OPENING THE BOX (part 4)


By KATZMAREK


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Disclaimer.


This is a work of erotic fiction. It remains the property of the
author and may not be reproduced for profit without the author's
express permission.


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When Justin arrived home the next day from school, he saw his step-father's blue and white sports car in the drive. Low, the roofline barely came up to the level of the EVO's windows. His parents travelled light, there was barely any room for luggage. If they needed anything they simply bought or hired it, they were *that* wealthy.


Justin knew he was indulged and lived a privileged life. Their house was large and sat on 2 acres of grounds. There was a gardener, a housekeeper, a maintenance man, all ensured he needn't lift a finger.


It hadn't always been that way. He'd spent his early childhood moving around from place to place. His real father had left them when Justin was about 2. He was a jeweller who followed the country fairs in an old bus selling his wares. Justin thought it an idyllic life, always travelling, parking the old Leyland wherever there was a stream for water.


His dad had turned up one day, unannounced. He rode in on an old BSA motorcycle, meticulously restored. His dad had fussed over him, took him for outings, showed him the bush. They'd sat on a cliff one evening above the ocean and watched the sun turn the sea orange. He'd put his arm around his shoulders and told him how much he'd loved him.


By contrast, his step-father was distant. He couldn't remember a time when he'd displayed any kind of affection. He had, though, bought him practically anything he'd asked for. One thing he'd never been allowed to do, however, was drive the sports car.


It was a one-off, a prototype, based on the chassis and motor of a formula one racing car. A V10 BMW engine sat snuggly behind the driver, the fat tyres clung to a race-bred space-frame. A roll cage restricted room inside, full harness safety belts pinned you to wrap-round racing seats. To buy it you wouldn't have much change from 2 million dollars.


"So, are you and Angela settled in yet?" his mother asked, "when do we get the chance to check her out?"


"I could go and pick her up in the Williams?" Justin suggested, pointing at the sports car optimistically.


His stepfather had chuckled at the suggestion.


"Why not?" his mother had gleamed at her husband, "Justin's a good driver, aren't you sweetie?"


His stepfather had choked on his latte. He'd offered very little resistance to any suggestions of his wife in the past, but this was almost too much.


"Now, he won't be able to handle it," he pleaded, "the motor's, it's just too powerful and..."


"You'd be careful, wouldn't you?" his mother had said, mischievously.


"Insurance? If he crashed it..."


"Oh, it could be fixed up, darling. Justin would drive sensibly, wouldn't you?"


Justin nodded enthusiastically. His stepfather had wandered away shaking his head and mumbling that she'd better know what she was doing.


So a little while later Justin navigated the monster out onto the road. The motor felt like it wanted to propel him into orbit. A light touch of the accelerator illicited a sharp burst of power sending the Williams jolting forward. It took some while before he began to develop a 'feel' for the car's controls.


Out on the motorway he waited for a decent stretch of straight road before giving the pedal a bigger nudge. The motor howled, the traction control prevented the rear wheels from burning off the tyre tread, it was as if a rocket had been lit behind him. The lamp posts sped past with increasing speed. It was every 16 year old male's wet dream.


Pulling up outside Angela's, half the street's kids had drifted out to their gates to stare. Justin felt he was a visiting Prince, leaning casually against the door grinning.


Angela came down her path wide-eyed in bemusement. On cue, Justin pulled a bunch of roses from behind his back and announced,


"Mum wants to meet you."


He'd seen it in a movie. He was pleased the little drama had the same effect on Angela. His timing had been perfect. She laughed in pleasure and amusement. She manuevered herself into the passenger's seat while Justin showed her how to do up the harness. That this involved some contact around her chest region was not lost on them both.


"Mum's watching!" she hissed, when Justin got a little too 'friendly.'


"I was just showing..." he started to tell her.


"I know what you were doing," she grinned, "I can do the buckle up myself, thank you."


Angela looked around her in wonder as Justin showed her around the house. They stood on the back balcony and surveyed the grounds, wandered among the roses, sipped cokes on the patio while Justin's mother hovered around telling Angela, 'it was about time...' etc.


Angela was asked to stay for dinner. She checked with her parents and said it was ok. Justin's mother ordered Cambodian, a family favourite. It was delivered within the hour and placed on burners on their large dining table by two uniformed waiters from the restaurant. It was nearly all a bit much for her.


