes. Now completely nude, Michael turned and climbed onto the bed, landing where instructed, looking at the girls.

Stacy stood and bent to help Rachel to her feet. Stacy moved around the bed and climbed on, about even with Michael's hips. Rachel shyly did the same. The girls looked first at Michael's waving flagpole, then at each other, then at Michael's gently smiling face, then back again. "Wow," was all that Rachel could whisper.

With Rachel following her every move, Stacy first placed the palm of her hand on Michael's hip. She slowly stroked him, first up to his shoulder, then down, around and away from his crotch, all the way to his knee, then back, up his neck and over the side of his face.

By this time, Michael was leaking copiously, his cock bobbing to the ever-quickening beat of his heart. Michael was obviously in heaven. Rachel divided her time between looking at his cock with taking in the entire rest of the scene. This time, Stacy's hand moved down on her side of the middle of Michael's chest and abdomen. Her fingertips touched Rachel's, and they smiled at each other.

Stacy reached Michael's pubic hair and she made a show of combing her fingers through it, lifting tufts of it away from him. She proceeded downward, not touching his cock but remaining very close to it, rubbing the very base of it as she moved down the inside of the top of his thigh. Rachel's breathing was becoming audibly ragged and she was trembling.

Stacy moved back and, with two fingers lifted one of his balls. When Rachel had followed suit, she brought her thumb into play, gently squeezing and rolling it between her fingers. She started her fingers moving again -- straight north. When Rachel's fingers were with hers, they together moved up his shaft, two fingers each. When they reached the top, they smeared the lubricant around.

"Is this your first time, Rachel?" Michael whispered.

"No, but" Rachel hesitated, then stopped.

"Yeah, I know," said Stacy softly, "it was dark, and fast, and scary, and he erupted to a big mess. And then it was over, huh?" Rachel shyly nodded. "This is better. You can stop whenever you want, and no harm, no foul. Or you can keep going as fast or as slowly as you want."

"More?" was all Stacy asked. Hesitating, Rachel gave a slight nod. Stacy gently bunched the bottom of her nightgown, watching Rachel. Seeing that Rachel was frozen in indecision, Stacy slowly, sensuously began to lift her nightgown off her body. First her legs were exposed, revealing that she wore no panties, then her abdomen, then her breasts, and finally it was off. She extracted her arms from the nightgown and set it aside.

"Take your time, Rachel," Stacy whispered. "We have plenty of time. Wait until you want to. We don't mind. You're safe." Rachel gave her a wan smile, bunched the hem of her own nightgown, and started slowly up. She stopped before she exposed anything, looking at Stacy, tears beginning to form. "Stop, Rachel," she whispered. "Not yet. Not until it is no longer a struggle for you." Rachel's face shone in relief, and she smiled at her friend. "Let go of your nightgown." Rachel complied. "Here, come and feel."

"Don't cry, Rachel," Michael whispered. "Whatever you do, don't cry. This is all about you, Rachel. Only do what you *want* to do, and no more."

Rachel was visibly relieved. She released the hem of her nightgown and let her shoulders slump. Despite Michael's direction, tears began to roll down her cheeks, but she smiled. Stacy leaned over Michael's body and wrapped Rachel in a hug. "Thank you," Rachel whispered. Stacy rubbed Rachel's back, soothing her.

Stacy resumed her position. "Let's lighten this up a bit. I think it's time for a geyser!" She reached out and grasped Michael's still throbbing shaft. She began slowly moving up and down with her cupped hand. She looked at Rachel and saw her beginning to collect herself. Rachel was watching Stacy intently. "Help me, Rache," she said softly.

Rachel slowly and hesitatingly reached out and copied Stacy, her motion at first jerky but smoothing as she gained confidence. Stacy covered Rachel's hand with her own, ensuring that Rachel had just the right amount of pressure. Stacy withdrew her hand and left Rachel to do the job alone. Stacy turned and pulled open a drawer in the bedside table. She removed a jar of petroleum jelly. Then she sat and watched Rachel's progress, awe and wonder written all over her friend's face.

When she judged that enough progress had been achieved by Rachel, Stacy collected a gob of petroleum jelly on her finger. "Don't stop, Rachel, but watch this," she softly said. Stacy reached over, found Michael's sphincter, rubbed jelly around it, and then forced her finger deep within him and pushed up.

