index


Message-ID: <32215asstr$998881802@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: kellis <kellis@dhp.com>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII
Subject: {ASSM} The Last Fling: Ms. Creighton's Hobby {Varkel} (Mfm Mm oral bi)
Date: Sun, 26 Aug 2001 23:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


The Last Fling

April to December Twice
Presented as a Series of Episodes by Varkel
Copyright (c) Varangian and Kellis, August, 2001



Episode 4:  Ms. Creighton's Hobby


"Just how old was Ms. Creighton anyway?" Jack asked, looking
around the room of mirrors.  It contained a huge custom-made bed
equipped currently with a thick mattress but no bedclothes.  The
ceiling directly above the bed consisted of a set of mirrors.  A
large plate glass mirror lined the wall behind the headboard.

Lou shook his head.  "The real estate agent didn't know.  All he
could say was she died of heart failure."

"Won't we all," muttered Jack dryly.  He looked up at the mirrors
and around at Lou's paunch, then grinned toward the two 18
year-old girls, presently wearing jeans and blouses.  "Well, I
see _two_ bodies that could make great reflections on that bed."

The girls giggled but Anita, the slim brunette, sobered quickly.
"Four!" she declared stoutly.  The two girls and Jack were
helping Lou make his decisions for new furnishings in the
Creighton house, a recent purchase.  Much of the late Ms.
Creighton's furniture remained.  Apparently her heirs had removed
everything they wanted.

"No, dear, though I thank you."  Jack sighed.  "One reflection of
my wrinkles, gray hair and broken veins in the doors behind my
hot tub was enough.  It will last the rest of my life.  Have you
ordered anything for this room, Lou?"

"Not yet.  Guess I'll keep the bed, even if the bedclothes have
to be custom made.  It appears to be bolted to the floor.  I was
thinking of putting a dresser over there under that dark mirror.
The room's large enough for a table, easy chairs and even a
couch, but look -- not a single window!  Can you imagine spending
much time in here?"

"Much time?"  Jack snickered, winking at Betsy.  "How much time
does it take?"

The blonde grinned widely.  "More time is better."  She rested
her knee atop the mattress and bounced, causing the ample flesh
within her blouse to undulate most attractively.  She looked up
at her reflection then askance at Lou.  "Hey, this could be fun!"

Lou took a deep breath and jotted something into his notebook
while muttering, "Sheets for the big bed, top of the list."

Jack grinned and turned to watch Anita examine the "dark mirror."
In fact the glass was notably darker than the mirrors around the
bed.  It was relatively small, hardly a foot square, framed in
molded mahogany.

The slim brunette regarded Lou, asking, "Why you wanna keep this
mirror?  A big'un 'ould work lots better."  As she spoke her
hands gripped the ornate frame and pulled outward, only to lose
their grasp.  She staggered back.  The mirror had not budged.
"That's funny!"

Lou turned and substituted his own hands to no greater avail.
"What do you know?  It's really bolted to the wall!"

Jack's eyebrows rose.  He approached and stood very close,
staring into the glass, then grinned around at Lou.  "I've seen
this kind of thing before -- in police interrogation rooms."

"You been to jail?" asked Anita in awe.

"Not exactly," Jack explained.  "I had a kid who went for me."

Lou studied the mirror with narrowed eyes.  "But that would have
to mean ..."

The other three trailed him as he purposefully left the room and
followed the adjacent hall to the next doorway, which admitted
into a bookcase-lined den.  He ducked into the den but backed
immediately out into the hall.

"That wall is too long!" he proclaimed, staring back down the
passage toward the mirror room doorway.

"Too long?" repeated Jack.

"Yeah.  I'd bet on a six-foot gap, at least, between these two
rooms.  Come on.  There must be a door into the gap, one that an
old woman could use."

The wall opposite the den doorway was also an outside wall of the
house.  The wall that should be shared with the mirror room was
lined with floor-to-ceiling bookcases, now empty of books.  Track
lighting was arrayed above it to aid in book selection.  Lou
flipped on the lights and began to inspect the bookcase.

"Aha!" he crowed.  "Look at the fingerprints on this riser.  I'll
bet you a hundred bucks --"

Something clicked under his probing fingers and a set of shelves
moved almost imperceptibly.  Pushing accomplished nothing, but
when he pulled on a shelf, the entire set, from floor to ceiling,
swung out on curved off-center hinges that allowed the moving
section to clear adjacent ones.  It constituted a 30-inch door,
now standing open.

"I'll be damned!" Lou declared, staring into the room beyond,
unlit except for light from a foot-square plate in the opposite
wall.

Jack, looking over Lou's shoulder, crowed triumphantly, "And
there's the back of your dark mirror!"

"Oh, wow!" breathed Anita, looking under his armpit.

"It's a secret room," declared blonde Betsy on tip-toe.

"Just like on TV," the brunette submitted.

Lou stepped past the bookcase section now become an open door and
felt around on the inside wall.  Something clicked and light
flooded the interior.  All four crowded into it.  They found an
oblong room, apparently L-shaped at the far end.  It contained a
couch on the left against the wall of the corridor they had
traversed from the mirror room.  Two straight chairs sat before a
large desk under the one-way mirror.  A rack of electronic
equipment was on its right.  A bulky television camera perched
atop a wheeled tripod beyond that.

While the men blinked around at the unexpected discoveries, Betsy
darted to the far end of the room, Anita just behind.
Momentarily they disappeared around the corner to the left but
quickly returned.

"You gotta see this!" proclaimed Betsy.

When the men had followed, they found a narrow passage with a
padded bench on one side lit only by a huge window on the other,
through which the entire great bed and mirror room were clearly
visible.

"Another one-way mirror!" breathed Lou.

"But this one is more modern," Jack said thoughtfully.  "Its
reflectivity on the other side is as good as the ceiling mirror."
Suddenly he began to chuckle.  "Ms. Creighton, what in the world
were you up to?"

"What do you think!" said Lou knowingly.  "This whole setup is
for spying on people in the mirror room."

"Yeah," Jack agreed, "and I'll bet at least one piece of that
equipment is a videocassette recorder."

He hurried around Lou and the girls to examine the contents of
the rack beside the desk.  After peering and prodding he mused,
"Not a VCR.  Three V_T_Rs!  Recognize them, Lou?  We bought video
tape recorders like these for our Audio-Visual rooms back in the
Seventies."

