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Date: Fri, 19 Aug 2005 11:09:49 +0000
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--- DECODED ATTACHMENT (callgirlcheerleaders#19.txt) ---
Ch. 19 Codes: Mff, ff, teen, oral, anal, piercing, light bdsm, food
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I was reading the paper and enjoying a cup of coffee beside the pool the next
morning when the phone rang. I normally didn't like to be bothered on
Saturday mornings, but lately Marianne had taken to calling me just to see
what I was up to, so I answered it.
"Hello?"
"Can I speak to Steven Chandler please?"
"Speaking. What can I do for you?"
"Well, I'm hoping you can make my day, Steve."
The voice was feminine, husky, throaty, and vaguely familiar, but I couldn't
quite place it.
"Uh, could I ask who is calling?"
"Oh, Steve. Are you telling me you've forgotten your first piece of ass?"
I gasped.
"Oh, my God. Mary Jo?"
"In the flesh. How are you?"
"Stunned. To what do I owe the honor of this call?"
"Well, I'd like to say I've been pining after you all these years, but I
don't think my husband and children would appreciate that. I'm calling
because I'm on the All Saints Reunion Committee, and I am just heartbroken to
see that you haven't RSVP'd yet. I know you live just up the coast, so you
can't plead distance. I was hoping I could talk you into coming next week."
My 25th high school reunion was a week away, and although I had been getting
invitations and information in the mail, I hadn't given much thought to
going. These things generally struck me as little more than "Look How
Successful I've Become" affairs, and I had always liked to think I was above
that sort of nonsense, no matter how successful I *had* actually become.
Of course, my high school experience also had something to do with it. I was
largely a geek and a loner back then, hanging out exclusively with my pothead
friends. Mary Jo had been about the only girl who gave me the time of day.
Going to the first few reunions by myself while more and more of my former
classmates showed up with spouses only brought back those feelings of
alienation, even if I now dated fairly regularly.
"So what do you say, Steve? Surely you've got something you want to show
off?"
Yeah, right, I thought. Look at my car, my Rolex, my gir--
No. Oh, shit. Could I really do that? Did I really have the balls? Could
I actually show up at this thing with an eighteen-year-old girl on my arm? I
would be defining every single stereotype about the middle-aged bachelor.
Every woman at the reunion would either laugh at me or want to slip a knife
between my ribs. But the men--oh, dear God. The reactions I would get would
be priceless.
Mary Jo was still waiting for an answer.
"Steve?"
"Uh, sorry. I was woolgathering for a moment." I took a long breath.
"Yeah, I guess I can make it. Count me in."
"Great. You won't regret this."
Mary Jo probably thought she knew why I was laughing, but she didn't.
Marianne appeared about an hour later. She wore jeans and another spandex
baby tee shirt, this one in neon hey-check-this-shit-out orange. She carried
a spiral notebook, and after giving me a big kiss, showed me what she had.
"It's chapter one of our story."
I opened the notebook and began to read:
I was watching football one Saturday afternoon when the doorbell rang. I
don't get a lot of unannounced visitors, so I was fairly sure that this was
another solicitor of some sort. I peeked through the peephole and saw that
I was probably right. It appeared to be some teenage girl.
What followed was a fairly raunchy recounting of that first afternoon, when
Marianne had come by pretending to sell magazines. I finished it in a few
minutes, though I had to shift in my chair to free my stiffening dick.
"What do you think?"
"Very descriptive."
"Do you like it?"
"Yes. Why are you pretending to be me again?"
"Because if I write it as me, I'll get ten thousand e-mails from guys wanting
to have sex with me."
"What are you going to do with it now?"
"I want to type it onto your computer and then post it."
"You can't use my AOL account for something like this."
"Oh, I know. I've already set up an anonymous account somewhere else. Don't
worry."
She ran upstairs, and when I went up about twenty minutes later to get
dressed for the day, she was just finishing up. I watched her log on to some
web site, copy the story onto a form, and then post it.
