	The House to Themselves
        =======================


The afternoon sun shone on the sidewalks and hedges of 
Ambleside Close, Albany, in Livingstone county, 
illuminating the windows and front doors of the detached 
houses which circled around the small patch of grass that 
added a touch of green to the grey tarmac and sidewalk 
Alison lay stretched out on her bed in just one of the 
bedrooms overlooking the SUVs parked either by the 
sideways or in the drives. The television in her room was 
on, as always, broadcasting the image of a pneumatic teen 
warbling a pop song of undistinguished quality and even 
less depth. But saccharine soul was not where her mind 
was. Mom and Pop were away and Alison was wondering 
how in the circumstances she could best play.

Her slacks and pants were pulled down to her ankles and 
her tee-shirt pulled up over her small pale breasts, while 
one hand stroked a nipple and the fingers of the other 
gently massaged the small clitoris just growing in 
receptiveness in the smooth hairless crevices of her vagina. 
It felt so warm in there, she thought, as her fingers traced 
around the tight folds and probed into the tight confines of 
her slit. Her mind wandered with the rhythm of her fingers, 
while a squadron of young girls and boys gyrated and 
swivelled on the television screen with the passion of 
clockwork toys, and words of love, romance and passion 
coloured the anaemic beat of audio wallpaper. 
Occasionally, Alison's eyes caught a glimpse of the broad, 
hairless torsos of the boys as they shimmied and scissored 
to the candy-coated rhythm, feeling ever so much more 
passionate as she thought of the dicks hidden in the crotch 
of their tight denims. 

Normally, she'd have been more circumspect, but, hey fuck! 
it was the summer holidays and the parents were out at 
some reunion in Fordham county and they weren't due back 
till real late. If you can't pull down your pants and probe the 
pussy when you've got the place virtually to yourself, well, 
when can you? After all, a girl's got to learn the best way 
she can. And anyway, soon there'd be college and exams 
and careers and then there'd be no chance.

"Hey, sis! You ain't seen my Bon Jovi album, have you?" 
suddenly shouted Alan, pushing open the door and not at 
first recognising or understanding what he was seeing. His 
younger sister looked up startled. She'd thought Alan had 
gone out or something. What was he doing there? 

And then belatedly, it occurred to her what her older 
brother was staring at with his mouth wide open and a can 
of Dr Pepper in one hand. She was still stroking her pussy 
and the lumps of her breast, as wide-eyed and open-
mouthed, Alan's acned face framed itself in the hallway 
door.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he gasped.

Alison was enjoying the impression she was making on her 
brother. She'd never really thought of him as a boy as such, 
any more than he'd probably ever thought of her as a girl, 
but it occurred to her that like the men whose pictures she'd 
so often surreptitiously examined on the Internet, Alan 
must have a dick hidden under those baggy shorts of his.

"What do you think I'm doing?" she replied, not even 
pretending to stop, for the first time pushing a whole finger 
into her little pussy, gasping slightly from the pressure and 
warm pleasure it gave her. "I'm exercising my rights as a 
woman."

"But, I mean, sis, like that? I mean, it ain't right!"

"Like what, Al? Like this, you mean..." She let her middle 
finger ease into her hairless vagina while pushing her top up 
even further to reveal all of her tiny bosom. "I'm at home. 
In my room. If I can't do this here, where can I?"

Alan stood transfixed, not daring to leave and too 
frightened to stay. Alison could sense his discomfort and 
was amused to see a kind of stiffening under his baggy 
shorts just where she reckoned his dick should be. She'd 
never thought of that before, but she'd had real live dick in 
her house all along. She didn't have to go out and look for 
it. She smiled cheekily at her brother and sat up on the bed. 
Her top fell down over her bosom, and she steadied herself 
with one extended arm behind her, while her other hand 
continued stroking her crotch. It felt so good, why should 
she stop?

"Look sis! It ain't right. It ain't proper! What would Mom 
and Pop say?"

"Hey, Al. Don't be such a party pooper! I bet you do just 
the same in your room when you close the door and get on 
the Internet."

"Well, er. Well. Yeah. Well."

"And anyway, Al. What you got hidden in those jocks of 
yours? I can just about see something there."

"What do you mean? Hey, come on, sis. I was just looking 
for my Bon Jovi CD. I didn't ask for all this."

