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--- DECODED ATTACHMENT (callgirlcheerleaders#28.txt) ---
Ch. 28 Codes: Mff, ff, teen, exhib, oral
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Marianne's tongue took a few weeks to heal, but one night in February,
she finally announced that it was time for a test drive. She pulled me
into the bedroom, removed my pants, and sat me down in the armchair
across from the bed. The first time she took me into her mouth and put
her tongue stud to work, I had to grope at the chair and clench my
teeth to keep from groaning out loud. She got me erect very quickly,
and commenced a bobbing and massaging action with her tongue,
constantly rubbing the stud against the underside of my dick. I was
ready to come in less than thirty seconds, something I probably hadn't
done since I was her age. She giggled around her mouthful and slowed
down a bit, but didn't relent with the massage. When she finally let
me come a few minutes later, it was so intense it almost hurt. She
finished me off and then climbed into my lap.
"What do you think? Good idea?"
I grunted, trying to nod. She giggled and hugged me tightly.
Marianne had adjusted to our new living arrangements a lot better than
her sister had. Though I didn't want to think too hard about it,
Hayley had attached herself to me even more firmly than before. I
didn't want to psychoanalyze her, but I knew she was hurting a lot on
the inside. I finally asked her whether she might want to talk to a
therapist about her parents, and after a day or two, she agreed. I
mentioned it to Marianne, thinking that it wouldn't hurt if she went
too, and the two of them were soon going to see a doctor friend of mine
twice a week. Though I hadn't brought the issue up, both of them
promised not to say anything to get me in trouble.
Elizabeth called a few times a week, and I often talked to her myself,
just to give her an adult's perspective on her daughters. She thanked
me profusely for getting them into therapy and promised to pay me back
one day when she was able. I told her not to worry about it, but she
insisted.
Hayley's sixteenth birthday was March 3rd, and as it approached, and we
got her ready for her driver's license, she began dropping none-too-
subtle hints about wanting her own car.
"Steve, my God, you can't," Elizabeth said over the phone. "Just tell
her she has to share Marianne's car."
"The problem is that she doesn't understand why Marianne got to have
her own car but she can't. And I'm not sure what to tell her."
"You didn't buy it for her until she was eighteen. Just tell her to
wait."
"She's sixteen. You know that two years is an eternity at that age."
Elizabeth sighed.
"Well, it's your money. If you want to do it, I guess you should."
I got Marianne alone that night and brought up the issue. Her lips
pursed as I explained what I had been thinking.
"Don't do it just because she's being whiney about it."
"I'm not. You know how unhappy she's been. I'm thinking this might
cheer her up. At least it would give her something to get her mind off
your folks."
She was pensive a moment.
"Yeah. That's true. I don't know. If you think it would help
her . . ."
"What do *you* think? You know her better than anyone else."
Marianne sighed.
"I guess you're right. She needs something else to think about." She
nodded, looking up at me. "Go ahead and do it. She deserves it."
Hayley's birthday was that Saturday, and Elizabeth came down from Santa
Cruz for the weekend, staying in the guestroom on the first floor. Her
appearance at first startled me, for she had shed her trim law office
work clothes for a loose, casual look completely devoid of make-up or
hair styling--a look that said "lesbian" fairly clearly to someone who
had known her in her married life. I gathered, from the things she
told us about school, that she was most likely "out" around the campus.
We went to the Department of Motor Vehicles first thing Saturday
morning, and Hayley posed proudly for her license photo. Wanting to
surprise her, I had not said anything about my decision regarding the
car.
We went out to brunch afterward, and Hayley continued to push the issue
as subtly as she could manage, which was not particularly subtle.
"I can drive myself around now," she said over brunch. "But that's
going to hard to do since Marianne will be using her car most of the
time, right?"
The rest of us snickered.
"You can borrow one of my cars when you need to," I said.
"Steve, you can't let her drive the Mercedes," Elizabeth said. "And
she's too inexperienced for that big Jeep."
