OPENING THE BOX (Part 6)


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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The party season was beginning. Justin imagined all sorts of problems. Although Chrissie and Angela attended different schools, there was always a crossover of partygoers. He couldn't be sure he wouldn't run into someone who knew he was dating someone else from whom he arrived with. It was difficult backing out of an invitation without an iron-cast alibi. Such were the risks of two-timing, or in his case, three-timing women.


With Chrissie, however, he'd found someone who, like himself, didn't really enjoy parties. Fiercely possessive, she wasn't going to put 'her' man in the way of the competition. As the weeks ticked over towards Christmas, she much preferred going to movies, or a dinner for two. That way she had him within easy reach. There were parties, though, where it just wasn't good manners not to attend.


Angela was definitely a party girl by contrast. She intended to display Justin as often as she could. He was her territory and she was determined to remind everyone of that fact. She liked to dance and hauled Justin up to partner her. He soon discovered a latent rhythm and talent for dancing. He decided it wasn't a world away from sex.


But sex is what Justin could do best. He absorbed all the knowledge, both theoretical and practical that he came across. His preoccupation  probably bordered on the obsessional. For the time being, however, neither Chrissie, Angela nor Sharon seemed to mind.


Like she was reliving a past of furtive couplings under trees and in remote places, Sharon kept calling him at least once a week. Often it was during her lunch break. She'd call and give him a place and time, then wordlessly drag him to some 'make out' point. There she would suck him to hardness then fuck him. Always frantic, always with a veil of 'naughtiness' about it. Afterwards she'd push him on his way as if ashamed of herself, and of him.


Sex with all three of his 'women' was sensational, but for different reasons.


Angela was fun-loving. She like to wrestle, clown around and tease. She'd lick Justin's cock, calling it her 'joy stick', rub him with her small tits, laugh and joke and sit on his face. She liked Justin to suck her pussy while fingering the cheeks of her tight little butt. Justin would fuck her slowly, often with her lying across the bed while he stood. Her legs would wrap themselves around his waist. When she came, tears filled her eyes and she'd moan that she loved him.


Chrissie liked to be 'persuaded.' She remained passive, staring blankly at the movie screen, while Justin stalked her thigh. She'd wear a short skirt, even though she knew his hand would drift under it. In the dark of the movie theatre, Chrissie draped a jacket over her lap as Justin's hand slipped higher. She'd lean against his shoulder as his fingers played over her mound.


After the cinema he'd drive her down to the river bank. She'd complain that he'd keep her past curfew. Justin would tell her not to worry, they'd only be a little while. 'I just want to spend a few minutes with you, all alone.' There was no doubt what that 'few minutes' would involve.


Wordlessly they'd get out of the car and push forward the front seats of the EVO. From experience they knew the centre console impeded their lovemaking. Once squashed into the back seat, she'd kiss enthusiastically while permitting Justin to pull up her top. Chrissie would close her eyes as Justin sucked and licked her full breasts. She'd pretend not to notice when he pulled her hand down to the front of his jeans. Absently, she'd knead him as he grew hard beneath her palm.


"We shouldn't, not here!" she'd complain, routinely.


"Just a little longer," Justin would say, massaging her mound under her short skirt.


It was far too cramped for fucking in the back seat of the Mitsubishi. Justin would pull Chrissie out, complaining.


"No, Justin, someone might come," she'd moan as he pulled down her panties.


Then bent forward over the bonnet of the car, or down on the grass, she'd help him fit his big cock into her pussy. By that time she was always ready and thrust back at him as he stroked into her. They quickly became a great team, catching each other's rhythm, sensing one another's peaks. Chrissie always came loudly, despite her fear of discovery. Her orgasm usually triggered his, blasting into her hot pussy as it spasmed with pleasure.


Sometimes the sessions were so intense, Chrissie would walk unsteadily back home from the end of her street where Justin would always leave her. As far as he was aware, her Mother had no inkling of her daughter's new lover's identity.


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The following Friday, Angela's night, his blond fox called to tell him that she'd been invited to some 'ladies' night.' He wasn't sure what the euphemism stood for, they'd joked about male strip shows and such like, but she assured him it was nothing more than a chance for her and the girls to have a night away from the boys. As if the news had been telegraphed instantly, Sharon called and tersely gave him an address.


If Justin was disturbed by the uncanniness of it all, at least it filled in the evening. It beat a lonely night in watching TV.


The address was not far from his house, deep in the leafy suburbs. Sharon gave no more information than was strictly necessary to get there at the appointed hour. That, at least, was no more than he was used to.


The house was large and well back from the road. Justin parked his car in the drive amid the manicured lawns and neatly pruned trees. A woman, perhaps in her fifties, answered the door. She was dressed in the same work uniform that Sharon wore. However her tie had been discarded and her collar opened.


"Yes?" she asked, a little confused and swaying slghtly.