"Oh fuck it! You know you want it!" Alison said 
seductively, pulling her tee-shirt up over her shoulders and 
head with her match-stick slim arms. And then she sat on 
the bed: topless and bottomless, slacks and panties around 
her bare ankles, staring at her brother both insolently and 
lasciviously. "Come on, bro! What have you got between 
your legs?"

Alan didn't move. A trickle of sweat made its way down his 
crinkled forehead. "Nothing. Nothing!" he replied without 
thought or consideration.

"I don't believe you! I don't believe you at all!" Alison 
exclaimed, pushing herself off the bed and approaching her 
brother. She stood in front of him, naked, her hair tied back 
in ribbons and pale pink lipstick on her thin young lips. "I 
want to find out for sure. Isn't that something I can see 
pressing against the buttons of your fly?"

"Come on, sis! Can't we just pretend I ain't seen you? Can't 
we just say I didn't come in to your room? Hey, sis! Leave 
me alone!" 

This was to no avail, as Alison carefully and slowly, looking 
up at her taller brother's face, undid the buttons of his 
shorts, feeling the stiff, hardness of his penis against the 
knuckles of her hands, the bangles on her wrists clashing 
against the cloth. And then, with a sudden tug which 
surprised both of them in its boldness, down came Alan's 
shorts and at the same time his boxers, and Alison could see 
for real what before then she'd only ever seen on the 
Internet.

Fuck! It was big. And stiff. And pink, but not as pink or 
pale as the skin of his chest and upper thighs. Sticking out 
as big as her hand, if not bigger, a long sheath of stiff hard 
flesh with throbbing veins, pulsating and pumped up with 
passion. At one end was a dark brown bush of hair, whilst 
at the other end, a strange purple colour, was a shining, 
sticky, smelly glans with such an ever so tiny mouth, but 
slitted up-and-down, rather than side-to-side. And what 
was that smell? It wasn't like the sweetly sickly smell from 
her own pussy whose fragrance she sometimes rubbed 
against her nose when it creamed on her fingers. It was a 
richer, stronger, much more potent smell. She just wanted 
to get her nose right up against it and smell it close. 
Perhaps even taste it. With her tongue. Or lips. Or 
whatever.

Alan's penis twitched with excitement, and with a reciprocal 
excitement and some curiosity, Alison put the tip of her 
tongue on the tip of her brother's glans just above its 
vertical slit. Alan started. 

"What are you doing?" he asked breathlessly.

"You know what I'm doing," Alison replied gripping her 
brother's erect penis in her fist, as much to steady it as to 
announce possession of it. "Mom and Pop are away. We've 
got the house to ourselves. We can do what we like?"

"I guess so," responded Alan weakly, surrendering himself 
to the inevitability and logic of the moment. "What they 
don't know, what they don't have to know, I mean, it won't 
hurt them. I s'pose."

With that vote of encouragement, Alison ran her tongue up 
and down the sheath and length of her brother's penis: 
leaving a thin film of saliva behind to lubricate it and let it 
shine in the early afternoon sun. One hand grabbed his hard 
egg-like testicles in the little bag beneath his penis that was 
now pulled taut and tight by the power of his erection.

"Ooh!" exclaimed Alan. "That feels sore!"

Alison momentarily wondered why, but was then reminded 
from her sex lessons at school what those two egg-shaped 
things in the scrotal sac were there for. No doubt they were 
charging up to splatter her with semen and sperm. Excited 
by the very vision of it, Alison grabbed her brother's penis 
in both hands and eased her mouth over the tip, opening it, 
oh! so very wide!, to let the glans between her lips and her 
sharp shiny white teeth, still being kept straight by a nearly 
invisible brace.

It tasted even stranger in her mouth, and it was twitching so 
very uncontrollably, with a mind so much of its own, while 
Alan's face contorted with strain and agony, but totally 
focused on the attention his sister was giving his still 
growing manhood. Alison gasped as the twitching dick 
threatened to choke her as it pushed against the back of her 
throat. She eased her mouth out and, holding his penis with 
one hand and supporting her weight against his thigh with 
the other, she looked imploringly up at her brother. All the 
while MTV were broadcasting some pop classic turned 
bland and banal by a quintet of smiling Irish teenaged boys. 
Her brother smiled down at her, with an expression more 
foolish than anything else.

"What now, brother?" she asked. "What's the next thing to 
do?"