Lou nodded slowly.  "What do you think she recorded on them?"

"Yeah!"  Jack leered at the adjacent rack.  "There are the tapes,
half-inch thick reels, picture and sound, one-hour each, as I
recall."

Lou donned his reading glasses and leaned close.  Each boxed reel
had a label attached, printed in a neat hand.  Tilting his head
sideways to match the labels, he read, "'Two into One, Day 3,
January 12, 1977.'  Huh!  Get this one: 'Bob and the Reluctant
Tart, August 4, 1977.'  God, must be a hundred tapes here, and
most of them have labels."

An intrigued Betsy asked, "You mean they's something to hear on
them tapes?"

"And _see_," Jack explained.  He grinned at her.  "_Them_ tapes
is video tapes."

The brunette punched his arm lightly and admonished, "Talk right
to us."

He chuckled wryly.  "If you know better, why don't _you_ talk
better?"

"We's learning," she answered defensively.

Betsy touched the spine of a tape box tentatively.  "How do you
see what's in them?"

Lou looked up at his friend.  "That's the right question.  Think
you can figure it out?"

Jack leered at him.  "Have you forgotten who operated the
equipment at those private parties you arranged in the
audio-visual room?  Hand me one of those tapes and we'll give it
a whirl."

"How about _Fall Fivesome of 1980_?"

"Any one will do till I figure it out.  Shouldn't take long."

But Jack was mistaken.  He was able to mount the reel on a VTR
and cause it to play back, attested by a bouncing audio
indicator, but flipping power onto the large monitor above the
rack only resulted in snowy noise.  Panels with many switches
were below the monitor.  He began to play with them while the
reels turned slowly, muttering, "Why in hell did she need such an
elaborate distribution system -- with separate video and audio
amplifiers even?"

The girls' attention span had been exceeded.  Betsy asked, "You
mind if'n we goes to the game room?  We proved yesterday, the TV
works."

"Look out for the Playboy channel," Lou warned with a leer.

"What's that?" asked the brunette.

"Come on," the blonde retorted.  "We'll find out."

They stopped by the newly stocked refrigerator for cokes.  The
large-screen television in the game room was indeed usable,
though its picture was blurry and dim.  They settled on the couch
after finding a morning drama on which two young women were
assailing a young man apparently for his attention to a third
woman.  They both sighed with pleasure and swilled their sodas.
This was material that they could appreciate, even as the man
deftly set the two women arguing against each other.

"Luke used to do that to us," Anita remarked.

"Till I figured it out," Betsy retorted, adding smugly, "Then I
got Bucky doing it to Luke."

"Don't try it on Jack and Lou," warned the brunette.  "They's
been around too long."

"I ain't," Betsy protested, "least not yet."

They watched with pleased identification as the two women,
nodding knowingly at each other, turned upon the man in unison
again.  The argument went on and on, satisfyingly interminable --
until suddenly the sound popped.  At the same time the picture
flashed and changed completely.  Now a large room filled the
screen.  Two nude couples were copulating on a long couch -- no,
one of them was a threesome.  The sound contained moans, grunts
and pants.  A man's voice demanded, "Let _her_ suck awhile now."
The picture zoomed into the threesome as a kneeler's penis was
withdrawn from the mouth of the man on the bottom and presented
to the woman just above him.

Anita looked wide-eyed at Betsy.  "This must be the Playboy
channel.  How'd you get it?"

"I didn't do nothing," the blonde protested.  She got to her
feet.  "The old guys need to know about this."

They dashed down the hall to the den and the open bookshelf door
of the secret room, where they found that the men had drawn up
chairs before the rack-mounted monitor, on which the same scene
of five copulators appeared.  "You got Playboy too," Betsy
remarked.

"Playboy?"  Lou looked around in puzzlement.  "This is from that
tape."  He pointed to the turning reels.

"But it's on the game room TV too."

"Aha!" Jack proclaimed cryptically.  "That's what GR means."

The girls stood behind the men, hands on their shoulders,
watching the scene unfold.  "Who is them?" asked Betsy.

Lou shrugged.  "Who knows?  They look to be fairly young, maybe
in their twenties and thirties.  But this happened over 20 years
ago.  I never saw any of them before."

They watched the action silently for a while.  When the
configuration changed on the threesome, Jack muttered absently,
"I figured a sandwich would be next."

"I wish the camera would zoom up," Lou groused.  "_I_ think he
put his dick in beside the other one."

"It's still a sandwich," declared Jack.

"Not unless one is in her asshole," argued Lou.

"You're getting your wish...  Hmm.  You're right.  Both dicks are
in her cunt.  But it's still a sandwich."

Lou apparently felt that the point had been pursued far enough.
"Did you ever try that?"

"No.  I'm not the pervert that some of my assistants were."

"Pervert?  Watch out who you're calling names!"

"I've tried it," Betsy declared.

Both men turned to regard her.  Lou asked, "With Luke and Bucky?"

"No.  With the motorcycle gang Luke loaned me to."

Lou's expression showed horror.  "Jesus Christ, honey!"

She grinned languidly.  "It wa'n't so bad.  They asked me to stay
with them."  Her grin widened.  "Maybe I should've."

"Why didn't you?" asked Lou.

"'Cause they didn't want 'Nita."

"More fools they!" declared Jack.  His hand rose and clasped the
brunette's hand on his shoulder.  "_We_ certainly want her!"

"Oh, wow!" the girl breathed.  "I love you, Jack."

Attention returned to the monitor.  After awhile the camera swung
wider.

"Huh!" exclaimed Betsy.  She leaned toward the square that
admitted light from the mirror room, but soon withdrew with wide
eyes.  "That's the same bed!"

"Yeah," agreed Jack, "and the same room, just with more furniture
and some pictures on the walls.  But did you notice?  It was
before the headboard mirror went up.  I'll bet these views were
shot through this same little one-way mirror, using that camera
there on the tripod."

Lou asked speculatively, "By Ms. Creighton?"

"Probably, unless one of those women is she -- such as that
black-headed one who keeps turning her ass toward the camera.  I
think she knows it's there."

"Then who's running the camera?"