"There. All done."
She lifted out of the chair and pecked me on the lips.
"I wouldn't have pegged you for a computer geek. If that's the term they use
these days."
Her forehead creased in amusement.
"It's nothing geeky. Everybody knows how to do stuff like this now. We use
computers in about half our classes at school. "
She continued playing around with my computer while I got dressed. When I
came out of the dressing area, I found her lying on her back on my bed
inspecting her hair for split ends.
"Anything happen with Tiffany?" I asked.
"I left a message for her before I came over here. Her mom said she was out
at her little sister's soccer game."
"What did you say?"
"I told her I wanted to tie her daughter up and fuck her." She giggled.
"What do you think I said? I just asked her to call me."
I lay down beside her.
"I've got a favor to ask you. I'll understand completely if you don't want
to do this, because I know you're a little sensitive about this issue."
She rolled on her side and looked at me.
"What?"
"My 25th high school reunion is next weekend. I got a call from a woman I
used to know this morning trying to talk me into going."
Her eyes widened a little, and I could see the wheels turning behind them.
"And you want me to go?"
"If you're okay with it. If not, fine."
She looked down at the bed. She didn't say anything for a few moments.
"If I go . . . it's going to attract a lot of attention, isn't it?"
"Yes. No point in trying to pretend it won't."
She looked up at me now, and a tinge of resentment colored her face.
"I am not going to make a spectacle of myself. I really, really, hope you
don't want to do this just to show me off. Randy used to like to do that,
and it hurt, okay? It really hurt sometimes. If that's all you want, you
can buy yourself a blow-up doll and take her."
I pulled her to me, hugging her.
"I don't. That's not it. I don't care what they think. I haven't even gone
to the last three or four reunions because it's always like that. I think
most people go just to show something off, like how rich they've gotten or
how thin they've kept themselves. But I was thinking we could have some fun
with this. If I show up with you, it will upstage everything. No one will
care about anything else, and everyone who showed up to show off will be out
of luck."
Her face took on a pensive expression, but she didn't say anything.
"Look. I kind of would like to go, and if I do, I'd like to take you. But
if you go, it *will* create a spectacle. Nothing either of us can do will
change that. So we might as well milk it for some entertainment value."
She stared hard into my eyes.
"Tell me that you don't want to do this to show me off to your friends."
"I don't want to do this to show you off. And these people are not my
friends. I haven't kept in touch with any of them."
"So why do you want to go?"
"Curiosity. Nostalgia. I don't know. Maybe because the woman who called
this morning was the girl I lost my virginity to."
Her eyes lit up.
"Really? The one you told me about before? The Led Zeppelin concert?"
"Yes. And she's married with kids, so don't worry about her carrying a torch
for me."
She bit her lip.
"That might be interesting, meeting her. I don't know. What would you want
me to do?"
"Only what you were comfortable with."
She sighed and thought for a moment.
"I want to go with you. And, I guess, if I do, I shouldn't act like I have
anything to be ashamed of."
"No."
"I think I see what you're saying. I could go and act all embarrassed, which
would just confirm all the nasty things people would be thinking. Or I could
go and dress up and have fun and show them I don't care what they think.
That I know what they're thinking, and I don't give a shit."
"Right."
A smile spread across her face.
"I like this idea."
She sat up, and the grin got wider. I watched her eyes losing their focus as
she gave it more thought.
"You know, I think this could be cool. Really, really, really cool."
She giggled.
"Uh-oh," I said.
She giggled again and then rolled over to pin me down.
"I am going to turn myself into the most outrageous piece of arm candy you
have ever seen. They will never know what hit them."
"Oh, Jesus."
"No, don't you see? If we hold back at all, it's just bowing to all their
prejudices and bullshit. I'm going to throw all that right back in their
faces."
"But classy, okay? This is a coat-and-tie reception."