"I guess I ... er ... fuck you," Alan replied, no doubt 
remembering the sequence of events that usually took place 
in a sex film. He was probably aware that normally this 
might also involve such added extras as DP, FC or CP. 
However, for the moment, normal sex, for the first time in 
his life, seemed plenty good enough.

"Not up the front you can't!" replied Alison. "I've been to 
sex education, you know. That's how you get pregnant. I 
don't want that to happen."

"I guess not, but I haven't got any rubbers," Alan responded 
with some disappointment. "I guess we just can't go onto 
the next stage."

Alison stroked the long warm column of her brother's 
passion. That wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all. To have 
got this far and then just to leave it at that! 

"Well, how about we just do it up the ass? It mightn't be as 
good, but I'm sure it'd be something."

"Yeah, I s'pose so," said Alan, a little disappointed. It 
wasn't going to be a proper fuck at all. It was going to be 
something else - and Alan had always wondered what the 
point of doing it with girls was at all if you just poked them 
in the ass, since men had asses just as much as them. Still, it 
was some kind of a fuck. And that was better than nothing. 
"Ain't we s'posed to like lubricate the ass or something. 
So's that it opens up proper. I mean, mightn't it be all shitty 
and tight otherwise."

"Yeah. I guess you're right. And I guess I'm gonna have to 
put a plaster over my vagina" (it sounded so grown-up to 
be using a word like that) "so's you can't accidentally slip it 
in the front. Then I'd get all that creamy stuff in me. And 
then I'd be pregnant or something."

"Yeh! Sounds like a good idea."

Alison dashed off to the kitchen, wearing only the ribbons 
in her hair, while Alan naked from his stomach to his socks, 
sat on a pink flowery sofa in the corner of her sister's 
bedroom and watched a rock group in black leathers and 
long hair prance and preen about with guitars disconnected 
from any mains supply and giving a rendition of a song 
which bereft of volume and shrieking vocals and 
thunderous guitar breaks would have sounded very sorry 
for itself indeed.

And then as MTV switched to an image of an English indie 
rock group for whom dress sense was clearly a mystery, 
Alison returned, a plaster over her bare hairless crotch and 
a tub of low cholesterol margarine. Alan jumped up, his 
penis slightly less tumescent for the momentary reprieve, 
while his younger sister smiled at him.

"I've put some of this stuff up my ass already. It feels real 
weird. And it smells even funnier. Let's hope it works. I 
guess what I've got to do now is lie on my front while you 
stick your dick up my ass. D'you think that's what we do?"

"Yeah. I guess that's just what we do," Alan replied. Then 
he must have remembered something from the porn films 
he'd watched with his friends. "But I think I've got to poke 
you with my finger or something first."

"Do you? Why's that?"

"Makes it easier for the dick I guess. Opens it up, I think. 
After all! It's such a tiny hole, ain't it?"

"Yeah! I s'pose," remarked Alison who'd never thought 
much about it. "But such big things come out of it!" 

"Yeah! Guess you're right!" Alan said, as his sister bent 
down on the side of the bed with her young smooth 
buttocks raised up ever so much and the little puckered 
hole of her anus pointed right towards him. 

Cautiously, Alan put his hands on the cheeks of her ass. 
He's never touched a naked ass before, and he was 
surprised how soft and round and warm it was. But then it 
was a girl's ass. He eased open the cheeks and could see 
small traces of margarine oozing out of the puckered hole 
and a trail dripping down the front towards the thick 
waterproof plaster. "I think I've gotta put some of this 
marge on my dick as well, sis."

"Well, get on with it, Alan. I'm beginning to lose interest 
here."

Alan took the hint, took a large two-fingertip full of 
polyunsaturated fatty solids and smothered his dick with it, 
while he probed his sister's anus with a finger. It wasn't that 
easy just getting a finger in, even with all that sticky 
slippery margarine there, but bit by bit his forefinger eased 
in, feeling strange in the tight hole squeezed in by the 
slightly harder flesh on either side. His sister was moaning 
strangely.

"Move it about a bit!" she ordered. "Don't just stick it in!"

Alan did as he was told, pulling his finger backwards and 
forwards, margarine and perhaps other visceral internal 
things getting caught under his fingernail, while his dick 
twitched with excitement at the very thought of what he 
was doing. If his friends could see him now! Fingerfucking 
his sister's ass while Elton John was crooning one of his 
interminably tuneless songs on the TV. 