After dinner Justin showed her his room. It was a top floor annex with a ceiling that sloped down one side following the roof line. The other side had a sliding window opening onto a balcony.


They played video games for a while, sitting together on the floor against Justin's unmade bed.


Justin ventured an arm around her neck, she stroked his leg. They smiled and kissed one another. His hand found her right breast and cupped it over her top.


"Your parents?" she whispered.


"They won't come in," he murmured, "door's locked anyhow."


She raised her eyebrows, suspiciously.


"You can trust me," he reassured her, "and yourself," he added smiling.


"Wrong and wrong," she told him, grinning, "that's what makes you so dangerous," she twinkled her eyes.


He growled like a tiger, or maybe a tomcat. In any case, she mewed like a frightened kitten. They laughed and kissed some more. Justin nibbled all around her throat and over the cotton of her top. His lips sought out her nipple and was rewarded when it expanded under the layer of clothing.


"Check the door!" she told him, suddenly.


Justin shrugged and got up, tried the handle and pronounced it locked. Turning, he found Angela sliding her jeans down her tanned legs. Pleasurably surprised, she explained to him that they might as well make themselves comfortable.


Justin dropped his own pants and, as an afterthought, slipped his T-shirt over his head. Meanwhile, Angela had got into his bed and arranged the duvet over herself.


He slid quickly in beside her and resumed kissing. His hand caressed her exposed skin, around her thighs and across her tummy. Hers slid around his waist, up his back and over his butt. His cock unfolded in his underpants, furtively he worked it to the side where it would have more room for expansion. Eventually he would have to work it out underneath his waistband.


Justin began to knead and nip her breasts lightly. She trembled and told him to wait. She then sat up and pulled her top over her head, turning sideways so Justin could undo the clip of her bra. Now topless, she hurried back under the covers. Perhaps still concerned with the presence of Justin's parents.


They fitted snuggly into the palms of Justin's hands. As only the second set of female breasts he could remember exploring, he absently compared the qualities in his mind. Angela's were stiffer and held their shape on her chest, whereas Sharon's kind of flattened and rolled around. He treated them the same, however, as he did with Sharon's.


Angela sucked in her breath and moaned softly. Her fingers gripped his back harder. She whispered,


"I trust you," quietly in his ear.


His fingers found their way over her panties, he felt the soft flesh between her legs. Pressing lightly over her pussy he sought out her slit, and the little hollow of the entrance to her vagina.


Gradually he rolled on top of her, between her legs. Justin felt his straining cock press down onto her bone. Angela bent her knees up and Justin sensed the dampness and heat emanating from her soft pussy. He pressed down again and slowly sawed his cock along her moist, nylon-covered slit.


"Baby, be careful!" she whispered urgently, "I trust you!" she added again.


Angela began to roll her arse, matching Justin's rhythm. Mindful of his hair-trigger, Justin tried to remember all the advice that Sharon had offered. When he felt himself beginning to boil, he eased off  and continued to stimulate her with his fingers. When the crisis passed, he resumed his 'dry humping.' Sometimes he stopped alltogether and kissed her passionately on the mouth. Angela was soon panting and digging into his arse with her fingernails.


During a pause she told him, quietly,


"Oh baby, you make me so horny! You're so hot honey!"


"I've dreamed of this," he replied, "you... in my bed!"


"Me too!" she whispered.


"Really?" he grinned, "and do you? Y'know... get horny and..."


"Wank?" she finished the sentence, "do you?"


He nodded.


"So do I!" she told him.


"Really? How often?" 


"Pervert!" she laughed, "maybe every night before I go to sleep, you?"


"Three times a day!" he grinned.


"Liar!" she giggled.


He resumed humping, she clung to him and cooed with pleasure and excitement.


"You know... uh?" she gasped, "I'm... not... oh... a virgin...uh."


"No?" 


"Uh huh... ooo."


"Neither... am I," he panted.


"Thought not... Go harder baby!" she called urgently.


Her moaning took on a harsher tone. She thrust back harder against him, pulled him down tighter.


"Oh Justin... oooohhhh... ahhhhh... baby... ooooo."


Her body stiffened and slammed against him. She grit her teeth, siezed his cock with her fist, squeezed and pulled on him. Justin, however had successfully kept himself in check and hadn't matched her orgasm.


Lying ,pinned tight to Angela's body by her arm around his neck, Justin listened to her breathing begin to slow. He felt moisture on his cheek, looked up and saw her eyes moist and red.