A strong whiff of alcohol assailed Justin's nostrils.


"Is that Justin?" called Sharon from inside the house.


"I dunno," the woman said, "a boy..."


"White rally car? Writing on the door? 'bout 5.10, dark hair?"


"Yes. You never said he was so young," the woman said standing aside and beckoning Justin into the house.


The lounge was thick with tobacco smoke. Two glasses and a bottle of rum cluttered a small glass table set between two settees. Sharon slumped in one, clearly the worse for the alcohol.


"Ah Justin," she said, "right on time, as usual."


The other woman entered and took the other settee.


"Justin, this is Frances, she wanted to meet you."


"Now I didn't," Frances protested, "you said..."


"I said, I knew a hot date and you said that's just what you needed."


"No I didn't... well maybe I did... but I didn't realise he'd be so young. Sharon, are you saying that you and he..."


"Oh yes, he's young," Sharon replied, "but so talented. He does what he's told and keeps his mouth shut, don't you sugar?"


Justin shuffled uncomfortably in the middle of the room. He felt he was being appraised, like some prize bull.


"Sit down honey lips," Sharon smirked, "right beside Frances. Be nice to her."


"Sharon!" Frances protested, "I don't think..."


"Oh what more do you want, darling? He's good looking, slim, obedient, enthusiastic and hung like a donkey."


Both women burst out laughing.


"What more do I want?" laughed Frances, "well a beard perhaps?"


"Oh I'm sure he shaves," replied Sharon, "besides, who wants sandpaper scratching your thighs?"


More laughter. Justin rolled his eyes, looked at the floor. He didn't like being made a fool of like this. The situation was weird, he knew he should leave, but curiousity got the better of him. He sat down next to the older woman.


Frances had greying hair and pearl earings swinging from her ears. The Travel Company's uniform jacket was unbuttoned, her knee length skirt clung to her shapely crossed legs encased in sheer Nylon. Justin watched how her leg swung as she talked, and joked, with Sharon.


"...Lovely hands," Sharon was saying, "like my ex-husband's. And those 'come-hither eyes..."


Justin continued to watch Frances's foot swing like a pendulum.


"...Morals like an alley-cat..." Sharon went on, "just like Frank... anything warm, that was Frank, the arsehole!"


Sharon's speech was slurred. Justin hadn't seen her so drunk before.


"...My daughter Chrissie had a crush on him since before she got tits..."


Justin jerked as if he'd been given an electric shock. His senses were instantly on alert.


"...But I knew he was grief. So like Frank. She could do much better. He was so easy to pull," Sharon chuckled, "flash some pussy..."


'She *knew* all along about Chrissie's liking for him!' Justin thought. The feeling began to grow that he'd been set up all along.


"...But we cured her little obsession, didn't we sugar? Walked right in on us... always takes a shower first thing Saturday morning. The only shower's in my en-suite you see, Fran. Cunning of me don't you think?"


"That's awful!" Frances replied, "you steal her, her..."


"Fantasy, Fran. And that's all it will ever be, won't it sugar?" she looked squarely at Justin, "Because Justin knows that if he ever laid a hand on my daughter, his dick will be a lot shorter!"


Both women dissolved into more laughter. Justin squirmed uncomfortably.


"Sit a bit closer to Frances, will you Justin. Giver her some attention!" Sharon told him.


Automatically, Justin shuffled closer to the other woman.


"I don't think..." Frances started to say.


"Oh yes you do," Sharon said, "he'll be very good to you."


"But I haven't... with anyone... since Jim died," said Frances, "no man's touched me in years..."


"Well it's way past time. Justin give her a kiss... put your arm around her...go on!"


Dumbly Justin leaned in. Frances accepted his kiss reluctantly, but did not move away when he moved in for a second. Trying to ignore Sharon's smirking presence, he applied himself to the task, nibbling and licking her slowly responding lips.


"Oh my, my..." Frances sighed.


"Good, eh?" Sharon commented, "go on, Justin, take her through to the bedroom and show her a good time. Start with a good massage, perhaps?"


Like an automaton, Justin stood and took the woman's hand. Frances allowed him to pull her to her feet and be towed towards the bedroom door.


"I shouldn't..." Frances protested.


"Oh go-on, get some dick!" cajoled Sharon.


Frances stumbled after Justin and through into the bedroom, still protesting. The blinds were already drawn, the room was dim and dominated by an immaculately made bed. Her hands lightly rested on Justin's hips as he continued to kiss her rum and tobacco flavoured lips.


"You know, you don't have to do this. It was all Sharon's..." she started to say before being cut off by Justin's kissing. "Oh my! I haven't been kissed like that since Jim..."


Justin slipped his arms around her waist, under her jacket. He continued to kiss her, open-mouthed and passionately.


"Perhaps," she said quietly, breathing heavily, "a little playing but I don't think we should..."