"Right. I won't dress like a hooker. But I'm going to show off as much as I
can without breaking the law."
She dropped down and kissed me vigorously, pressing her big tits against my
chest.
"Now let me go see if Tiff is home so we can get ready for tonight."
She hopped off the bed and ran out the front door. I lay there wondering
what I had just precipitated.
Marianne returned about fifteen minutes later and informed me that Tiffany
had, in fact, agreed to show up and submit to her for one night. And she
apparently hadn't required a lot of convincing, either.
So the two of us set about straightening up the house and gathering the
things Marianne thought she would need. We went out and bought a few dozen
scented candles ("I want to put them all over the house and then shut off the
lights."), some silk scarves, a blindfold, a pair of novelty handcuffs, and
(this one surprised me, which made Marianne laugh), a set of nipple clips,
which we got in a store near the University.
Marianne went home for a few hours after that so as not to be gone the entire
day, then returned around eight, having told her parents she was going out
with Tiffany. Which, of course, she was, in a way. She arrived carrying a
gym bag on her shoulder.
"What's in there?"
"I want to dress up a little for this. Plus I have a couple of things for
Tiff."
The bag contained a rolled-up dress bag and two pairs of hold-up stockings,
one white and one black. The dress bag held an off-white silk cocktail
dress, a sort of kimono-like wrap with a deep neckline. She smiled at my
raised eyebrows.
"I saw it one day and liked it. I figured I would wear it the next time we
went out."
"I like it."
"You have to dress up, too. Then we'll have Tiff be our slave."
I set up the candles around the house while she got dressed. The doorbell
rang about ten minutes later. I went to get it, but it wasn't Tiffany.
Instead, it was a delivery boy from a service that handled take-out orders
from a lot of the local restaurants. And he had arrived with a complete
dinner from Bernardo's. I brought it into the kitchen just as Marianne
reappeared in her dress. She grinned at me.
"That's for us. Tiff is going to serve us a romantic dinner."
I laughed.
"This should be interesting."
"Yep. Now go get ready."
I went upstairs, and just as I was finishing with my tie, I heard the
doorbell ring again. From the voices I heard down below, it was apparently
Tiffany.
When I descended to the first floor, I didn't immediately see them. All the
lights were off, and the house was lit entirely by candlelight. I heard
their voices behind the door of the first floor guestroom, so I found a
bottle of Chianti in my wine closet and opened it.
The girls came out after a few minutes. Tiffany was naked except for the
black stockings and the nipple clips that hung from her pretty breasts, a
nice accompaniment to the studs in her navel and clit. I noticed a moment
later, for it was hard to see at first in the dim candlelight, that she had
also shaved her pubic hair.
Marianne smiled.
"You see it?"
"Yes."
"I told her to do it. She's not blonde or red-haired, so I thought you would
like it."
"I do."
She turned to Tiffany.
"All right, slave, serve us our dinner."
Marianne and I sat down as Tiffany unpacked the delivery order. She
organized everything carefully and then set it on the table in front of us.
Then she poured the wine and stepped back.
"Kneel on the floor in case we need you," Marianne said.
Tiffany dropped to her knees, keeping her eyes down. Her breathing was
heavier than it should have been, and her chest was flushed deep red. Her
hands kept squirming in her lap. I couldn't tell if she was turned on or
just embarrassed. Or both.
I felt Marianne's foot caressing my leg.
"Don't worry. She's enjoying this. Aren't you, slave?"
Tiffany nodded, but said nothing. We ate slowly, and the food was quite
good. Throughout the meal, Marianne kept giving Tiffany little instructions
and directions, with which Tiffany complied without a peep of protest. When
we were done, she cleared the dishes and piled them in the sink. She fetched
the dessert Marianne had ordered out of the refrigerator, but when she went
for the plates, Marianne stopped her.
"No. Serve us yourself, slave. Come here."