With a roar, Michael began to spray jet after jet high and away from him. Rachel squealed in surprise and delight. He battled futilely to keep his body still. Both girls laughed gaily, but Rachel was plainly shocked and amazed. When Michael was spent, they slowed and stopped. Stacy made a show of withdrawing her finger and cleaning it with a tissue.

"Inside his ass," Stacy said with a grin, "is the gland that makes his semen. It's sensitive and he almost always cums when I press on it. I don't know if it's pronounced pro-state, or prah-state."

"Sorta like you," Michael quipped. "Are they called lay-bia, or lah-bia?"

"What, these?" Stacy grabbed her lower lips. "These are called cunt lips." They all laughed.

Then, using her other hand, she scooped a white gob from Michael's chest onto her finger. Stacy watched as Rachel copied her. Stacy brought her finger under her nose, inhaling deeply of his scent. Rachel copied. With a wicked grin and watching Rachel intently, Stacy put her finger into her mouth and sucked it clean. Rachel grimaced, but steeled her nerve and did the same. The expressions on her face were quite a sight. Finally, she removed her finger and smiled.

Stacy collected another scoop on her finger. As she presented her gift to Michael, she said to Rachel, "If your man expects you to eat his spend, he oughta be willing to also." With no sign of hesitation at all, Michael opened his mouth and accepted Stacy's gift. He cleaned her finger and, after she had withdrawn it, he smiled at Rachel.

Stacy produced a wet washcloth, hoping that it didn't register with Rachel that she had prepared for this need. She quickly cleaned Michael's mess from his chest, abdomen and crotch. "If you wanna see a flaccid cock, Rachel, you'd better hurry. Michael will be hard again soon."

Michael had completely softened. Stacy and Rachel gently handled him. Rachel wondered aloud at the difference between hard and soft. But their attention soon brought the predicted results. As they watched and held him, his cock inflated until he was standing at attention again. "Wow," was all Rachel could say.

"I think Michael deserves a show of appreciation," Stacy said as she leaned over and delivered a loving kiss. She sat back up, looking first at Rachel and then at Michael. He was smiling, glancing between the two girls.

This time, there was no hesitation at all from Rachel. She bent forward and delivered a luscious kiss that deepened as time passed. Soon she and Michael were tongue-wrestling. She found Michael's hand and pressed it into her breast. Breaking the kiss only so she could see Stacy, she grabbed Stacy's hand and pressed it into her other breast. With a grin, she dove back in for more passionate kisses. Then, with a flourish, she yanked her nightgown from her body and threw it across the room. She held out her arms, sat cross-legged, and beamed at them both. Everyone laughed in pleasure.

"Rachel, let us both be the first to lick your tits," whispered Stacy. "Let us both do it at once. Let us lick both your tits at the same time." Rachel blushed, but nodded vigorously. Stacy shifted herself to lie beside Michael. Rachel lowered her chest and allowed each of them to collect a breast in their mouths. Soon they were licking and sucking and even gently biting her nipples. She squirmed in pleasure and moaned softly.

Stacy urged Rachel's leg over and wormed her hand between Rachel's legs, gently stroking her already wet pussy. Soon, Michael's hand found its way in there, too. Rachel was loving the attention she was receiving to her breasts and pussy. That went on until Rachel was more aroused than she had ever been. She put her face as near the ears of Michael and Stacy as she could, and whispered. "Michael, will you fuck me? Stacy, I'm scared, but I want to. Will you help me?"

Both Michael and Stacy released her tits and smiled warmly at her. "Sure, Rachel, if that's what you want. You don't have to."

"I want to, but I'm scared," whispered Rachel. "I don't know what to do."

Still lying beside her brother, Stacy softly said, "Your secret is safe with us. We trust our secret with you, too. Michael wants me to join his family with our mom. I haven't decided yet, but we're practicing making babies a lot. I'll show you how I did it the first time." Rachel beamed and nodded vigorously.

Stacy rose and straddled Michael's pelvis. She moved Rachel so that she could lower her head and get an excellent view. When she had Rachel positioned, she sat upright and collected Michael's cock. "Ya gotta already be wet before ya start. Run his cock through your slit so you can get him all wet, too. When he's wet enough, lift up, line him up with your entrance, and start to lower yourself down, taking him inside you. Do it slowly. When you feel him pop through your outer lips, stop." Stacy had been simultaneously doing the same things she was saying. She had stopped with Michael just inside her.