"Who knows?  I've been hoping to hear someone's name.  Who was on
the deed for this place?"

"Vivian Creighton as the owner and some man, signing for her
estate."

"Listen for Vivian ... or Viv or Vi."

But the sounds on the tape remained incoherent grunts, gasps,
pants and sighs -- until a door opened and a contralto woman's
voice called, "All right, take a break, children."

The camera was fixed on the couch, having zoomed back enough to
include both sets of people.  Its perspective did not change
further.  The entangled arms and legs separated.  Five people sat
up on the couch, looking to their right at someone beyond the
picture.

The voice sounded again.  "Getting the second one is tough, isn't
it!  The tape is running low.  Come on in the kitchen, grab a
drink and a munch and give you guys more time to recuperate."

Bodies gleaming with sweat got to their feet.  The plump,
auburn-haired but surprisingly tit-less sandwich meat
acknowledged in a soprano voice, "Whatever you say, Vi."

"I say come on."

All five shuffled off-camera to the left, leaving the room empty.

"She was right," remarked Jack, pointing at the nearly empty
supply reel.  He stopped the VTR.

"Thought you said they's good for an hour," groused Betsy.

"They are, but I wasted half of this one figuring out the setup."

"You think this stuff still works?"

"You just saw it working."

"I mean, to take more pictures."

"Probably.  But we wouldn't use this old crap.  It's obsolete as
the dickens.  It's older than you girls."

Betsy looked at the brunette thoughtfully.  "We could have some
real fun in that room and laugh at it any time we wanted."

Jack chuckled.  "That was probably La Creighton's motive too."

Lou regarded him with a cocked eyebrow and a leer.  "Want to go
in on some new video equipment, pal?"



* * *



"Where is everybody?" Lou called loudly, laying aside his book.
He sat alone in a newly purchased recliner in the Creighton den.
Though it was now the Mainwaring residence, Ms. Creighton had
owned the house for more than 30 years and it was too well known
under her name.  When he had given the address to his own choice
of maintenance company, the girl had exclaimed, "Oh, the
Creighton House!"  She had smiled at his protest.

Hearing no response to his query, he strolled down the hall to
the living room.  Let's see: Betsy had taken a taxi to the mall,
which one he did not inquire, for some feminine knick-knack in
the essential category.  Apparently she had not yet returned.
Jack and Anita had been playing cribbage in the upstairs den at
last notice.  Oddly Anita had turned out to be talented at
guessing the important next combination in that curious game,
invented by a mad accountant in Lou's opinion but beloved by
Jack, who had taught it to the girl and soon lost several games
to her -- or so Lou had interpreted the groans and squeals
overheard during the last few days.

Jack had said something about returning to his own place for a
change of clothing.  Likely Anita had accompanied him.

Lou gazed around the living room, not yet completely furnished to
his liking.  For a moment he took a certain comfort at being
alone in the house, as a young boy on a Saturday morning with the
new day ahead free for adventure.  Then he sighed.  Now he was a
old man and lonely.  He missed especially the chirping voices of
the girls.  Jack's growl would not be rejected either.

What to do?  Television?  Yuck!  He was tired of the book, a
trifling Roth about an elderly college professor's dalliance with
his student, chosen for its expectation of commentary on a
situation similar to Lou and Jack's.  The writer's refusal to
obey the fiction format conventions and his self-indulgent
concentration on academic issues left Lou unenlightened and
unimpressed.

There were always the Creighton tapes, if he could remember how
to thread them up as Jack had explained on the obsolete VTR.  By
now they had sampled five or six, but nearly a hundred rested on
the shelves in the secret room.  Her own generation would have
called Ms. Creighton a nymphomaniac for such an obsession with
sex.  A surprisingly varied mixture of people, white, black,
yellow, male, female and some uncertain, appeared in the several
hours they had watched.  Jack had guessed that a tape entitled
_Me with a Mouthful_, would reveal the face of Vivian Creighton
herself.  Apparently he had guessed right, judging by the
frequent "Vi's" from the several males she had serviced.  She had
zoomed her camera to a particular spot on the couch, where she
sat nude, and fellated them one after the other, nearly a dozen
young men whose faces never appeared.  Her own face, though
usually distorted by the effect of one or two penises in the
mouth, was readily visible because she required the men to
approach her from the side.  She knew of the camera even if they
didn't.  Unlike most porn flicks she had not permitted the men to
jack their semen into her face, insisting instead that she
extract it, during the orgasm at least, by her own efforts.  Lou
had found it the most inspiring tape so far examined.

The bang of a car door in the driveway interrupted Lou's reverie.
He moved into the foyer.  The front door opened before he could
reach it, revealing Betsy in the doorway with a large man
towering behind her.

"Hi, Lou."  The girl smiled before she stepped forward to embrace
him lightly and kiss his cheek.  "You didn't miss me that quick,
did you?"

Lou, hackles rising, glared over her shoulder at the handsome
young man who had entered behind her and stood with a half
concealed smirk on his face, craning his neck to look about the
luxurious house.  He was over six feet tall, and his sleeveless
shirt revealed sleek, well-muscled arms, one of which sported a
large tattoo.  This was not a boy, Lou confirmed with growing
chagrin, not a lad to play with.  He was imposing, if not
actually threatening in his demeanor.

"You said he was just sixteen," he accused Betsy, whose cheek
touched his own.

She opened her mouth to answer but he moved her to one side.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, lifting himself to full
stature as best he could.

The young man responded with a sneering grin.  He advanced
another step into the house.  Lou clenched his fists.  Where were
Jack and his damned pistol when you needed them?

Betsy, recognizing the signs of trouble only too well, quickly
moved between the two hostile males.  "This is Emile, Lou,
Jaimie's older brother," she said hurriedly with an elbow pressed
into the young man's chest.  "He just drove us here.  Jaimie is
getting my packages from the car trunk."

"How do you do," muttered Lou perfunctorily.

"Better than you," the young man responded in a humorous tone.
"My furniture's cheap but it's in a cheap house.  You don't have
that excuse."

Betsy looked wide-eyed at him over her shoulder.  "What'cha
mean?"

With one hand, as if the power required were negligible, he
lifted the glove table from against the wall until it was high
enough for everyone to see its underside.