"You're probably right."
Hayley squawked in protest, and I watched her eyes filling with tears
of disappointment. Her mother smiled at her.
"Honey, sharing Marianne's car won't be that bad."
She pouted and whimpered in frustration. Marianne pretended to comfort
her, but Hayley pushed her arm away. She remained in a snit the rest
of the meal.
We left the restaurant and drove home. When we reached the main
boulevard outside the neighborhood, I continued driving, past the
entrance. I looked in the rear view mirror and watched Hayley's face
perk up.
"Um."
"What?"
"Where are we going?"
"I feel like going for a drive."
Elizabeth and Marianne tried to remain still, but I could tell that
Hayley sensed the sudden shift in energy. But she kept her mouth shut
for the moment.
I drove down toward the beach, where the car dealerships were lined up
along the freeway. Hayley's eyes had by then swelled to enormous
proportions, and when I stopped the Jeep in the middle of the road to
make a left turn into the Ford dealership, she let out a squeal of
excitement. She bounced in her seat with her hands clasped on her
chest.
When I pulled into the lot and parked the car, she was bouncing up and
down in her seat looking around at the cars. Elizabeth, who was
sitting next to her, put her hand on Hayley's arm to get her to calm
down.
"Honey, you know this is a big responsibility."
"I do! I'll be so careful with it! I won't do anything wrong! I
promise!"
"And you know that Steve is doing you a very big favor."
"Yes!" She gasped for breath a few times. "Can we get out and look
now?"
The rest of us laughed, and we got out of the car. Hayley ran around
excitedly looking at the cars on the lot. I knew she wanted a Mustang
convertible, which was why we were here instead of somewhere else. I
intercepted the inevitable salesman when he appeared, and deflected his
attempts to guilt-trip me into spending more than I wanted to. But
eventually we found a car Hayley was happy with, a cherry-red model
priced about the same as what I had spent on Marianne's Bug. We
dickered over the details for about an hour before signing the papers.
The salesman handed the keys to Hayley with a flourish, and Hayley
appeared ready to faint from excitement.
She and Marianne drove home in the new car, and Elizabeth and I
followed in my Jeep.
"They're happier than I expected them to be," she said when we were
about halfway home.
"They seem to be doing all right, considering everything."
"I know you've done so much for them, so I don't want you to take this
the wrong way, but it hurts a little to see them like this."
I pondered that for a moment.
"Because it makes it seem like they don't need you as much as you
thought."
She nodded.
"They do. Trust me. They're trying to keep a stiff upper lip because
they know how important this dream of yours is to you. But they do
miss you. A lot. We talk about it all the time."
She took a deep breath.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
She smiled at me.
"Marianne would marry you tomorrow."
A chill ran through my stomach.
"I know. But it's too soon for her. One day, maybe."
"If it happens, can you please not refer to me as your mother-in-law?"
I laughed hard for several seconds.
"All right. I won't. I promise."
Hayley would have slept in the car that night if we had let her, but
she spent nearly every available minute in it for the next few weeks.
I indulged her and let her drive us around whenever we went anywhere,
although I did it in part to keep an eye on how she was doing. She was
the envy of most of her friends, particularly the rest of the J.V.
squad, though I was unsure how much she had told them about where it
came from.
A few weekends later, as she did nearly every Friday night these days,
Hayley went out with her friends and her new car. Marianne and I
planned to go out alone until the phone rang about six-thirty that
evening. She came into the bedroom while I was getting dressed.
"That's Giselle. Do you mind if she comes over?"
"And goes out with us?"
"Yeah. Ashley's got something going on with her folks, and she's
bored."
"I guess so. Sure."
She went back to the bedroom, and I listened to her talking to
Giselle. She returned to the dressing area about a minute later and
began pulling off her clothes. She got down to bra and panties and
poked through her closet for a minute.
"What do you think I should wear?"
"Whatever you feel like."
"I don't know what I feel like. What do you want me to wear?"
