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Subject: {ASSM} The Great Blowjob {Varkel} [5/5] (MMFF MMfff FFmm mf)
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Date: Fri, 28 Oct 2011 20:10:01 -0400
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The Great Blowjob
a Novelette by Varkel
Fall, 2011


*Part 5 of 5*


The Cessna contained two seats side-by-side for the pilot and one 
passenger.  Lesley opened the right-hand door, retrieved a blanket from
the rear compartment, spread it on the leather seat and grinned at 
Linda.  "The blanket will protect your bottom from sticking to the 
leather.  Go ahead and get in."

"You're very thoughtful," she said, obeying.

He closed the door and paused at the front of the plane, obviously 
studying the sand ahead, before entering on the left, taking the other 
seat and buckling seatbelts over them both.  He regarded her with a 
twinkle.  "Have you ever flown before?"

"Tuesday I flew down here from Cleveland."  She took a deep breath.  "I
never flew in a small plane before."

"Early in the morning the air is very smooth.  You should enjoy our 
flight."

"Oh, Lesley!"  Her hand rose and squeezed his bicep.  "I just know I 
will."  She smiled beatifically.

He chuckled and turned his attention to starting the engine, which was 
soon running smoothly.  "This will be a little bumpy until we get 
airborne," he cautioned, advancing the throttle.

A little bumpy!  Linda would have waved goodbye to her friends around 
the campfire but found it necessary to hold on tight to the door handle
and the edge of her seat.  The aircraft seemed to leap ahead, however.
Very soon the bouncing stopped as beach and ocean fell away below.

"How exciting!" she declared.  As the plane banked for its turn inland,
she grasped her knees and added, "Oh, this is fun!"  Out the window 
behind the man she could see the entire width of the island, scattered 
diagonally with a great streak of trash, a column of smoke rising from 
the end near the ocean.  She caught one glimpse of her friends gathered
around the smoke then exclaimed, "I see more water on this side of the 
land!"

Over the roar of the engine still set to takeoff power she understood 
him to say, "That's because you were on an island, part of the Outer 
Banks."

She blinked and repeated, "An island!"

He lifted a radio headset from its clip on the control panel, perched it
on his head and raised a microphone to his lips.  She could tell he was
speaking into it but could not decipher the words.  After awhile she 
understood _survivors_ and surmised that he was reporting the discovery
of her friends.  He unfolded a map from the case beside his seat and 
referred to it during his report.

She craned her neck, looking out all the windows.  Below she saw dark 
green land, broken by a gray winding river and curving roads.  At the 
horizon it merged with yellowish haze and deep blue sky, speckled with 
puffy clouds.  She realized this was what people meant when they spoke 
of "God's view of the world."  Her body thrilled almost as it had when 
Greg ejaculated into her last night.

Leslie retracted the throttle somewhat and the engine roar subsided a 
lot.  He hung the microphone back on its clip and smiled at her.  "Now 
the world will know about God's mercy."

"You told them about us, didn't you?"

"Sure did."  He grinned widely.  "I think it blew their socks off."

"It was a tornado, wasn't it?"

He chuckled in disbelief.  "How could you not know?"

Her face went blank.  "It knocked us out!  I think we were out until it
dropped us on the beach.  Blake said it was a tornado, but we students 
didn't see anything."

"Blake who?"

"Bingham.  The Binghams and the Carters were the two adult couples."

"Where'd they come from?"

"From Walton."

"They were ... what would you call it? -- _transported_ there by the 
tornado, just like you kids?"

"I believe so."

"That is absolutely incredible, you know? ...  Did the tornado strip off
everyone's clothes too?"

She smiled sheepishly.  "Not exactly.  The boys were in the shower on 
the second floor.  The dorm A/C was out so Dorothy and I were beating the
heat on the third floor."

"What about the adults?"

She took a breath.  "Blake said they were nudists, going naked in the 
backyard."

"Nudists!"

Her eyes sparkled.  "Actually I don't think that was true.  They arrived
at the beach on a big bed.  From what they let slip -- especially the 
women -- I think they were ... having sex together on that bed when the
tornado hit."

"Good heavens!  You really think so?"

She hesitated then her hand closed on his knee.  "Lesley ... I don't 
think there's any other way to say it: they love to fuck, all four of 
them."

"Linda!"

She leaned closer to him with a smile.  "Did I shock you, Lesley?"

"You ... you ..."  With parted lips he eyed her speculatively.

Her smile widened and her hand rose to his neck.  "Oh, I_ did_ shock 
you!  I'm sorry, Lesley, but that really is what they love the most.  
They even showed us how much."