Tiffany glanced at the two of us in confusion, but brought the little
container of tiramisu over to the table. Marianne plucked the nipple clips
from Tiffany's breasts and dug a scoop of the pastry out with her finger.
She placed it on Tiffany's left tit, which was just full and upturned enough
to hold it.
"Serve him."
Tiffany approached me, offering her breast. I took it in my mouth, sucking
the dessert off and licking her nipple until it was clean.
"Now me," Marianne said.
Tiffany placed another serving of tiramisu on her other breast, then
presented it to Marianne. She licked it off slowly, watching my reaction and
Tiffany's. We finished the dessert like that, making a gooey mess of
Tiffany's breasts. I could see her fighting a grin at this, and relaxed a
little. However she was acting, she appeared to be having fun here.
Marianne licked her fingers clean when we were done.
"Clean yourself up, slave, then present yourself upstairs."
She stood and led me up to the bedroom. She slipped out of her cocktail
dress, and she had apparently worn nothing under it but the white stockings.
She helped me out of my suit just as Tiffany appeared in the doorway.
"Kneel, slave."
She did. Marianne produced and applied the blindfold, then replaced the
nipple clips and cuffed Tiffany's hands in front of her.
"All right, slave, there are two things you have to do tonight before we
release you. Remember?"
Tiffany answered hesitantly, and her voice quavered as she spoke.
"Yes. I'm going to eat your pussy."
"And?"
She took a deep breath.
"Get fucked in the ass."
I grinned at Marianne, and she smiled at me triumphantly.
"Let's begin, then. Come here, slave."
Tiffany crawled toward her, and Marianne pulled her into place. Tiffany
reached up with her bound hands, finding Marianne's twat, and rose up to her
knees. She extended her tongue and began to lick slowly. Marianne arched
her back, shaking her long blonde hair back behind her head. She pulled
Tiffany closer, and Tiffany forced her head further between Marianne's
stockinged thighs.
I sat on the end of the bed to watch them. With her hands cuffed together,
Tiffany had nothing to grab on to, and she finally rested them in her lap.
Her head was leaned most of the way back now, and Marianne stood with her
legs on either side of Tiffany as the other girl licked up at her.
Marianne's hands were writhing in Tiffany's hair, holding her close. Her
teeth were clenched, and I could hear her breath beginning to whistle between
them.
The reluctance I had seen in Tiffany that night after the football game was
nowhere to be seen now. She licked and sucked at Marianne eagerly, probing
into her with her tongue. I wondered if Tiffany's earlier hesitation had
just been the vestiges of some conservative socialization--a stern superego,
if you wanted to get Freudian--and only by submitting like this could she let
her lesbian inclinations out.
Marianne was getting close now, rocking her hips back and forth over
Tiffany's mouth. Tiffany attacked her more aggressively, almost seeming to
want to swallow Marianne's pussy. Marianne kept her hands tight on Tiffany's
head, even though Tiffany showed no intentions of withdrawing. Finally,
Marianne's legs began to shake, she cried out against Tiffany's lingual
assault, and then came in a rush.
Tiffany continued licking until Marianne withdrew, staggering toward the bed.
She crawled up beside me into my arms. I held her, feeling her body still
quivering gently in the aftermath of her climax.
"Good?"
"Great," she gasped.
Tiffany had dropped back onto her feet, waiting further instructions.
Marianne recovered after a minute or so and sat up.
"Tiffany. Come here."
She crawled to the end of the bed, and Marianne had me sit in front of her.
"Suck his cock. You know what he likes."
Tiffany sat up again and bent to work. She brought her hands up to play with
my balls as she bobbed slowly over my erection. Marianne sat beside us,
watching her, occasionally reaching out to brush Tiffany's hair back from her
face. Tiffany kept up a steady massage with her lips and tongue, and I
closed my eyes to concentrate on what she was doing. As she went on, she
forced my dick further and further into her mouth until her nose was almost
in my pubes. She couldn't quite deep throat me, though she appeared to be
trying, and each time I felt myself probing at her throat until her gag
reflex forced me out.