I laughed.
"Dangerous question."
She smiled.
"I'll risk it. I feel like being a Barbie doll tonight anyway. Dress
me up."
I laughed again.
"Okay."
I looked through her closet for a moment or two before looking back at
her. I made a dismissive wave with my fingers.
"Get all of that off. Let's start from scratch."
Her bra and panties hit the floor in a matter of seconds, and she stood
there smiling at me. I had to take a moment to admire her, from her
long blonde hair to her deliciously curvaceous silhouette, firm breasts
and butt, all of it perversely accented by the little gold ring in her
navel and the kitten tattoo under her bikini line. Every time I looked
at her like this, I was consumed by two inconsistent desires: to lock
her away forever so no one else could touch her, or expose her to the
world so they could all see how damned lucky I was.
She saw all of this going through my eyes and smiled.
"I could just go like this if you want."
And she probably would have had I asked her, but I wasn't going to.
"Next time," I said, and turned back to the closet.
Marianne had turned into something of a clotheshorse since becoming my
steady, and I saw a fair amount of stuff I had never seen her wear.
After poking through it, I found something I liked, a loose, gauzy slip
dress. It wasn't quite see-through, but the pale blue fabric would not
cover very much. I pulled it out and showed it to her.
She took it and held it against herself, smiling. It fell no further
down than mid-thigh.
"You do realize that is really supposed to be worn with something under
it, like a T-shirt?"
"It is?"
"Yeah. But do you want me to wear it like this?"
"Try it on."
She took it off the hanger and pulled it over her head, letting it drop
down over her. The fabric clung to her chest, and the neckline was so
low and loose that she would expose herself simply by bending over.
Even without doing so, the shape of her full breasts was quite visible.
She posed for me, turning a circle on her toe.
"A bra just isn't going to work under this either, you know. A visible
strap would be all wrong for this look."
I gulped.
"And without a bra, you might as well not bother with any panties."
She grinned.
"Works for me. Anything else? This might look a little classier with
nylons."
"Stockings?"
"Of course. Hold-ups or garters?"
"Hold-ups."
"Done."
She went to her lingerie chest and extracted a pair of ivory thigh-
highs. She bunched one up, then sat on the chair by her dressing
counter and pulled it carefully up her shapely leg. The sight was so
erotic that I had to glance away for a second lest I be tempted to
seize her on the spot. The end result, when she was done, was quite
delicious.
"You aren't going to be overdressed for Giselle?"
"I told her to dress up a little. We're still going to Bernardo's,
right?"
"Right."
"Okay. She should be fine."
I finished with my tie, and while Marianne worked on her hair, I called
Bernardo's to change the reservation from two to three. The maitre 'd
told me it wouldn't be a problem.
Giselle arrived about fifteen minutes later. She wore a short black
skirt and a long sleeved peasant blouse in red silk. She gave Marianne
a brief once-over and grinned.
"Nice. Maybe illegal, but nice."
"I didn't feel like underwear tonight."
Giselle looked pointedly at the hem of Marianne's dress.
"Nothing?"
"Nope."
Giselle glanced at me, smiling.
"Now I don't feel so daring."
I laughed softly.
"You never wear them. I forgot about that."
"We've all kind of ditched the panties lately," Marianne said.
"We?"
"The gang. I told Tiff she can't wear them anymore, at least until I
say so. I've been doing it when I wear skirts. I'm not sure what
Ashley is doing, though."
"I haven't talked her into it yet," Giselle said.
We climbed into the Jeep and headed down to the beach. The maitre 'd
greeted us warmly (he knew Marianne by now) and led us to our table by
the window, which they had already reset for three people. He helped
Marianne and Giselle into their seats and expressed his wishes for a
pleasant evening before withdrawing.
"This pretty nice," Giselle said.
"We come here a lot," Marianne said. "They know him, so they always
kiss our butts like that."
After ordering dinner, Marianne and Giselle fell into gossiping about
school.