He gulped.  "What do you mean, they showed you?"

"They ..." She hesitated but plunged ahead.  "We learned a great deal 
last night, more than we ever could have expected."

He stared at her and licked his lips.  "About what, Linda?"

"About other people.  About ourselves...  It made us question...  
Actually it made me doubt that CLC will teach us what's important.  
Virginity certainly is not."

He blinked several times.  "Did they tell you that?"

"Not in so many words.  They _showed_ us that."

He took a deep breath.  "What are you saying, Linda?"  His eyes 
narrowed.  "There you were, everybody naked except you girls in your 
underwear ..."

"Oh, we took that off."

"You what?  Why?"

She grinned.  "To be like the others."

He nodded.  "And you did be like them, didn't you?  Around the campfire,
everybody naked ..."

She smiled reminiscently.  "At the beach ... with a cool sea breeze 
blowing.  Very educational."

_He's as tall as Greg.  Is he as long?_  Her hand crept up his thigh and
lightly caressed the hard lump it found.  From surreptitiously watching
the nude boys she understood that the male organ was normally flaccid, 
but Lesley's erection did not surprise her.  She had also seen how 
quickly one could rise -- almost as quickly as the warm pleasure in her
belly.

He sat still, negligently holding the control yoke, and watched her 
stroking hand with wide eyes.  He flipped a switch on the panel and 
after a bit opened his fly.  Using back pressure to lift his buttocks, 
he shoved slacks and underpants halfway down his thighs.

The girl's objective popped up.  It was a respectable organ with the 
crimson tip of the head emerging from the uncut foreskin, not as large 
as Greg's but comparable to the one that had ripped her hymen.  Men were
as different in length as in every other way!  Instinctively she 
understood that a verbal comparison would be unwelcome.  But a 
compliment?

She grasped it gently.  "This is nice, Lesley."

His eyes narrowed.  "You know that, do you?"

Was he asking, how did she know?  Surely he guessed what had happened on
the beach!  But she chose a diplomatic answer: "A girl can tell."

He said suggestively, "Then you know what to do with it."

Last night, while apparently absorbing Greg, she had also been 
fascinated by what first Florrie then Dorothy had done with the men and
boys.  Lacey had playfully taken two cock heads into her mouth at the 
same time and Claire, on a dare, had deep-throated the entirety of 
Greg's cock, the largest in the group.  Blake had declared, "That's 
exactly why I married her."

She didn't know that she wanted to marry Lesley and doubted his big 
thing would fit down her throat, but she burned with curiosity at how it
would feel and taste.  Fortunately the aircraft seatbelt did not 
restrain her shoulders.  Resolutely she bent over the man and made both
discoveries.  The fit was surprisingly nice; moisture filled her pussy 
as her lips withdrew the foreskin.  Even the taste, _eau de_ locker room
at first -- male pee? -- added its own thrill.  When she tried to take 
it all, she gagged and settled on two-thirds of the depth.  As her head
began to bob, she felt the man release a pent-up breath.

Lesley had already flipped on the rudimentary autopilot.  They were 
fifteen minutes away from the airport, so he could briefly ignore flight
responsibilities -- and the incredible nature of Linda's behavior -- 
long enough to submit to the delicious pleasure suffusing his cock.  
Certainly it would not last fifteen minutes!  A queer coach had sucked 
him and another dozen guys off in high school -- his first time -- and a
kissing cousin had slurped his come on a happy summer night.  But never
had a sweet Christian girl from CLC taken his cock in her mouth, not in
his three whole years of attendance.  He had heard rumors of one who 
might under the right circumstances, but now ...  Good god!  Now a girl
he had already picked for beauty was on the verge of getting a mouthful
straight from his balls.  The altimeter showed 4100 feet; too bad it 
wasn't 5300 to put him in the fabled mile-high club!  He hung on the 
passionate peak for a few seconds until her rasping tongue tipped him 
past it, moaning and shuddering with overflowing balls.

Fortunately for Linda his powerful squirts struck her tongue instead of
the back of her throat.  She thought it was like cool chicken soup with
a touch of sour cream, not at all unpleasant.  She swallowed it 
greedily, as much for the flavor as to conceal evidence.

From Jason's behavior with Dorothy she knew not to keep sucking.  When 
Lesley would have withdrawn against the seat's resistance, she raised 
her head and smiled at him while licking her lips.

"Is that what you meant?" she asked saucily.