Alison gasped and sweated and growled. Alan was quite 
frightened to see so much animal passion. Where was it 
coming from? Just from a little finger? He pushed it back 
and forth, back and forth, feeling the ass getting somehow 
wider and slippier and freer and easier, while his dick 
twitched and throbbed and pulsated. And then, he couldn't 
resist the throbbing red beat of his temples any more which 
was drowning out the strangled cat sound of Celine Dion or 
some other kind of shit, and in went his dick straight into 
the ass. And almost as quickly out again. God! It stung! He 
didn't know it was supposed to do that. Perhaps it was all 
the goddamn margarine. But the sight of his sister's 
expectant ass and the commands of his dick, made him 
whimper with an unfamiliar helplessness. And then straight 
back in. Easier this time. Back and forth. Back and forth. A 
slap slap slap sound. A squelchy, squishy, liquid feeling. 

Alan was lost to the world now, like Alison. He wasn't 
really thinking now what he was doing, or concerned at 
what it might seem. The commands of his hormones 
dictated to him how to act, buttocks pumping back and 
forth, his dick in his sister's ass, while she seemed even 
more lost to it all than him, somehow melted into a sea of 
passion, her hands clutching the plaster over her crotch, 
while Alan's dick pushed as deep into her as it could: an ass 
tighter at the entrance, and strangely capacious inside, a 
squeezing on the glans and the neck of his dick. 
Backwards. Forwards. Slap. Slap. Slap. Alan was barely 
aware of the grunts and gasps that accompanied their 
lovemaking, coming not only from himself, but louder and 
more bestially from his sister. Slap. Slap. Slap.

"Hey, Alison! Wassup!" suddenly interjected a familiar 
voice. And then, a sudden silence, followed by a "I fucking 
can't believe it! I just can't fucking believe it! Your brother's 
fucking you up the ass!"

Laura, Alison's best friend from school, stood at the 
entrance to Alison's bedroom, bright white eyes and 
startling white teeth the more pronounced for her very dark 
skin, and short dark curly hair. She wore a pink sweater 
and a pair of lilac shorts, a shoulder bag dangling from a fist 
and the door handle gripped tightly in her other hand. 
Alison turned her head round, where she had been 
supporting her weight by her two elbows on the mattress 
and smiled sweetly at her best friend. All the while, Alan, 
not at all sure what to do, was following his instinct and 
continued fucking, even though Laura was standing there 
transfixed by a sight as arresting as it was disturbing and 
the television screen was erupting in a cascade of bright 
lights and dull sounds.

"Alison! What. The. Fuck. Do you. Think you're. Doing?" 
Laura asked, not unreasonably.

"What do you think?" gasped Alison, not in the grip of so 
much passion now, though more than happy to let her 
brother continue from behind. Slap. Slap. 

"But. It's not. Right," Laura continued.

"Nonsense," breathed Alison. "Why don't you join in? I'm 
sure Alan won't mind. You don't mind do you, Al?"

Alan wasn't really concentrating. His mind was flooded 
with passion and obsession, as his dick pushed back and 
forth in his sister's ass.

"Hey, Alan!" continued Alison, abruptly pulling herself off 
his dick which stood out, revealed to Laura's full gaze, long 
and tall and slightly sore and very red and even more sticky.  
"Why not let Laura have a taste of your dick?"

Laura gasped, but she was quite tempted by the offer. She'd 
never seen an erect penis before, not in real life anyway, 
and curiosity was pretty much getting the best of her. 

"Are you sure?" she asked breathlessly, her previous 
reservations seeming more distant as she studied her naked 
best friend, and her brother whose dick stood out so 
prominently and more than made up for his skinniness and 
spottiness.

"Alan won't mind, will you? And anyhow Mom and Pop are 
out all day. We can do whatever the fuck we like."

Laura nervously faced the erect penis that was swivelled 
round toward her, but it was so tempting. She eased herself 
down on her knees to the tepid sounds of Sting and with 
some trepidation reached out a hand to hold that long red 
raw dick that was proffered so temptingly toward her. It 
felt very slimy and sticky, and her hand almost slid right off. 
Alison smiled at her, and Laura noticed for the first time 
that she was covering her vagina with a rather large sticking 
plaster. So her best friend wasn't wholly naked.