"I know you guys probably don't want to hear this," Giselle said, "but
people are starting to talk about Hayley."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I was talking to my little brother, he's a sophomore too, and he was
telling me how people are starting to talk about how she never seems to
date anyone. That she goes out with her friends, but she never goes
out on dates."
"What are they saying?" Marianne asked.
"Well, just understand that I don't think anyone means this seriously--
I didn't get that impression from Phillip--but they're starting to joke
about your living arrangements. Like she must be sleeping with Steve
too."
My heart skipped a beat or two.
"But they're not serious?" I asked.
"I don't think so. But think about it: she's one of the cutest girls
in the whole grade, and she hasn't had a boyfriend since last year. I
mean, she's the head of the J.V. squad. People expect her to be
dating. The fact that she isn't is making people talk, even without
considering who she's living with."
Marianne glanced at me in concern. I shrugged.
"I don't know what there is we can do about it."
"She'll never go out with someone just for appearance's sake," Marianne
said. "She's not like that."
"Not to mention that it would be unfair to the guy."
Giselle picked at a crumb on the tablecloth.
"I just thought you'd want to know. I don't have a clue about what to
do either."
The food came a little bit later, and we spent a few minutes discussing
what we had all ordered.
"What ever happened with that story you were writing?" I asked Marianne.
"The porn thing? I'm still doing it."
"You're writing a porn story?" Giselle asked.
"Not just a porn story. A story about what we've been doing. I've
been posting it on the Internet."
Giselle's eyebrows went up.
"You don't think people will recognize you?"
"No. I changed all the details or just left stuff out. In the story,
I'm a redhead. Plus the twist is that I've been writing it from
Steve's perspective. It's been really popular. I've gotten like four
hundred emails about it."
"And people read this stuff online?"
"It's a whole subculture. I'll show you when we get back. They have
discussion groups, regular reviews, all sorts of stuff. Some of the
people who do it take themselves a little too seriously--I mean, I once
read this review that actually compared some story to 'The Great
Gatsby,'--but if you don't fall into that trap, it can be a lot of fun."
"Huh. Am I in it? Could I read it?"
"You're in it. But don't worry. I made you out as the babe you are."
The rest of the dinner was uneventful, though I enjoyed all the looks
and glances the girls were getting from the other patrons. Giselle's
blouse kept slipping off her shoulder, making it fairly obvious that
she wasn't wearing a bra. Most of the time, she left it there for
several minutes before moving it back up. Meanwhile, Marianne's big
breasts would bounce and jiggle in her dress whenever she moved
around. Now and then, she would pretend to stretch in her chair,
drawing every male eye within range to her chest.
"Show off," Giselle muttered at one point.
"It's not like I can do much to hide them."
"You're certainly not trying."
Marianne giggled and glanced at me. Giselle leaned forward and looked
down at the table.
"I've been thinking of getting breast implants someday."
Both of us looked at her in surprise.
"Don't," I said.
"Yeah, don't," Marianne said. "Seriously, you don't need to."
"That's easy for you to say."
"I'm serious. When you're forty, you'll be glad you don't have boobs
like mine. I've heard my mom complain about it. I'm kind of worried
about it myself, to be honest."
"Work with the look you've got," I said. "Don't try to turn yourself
into someone else. Implants may look nice, but after a few years, they
don't feel natural anymore, if they ever will."
Giselle looked up at me.
"Really?"
"Really. They can get hardened with scar tissue or stretch your breast
all out of shape. I'm speaking from experience here. I've known women
who had it done and later wished they hadn't. Breast implants are more
trouble than they're worth as far as I'm concerned. If you do it, you
may really regret it someday."
"Huh."
Marianne stroked her arm.
"You've got nice boobs. Don't mess with them."
"You do," I said. "Forget implants."
Giselle shrugged.
"Ashley thinks so too, but . . ."
"She's right."
Giselle nodded.
"Okay. You're right. Thanks."