In very young men the delight can depart as fast as the last squirt.  
Although Lesley's blow job was technically superior to the coach's, who
before gobbling the next cock had sneered, "Let it grow some more," and
that of the sweet cousin, who had spat on his belly, disgust flooded him
immediately even as the last white drop rose in his cock eye.  He 
snatched up his britches without bothering with the fly, flipped off the
autopilot and scanned the ground below for landmarks, carefully not 
looking at the girl.

But her curiosity was up.  "What did you mean, I knew what to do with 
it?"

He took a deep breath and bit his lip.

She said, "Didn't I do it right?"

He squirmed involuntarily and mumbled, "Leave me alone."

"Wh-what?"  Her eyes were round as marbles.

He found curiosity of his own.  "Why'd you do it?  How _could_ you do 
it?  How many cocks have you sucked anyway?"

She blinked.  "Not any.  Yours was the first.  Didn't you like it?"

"Huh!  You asked if you do it right.  For your information, you did it 
only too well.  Now let me fly the plane."

She sat back, hurt and unsatisfied, although the tingle in her pussy 
remained.  _That's gratitude for you!_  She resolved that the next boy 
she sucked would have to ask.  She smacked her lips, re-tasting the 
residual, and thought, _Well, maybe not_.  In fact the whole experience,
aside from Lesley's unappreciative reaction, had been pleasant and 
exciting.  Even the taste might become delightful with greater 
indulgence.  But where could she try again?  Not with this ungrateful 
cock!  Maybe with Greg or Jason, if they came back to school.  And with
Fred and Blake if she could find them again.

Lesley and Linda completed the flight and landed without speaking 
further.  The small airport was uncontrolled.  He ran the plane through
the gaping front of a hangar, shut down the engine, opened his door and
stood briefly outside it.

"Wait here and I'll get you something to wear."

"Okay.  Where are we?"

"Sand County Airport."  He hesitated.  "The dorm was destroyed, you 
know.  I don't suppose you have any money or anywhere to go."

"Not even a credit card."  She didn't bother to smile.  "But if I can 
get to a phone my dad will take care of me."

He blinked.  "You have a dad?  Of course you do.  Huh!  I'll bet the 
school will scramble to take care of you and the other kids.  Stay here
a minute."

Watching him hurry away, she removed the safety belt but sat still with
a sense of foreboding.  The next few hours would certainly not be so 
thrilling as the last few!

But Lesley did not return.  Instead an older woman entered the hangar, 
brought Linda a worker's full body coverall,* *waited while the girl 
pulled it around her and led her into the office across a taxiway.  
Linda took a seat as directed, declined the offer of a Coke and waited 
half an hour until the arrival of Ms. Simmons, the Dean of Women, 
bearing a long traveling bag that proved to contain a fits-all muumuu.

Ms. Simmons crushed the tall girl against an ample bosom.  "The Lord be
praised!  The Lord be praised!" she repeated over and over.

When the woman released her, Linda said, "Was anyone hurt in the dorm?"

"No, the Lord be praised!  As far as we know, you four were the only 
ones in the dorm when the tornado struck."

"We had just come back from lunch."

"What about the other three?  Lesley said they were unhurt, but it seems
hard to believe."

"Not a scratch, and you're right: all of it is unbelievable!"

The woman glanced at the avidly listening airport attendant and took 
Linda's hand.  "Come along, dear.  My car is waiting."

The car was empty.  Apparently Ms. Simmons had come alone.  She said 
when they were well away from the hangar, "Lesley hinted that you 
endured an ordeal."

"An ordeal?"

"Well, I'm sure it must have been hard."

The girl giggled.  "Four things were."

"All night with nothing to eat or drink ... no protection against the 
bugs ..."

"Blake found somebody's emergency chest.  It had food and drink -- and 
even insect repellent."

"Praise the Lord!  You kids were certainly lucky! ...  Blake?  Blake 
who?  That name is not familiar."

"Didn't Lesley tell you?  There were nine of us on that beach, only four
from the school."

"Nine?"

"I can guess what he told you, but the truth is ... we had more fun last
night than I ever imagined was possible."

Momentarily the car swerved onto the shoulder but quickly recovered and
deliberately slowed.  With a glare at Linda the woman said, "I want you
to tell me everything that happened, do you hear?  And what did you 
mean, four things were hard?"


* * *


"He won't be back with clothes," Blake guessed as they watched the 
Cessna fade into the distance, "but a Coast Guard helicopter will 
probably be here within the hour."

"I'm looking forward to it," his wife remarked, "although I'll surely 
miss the fun we've had with these kids."