"What's the matter?" he murmured, concerned.


"I'm being silly," she sobbed, "I don't know."


After a while spent slowly stroking each other's faces, Angela whispered something. More like a movement of the lips, Justin didn't catch it.


"What's that?" he asked slowly molesting her nipples.


Giggling, she pushed his hands away.


"You won't be cross?" she asked.


He shook his head. He couldn't imagine anything she'd say that could make him cross at that moment.


"I think I love you," she whispered, uncertainly.


Justin's life just got a whole lot more complicated, he felt. Especially when he told her he thought he loved her too.


"Justin?" she asked after a time. Sucking in her breath she asked, "do, do you like me more than Chrissie Benmore?"


"Chrissie, what? Of course, why?"


"It's just that... It's not that I'm spying on you or anything, believe that."


"Sure, I know!" he replied, doubtfully.


"It's that... someone saw you saying goodbye to her outside her gate the other night. Your car was there... and you were hugging... They said your car had been there a couple of hours. I don't mind..." she told him, tears welling again. Clearly it *did* matter. "...I mean, if you want to see her... but I need the truth, Justin, please?"


Justin felt his growing panic, his erection wilted rapidly in response. Absently, he noted that panic was a sure technique for delaying ejaculation.


"I'm not seeing Chrissie," he explained as forthrightly as possible, "I was visiting Mrs. Benmore, Sharon. Chrissie came home as I was leaving and bumped into me by the gate, that's all it was."


"Really, that's all?" Angela seemed relieved, "you were seeing Chrissie's mother? What for?"


Justin knew the question would come. He didn't however, have a prepared answer. He wavered between several lies and the truth. He thought he'd be able to choose which explanation to use when the time came. He realised, now how hard that decision was going to be.


"Justin?" he could hear her break through into his thoughts.


"Sharon Benmore and I..." he felt his resolve falter.


Angela stared into his face curiously. A gleam of realisation began to spread over her features.


"Oh God, Justin?" she gasped.


"She's been kind of tutoring..." he continued, realising with mounting certainty that Angela wasn't going to buy it.


"Tutoring? What subject, Justin?" a sarcastic tone developed.


"Massage!" he told her, suddenly inspired, "want one?" he said, brightly.


"Massage?" she said, floored.


"Yes, I'm going to be a masseuse, I've decided."


"So Mrs. Benmore's been showing you how to massage?" Angela asked, incredulously, "what, you take you clothes off and let her..."


"Sure!" he told her, "professionally of course. Y'know, there's nothing else to it."


"Well," she replied with a sly expression, "maybe not for you. But I bet she enjoys herself!"


"Maybe she does," he shrugged, "didn't notice."


Angela combined relief with humour and burst out laughing. Running her fingertips over cock and balls she whispered,


"Does she massage these? or haven't you noticed?"


He smiled and started to molest her body once again. She licked his chest, his hand slipped under her soaking panties and felt her arse.


"Do you like head?" she suddenly asked, looking up into his face, "y'know, sucking it?"


"I know!" he told her bemused, "sure, if you want to."


She grinned and kissed her way down his body while holding his cock in her fist. Justin felt her warm mouth and tongue eventually touch his cockhead. Hold his balls in her hands, Justin felt her lips close over him.


"Shit!" he heard her muffled voice, "you're big!"


Justin didn't feel she was as skilled as Sharon, but then why would she be? He pushed a finger along her butt crack and probed the entrance to her vagina. Angela clenched her muscles as he pushed into her with his index finger. As she bobbed on him, he fingerfucked her. He felt more aroused from that act upon her, particular when her hand joined his. When he welled and spurted, Angela pulled off quickly and directed the streams away from her and over his stomach. She did, though, kiss and stroke his balls as his cock pumped out the last of his sperm.


Afterwards they lay cuddling. One of her legs was thrown over his crotch, her uncomfortably wet panties abandoned, Justin could feel her damp pussy pressed against his thigh.


"Do you like kids?" she asked him, smiling.


"Why?" he retorted, horrified.


"No reason!" she told him, laughing.


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"A masseuse?"


Justin listened to Sharon's throaty, tobacco-stained laughter over the phone. His room still had the aroma of Angela, her scent and shampoo, with the unmistakeble sweet smell of sex. Justin had opened his windows, but the the smell lingered, as if clinging to the walls and the bed.


"So, ok, I'm giving you massage lessons? You know, that could work out very expensive!" she laughed.