"Look at that.  Plywood, and it's not even stained underneath.
The joints are clearly not tongue and groove.  See this?  That's
the stamp of a North Carolina factory whose output was mostly for
house trailers."

"So what?" asked the girl, baffled.

The young man looked at Lou.  "Is that your response too?"

Lou chuckled ironically.  "So the Florida beaches are turning out
interior designers these days -- with tattoos?"

"The beaches and Seward Tech."

Lou studied the man with somewhat less apprehension as he
restored the table against the wall.  "Are you actually a
designer?"

"When I graduate next spring."  He grinned.  "And here's your
play toy."

As he spoke a much slighter man appeared in the doorway bearing
several packages.  At the sight of his smooth, adolescent face,
fresh and seemingly innocent, Lou relaxed further, although he
remained attentive of Emile.

The tall man grinned with a touch of sarcasm.  "I doubt you'll do
my brother much harm, old man.  And Betsy, I'll talk to you
later."

"One moment," said Lou.  "I just bought this place.  If you're a
designer, you know the importance of your _commission premiere_.
Tell Betsy if this place interests you."

About to turn away, the young man's whole demeanor changed from
poorly concealed contempt to pleased surprise.  "I'll tell _you_.
Of course I'm interested!"

Lou smiled.  "Good.  Betsy will contact you for me."

"Thank you, _sir_!"

The young man turned and departed briskly, pulling the door
closed behind him.

Betsy asked, "Coe ... mees, meesyoe --  What's that?"

"The first commission, or job, for a young designer, very
important to his reputation.  Betsy, damn it, I warned you about
bringing older guys over here!"

"He gave us a ride, Lou."  Her eyes twinkled.  "He wanted to see
what Jaimie was getting into, or maybe what was getting into
Jaimie."

The lad blushed but lifted his eyes and said clearly, "Hi.  I'm
Jaimie."  He did not appear at all nervous, although as
previously described by the two girls, Lou could still believe
him to be shy.

"And I'm Lou."  The old man extended his hand, which the lad took
passively, allowing Lou to shake gently.

Betsy moved to the lad and put an arm around his waist.  He set
the packages on the floor and stood without responding as the
girl kissed him more than playfully and ran a hand up and down
the front of the slim body, finally cupping his groin.

"Do you want me to undress him, Lou, or would you rather do it?
He's your present."

Betsy said this without the least sarcasm, stating it as a simple
fact.  Lou opened his mouth to protest indignantly against the
idea of sex with a boy but realized he would never convince the
girl, who knew him too well.  He indeed wanted to see Jaimie
naked, but he made no move toward the lad.

"How old are you, Jaimie?"

"Sixteen."

"At least it's legal," Lou growled, actually stalling.  "Whose
idea was this?  I thought you were going to buy hygiene stuff.
Did Jack put you up to it?"

Her eyebrows rose in astonishment.  "Jack?"

He had to chuckle.  "Well, no, not Jack."

"'Nita and me thought it up.  Wait'll you see _all_ of him!"

Betsy reached for the lad's belt, and very soon he stood in the
middle room clad only in socks and underpants.  There was nothing
remarkable about the bulge in his shorts, Lou thought, assessing
the boy.  From there his eyes ranged higher to the brown hair in
need of trimming and the downcast brown eyes.  The lad was not
unusual in any way, neither especially pretty nor hairy as an
adult.  He appeared as so many boys his age that one might see at
the beach: fuzzy calves, sleek thighs and torso, some hair
visible at an armpit when he playfully tousled the kneeling
girl's head.  His face still showed the round planes of boyhood.
It was beardless except for a slight darkening on the upper lip.
He had smooth, unblemished skin, and Lou was tempted to extend a
hand to touch it.

"What do you think, Lou?" the girl asked, eyes raised in
anticipation.  "Let's have fun."

She turned back to the boy and pulled down his underpants to
release a half erect, circumcised penis that quickly grew rigid
under the staring eyes, suggesting that the claimed shyness was a
sham.  As the girls had promised, Jaimie was well hung.  His fat
organ jutted out over seven inches from an abundant pubic bush,
curving slightly upward.  Betsy popped half of it into her mouth
and looked across at the man with a twinkle in her eyes.  Lou
reached for his shirt buttons, his attention on the mouth and
embedded shaft, a sight that aroused him enormously.

Betsy removed her mouth with a popping sound.  "Do you want to
taste it, Lou?" she asked playfully, her hand on the shaft
pumping slowly.

Lou could not answer, nor could he move toward the boy despite
the long-held, secret desire rising in his chest.  In the past,
on those few occasions when he might have played with a boy, he
had always found rationalizations to resist the shameful
homosexual urge that he nevertheless recognized as latent in his
psyche.  He sought one now, but the boy defeated him.

"I've done it with guys before," Jaimie said in a quiet voice,
his eyes expressionless yet inviting.

"Of course he has, Lou."  Betsy grasped the naked boy's arm and
pulled him close to the man.  "Even with older guys like you.  In
fact, he hasn't had much experience with girls."

Lou regained enough of his senses to remember where they were
practicing this incipient bisexuality.  What if Jack walked into
the living room right now?  He shuddered.

"Pick up his clothes and let's go into the mirror room."

The lad paused, last through the door, to stare at the huge bed
and its mirrored surround.  "Wow!" he cried, eyes huge.  "Is that
where we gonna fuck?"

"In a minute," answered the blonde.  "Want some help with your
clothes, Lou?"

"No, thanks.  Get yours off too, Betsy.  All the way.  Get your
shoes and socks too, Jaimie.  Only whores go to bed with their
shoes on."

Lou had yet to decide on furniture for this room.  The
maintenance people had made up the outsized bed using Ms.
Creighton's sheets and pillows.  Jaimie sat on the carpeted floor
to tug off his sneakers.  "Whores!" he said with a grin.  "That's
me."

"You consider yourself a whore, Jaimie?" asked Lou, stepping out
of his shorts.

"When Betsy pays the twenty she promised."

"Jaimie!" cried the girl.  "I told you not to tell --"

Lou waved a hand.  "Never mind, sweetie.  It's probably better
this way.  I'll pay him.  Ah!  I understand.  You didn't want to
play with an old man who has a paunch like this, is that right?"

The boy shrugged and chuckled.  "I ain't gonna suck your paunch."