"Put it to your mouth!" Alison instructed, which Laura did, 
opening her mouth wide open, her large white teeth 
gleaming and her full dark lips onto the funny purple glans 
at the end, the skin of the penis tugged tight and taut behind 
the nobbly edge of it. The first thing she was aware of was 
the strong and unmistakable taste and smell of 
polyunsaturated margarine, and then another very strange 
animal smell that seemed to emanate from its very core. 
And also, but Laura tried to ignore it, what smelt a little 
like shit. 

Her black hand slid up and down the length of the dick, 
while her other hand groped inside her pants to feel the 
smooth and sticky heart of her crotch, losing her normal 
reservations about feeling herself in front of other people 
from seeing Alison do the same thing. And then she closed 
her eyes the better to taste and smell the odours of Alan's 
dick which was twitching and flicking against her teeth, 
tongue and the inside of her cheeks. And while her eyes 
were closed, she felt warm delicate hands touching against 
the bare skin of her midriff. And then a pair of soft smooth 
dry lips on her ear.

Alan pulled his dick out of Laura's mouth and she opened 
her eyes to see Alison's smiling face approach her, a wicked 
glint sparkling from her eyes. And then, without thought or 
concern, she and Alison pushed lip to lip, mouth to mouth, 
tongue to tongue, gripping each other around the back of 
the head, the other hand around each other's bare waists - 
although Laura was uncomfortably aware that Alison was 
naked whilst she was still dressed. She could see Alan stand 
back, his dick twitching as he ran his own hand up and 
down from its tip to its tail, and the flickering image of a 
reconstructed soul singer from the screen: boobs 
unnaturally firm, unlike her own small ones. 

And then, she felt her pants being pulled down by Alison's 
eager little fingers. Taking the initiative, she leaned back, 
taking her face reluctantly away from her best friend's 
mouth and eased her sweater up and over her shoulders, 
neck and head. And now there were two naked girls for 
Alan's gaze. One pale and slim and pony-tailed. The other 
dark and slim and short-haired. Two pairs of bright eyes 
and gleaming teeth, framed by different colours of skin, 
while the two girls wrapped each other in their arms, face 
locked to face, hands and arms exploring the back, the 
breasts, the nipples, the crotch, the buttocks, the whole 
mass of gleaming shining youthful skin.

And then the mouths unlocked from the slobbery sloppy 
slurping kiss, and tongues wandered over each others' 
faces, down the length of slim, arching neck, onto the chest 
and then to the breasts: Alison's lips taking her best friend's 
nipples in their grip, while Laura leaned her head back at 
the sensation. Seeing her mouth was no longer occupied, 
Alan again offered his dick to Laura's mouth which she 
took eagerly, snorting and gasping as she did so. Alison let 
her mouth traverse from nipple to nipple, while the fingers 
of one hand probed the slippery warm lips of her crotch and 
the other hand supported her friend up so that she wouldn't 
fall backwards. Laura could mostly see only dick in front of 
her face. A long length of dick with a bush of hair at the 
base and a smooth, slightly rounded belly. Alison had 
moved her gaze down from her friend's bare breasts to her 
crotch, which she kneeled in front of, tongue and fingers 
probing the smooth surface and none too intricate folds, 
sweat from her forehead mingling with the sweat running 
down Laura's chest and stomach, strong new smells 
assailing her nostrils, different and even richer than those 
from her brother's dick, with an odour as much of fish 
fingers and peas as of passion.

Alan arched up on his knees, supporting Laura by the back 
of her head, as her mouth and head bobbed backwards and 
forwards on a dick that had never before felt so thick and 
dirty and sticky and potent and raw. He could see his 
reflection in his sister's make-up mirror: a young man still 
afflicted by acne, with thick brown hair, a baggy sweater 
and a black girl's mouth attached to the end of his dick. 
And while his dick pulsated on the tongue and lips and 
sharp white teeth, he could vaguely hear heavy metal guitar 
and cat-shriek vocals from the leather-clad figures dancing 
on the TV screen.