Marianne crawled up to kneel behind me, hugging me and pressing her tits
against my back. She rested her chin on my shoulder and licked at my ear.
"I want you to fuck her in the ass," she moaned. "Hard. While she's eating
me. I want to watch you do it while she gets me off again."
I twisted around to kiss her, and she responded eagerly, sucking on my tongue
and reaching around to tweak my left nipple. Tiffany continued to bob
rapidly over me.
Marianne climbed off the bed and found the massage oil.
"Tiffany, get up on the bed. On all fours."
Tiffany rose from my lap and climbed up into position. She moaned softly as
Marianne lubricated her. Her breasts hung down under her, and the chain from
the nipple clips swung back and forth over the bed. I saw the stud in her
clit peeking out from between her shaved labia, and I reached in to tweak it
as Marianne worked on her. Tiffany was dripping wet by now, fluids almost
running down her stockinged thighs. Marianne oiled up my dick and then
returned to the bed, lying in front of Tiffany and spreading her legs.
Tiffany let out a little squeak when I placed my dick at her sphincter, but
she spread her butt cheeks and pushed back at me. I forced myself in,
pushing her face forward into Marianne's pussy. I couldn't see from my angle
what she was doing there, but from Marianne's reaction, she had started to
work already. Marianne grinned at me and caressed Tiffany's head.
I slid slowly into Tiffany's butt, bottoming out against her tight
cheerleader ass. She groaned and convulsed briefly, but Marianne held her
head down.
"Don't stop . . . let him do it . . . let him fuck you . . . let him fuck
you in the ass."
Tiffany whimpered softly, but tried to open herself even further. I slid
slowly in and out of her oiled butt, feeling her sphincter pinching me
spasmodically. She had taken me a long way by blowing me first, and I had to
control my movements to keep from coming immediately. In front of us,
Marianne was writhing under Tiffany's attentions, moaning and gripping
Tiffany's hair.
Marianne and I watched each other closely, trying to synch our arousal. She
licked her lips at me lasciviously, and I felt my cum surging in my balls.
"Fuck her, Steve. Come in her ass. I want to see it."
I groaned, thrusting faster, thumping against Tiffany's tight butt. Tiffany
continued to moan and whimper softly, but I knew she was getting off on this,
because each time I bottomed out, my balls would slap against her twat, so
wet and hot that it almost scalded.
Marianne began to grunt and hump herself up at Tiffany as she neared her
second orgasm. I lost control at that point, fucking Tiffany for all I was
worth. Suddenly she began shuddering under me, somehow coming before both of
us, and that was enough to do it. I thrust into her up to root, groaned out
loud, and hosed down her bowels with my cum.
Marianne's shrieks of orgasm barely penetrated my consciousness, and I held
tightly onto Tiffany's hips. Only when Tiffany slid forward--Marianne was
pulling her up to kiss her--did I finally withdraw.
I staggered into the bathroom to clean myself up, and when I returned,
Tiffany was still on all fours over Marianne, who held Tiffany's head
closely, kissing her. I saw Marianne's hand up between Tiffany's legs,
masturbating her furiously. Tiffany began to shake, and stopped kissing
Marianne, dropping her head to Marianne's shoulder. I walked up to the end
of the bed, watching them, looking at my cum streaked across Tiffany's
buttocks and the juices running down the insides of her thighs. She let out
a cry, coming again, and her body thrashed over Marianne. Her arms and legs
finally collapsed as it peaked, and she fell forward onto her friend.
I crawled up to lie beside them. Marianne held Tiffany tenderly, then pushed
the blindfold off her face.
"Okay. You're officially part of the gang again."
Tiffany giggled.
"Fuck. That was fun. I'd like to do that again some time."
Marianne looked at me, grinning.
"Me too. What do you think?"
I laughed weakly.
"Be my guest."
* * *
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