Lou caught his breath at the clear implication.  He took the
boy's hand and helped him, now completely nude, to his feet.
Standing in contact, shoulder and hip, he ran a hand across the
slim chest, a light touch of exploration, his palm brushing the
tiny nipples.  He looked into the young, expectant face and knew
that a kiss was permissible, that Betsy would want to see it.  He
leaned forward and kissed the boy's lips briefly.  His hand
hovered just above the impressive manhood.  His heart was racing
giddily.  He trembled at the power of his temptation.  Would he
at least once before he died have sex with a boy?

He took a very deep breath.  "First of all I want to watch you
two fuck."

"Let's do it!" the blonde exclaimed.  She flung herself onto the
side of the large, high bed, on her back with large breasts
bouncing and legs dangling over.  Lou stepped up to the girl and
confirmed that without even bending his knees he would be able to
penetrate her.  But he stood aside.  With unmistakable gestures
he invited Jaimie, about his own height, to slip between the
eager legs instead.

Betsy lifted her feet onto the mattress, raised her knees high
and hunched her lower body forward to provide a better target.
Jaimie needed no encouragement, although Lou pressed the boy
forward with a hand on a perky butt cheek.  Lou watched
breathlessly as the boy's shaft quickly disappeared into Betsy's
pubic bush and half emerged before plunging again.  Jaimie thrust
with arms akimbo, dimples appearing and vanishing in his buttocks
cheeks, grinning around at Lou, whose one hand caressed the lad's
shoulder while the other cupped the girl's nearby knee.  Betsy's
legs closed above the boy's hips.  She also stared at the
fascinated spectator but with eyes that became increasingly
unfocused.  Lips parted, the upper one curling slightly, she
found her clit with two fingers and lost herself in blissful sex.

Lou had dreamed of such an opportunity.  Reaching through the
boy's straining legs, he slipped both hands between boy and girl
at the point of contact, thumbs spread to grasp the plunging
penis, palms resting on clitoris and perineum.  At the bottom of
each thrust his hands were compressed between the two
well-fitting bodies.  He clearly felt the scrotum bouncing on the
back of the lower hand.  Suddenly possessed of the idea, he
advanced the lower fingers along the slippery shaft, worming into
the vagina beside it.  The girl gasped and began to moan.  He
clearly felt her sphincters clip fingers along with penis.  The
odor of hot female rose to his nostrils.

"This is _terrific_!" he mumbled involuntarily, curling the first
digits of the engaged hand's remaining two fingers into her anus,
wishing that he had thought to get beneath her and furnish his
own penis to plug that tight spot.

He realized that another such avenue was fully available.
Releasing the heaving bodies reluctantly, he moved behind Jamie
and encircled the narrow waist with both arms, a rigid penis
pressed to the lad's lower back.  Stooping only slightly would
allow access to this puckered anus.  He was mustering the courage
to venture a dry penetration, when a spasm shook the boy, who
groaned aloud.

"No!  Don't stop now!" Betsy screamed in frustration, when Jaimie
heaved back, his wet shaft falling free of the girl.

Lou pushed the boy aside and took his place before her, easily
slipping his cock into the sloppy hole.

"Ah-h-h," she sighed, her closed eyes neither seeing nor caring
which hero would assist her achieve the ecstasy so near at hand.
Lou watched her pretty face reveal the onset of orgasm by means
of grimaces and flaring nostrils.  She moaned, whined and soon
gasped as the pleasure struck powerfully and caused her blushing
body to shiver.  After a moment her eyes opened and she smiled at
the man who continued to piston in and out in search of his own
reward.

"Do you want to fuck Jaimie now?" she asked dreamily.  "You won't
have to pretend this time.  He's a real boy."

"I'm almost there, darling, almost there," Lou moaned, quite
content with his current partner -- except that a headache was
forming in his temples.  "Oh, no!" he cried, raising one hand to
his head.

Betsy's eyes narrowed in concern.  She raised her sweating body
against him.  "No, Lou, not standing up!  Come, get on the bed.
I'll lie on top of you.  Here, Jaimie, help us."

"What's the matter?" asked the bewildered lad, contentedly
jacking out his last drops.

"Never mind!" the girl snarled, pulling Lou down upon the bed
beside her.  With a powerful heave she rolled him on his back and
scampered atop him, feeling for the rigid organ.  "Hold his legs
up!" she ordered over her shoulder, in response to which the lad
caught Lou's legs, dangling off the bed to the floor, and raised
them to waist height by the ankles.

Lying prone promised to eliminate the pain in his head, but now
Lou had another.  "Oh, my knees!" he cried.

As her vagina found its objective, the girl, still looking back,
commanded, "Kneel down and put his legs over your shoulders."

Again the boy obeyed, asking, "Why don't you just move him
further up on the bed?"

She snarled, "I would have if'n you didn't stand there a-jacking
yourself like a bedtime story."

Lou, feeling much better, made a note to ask the girl how a
bedtime story might jack off.  But at that moment his orgasm,
only somewhat delayed by tumult and now-vanquished pain, chose to
arrive.  "Oh, god!" he screamed, feeling a wonderful intensity.

Something foreign squeezed the base of his shaft concurrently
with the first dribble.  Briefly the sweet vaginal compression
vanished -- only to reappear more tightly elsewhere.  Lou
screamed with each spasm until mercifully the pressure vanished.

The girl was panting from the earlier exercise that Lou had
endured only briefly.  He looked up at her breasts, jiggling just
above him, and demanded, "What happened?"

The blonde's eyes twinkled.  She called over her shoulder, "Show
him, Jaimie."

The grinning boy moved up on the bed beside them.  He leaned down
and opened his mouth carefully.  Lou plainly saw the watery white
contents.  Yes, of course.

The lad ostentatiously swallowed, Adams-apple bobbing.  He
re-opened an empty mouth and grinned even wider.  Lou, sexual
motivations momentarily extinguished, turned his face away.

Jaimie asked, "Betsy, how'd you know I didn't swallow it
already?"

"'Cause you like to taste it."  She reached behind her to grasp
the rapidly softening organ.  "Want us to suck on you some, Lou?"

"I'm finished now, Betsy," he wheezed.  "I think I'll take a
nap."