"That's the point, Claire.  These kids.  There'll be national coverage 
on our miraculous survival of the tornado.  Even if Lesley intends to 
return with clothes, the Coast Guard will get here first, probably 
accompanied by a TV crew.  We can't let them find us naked with the 
kids."

"They're of age, Blake.  We face no legal liability."

"Think of it!  We'll become the focus of the public's prurient 
titillation.  It could impact my business.  We have to dress up 
somehow."

A squeal caught their attention.  Beyond the fire they saw Dorothy lying
on a sheet with Fred atop her, pumping away.  Beside them Lacey was 
impaled upon Greg's imposing organ.  Florrie stood above the group with
Jason fondling her.  Perhaps he wanted to fuck standing up.

Claire grinned at him.  "Now the girls match the boys."

"You're looking at the reality of our situation, Claire.  However 
delightful, we can't let it become public."

"I understand, dear.  We can make togas out of the sheets and present 
ourselves to the Coast Guard as responsible people."

"We don't have enough sheets for that, Claire.  But we can use the 
sheets to cover us reasonably."

"Back to the humdrum, Blake.  I'm going to miss our serendipitous 
outing.  The kids go back to college.  We return to work and occasional
swinging."

"What about Florrie?  She has nowhere to go."

"She'll live with us while she looks for a job if she wishes.  She's a 
sweet girl, and we'll all enjoy ourselves.  I know how to dress her up 
to look like a real thirteen year old.  You'll like that, I'm certain."

"And you'll bed her more than I," he said dryly.  "We're taking on a 
responsibility, Claire.  We'll have to get her into college and bear the
expense of it."

"We can afford it.  But what about Dorothy?  I fear that she's gone 
round the bend.  She's become a fucking machine.  She can't get enough."

"She'll do all right.  I think her Jesus freakishness is just a 
rationale to justify a newly discovered sexual urgency."

"Sexual urgency!  There must be another expression to describe her out 
of control lust."

"Nymphomania?  You used to be like that yourself, sweetie.  I remember 
you coming back from frat parties, drenched in jizz and so stirred up 
you went straight for my cock."

"That was before I discovered the serenity of sex with other girls.  Ah,
those were the days."

"Come back to the present, Claire.  The Coast Guard copter should be 
here soon.  Let's get the others untangled and make some coverings out 
of the sheets."

Within minutes young and old had covered their privates with strips of 
cloth.  Dorothy, however, objected and remained nude.

"I'm proud of my body," she argued.  "It's as Jesus made it, and I want
the Jesus in all men to see it."

"That may be so, sweetheart," Blake said, "but you must think about the
rest of us.  It'll be trouble, at least scandal, if the public becomes 
aware of what we did here.  You have a lifetime to chase Jesus.  Just 
put it off until we go our separate ways."

The girl pouted.  "All right, I'll cover up ... _if_!"

"If what?"

"If you and Fred make a Greek sandwich with me.  I've never done that, 
and Lacey seemed to enjoy it.  Jesus only knows when I'll get another 
chance."

"That's a lovely thought, my dear.  I'd greatly enjoy sticking my cock 
between your little girl ass cheeks, but we're out of time.  See over 
there?  That's a couple of helicopters.  Cover up!"

The choppers bore no Coast Guard logo.  Indeed they were much too small
for rescue purposes.  One had a large, circled 6 on its side.  The other
announced CCN.

"This is not good," Blake growled.  "Dorothy!" he exclaimed.  "These 
people are reporters.  Keep your mouth shut!"

The two small copters landed then debouched four people -- two men 
carrying cameras with muffled microphone booms plus a man and a women.

"Who's in charge here?" the woman asked, primping her hair in front of a
hand held mirror.

"We haven't yet taken a vote on that," Blake snidely replied.  "Where's
the Coast Guard?"

"They're busy elsewhere.  It's been a truly horrible storm.  There are 
dead and injured up and down the coast.  The report we had was that you
people were all right.  You'll have to wait your turn."

"Who said we're all right?" Lacey asked.  "We're half naked and out of 
touch."

"But none of you are injured.  The Coast Guard will be along in time.  
Until then what about telling the public how it was."

"How it was?" Blake sneered.  "We were blown here from miles away.  It's
a miracle that we're alive."

"But what about being naked?" the male reporter inquired.  "We heard 
some rather scintillating stories."

"From whom?"

"There's a rumor that you people have been having an orgy."

"A rumor?  Who started it?"

"Lesley!" Greg and Jason shouted in unison.