Such a pose couldn't last forever, but the next stage had an 
inevitability and a logic to it, that surprised Alan just as 
much it did Laura. She lay on her back, her mouth once 
again glued to Alison's, dark and naked on the light pink 
sheets, beside the flowery lilac duvet, with Alan on top of 
her, his hands and arms supporting his weight above her, 
her eyes flickering with excitement back and forth from 
brother to sister to brother again. And then, with a 
suddenness that she felt should have been more subtle, but 
happy when it happened, Alan's erect pink dick sunk into 
the lighter brown folds of her vagina, pushing bit by bit into 
her, until all its length was tight inside the grip of her lips. 
The caution which had protected Alison's crotch from 
frontal assault was blown to the winds as surely as her 
clothes had eased off her, and Laura surrendered herself to 
the pain and pleasure of vaginal intercourse. And fuck! It 
was painful at first. She felt a rip inside her which almost 
caused her to pull out, but she was so enrapt in passion, 
and eased by Alison's kisses. And it was mere moments 
later that this pain subdued, although she was conscious of 
it still, like a bloody nose on a summer's day, but from 
between her thighs rather than beneath her eyes. And had 
she or Alison or Alan focused their gaze away from each 
other or the flickering images on the television screen or the 
pink and brown flesh reflected from the make-up mirror to 
the pink sheets between Laura's legs, they would have seen 
a small bloodstain slowly grow as it soaked into the 
polycotton and nylon - a colour in keeping with the red heat 
of passion that soaked their skin, pounded their hearts and 
gave vent to choruses of grunts and shrieks that erupted 
unconsciously and frequently, giving a visceral 
accompaniment to the tawdry twaddle of the televisual 
teenage beat.

Alan's buttocks thrust back and forth, back and forth. 
Laura's legs were opened wider than she could ever 
remember them being opened before. Slap. Slap. Slap. 
Crotch against groin against crotch. Liquid loins and 
slippery thighs. Alison's mouth was sore and raw and 
focused on her best friend's mouth, her hands most often on 
her nipples, but then wandering to the conjoined crotches 
where all the action was. She put a hand where the two 
lovers' genitals met, and felt the hair of her brother's groin 
press against the top of her hand while her palm gripped her 
best friend's smooth crotch: margarine, blood and sweat 
mixed with the sticky fluids of conjunction and fevered 
copulation.

Had their passion not been so great they may have noticed 
a fourth presence in the room, Alison's younger sister 
Evelyn, who stood with eyes wide open and an even wider 
open mouth, framed at the doorway, as her brother and her 
sister and her sister's best friend were busy fucking and 
sucking and licking and stroking each other. This was an 
education to her for which her sex education classes at 
school had not prepared her. Rooted to the spot by her 
curiosity, but anxious not to be seen. So, that's what sex is 
like, she thought. So unlike the line drawings she'd seen and 
a lot more exciting. Her indecision and hovering relieved by 
the duty, as she considered it, of answering the door when 
she heard the door bell ring.

She dashed off, plaits streaming behind her, and opened the 
front door to find Alan's girlfriend, Fiona, standing there in 
her blouse knotted over her midriff and her baggy pink 
shorts. Fiona was a much larger and fatter girl than either 
Alison or Laura, and not just because she was older. Her 
plumpness was undeniable, her large full breasts pressing 
against the fabric of her bra and the starched white cotton 
of her blouse, a mass of stomach bulging over the belt of 
her shorts.

"Where's Alan?" she asked, seeing Evelyn's slightly startled 
face.

"He's in Alison's bedroom," Evelyn replied nervously, not at 
all sure what to say in these circumstances. "But I think he's 
busy."

"Busy?" queried Fiona. "Well, not too busy to see me, I 
hope." She marched into the house and set a course up the 
stairs. She paused half way as she heard a curious kind of 
thumping and slapping and gasping, and the echoes of 
electric guitar and whining vocals. She couldn't remember 
that John Bon Jovi ever had samples like that in his songs. 
She continued up the stairs towards the open door of 
Alison's room, while Evelyn hovered around in the hallway, 
too frightened to follow her brother's plump girlfriend, but 
too curious in what would happen next to leave where she 
was standing, the front door closed behind her.

The sight that met Fiona's eyes when she entered Alison's 
bedroom could scarcely have been more shocking. There 
was her boyfriend on the bed, buttocks raised behind him 
and rhythmically lowering and raising them, while wrapped 
around his legs were Laura's dark legs. And this wasn't all. 
Just under her boyfriend's head was Alison's naked body, 
stroking and kissing Laura and Alan, as the two of them 
gasped and yelled and grunted in the heat of their passion.

"Alan!" she cried, hardly able to voice the words. "What 
are you doing?"

From where Evelyn was, she could hear the dialogue 
continue: four voices intermixing with each other. Fiona 
was saying: "Why with her? Why not with me? What's 
wrong with me?" Alison was saying: "Fiona. What a 
surprise. Why don't you join in?" Alan was sobbing in 
confusion: "Oh Fee! I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I just don't know 
how this happened. Please forgive me!" Laura was crying: 
"Don't stop! Don't stop! I want more!"