When she rolled off him, he turned away and curled into a fetal
position.  The bed jiggled as Betsy crawled off it.  The two
young people whispered together beside it.  He heard Betsy
declaim under her breath, "He really wants it, I don't care what
he says."

Lou felt the mattress sag as another body arrived upon it from
behind and lay next to him.

"Can I take a nap with you, Lou?"  It was the boy.

Lou turned over.  His sex drive was exhausted but not his
curiosity.  Here lay the naked body of a boy, somewhat beyond
adolescence but yet far from full adulthood, available to his
hand and anything else he cared to employ.  His earlier
excitement returned unbidden. He palmed a smooth cheek and pulled
the boy closer to kiss the ready lips and receive the mutual
return.  He looked around.  Betsy was no longer in the room.

"Why are you doing this, Jaimie?" he asked.

"Because of the money."  The lad's tone added "obviously."

Obvious indeed, the man thought to himself.  Why else would a lad
tolerate such a reminder of his own eventual decrepitude?  At
least Betsy was spending his money for a good cause.  He almost
grinned.  Truly only $20?

"You haven't dealt much with old men, have you, Jaimie?"

"No.  But they ain't so bad."

"I'm glad you think so.  Tell me something, if you will.  You
obviously like girls and I suspect they like you.  Why do you
fool with men at all?"

"Girls hide everything."

"What do you mean?"

"But a dick jizzes.  I like that."

"Betsy was right, you like to taste it."

"Yeah.  Sometimes, if you hold it in your mouth, it turns sweet."

Lou's stomach did a flip-flop.  "Never heard of that."  He
inhaled deeply before continuing.  "Then I take it you're willing
to do everything, even butt fucking?"  He squirmed his naked body
against the youth's.

"Sure, Lou.  I'll even fuck you, if you want."

The man shuddered at the thought, although he did not entirely
dismiss the possibility.  His interest was building.  His penis
was half erect again.  This was a unique opportunity.  He
resolved to go all the way this once on the solemn promise to
himself never to do it again.  Taking a deep breath, he grasped
the boy's manly shaft, unsurprised to find it fully erect, and
began to kiss down the sleek body in that direction.

The rattle of a doorknob led to a draft and Betsy's cry, "No,
Jack, no!  Don't go in there.  Please!"

Jack had arrived?  Lou flopped away from the boy and jerked
erect.  Jack, his face a dark cloud, was marching into the room
with Betsy, now dressed in halter and shorts, hanging on his arm.
Anita, dressed similarly, stood in the doorway with a solemn face
but a twinkle in her eyes.

"Lou!" cried Jack, drawing near.  "Damn it, what's come over you?
I'm going to save --"

Lou held one hand palm up and declared loudly, "Jack, remember
where you are, damn it!"

Jack halted as if the hand were pressed into his chest.  He
blinked and his mouth fell open.  He swallowed.  "Lou ..."

"Did you want to see me about something?"

Jack actually blushed.  So far he had avoided looking at the
naked lad, now also sitting up with a sly grin.  The tall man
squared his shoulders and took a deep breath.  "Lou, do you
recall the Adelaide Ventures affair?"

"Yes, of course."

"You talked me out of a very bad decision.  You told me I
wouldn't be able to sleep at night if I went ahead.  You were
right.  That is, you would have been if I hadn't listened."

"So?"

"So I'm telling you the same thing."

"But that was about a new acquisition."

Jack's eyes narrowed.  "So is this."

Chin high, Jack spun on his heel and marched out of the room with
dignity.  Betsy shrugged eloquently at Lou and closed the door
behind all three.

"What did that mean?" asked Jaimie.

"It means the party's over."  Lou got up tiredly from the bed and
stooped for his clothing.  "Better get dressed.  Betsy will pay
you."

"You mean I gotta leave?  But she said I'd be here all
afternoon!"

"I'm afraid not, at least not this time.  She'll call you a
taxi."

"Huh!  A taxi?"  The lad's derision changed to grudging
acceptance.  "Okay.  I guess a taxi will actually come to this
neighborhood."

"It won't to yours?"

"Nah."

"Whose fault is that?"

"Chicken drivers."

"Uh-huh.  Tell me something, Jaimie.  Why doesn't a 16 year-old
boy have his own car?"

The lad's face soured.  "I did.  A girl wrecked it."

"Then you have a driver's license."

"Well, a limited one.  I can't drive after dark."

"At least you truly are sixteen!"  Lou, feeling better, went to
the door and called for Betsy.  While he waited his reacquired
equanimity collapsed.  He had finally recalled the one-way
mirrors.



* * *



Betsy took her seat beside Lou with obvious reluctance.  "Do I
really gotta do this?"

"No, of course not," he answered, turning the ignition switch and
rotating slightly in his seat before backing the car from its
stall.  "But you do want pretty teeth, don't you?"

She heaved a sigh.  "How can they be pretty if'n they ain't in my
mouth?"

He chuckled indulgently as the car rolled slowly into the street.
"The dentist explained that, honey.  The reason your front teeth
are so crooked is that they're crowded from behind.  With four
pulled you'll have enough room and the braces can straighten them
all out.  They'll fill up the gap where the four came from."

"Yeah, I know what he _said_.  But ain't they some other way?"

"Like what?"  The car accelerated along the boulevard.

"_I_ ain't no dentist!  How do I know.  Maybe shaving a little
off each tooth to make room?"

He said admiringly, "That almost sounds reasonable!  I wonder if
they ever tried it."

Her eyes lit.  "Let's ask him!"

He shook his head.  "Believe me, honey, if it would work, they'd
offer it.  Dentists are as greedy as everybody else.  I only know
of one alternative."

"Anything's better'n pulling four teeth!"

"Maybe not.  My alternative is to pull all of them and give you
dentures instead.  In a week you'd have perfect-looking teeth."

"Pull _all_ of them?"  She was aghast.

"This oral surgeon could do it for you."

She made a gagging sound.  "That makes me wanta throw up."  Her
face showed an ugly snarl.  "I'd rather be dead than be like
granny."

He cut an eye around at her.  "But think about it.  You could
give the best head in the county."

"What?"  She sniffed.  He could feel her glare until suddenly she
giggled.  "You's teasing me again, ain't'cha?  Besides, I already
give the best head in the county."

He chuckled.  "Pretty close."