"There's a girl who was here," the female reporter said.  "She's being 
held in seclusion by the school authorities, who are acting _in loco 
parentis_.  She may have said something."

"I doubt that," Blake declared.  "It must have been that Lesley who flew
off with her."

"Well, what about it?" the male reporter asked. 

Both camera men got ready.

"Nothing untoward has happened here," Claire said, stepping forward.  
"We've just been surviving."

"Then why are you covered in flimsy rags?"

"You wouldn't believe the strength of the wind.  It tore our clothes 
right off.  We girls were mortified and we put these rags around us from
the start.  The story here, people, is only that the tornado delivered 
us as if we were born again.  I'll try to describe it if that's what you
want.  But do get on the radio and ask the Coast Guard to come with a 
large copter."

"I want to say something!" Dorothy interrupted.  "I've found Jesus in 
every man and boy!"

"What's that?" the female reporter asked.

"Don't mind her," Blake said.  "She's our only casualty.  She got bumped
on the head and has been acting strangely every since."

"That's not so!" Dorothy cried.  "I learned that Jesus really is in 
every man and boy."

"Be quiet!" Greg whispered angrily and embraced the girl to shut her up.

"Does your Jesus want to fuck me?" she whispered in return.

"Yeah, but not right now.  Keep quiet and don't make any trouble.  We'll
be out of here soon."

But the woman bored in.  Motioning the cameraman forward with his mike 
boom, she said, "Did you mean something special by 'Jesus in every man 
and boy?'"

"Mmmff!" Dorothy uttered.  Greg's mouth had covered hers and his tongue
had darted between her lips.

The woman's eyebrows wrinkled.  "You mean you learned to kiss?"

Dorothy made a disparaging noise but enthusiastically returned Greg's 
affection.

Jason grinned widely.  "She's a fast learner!"

"I guess so," said the woman, turning back to Claire.  "Let's do a 
formal interview.  I am Betsy Martin from Channel 6.  What are your 
names?"

When she had written them down, she faced the camera and said, "Never 
before in history has anyone known to be delivered alive by a tornado.
Here we have nine very lucky people, set down 40 miles away from home, 
who seem to have even enjoyed that terrible experience.  Claire Bingham
is their spokesman.  Please tell us what it was like."

Claire, with the help of the others, recounted the flight more or less 
correctly.  Though failing to mention that the adults arrived still on 
their king-sized bed, she revealed that Florrie was dumped into their 
midst still in her sleeping bag and the four kids from CLC arrived under
the protection of a couch.

The interviewer said, "But that was early yesterday afternoon.  How did
you survive after that?  What did you do for water?"

Blake described finding the providential chest.  With cameras watching 
closely, Fred relished showing how cans were heated atop burning boards
shoved into the fire.

"How did you pass the time after you ate?" asked Channel 6.

Claire said, "By that time it was dark.  The boys had made a sort of 
tent out of a bed sheet.  We crawled in it and went to sleep.  None of 
us are used to camping out.  We were exhausted."

The woman's eyes narrowed.  "I don't see any tent."

Blake chuckled.  "That's because we didn't want to shock you."

"You tore it up to make clothing?"

He shrugged.  "Of a sort."

"Then mostly you had to spend last night nude."  It was not a question.

Dorothy proclaimed, "It was God's will."

Greg, still embracing her, reapplied his mouth to hers.

The interviewer mused, "And it was dark ... except for the firelight."
She smiled sarcastically.  "I can imagine you told each other stories."

"Oh, yes," said Claire.  "With college students in the group we had a 
fine discussion."

"Mmmff!" said Dorothy.

The interviewer stepped close.  "Why don't you want her to talk?"

Blake explained, "I told you: she got a bump on the head.  She'd be 
embarrassed when she sees this later."

The journalists were not convinced of the innocence proclaimed by the 
survivors, but they accepted, as an equally gripping story, the survival
of people who had been delivered miles away by the tornado.  Meanwhile 
the group learned from the reporters that many houses in the town plus 
the college had been destroyed, that there would be no resumption of the
semester.  Several lives had been lost.

As Claire and Lacey talked with the news people, the other transportees
crowded together and spoke in low voices.  They discussed the fate of 
Greg, Jason, Dorothy and Florrie.

Fred said, "We'll just take them in for a while."

Blake shook his head.  "You heard that woman: CLC claims _loco 
parentis_.  We can try to keep Florrie, if she wants it.  She's over 18
and the orphanage will have to agree.  But you other kids will have to 
go back to school, at least at first."

"I want other guys!" Dorothy declared.