I paid the check and we left. Hayley was still gone when we got home,
and the three of us moved upstairs. The girls watched me as I hung up
my jacket and pulled off my tie, giving me sly looks and glancing at
each other. Both of them slipped out of their shoes, and as I returned
to the bedroom, Giselle was playing with one of the straps of
Marianne's dress. Watching my reaction, she pulled one strap slowly
over Marianne's shoulder, then the other. Marianne pulled her arms
close to her body and allowed the dress to fall to the floor, leaving
herself naked except for the stockings.
Still looking at me, Marianne unzipped Giselle's skirt and slid it off
her hips. Giselle's peasant blouse was long enough to conceal her, but
Marianne began unbuttoning it slowly until Giselle's neatly trimmed sex
was exposed.
I pulled off my shirt just as Marianne slipped a hand into Giselle's
blouse, fondling her breast. Then she pulled the fabric aside,
exposing a nipple, and bent toward it. She extended her tongue and
flicked it over the little nub of flesh.
I quickly removed the rest of my clothes. Marianne leaned back, though
she now had her left hand between Giselle's thighs. Her index finger
moved slowly back and forth.
"I think I know what I'd like to do," she said.
"What's that, Kitten?"
"Remember that thing we got the night Hayley got her belly ring? That
we've never gotten to use otherwise?"
"Ah. Yes."
"What?" Giselle asked.
Marianne pushed Giselle's blouse off her shoulders, leaving her naked.
Then she took my arm and pulled it to Giselle.
"Warm her up. I'll be right back."
I led Giselle to the bed. She was smiling but clearly a little
confused.
"What is she doing?"
"You'll see."
I pulled her down beside me and embraced her. She let me kiss her, and
I began playing with her little breasts. I crawled above her, moving
down to suck on her nipples.
"Marianne was right," I said softly. "You'll be glad you have these
when you're my age."
She smiled.
"Thanks."
I got both nipples wet and erect before sliding down between her
thighs. She moaned and arched her back as I stuck my tongue into her,
lapping up her sweet fluids. She was distracted enough (as I intended)
that she didn't see Marianne returning to the room. Marianne stroked
my leg, and I looked behind me, seeing her standing there wearing the
strap-on. I rolled to the side, and she climbed onto the bed to take
my place.
Giselle looked down and gasped, then shrieked in laughter.
"Oh, my God! Where did you get that?"
"At that store by the University."
She pushed Giselle's legs apart and lowered herself down, taking the
dildo in one hand. Giselle continued laughing.
"Oh, God. Wait."
Marianne worked the head of the dildo against Giselle's labia as
Giselle grabbed at Marianne's shoulders, tensing in anticipation.
Marianne pushed forward into her, and Giselle groaned, arching her back.
"Oh, Jesus."
"I'm going to fuck you, girl. Just spread 'em and take it."
Giselle shrieked in laughter again, but opened herself for Marianne. I
lay beside them, trying not to laugh, as I watched Marianne begin
thrusting into her. Soon they were humping at each other, kissing
passionately, rubbing their breasts together. Marianne stayed deeply
inside her, only withdrawing a few inches each time. I wanted to join
them, but I didn't know what to do until I got an idea about a minute
into it.
I crawled around behind Marianne, who instantly realized what I wanted.
"Oh God, yes, fuck me."
I poked my erection between her buttocks, finding her wet sex between
the straps. She tried to spread herself as best she could, and I
forced myself into her. She moaned, pushing down at Giselle.
Now the three of us were all fucking each other, with Marianne trapped
in the middle. She began withdrawing as I did and let the force of my
thrusts push her back into Giselle. Pinned on the bottom, Giselle
could do little but thrust up at us, but I could tell from her
reactions how much she was getting off on this.
Soon we were all moaning and grinding back and forth at each other, the
two girls kissing and groping at their breasts and buttocks. Giselle
got there first, thrashing and clawing up at us. Marianne came next,
arching her back and shuddering against me. With two girls coming
under me at once, I lost it rather quickly, spurting off as deeply into
Marianne's belly as I could get.