"Oh yeah," Justin agreed, "how much? No problem."


"Haha, I wasn't thinking of money, sugar!"


"Oh," he'd been caught again.


"Maybe you should just tell her, Justin," she was suddenly serious, it caught him off guard. "Y'know, it's not healthy lying to her. You'll get caught out in the end."


"I can't!" he pleaded, "she'll kill me!"


"Oh for God's sake! And you think that keeping all this pretence going is liable to impress her?"


"No," he replied miserably.


"Of course not, Sugar. Maybe we should just call it quits, eh? I don't want to get in the way of true love."


"Well , maybe, I... Perhaps, like, we could just play it by ear?"


"By ear? Justin, you need to sort yourself out, Honey. I really enjoyed our little 'sessions' together, but I'm not going to be held responsible for screwing up some kid's life."


"You won't. I promise!"


"You promise? Damn, Justin, I'm not your mother and I've learned all about guys' 'promises' a long time ago. Tell you what, just give me a call when you've sorted things through. Maybe I'll be here, maybe not. It's your crossword puzzle to work out, sugar, ok?"


"Ok."


The click on the end of the phone had a strange finality about it. Justin stood staring at the receiver wondering whether he would ever see Sharon again.


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It was some days later when Justin encountered Chrissie Benmore again. She was standing at a bus stop all alone. Justin, travelling in the opposite direction, had seen her bus down past the next block. She'd clearly missed it.


He pulled a U turn, he thought perhaps of telling her about her bus. Pulling up, he saw she looked startled, almost pressing herself against the building. Justin lowered the window and beckoned her over.


"Your bus has gone," he told her.


"Um, Justin, have you got a phone? Can I call mum?" she asked, plaintively, "I've lost my bag with all my money. The bus driver wouldn't let me ride for nothing."


"They wouldn't!" he told her sympathetically.


Apart from the odd class trip, Justin had never been on a bus in his life.


"I'll have to call mum at work and perhaps she can come and get me. Or maybe my sister? I don't know who else..." she told him, obviously panicking.


"Jump in!" Justin decided quickly, "I'll run you home."


She hesitated at first, but clearly there was no better option going.


Chrissie sat rigidly in the passenger seat of the EVO. Her legs were firmly pressed together and as angled away as the design of the car would permit. She looked to Justin like a shop mannequin that had been folded into his car.


She stared at some point out the side window, or straight ahead. Justin saw that her hands were shaking, she clenched and unclenched her hands constantly. She was making him nervous.


"What's the matter, Chrissie?" he asked.


"Nothing!" she snapped.


As if to emphasise the point she stared right into his face.


"You seem nervous?" Justin suggested, "you're shaking."


"I, I guess I'm worried about my bag," she told him, not very convincingly.


"What did you have in it?"


"Just, stuff," she replied, before lapsing back into silence.


When they pulled up outside her house she opened the door of the car to step out. Suddenly she balled her fists and punched herself on the thighs.


"Oh fuck, my key!" she wailed, "it's in my bag. I can't get in!"


She hovered by the car trying to make up her mind what to do.


"Maybe I could look around the house?" Justin suggested, "maybe there's a window open, or something?"


She looked uncertain before nodding in submission. Justin got out and walked with her up the path and around the back. Finding a window on the latch he suggested they find a stick to push the lever up. Carefully Justin eased the latch up with a broken piece of car aeriel he'd found in the garden shed. Once achieved, he volunteered to climb inside and open the door for her. Chrissie nodded dumbly. 


Justin was enjoying playing the hero. He shimmied up and slid his skinny frame through the window. Opening the door for Chrissie, she mumbled her thanks and stood uncertainly in the passage.


"Um, would you like a coke, coffee?" she offered, reluctantly.


"Coffee, sure," Justin accepted brightly.


He wasn't sure whether Chrissie actually wanted him to say yes, but nevertheless she went through to the kitchen and put on a brew. She stood at the kitchen counter with her back to him. Justin heard her sniffing.


"What's the matter, Chrissie," Justin asked, concerned, "why are you scared of me?"


"I'm not!" she spun around, "what gave you that idea?"


"Dunno," he shrugged, "you always seem so tense around me."


"And why wouldn't I be?" she asked, angrily, "I should be happy about you screwing my mother?"


"You said..."


"I said I understood," she interrupted, "not that I forgive you!"