"That can be easily arranged," Blake responded, "as many as you want --
that is, when you make the school turn you loose."

"What about Linda?" Greg asked.  "We were supposed to be a pair."

"I'll inquire about her," Fred offered, "but she may have taken up with
Lesley."

"I can't believe it!" Greg cried.

"When can we fuck again?" Dorothy asked.  "I really want two guys at 
once."

"You have to be patient, sweetheart," Blake said.  "Ah-ha!  Hear that?"

The whop-whop of a large helicopter approached from the west.

Sounding disappointed, the Channel 6 woman said, "Here's your 
transportation.  Maybe your trip home won't be quite so exciting."

Dorothy's eyes sparkled hopefully.  "It might if it has dick."

The interviewer's face snapped around.  "Do you know someone in the 
Coast Guard?  Dick who?"

Greg kissed Dorothy again.


* * *


"Come in here, dear!  Your picture is on TV."

Lesley, just now returning from his friends' house, made it into the den
in time to glimpse a photograph reproduced on the television.  It was 
familiar, a view of him smiling proudly, standing by the family Cessna 
that he had just then soloed, taken four years earlier.  He paused to 
listen to the announcer.

"-- landed on the strand to do it.  Mr. Sylvester has been flying since
he was a teenager and is obviously skillful.  Our expert, a professional
airline pilot, suggests that this young man is also lucky, that landing
on an unimproved ocean beach with its rills and puddles can be extremely
hazardous.  Nevertheless, because of his pluck and bravery Ms. Clayborne
was returned to civilization hours before the other eight miraculous 
survivors.  Mr. Sylvester is the stepson of Duane Simmons, CLC's Dean of
Men.  Harriet Simmons, his mother, is Dean of Women."

The screen split to include a lovely portrait of Linda, well-dressed and
obviously posed in a studio.  The announcer continued, "CNN will have a
special on these very fortunate tornado transportees tonight at nine, 
Eastern time."

An insurance commercial supplanted the photographs.  With the remote his
mother muted the sound and smiled brightly.  "My hero!"

He shrugged off the praise.  "I saw it at Jurgen's.  Who gave them the 
photos?"

"I imagine Linda's came from her school application.  Of course _I_ gave
them yours."

"Of course.  Did you pick her up at the airport?"

"I did.  She's a lovely girl, Lesley.  I can see why you went after her,
but where did you meet her?  She's from Cleveland."

"Maybe that explains it," he said dryly.

"Explains what?"

He shook his head.  "She only _looks_ lovely."

"Whatever do you mean?  She also has lovely manners."

He produced a contemptuous grunt.

Her eyes narrowed but before she could comment an older man clumped into
the room.  "There you are, Lesley!  Now, my dear, can we serve dinner?"

When they went in to eat the meal, to Lesley's surprise Linda followed 
them, still wearing the colorful muumuu.  At sight of him her face 
brightened.  "Hi, Lesley!  Are you joining us for dinner?"

"Why not?  I live here.  But what are you doing here?"

"Lesley!" his mother cried.  "I invited her, of course.  Poor thing, 
it's only the Christian thing to do.  And Duane agrees."

"Indeed I do," declared the man, taking his seat after the others.  
Having invoked God's blessing, he smiled at the girl.  "She certainly 
graces our table, doesn't she?  But, Harriet, don't we have something 
better for her to wear?"

"She's a head taller than I, Duane.  And I thought instead of shopping 
this afternoon, she might profit from a nap after her ordeal."

"I see.  No doubt you were right.  How are you feeling, Linda?  Has your
appetite recovered?"

"Oh, yes," said the girl.  "This casserole smells wonderful!"

"Then you shall have a large helping!" he said, operating the ladle.  "I
understand your supper last night was from cans heated on an open fire.
What an escapade!  You must tell us all about it."

For the remainder of the meal the conversation dwelt upon her beach 
adventure.  Lesley was glumly silent, contributing only, "The beach 
strand actually makes a better landing field than everyone seems to 
think.  I've tried it before.  You just have to pick a smooth spot."

When he excused himself and left the table, Ms. Simmons hurried after 
him.  "Wait a minute, Lesley."

He obeyed with a sullen expression and asked quietly, "Right.  How long
is that slut going to stay here?"

"Until we get --  What did you call her?"

He said stiffly, "I happen to know that's what she is."

"But she's a charming girl!"  The woman frowned.  "Tell me how you 
know."

He drew a breath.  "All right, I will."  He stared into her eyes.  "She
sucked my cock on the flight home."

His mother seemed unaffected.  "Well, she was very grateful, you know!"