"You think Jaimie does it better?"

"What?  He didn't ... really ..."

"He just caught the juice.  That's the easy part.  Cranking it up
is the real work."

"How did you arranged that with him?"

"_I_ didn't do it.  He thought of it.  Jaimie likes girls but he
loves jism too.  He woulda done anything you wanted.  He even
told you that."

"Ah, uh, well, if Jack hadn't come in ..."  Lou actually
squirmed.  "You _knew_ they were watching us, didn't you!"

She giggled.

The man continued aggrievedly, "I should've known, when you
turned your ass to that big mirror."

She shook her head.  "Lou, you's always after 'Nita about playing
the boy.  I thought you'd go nuts over a real one that likes it.
I left you alone with him just for that."

"Thanks, I guess," he said dryly.

"You _guess_?"

"Betsy, next time stick around, will you?  It's not so ...
unspeakable when a girl is part of it."

She studied him wonderingly but didn't argue.  Instead she asked,
"You handled his cock.  You think it's as big as Jack's?"

"Huh!  I never got a close look at Jack's."

"It ain't _that_ big, but it's bigger'n most.  If'n you wanta do
anything with it or fuck Jaimie's ass, say the word and I'll get
him back."

"When?" he asked.

"Whenever you say."  Her hand squeezed his thigh and she gulped.
"Lou, promise me you won't let them pull but four."

He shrugged.  "They're your teeth, honey.  Four it is.  But if
you're not sure you want it, I'll turn the car around.  We'll
cancel your appointment."

She sighed.  "I'd be a fool, wouldn't I?"

"Let me put it this way.  With straight teeth you'll have a
dazzling smile."

"Like 'Nita."  Betsy sighed again.  "'Nita's so lucky!"

"You think so?  Everything about her is small, including her
teeth.  But I guess you've noticed, I prefer my big girl."

"You just like big boobs."

"Yes, honey, and do you ever have them!  And that's not all."

"Yeah.  I got a big ass too."

"And that I truly love.  You won't be much surprised, I suspect,
to hear that I've, ah, fooled with a lot of women in my time.
Betsy, you've got the best ass of them all."

"Really, Lou?"

"That squeezing trick you do is unmatched."

She giggled.  "Good thing I ain't got no teeth down there, ain't
it?"

"Oh, yes!" he responded emphatically.

She added in tones of disgust, "'Cause if I did they'd pro'ly
need straightening too."

In the surgeon's waiting room Betsy fidgeted uncomfortably for
the two or three minutes she had to wait after being announced.
Then the nurse stood in the door, calling for "Betsy Elaine
Coggins."  The blonde answered with a grimace, "That's me," and
got to her feet with obvious reluctance.

"Good luck," murmured Lou, patting her tense arm.

She disappeared through the door without looking back.  He sighed
and found himself a copy of _Florida Beach Life_, a magazine
noted for its bikini foldouts.  Ten minutes later his chin sagged
to his chest.  The magazine slid to the floor, displaying a
picture of the mansion next to Creighton House, the beach view of
which he had failed to recognize.  He was fast asleep.  The woman
waiting across the room knelt before him long enough to pick up
the colorful magazine.  She returned to her seat and leafed
through it, sniffing at the bikinis but pausing at a sequence of
young men playing beach volleyball.  It was a popular magazine.

"Excuse me.  Are you Mr. Mainwaring?"

Lou snapped awake to find a young nurse bent toward him.
"Th-that's me," he stuttered.

"Would you please come with me, sir?  Dr. Coltrane wants to speak
to you."

He stared up at her.  "Who's Dr. Coltrane?"

"This is his office.  It's about your granddaughter."

"She's not ...  Ah, very well.  I'll speak to the doctor."

Lou stumbled to his feet and followed the crisply uniformed young
lady to a door marked _Private_.  The woman knocked and ushered
him in.

The door closed and he found himself facing a man in a white coat
seated behind a desk, who demanded harshly, "You're the
grandfather of Betsy Coggins?"

Not for the first time Lou wondered if claiming a girl could
become binding in the manner of a common-law marriage.  But from
long experience in boardrooms he recognized a confrontational
attitude.  He barked, "What if I am?"

"Then I have to decide whether or not to sue you, if you're the
responsible party."

"Sue me?  Because I let her teeth get crooked?"

"I'm a surgeon, not a lawyer, so I don't know exactly what claim
to make.  Disruption of my office routine, perhaps; making me a
laughingstock to my employees; personal assault, surely."

"Oh?"  Lou squinted.  "Where's your black eye?"

"It's not visible," the man retorted, his voice rising.

Lou had not been invited to sit.  He crossed his arms.  "What
happened?  Are you the doctor?"

"I am Dr. Coltrane.  I removed four of your granddaughter's teeth
a few minutes ago.  Before that, however, she had very
deliberately and precisely struck me in the testicles with her
fist."

The man's face had reddened until it was almost purple.  Lou had
seen a similar darkening upon Jack just before nitroglycerine was
called for.  Choking back an incredulous laugh, he raised a
placating hand.  "Take it easy, doctor.  It's dangerous to get so
angry.  I gather you're satisfied she did it on purpose, but I
assure you, I know my granddaughter most intimately, and I've
never heard of her striking a man there, accidentally or
otherwise.  Why are you convinced it was deliberate?"

"Because she cursed me first."

Lou studied the man's face.  "What had you done to her, doctor?"

Much of the ruddiness departed.  The doctor took a breath.  "I
was applying the anesthetic.  My needle slipped and apparently
struck a nerve before it could be deadened.  This is not at all
an uncommon occurrence."  He conceded, "I suppose the effect was
rather painful for her."

"Oh, yes!"  Lou shuddered.  "Where is she now, doctor?"

"Still in the chair, recovering consciousness."  He glanced at
his wristwatch.  "She should be able to leave in another ten
minutes."

"'Recovering consciousness?'"

The doctor sniffed.  "Strictly from the effects of the
anesthetic."

"May I wait with her?"

The man thought a moment.  "I don't see why not."  He pressed a
button on his desk.

"I apologize for her excessive response," Lou said with level
gaze, "and offer you a piece of advice.  You say you're the
laughingstock of your employees.  That won't be a problem when
they recall who pays their salaries.  But if you sue Betsy, I
guarantee you'll be the laughingstock of the city too."