I rolled off of them, but Marianne stayed on top of Giselle. I lay
there resting as the girls finally separated and giggled over what they
had done. Marianne took off the dildo, offering it to Giselle, but she
wasn't interested in trying it on, at least tonight. They started
making out again, and I stayed out of it for now, watching them finally
end up in a sixty-nine position, frantically licking and sucking at
each other.
By that time, I had gotten up again, and I crawled around behind
Giselle. Marianne looked up at me, grinning, and wiggled her tongue
stud over Giselle's clit. Then she extended her tongue into her
friend, guiding me in. I slid my dick along the stud, still marveling
over how something so simple could feel so good.
The girls got each other off before I came myself. Marianne wriggled
out from under Giselle, and Giselle rolled over, letting me get on top
of her. Marianne climbed around to squat over Giselle's mouth, facing
me, and commenced kissing me and tweaking my nipples as I finally
finished myself off.
The girls stayed in bed, but I got up to clean myself up and put on a
robe, as I had a few things I wanted to do in my office before I went
to sleep. Hayley came home a few minutes later and stuck her head in
the door.
"Hi."
"Hey. You have fun?"
"Yeah." She looked past me at the computer screen. "What are you
doing?"
"A little project I'm working on."
"Are you going to make us a lot of money?"
"Hopefully."
"Cool."
She kissed me good night and then went to bed.
This "project" of mine was not quite as little as I had led Hayley to
believe. A month or two ago, I had come across a stock I thought was
badly undervalued. The company owned the patent on what it claimed
would be the next generation of Internet routers, and though its IPO
had gone well initially, rising from 24 to 62, it had since fallen to
just under 12. After researching it, I kept thinking that something
had to happen eventually. When the stock bottomed out at 10 3/4 three
weeks ago, I had quietly bought up almost a million dollars worth. It
was a significant chunk of my net worth, but I had been in the mood for
a gamble lately. I reflected that I might not be wearing gold chains,
but hanging around all these young girls was still affecting my
perspective.
I reviewed the performance of the stock over the last week, seeing that
it had scarcely moved. It had no reason to move yet, though; the
company hadn't done anything different. What I was hoping for was
something out of left field. So far it hadn't happened.
I shut off the computer and leaned back in my chair. I had been so
deep in thought that I hadn't realized that I could hear Marianne and
Giselle talking in the bedroom through the air vent.
" . . . I just hope you realize how fucking lucky you are."
"Hey, I have my own problems, okay? My life is not exactly a bowl of
fucking cherries right now."
"I'm sorry. That's not what I meant. I didn't mean about your dad
getting busted. But you are pretty lucky to have someone like Steve to
help you deal with it."
"Yeah, well, I know that."
"I'm not talking about all the stuff he's bought you, either. How many
guys do you know who are as cool as he is? You know, I was serious
about getting implants tonight before we talked about it. You know how
my dad and brother are always laughing at me for having little tits."
"I know. That's pretty lame of them."
"My brother calls them 'tater tots,' and my dad just laughs at him.
When I brought it up tonight, I half expected Steve to make a joke
about it, you know? Just because he's a guy."
"He'd never do that."
"But my dad is like that about everything with me. He makes fun of me
for wanting to go to college, you know? He's always saying how I don't
need an education, I just need to find some guy to knock me up and
trick into marrying me. He actually thinks that's funny. Steve gives
me a thousand bucks for college, and my dad gives me shit like that."
"Wow."
"I swear, the only goddamn thing in the world he cares about is whether
my little brother gets a football scholarship. Believe me, I'd move in
here in a microsecond whether my dad got busted or not."
The whole world seemed to pause half a beat as that remark sank in. I
exhaled slowly, waiting for Marianne's response. I hoped she would be
able to handle it without hurting Giselle's feelings. But then--
"So move in with us. You're eighteen and we've got the room. What the
fuck are your parents going to do?"
* * *
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