He sniffed and turned away in total contempt.

As he passed out of the room onto the verandah, she said, "Surely you 
enjoyed it!"

Either he didn't hear her or pretended not.


* * *


Jason and Dorothy were elsewhere in the Bingham house, which had been 
unscathed by the tornado.  Blake had run them out of the living room, 
because their constant fondling and fucking had begun to distract the 
others.

"My, god!  I wish I had that boy's stamina," Blake remarked after the 
pair had left.

"I'm sure you do," Claire said with a chuckle.  "Dorothy may have found
enough Jesus in him to last a lifetime.  I doubt she'll be available to
anyone else, male or female, for a while."

"Yeah," Greg muttered.  "They've become a couple.  And they don't care 
who knows it.  They spent two nights together at that motel, and when 
the school Proctor caught them at it, Dorothy claimed Jesus told her to
do it."

Claire was interested.  "What did the Proctor say?"

"She was flabbergasted."  He grinned slyly.  "At CLC that may be the 
ultimate excuse."  His grin faded.  "But what about Linda and me?  What
happened to her?"

Fred offered, "Didn't you hear?  Your dean took her in."

"Where'd you hear that?"

"Don't worry, kid.  She's on her way here, or at least that's what I 
understand from her phone call an hour ago."

"She is?  Oh, wow!"

"Let's get back to our project," said Lacey.  "I don't think Florrie can
pretend to be a thirteen years old no matter what we do."

"She looked adorable in that school outfit," Fred said with a dreamy 
look.

"I know, Fred, but she lacks a childish, innocent face.  And look at 
her!  Naked, as she is now, her pubes are too wild and her boobs too 
large.  Something has obviously stimulated them.  They've grown a bra 
size in a week!"

"They're still firm, though."

"So were mine at eighteen.  And of course we can shave her pubes.  Ought
to anyway.  But let's face it, Fred: you can pretend she's thirteen only
in the dark."

"Not much fun in that," Blake remarked.  "In fact I like her just as she
is.  She plays show-and-don't-tell even better than her new mothers."

"Her new _house_ mothers," remarked Lacey.

"Thanks, guys," Florrie said with a hint of sarcasm.  "At least you 
won't throw me out for not being a little school girl."

"We would never send you away, Florrie," Lacey promised.  "We all like 
you too much.  When our house is replaced, you can move in with Fred and
me if there's any doubt."

"If you do Blake and I'll be constant visitors," Claire declared.

"That's just fine -- for her!" Greg exclaimed.  "It leaves me as the odd
man out!"

"Linda said she's on her way."  Blake placed an arm around the boy's 
shoulders.  "And until then I'm certain you and your lovely dick will be
a prize for our four willing ladies."

"I'm up for it now." Florrie said, stepping forward to press her naked 
body against the tall young man.

"Youth!"  Blake exclaimed.  "Shaw was certainly right about it!"

Greg's arms encircled the girl's back but blinked.  "Shaw who?"

"George Bernard.  He said it was wasted on the young."

The lad sniffed.  "Sounds like he was jealous."

"We've got it but won't waste it," declared Florrie.  Her hand 
disappeared into the front of Greg's shorts.

At that moment the door bell sounded.  Lacey giggled.  "Our teenagers 
being preoccupied, why don't you get it, Fred?"

The two present teenagers ignored her words.  Their faces were pressed 
together in a deep kiss.  The girl's hidden hand undulated her partner's
shorts.

Fred opened the door, recognized the younger of the two women and said,
"Hi, Linda.  Y'all come on in."  He stood aside, holding the door.

Claire drew near, but without a welcoming smile.  "Yes, come in.  You 
must be Ms. Simmons.  I'm Claire Bingham."

The woman, wearing a blouse and slacks on the warm day, extended her 
hand.  "I'm so pleased --"

"Oh, Greg!" cried Linda, eyes widening.

The lad's head turned away from Florrie, but her arm under his belt 
prevented him from stepping back.  He bit his lip but said immediately,
"You went off with Lesley!"

"Oh!"  The girl's hand went to her mouth as she recalled just how far 
she'd gone off with Lesley.

Harriet Simmons' eyes widened as they lit upon the nude Florrie.

Claire moved to block her view.  "Let's not bother with ritual pleasure,
Ms. Simmons.  We know why you came."

Harriet's eyes enlarged further, now focused upon Claire.  "Whatever do
you mean?"