"When he's just inside you, and you've gotten used to what that feels like, the next step is to lower yourself more. When that feels all right to you, lift up again, until he's almost all the way outside you. Then lower yourself again. Gently, at first. Then do it again. Lift up and go down again, letting him slide a little deeper in you. Do it again and again, until he's all the way in and you're sitting on his legs. Hold still again until you get used to it. When you're ready, start lifting and falling on his cock. Gently at first. Go faster and harder at your own pace. Rachel, think about the biggest orgasm you've ever had. The first orgasm you have with Michael in you will blow that away."

Stacy bounced on Michael a few times and then moved her body off him and out of Rachel's way. Rachel immediately moved herself into position, grasped Michael's cock and began sliding him through her slit as she had seen and heard. Michael was already wet with Stacy's juices and didn't need much more. With doubt and determination painted on her face, she lifted herself up, aligned Michael and began to lower herself. When Michael popped through, her eyes got big in surprised pleasure. She held herself there for a moment and then began to lower herself. Stacy moved Michael's near hand onto Rachel's breast. His other hand followed and he caressed both of her breasts gently but firmly. Stacy gently stroked Rachel's back.

Rachel lifted herself up and back down again. She stopped and then repeated the maneuver again, with a bit more force. Again. Again. Each pass sent her lower until finally she sat at ease atop Michael's legs, her face full of joy and wonder. Michael and Stacy smiled at her.

Now accustomed to the feel of fullness, she began to rise and fall on Michael's cock. As instructed, but also because it simply felt right, she began slowly and let the pace and force build. Soon she was throwing herself down onto his pelvic bone with great speed and force, the undeniable sense of a massive orgasm building within her. Again and again she pounded herself into him. Suddenly, and like a freight train, the power of her orgasm sent her entire body thrashing, quaking and shuddering. She screamed. She kept pounding down on him, trying to make the orgasm last forever. Of course it didn't. She slowed and then stopped, smiling broadly.

"Go get another O, Rachel," whispered Stacy. With a grin, Rachel began again. Stacy moved behind Rachel. She whispered in Rachel's ear, "Lean down and kiss him." Stacy kept stroking Rachel's now-horizontal back. When Stacy caught the signs of Rachel's coming orgasm, she leaned over, parted Rachel's ass cheeks with her hands, and drove her tongue into the crack, licking for all she was worth. She got the response she wanted: Rachel began to scream, and shudder and thrash through her second orgasm. Rachel felt the jets of Michael's spend deep within her and the intensity of her orgasm only increased. When it had passed, Rachel stopped, but remained lying atop Michael's chest, his cock still buried deeply inside her.

"Where did you learn to do that?" she croaked. "That was unbelievable!"

"Liked that, huh?" Stacy chuckled.

Michael hugged her to him. "Thank you, Rachel," he whispered. "That was wonderful."

"Oh, no, thank you! Thank you both!" said Rachel.

"She did good, huh Mom?" said Stacy.

Rachel jerked upright, fright and shame all over her face, and turned to see the naked Jenny standing in the doorway. Michael and Stacy both soothed her. "That was wonderful," said Jenny softly. "I was afraid you two were killing her."

"Killing me with pleasure," smirked Rachel, now recovered. "Stacy's tongue felt like a live wire up my butt. I've never cum so hard in my life!" They all chuckled.

"Some of us have to be somewhere in the morning," Jenny said with a smile. "Rachel, how many of these hooligans do you want in your bed all night?"

"Both of them, if they will," Rachel replied without hesitation. Michael and Stacy smiled and nodded.

"One more thing, and then we'll settle down for the night," said Stacy. Moving the washrag in front of Rachel's pussy, she said, "Rachel, lift up. Don't be shocked. It's gonna gush outa you." Rachel did as she was told and the deluge occurred as predicted. Rachel made a sharp intake of breath in surprise anyway.

"Rachel, look at it. Then I'm gonna get rid of it." Rachel spent a moment examining the mess, then looked up at Stacy and nodded. Stacy first wiped up Rachel's pussy, then Michael's cock and balls. She rose to take it away, but Jenny intervened.

"I'll take care of that. You guys go to sleep. Rachel, if you need a refill during the night, try not to scream so loud." They all laughed. Jenny bid them good night and left the room.

Michael moved and made room for Rachel in the middle. Stacy cuddled up to her on the other side. Both Michael and Stacy cooed and kissed Rachel softly as she basked in the afterglow. Soon they were all asleep.