"Forgive me for what?" he asked her, confused.


Walking over to her, Justin put her hand on her shoulder. Seeing she didn't pull away, he slowly turned her around to face him. She looked at the floor, her cheeks moist and streaked with tears. She suddenly looked into his face, eyes flashing anger and resentment.


"What about Angela?" she said bitterly, "are you sleeping with her yet?"


"I..." Justin reeled, speechless.


"None of my business, I suppose?"


Experienced as Justin was becoming, he obviously still wasn't able to recognise a teenage crush when he came upon it. Manfully he struggled to come to grips with Chrissie's burst of emotion.


"Well, I don't understand what it's got to do with you," he told her.


"That's because you are so stupid, Justin!"


"Well, tell me then!" he replied, irritated.


Chrissie took a deep breath.


"Angela and I were friends, we went to the same primary school. Then I went to Catholic School on this scholarship, mum would never had afforded the fees..."


"Yeah, and?"


"So we used to tell each other everything, don't you get it?"


"Um?" Justin looked at the ceiling, "no!"


Chrissie sighed in frustration.


"God, boys are so dumb! We used to tell each other about guys, now do you understand?"


A flicker of enlightenment winked at him from the heavens. Briefly he thought he caught her drift.


"So... one of those guys was me?" he suggested.


"Justin," her voice softened, "the *only* guy was you. At least as far as I was concerned."


"Oh... shit! I... I never knew, um," Justin stammered.


"So first it was mum and now Angela..." Chrissie wailed, burying her face against his shoulder and weeping some more.


Justin was non-plussed. Instinctively he held her against him in a hug.


"I'm sorry," she sniffed against his shoulder, "I know I can't make you like me..."


"But I do!" Justin insisted, "gosh when you came in that morning and saw me in your mother's bed..."


"I nearly died, Justin," she looked up once more.


Justin looked into her expectant face. She was waiting for him to say, or do something. Not knowing what to say, he kissed her instead. Chrissie's mouth promptly opened and sucked him inside. He felt overwhelmed by the wave of emotion released from her. Bottled up for God knows how long?


All thoughts of Angela, of Chrissie's mother, vanished in the swirl of passion unleashed. They squirmed against one another, held each other by their butts and pushed their crotches together. She moaned his name, like out of a TV teenage soap opera. Justin thought for a moment that it seemed like a movie. He was just an actor being told what to do by some unseen Director.


"This is wrong... but it seems so right, don't you think?" she murmured.


Justin winced inwardly at the corny lines. 'Damn, who wrote this script?' he thought to himself.


The thought occurred to him that this scene had all been rehearsed in Chrissie's mind for the day she'd have him where she wanted him. He'd suddenly become a real participant in her erotic fantasy.


"Y'know, I know what to do... If you want to?" she told him in a small voice.


As if to emphasise what she meant, she slid sensuously over him as he felt the counter top digging into his back.


"Do you want me?" she purred.


Justin felt any resistance he had begin to crumble. Sensing it, her face took on a look of triumph, she pushed her hands under his shirt.


"I'll show you my room, if you like?" she purred again.


He allowed himself to be led up the passage. Chrissie hooked her fingers through his belt, as if taking possession of him. Justin's arm rested around her shoulders, more to steady himself. Doubts and arguments lingered and flashed across his mind. Everything was becoming just too weird for his liking.


She towed him into her room and pushed the door closed with her arse. She then put her arms up around him and drew him down once more. Up to now, she had been the aggressor, but now Justin began to feel a surge of desire take him over.


As their mouths mashed together, tongues lashing, he took the clip out of her hair allowing it to fall loose. She drew apart, shook her hair free, and allowed Justin to pull her shirt free of her skirt. As he undid the buttons, from bottom to top, she bunched his T-shirt up and pushed it up his chest. Her bra covered boobs sprang into sight at the same time as Justin held his arms up so Chrissie could wrench his shirt from him.


Justin looked down and drooled. Her tits swelled over the top of her bra, as if it was a size too small. She grinned, a mixture of excitement and embarrassment at his admiring stare. His hands reached up and began to caress them as Chrissie closed her eyes.


Chrissie undid the zip at the side of her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Giggling she threw herself backwards across the bed. Feet on the floor, knees apart slightly, Justin was presented with a 15 year old brown-haired beauty in white lingerie. Chest heaving in anticipation, she watched him lower his trousers to the floor.


KATZMAREK(C)