The door opened behind Lou, admitting the same nurse.  The doctor
glowered.  "She should have no complications, but if she does,
kindly do not bring her back here.  The dentist will find an
alternative.  Nurse, please conduct Mr. Mainwaring to Chair
Five."

She reminded him, "It's occupied, sir."

"Don't argue with me, especially not _now_!"

"Yes, sir.  This way, Mr. Mainwaring."

The nurse left him in a small room full of cabinets and weirdly
connected metal arms, closing the door behind her.  Betsy lay on
a fully reclined dental chair, a bloody bib over her chest, her
arms dangling almost to the floor.  Lou's first act was to raise
her hands to lie within the short armrests.  He pushed back the
segmented dental trays, drew up a stool and sat close on her
right.

She seemed asleep, chest rising and falling peacefully.  He
raised enough to lean over and kiss her forehead gently.  As he
removed his lips from contact, he saw that she had smiled.  One
eye had opened to study him.  The pupil was dilated.

"You made it, honey," he whispered.

Her shoulder twitched.  Her hand freed itself from the armrest
and crept up the inseam of his pants.  He was standing bent over
her as the surgeon must have done.  He sincerely hoped that she
didn't mistake him --  But she caressed the present set of
testicles gently.

He heard steps in the hall, reached between his legs and withdrew
her hand, clasping it in his own.  He brought it up to his lips
and kissed the fingers lovingly.

"Mm-mmm," she tried to say.  A tear rolled out the corner of her
eye to be absorbed by her golden hair.

"They've got your mouth packed," he told her.  "Someone will come
in shortly to clean it out.  I'll bet your lips are dry."  He
looked around.  Where was the bowl of constantly spinning water
he recalled in dentists' offices, where they often advised you to
spit?  He shrugged, gathered saliva to his tongue, leaned over
again and laved her lips.  He tasted blood.  The hand he still
held squeezed his knuckles.

"You're welcome," he responded gravely.

A nurse popped through the door.  "Well, Ms. Cog--  Sir, who are
you?  You're not allowed in here!"

"I have the doctor's permission," Lou replied.  "I'm her
grandfather."

"Oh.  Did he speak to you?"  Her eyes were definitely twinkling.

"Yes."

The woman leaned over the chair and whispered, "This girl is a
hero, you know."

"I know," Lou said quietly.  "Did his needle do any damage?"

"Not compared to pulling four teeth."  The woman snickered.  "All
the real damage was done to that arrogant bastard's dignity."
She raised her voice to normal levels.  "Good!  You're awake, Ms.
Coggins.  Let's get all that junk out of your mouth so you can go
home.  If you'll just stand back, sir ..."

Lou supported the sagging girl with one arm while he waited at
the checkout counter for the clerk to record his credit card.  He
took their papers, jammed them into his pocket and turned to go.
The woman muttered something.  He leaned closer.  "I'm sorry?"

Her eyes twinkled.  She murmured, "Wish I'd been in the room,"
then raised her voice to a normal level.  "Thank you, Mr.
Coggins."

"Mainwar--  Yes.  Okay."

He assisted Betsy from office to car.  She behaved much like a
drunk, leaning heavily on Lou, arm around his neck.  She was
snifling, tears running down both cheeks.  "Oh, Lou," she
murmured.  "Oh, Lou, oh, Lou."

As Lou fumbled with the buttons on his keychain to unlock the
car, a young woman in a dress ran up to him, holding out Betsy's
purse in an extended hand.  "You left this, Miss Coggins," she
called.

Lou took it.  "Thank you, ma'am.  Look at this girl, won't you,
please.  Why is she crying?  What else did they do to her?"

The woman's eyes sparkled.  "Oh, you can bet that Dr. Coltrane
was _very_ careful after his little accident!  That's just
typical of the anesthetic wearing off.  She'll be her old self in
ten minutes."

"Okay.  Thank you."

"No, thank _her_ when she recovers -- from all the girls in
Coltrane's office."

Opening the car door, Lou grinned at her.  "He must be a son of a
bitch."

"He is!  He just cut everyone's salary."

Lou forbore pointing out that a cut might be preferable to
discharging half of the staff -- though perhaps only to the ones
who would otherwise have been fired.  He had applied such cuts
more than once himself.

He made sure Betsy was belted into her seat beside him and
started home.  She leaned her head on his shoulder.  "Oh, Lou."

"You'll feel better soon," he told her, maneuvering in lunch-time
traffic.

Shortly she began to giggle.  She said distinctly, "You shoulda
seen his face!"

"You _are_ feeling better!"

A bit farther along the giggles ceased.  "I can't believe I
slammed the doctor in the balls!"

"I'll bet it happens more often than you ever hear.  The dentist
stands there with his balls hanging right over your hand."

"He sat down backwards," she said, her voice conveying
astonishment, "and puked on the floor.  The nurse had to clean it
up."

"What did he say?"

"Sort of a little squeak."

"He said you cursed him first."

"Huh!  I tried to, but all I could get out was a grunt.  My mouth
was full of crap."

"I don't suppose he had any trouble interpreting your grunt.
Didn't he apologize?"

"I didn't give him the chance."

"Well, honey, as a general rule, you know you can't go around
whacking your doctors in the balls."

"I guess not.  Will it cause you any trouble, Lou?"

"He might sue me, but I doubt it after he thinks it over.  Did he
say anything to you after he recovered?"

"That's funny.  The last thing I remember was him puking on the
floor ... until you kissed my head.  Oh, Lou!"  She craned her
neck and kissed the edge of his chin.  Her breath smelled bloody.
"I'm so glad you came with me!"

"So am I."

She straightened a bit, withdrawing her arm.  "I'm hungry.  When
we get home, I'm gonna nuke two dinners."

"Better take it easy.  They gave me a sheet of directions for
you."

"It better let me eat, or I'll hit it in the balls too!"

He laughed.  But the anesthetic was truly wearing thin when they
arrived at Creighton House.  Betsy popped three of the Darvoset
pills wrapped with the recovery instructions and went to bed.



END Episode 4
Next:  _Home Schooling_

Contacts
  Varangian:  ludmax11@hotmail.com
  Kellis:  kellis@dhp.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations.         |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+