There was a chaos of soothing low voices, Fiona's 
strangulated cries, Laura's admonitions, a rustling, a 
fumbling, and the sounds of voices gradually getting softer, 
sobs becoming less distinct, and some whispered moaning. 
Evelyn couldn't hold back her curiosity. Careful quiet step 
after another, up the richly carpeted staircase, took her 
closer and closer to Alison's open door, her heart beating 
thunderously under her tee-shirt, while the sounds of 
teenage pop songs continued warbling cheerfully and 
inanely in the background. At last, she was at the doorway 
and grateful to see that no one was looking anywhere at all 
in her direction. And there on the bed was a mass of white 
and dark flesh, but mostly white. 

Clearly, Fiona had been persuaded to join in with her 
boyfriend and sister and best friend. Her blouse was 
removed, revealing quite the most enormous breasts that 
Evelyn had ever seen: two large aureate pink nipples on 
round bulbous bosoms, one being sucked by Laura, while 
her mouth was locked to Alan's own, who grasped her head 
from behind the neck, while supporting her large white 
fleshy back by his arm, his fingers almost sinking into the 
folds of her skin. Her shorts and panties were also off and 
flung wildly to the ground. Her legs were parted, and 
Alison's head was between the thick flesh of her thighs, a 
ponytail bobbing up and down with Alison's head, and nose 
in a mass of reddish blonde pubic hair. One shoe was 
kicked off, but the other dangled over the side of the bed.

Evelyn stood transfixed, her head and hands around the 
frame of the door, unable to move and far too wise, even 
for her years, to reveal her presence. She was hoping that 
she could once again see her older brother's erect penis 
again and for it to once again enter inside one of the girls' 
vagina. 

And she didn't have to wait long. Fiona was guided 
backward, gasping, with Alison's mouth still to her crotch 
to be joined by Laura's thick dark lips, and Alan's mouth to 
her mouth, a choked grunting and gasping as she slowly 
descended, a mass of white flesh bulging up on the hard 
mattress. And then Alan's erect penis was in view to be 
guided in to Fiona's vagina by her sister's pale pink 
varnished nails and Laura's less pale fingers. Her legs were 
open just to the side of the dark red patch of Laura's 
breached maidenhead as Alan's penis slid in, lubricated by 
semen, vaginal juices and margarine. Bit by bit, the penis 
entered, inch by throbbing inch, while Alison licked her 
brother's pebble-hard testicles, and Laura's tongue and 
fingers explored her best friend's pale and slim naked body.

And then a loud, agonised, visceral cry of agony as a 
second maidenhead was broken, a trickle of blood down 
under Alison's probing tongue and spreading onto the 
sheets. This merely added to the excitement and the 
fumblings and gropings and thrustings. Fiona gave vent to 
more cries: urgent sharp continuous, rising and falling as 
Alan's buttocks thrust harder and harder and the two other 
girls busied themselves on her plump white flesh. Alan was 
also gasping, louder and more insistently: raucous and 
guttural and uncontrolled. And then, on a signal perhaps 
learned from the pornographic videos he'd watched with his 
friends, he pulled out his penis, which was jerking and 
twitching as uncontrollably as his girlfriend's cries of 
ecstasy, a stream of pale viscous liquid squeezed out of its 
end. And then, to Evelyn's delight, and to the wonder of 
both Alison and Laura, a sequence of long trails of semen 
arched out of his twitching dick, rising high into the air and 
landing on Fiona's large breasts, her round mass of stomach 
and adding its own colour to the palette of blood and sweat 
on the sheets.

And then, a sudden collapse: the four youngsters fell into 
an untidy heap on the bed: two young friends, a brother and 
his girlfriend, legs and arms and breasts intermingled and 
tangled amongst each other. Evelyn hovered by the door 
for a few more moments, dreading the time when one or 
other of them might raise their head and see her there. And 
all the while, the afternoon sun shone through the open 
window slanting onto the television screen. The pants and 
gasps of sated passion, as the four lay there breathing 
heavily and low, whilst a chorus of five Irish teenagers sang 
and danced to songs of dubious merit on what could be 
seen of the screen through the bright reflection of the trees 
and passing clouds over Ambleside Close.






31