Claire chuckled grimly.  "That shouldn't puzzle you!  You're the Dean of
Women at a school that wants only virgins.  In this house we require 
just the opposite.  I'm sure you heard why Dorothy, Jason and Greg 
withdrew.  These kids are all 18; you can no longer claim to be _in loco
parentis_.  I guess you can say whatever you wish but it will do you no
good."

Harriet stammered, "I ... don't ..."

Linda shook her head and looked into their greeter's eyes.  "Claire, 
you're wrong about Harriet."

"How so?"

"She's not the enemy."

"She isn't?"  Claire blinked.

"Tell her, Harriet."

"Yes, I shall, before we get off on the wrong foot."  Harriet drew 
herself up.  "You would have been right in your presumptions, Ms. 
Bingham, before the tornado and even for a while afterwards.  Lesley, my
son, called me from the airport where he left Linda.  He implied that 
she was an immoral, dissolute girl and that the other students who 
survived the tornado were like her.  As the Dean of Women, I was of 
course horrified and rushed to the airport.  But aside from a bit of 
dishevelment, understandable in the circumstances, I found a lovely 
young lady instead.  I demanded that she tell me the whole story.  And 
she did."

Claire looked at Linda with a slight smile.  "Did she indeed!"

The girl did not flinch.  "Yes, I did: everything!"

Claire spread her hands.  "Then ... then ..."

"Then how did I react?" Harriet crossed her arms under her moderate 
breasts.  "Just as if _I_ were the student!  Linda was forthright and 
clearly honest.  She looked into my eyes and held her chin up throughout
the recitation.  We were on our way home and I had to stop the car and 
give her my full attention.  She told me she had learned a great deal as
a result of being thrown into the company of people with no patience for
nonsense.  She had formulated as a principle, 'If it isn't real, don't 
waste time on it.'  And do you know, I _recognized_ that!  As the kids 
say, it rang a bell with me.

"As she related the events of her, what -- 16 hours with you? -- I also
recognized actions I had wanted to do when I was her age but not learned
the words for until many years later."  She chuckled slightly.  "Perhaps
Linda would not have been so frank and thorough if my son had not just 
treated her shabbily on her flight from the beach.  May I tell them how,
Linda?"

The girl shrugged.  "These guys are the ones who taught me."

"She fellated my son and he reacted as if contaminated.  Linda, I never
told you: I apologize for him but I'm glad he did it."

"I never felt so low," said Linda, adding a smile, "while being so 
high."

Harriet repeated, "'So high?'"

Blake asked, "Were you above 5000 feet?"

The girl blinked.  "How could I tell that?"

"I don't suppose Lesley pointed out the altimeter."  With his attention
on Harriet he added, "You'll have to ask him if he's now in the 
mile-high club."

"What's that?" asked the girl.

Still watching the woman, he answered, "For people who've fucked while 
over a mile high."

Harriet cocked an eyebrow.  "Did you expect that word to shock me?  
Linda and I have been wearing it out for a week."

Lacey, who had been taking in the discussion with bright eyes, laughed.
"Who does that sound like, Claire?"

Claire nodded.  "I know exactly what you mean: yours and my conversation
right after our first gangbang."

Harriet took a breath.  "Does that mean what it sounds like?"

"Oh, yes," said Lacey: "lots of guys fucking one or two girls together.
It was a frat party about 16 years ago."

"Oh, my goodness, what a lot of life I've missed!"

Blake said, "I'm just glad you can't brag too.  Ms. Simmons -- Harriet?
-- I think we owe you an apology, but you have to understand what we 
expected."

"I suppose I do.  I'm not the woman I was a week ago.  Believe me, Linda
has shown me my mistake!"

After sidling up to Blake, Fred pulled his own turtleneck over his head
and unbuckled his belt.

Lacey demanded, "What the fuck are you doing?"

Pushing down shorts and underpants to reveal a flaccid but respectable 
cock, he grinned at the newcomer.  "Finding out if Harriet means it.  
I'm Fred Carter, by the way, Lacey's husband."

After a general laugh Harriet furnished her bona-fides.  She displayed 
two or three stretch marks, a patch or two of cellulite, tits beginning
to sag and 20 minutes later three seminal deposits puddling between her
legs on the suede-covered sofa.

"Just look at her!" urged Lacey, lounging with the other females on the
facing sofa.  "That goofy expression means she wants more cock."

Claire grinned at Linda.  "These Christian girls are hot numbers once 
something turns them on."

Florrie giggled.  "Like holy light bulbs!"

Linda added, "Turned on by a holy tornado."


END

Contacts
	kellis@dhp.com
	<varangian> ludmax11@hotmail.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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