Justin silenced her with his mouth. He was starting to feel turned on himself. Her reluctance seemed to fuel his desire. Her hands held onto his hips a little more firmly. Justin pulled her tighter against his chest, feeling her boobs squash between them.


"Would you care for a massage?" Justin asked her.


"Well, perhaps," she replied, "Sharon said you were quite good at it. Massage, I mean," she added, reddening.


She backed away and took off her jacket. Her breasts, although smaller than Sharon's, were strongly supported. Justin imagined that, released, they would sag a fair bit. Frances undid the belt of her tight skirt, lowered the zip at the side, and dragged it down over her hips with difficulty.


Her stockings clung to her legs and were held up by a suspender belt. Justin had only seen them in photos and was greatly impressed. Her skin was a little loose, her tummy flowed slightly over the elastic of her white panties.


Frances turned quickly away as she shed her shirt. Justin watched the expanse of her back, dotted with freckles and a little worn. Her bra strap cut straining across under her shoulder blades. Carefully she unclipped it and, holding the cups to her chest, lay flat on her stomach on the bed.


Justin stripped down to his briefs. Frances turned to look at him and widened her eyes. Her mouth opened to say something but snapped shut. Clearly he'd taken her by surprise. He was enjoying the game.


The woman seemed excited but still flooded with doubts. Perhaps the alcohol had clouded her 'better judgement' to an extent that she felt she could let herself go. In any case Justin felt she was trying to convince herself that he was going to give her a little 'straight' relaxing massage. Even if the evidence suggested otherwise.


He oiled up his hands from a bottle left conveniently on the bedside table. He recognised the scent as Sharon's blend. Obviously this whole scene had been well-planned.


Justin worked his hands up her spine and over the crease made by her bra strap. Frances shivered with the contact but soon began humming in pleasure. He worked around her shoulders, pressing in with his thumbs.


"You're tense!" he told her.


"Hmm hmm," she crooned.


His hands worked their way down her sides and tantalisingly close to the swells of her breasts, still protected in their bra cups. Frances shivered as Justin allowed his fingertips to brush her tit flesh. His hands continued on down and over the small of her back. He pushed his fingers underneath the suspender belt onto the Nylon of her panties.


"May I?" he asked, undoing the belt.


"Um!" she grunted uncertainly, but the deed was done.


He peeled each stocking down in turn keeping the maximum contact with her thighs and legs.


"Um!" she again grunted, but, again, too late.


Justin worked on her legs, watching the flesh ripple between his fingers and thumbs. Over the creased skin of her thighs his fingers inched the way upwards towards the expanse of her panty-covered arse.


He sat astride her legs, moving upwards so the bulge of his cock grazed the bottom of her arse cheeks.


"Oh... ah... I don't..." she exclaimed as his hands felt down her sides and onto her tit flesh.


"Over!" Justin ordered, getting off her.


Obediantly Frances moved onto her side, still clutching her bra cups protectively against her. Nervously she inched onto her back, looking for all the world like a nervous virgin.


"Please," she whined, "don't, don't look at me like that. I'm not a young girl anymore."


"Your body's fine," Justin told her.


Blushing, she replied he must be blind. She was, however, clearly pleased by the compliment. 


Justin reached out and gently took her bra from under her hands. Swallowing, she explained that her boobs sagged now from when she was younger. Nevertheless she let Justin drag her bra away and discard it.


Her breasts still had some shape, but her distended nipples pointed a little towards her toes. Babies had sapped some of the life out of them, but Justin ran his hands over them and assured her they were sexy. Frances smiled with pleasure.


Rolling a boob between his hands, his fingers felt the soft crinkly texture of the skin. Her nipples were large and brown and now stood stiffly to attention. He imagined they'd been well chewed over years of bearing children. Gently, Justin touched his lips to it.


"Oh!" she exclaimed, "tickles, uh!"


Justin stretched out beside her and continued to tongue her breasts. She lightly stroked his head as he ran his free hand over her body.


"Oh my!" she murmured, "nice... uh!"


She whispered that it had been a long time since she'd been this close to a half-naked man. His fingers trailed down over the front of her panties and rested on her prominent mons. Her thighs twitched in response, her body shivered. Her right arm fell between them, the back of her hand brushed his hard cock stretching his briefs. Justin noticed her breathing quicken, rasping through her nose. It aroused him. Turning her head to him she whispered,


"Goodness, you're a big boy, aren't you?"


Her thighs parted slowly as Justin began to rub her in earnest. Her mouth fell open and she blew out a lung-full of air.


"Kiss me!" she gasped.


Justin fastened his mouth to hers, plunging his tongue past her teeth to seek out hers. Their lips worked rythmically together. Frances's head fell back onto the pillow and Justin followed it. Rolling half on top of her, he pushed his hand inside her panties to be met by a warm flood of desire. His finger sawed steadily along her sopping slit, working into her boiling hole.


Her thighs flew apart, stretching the elastic tight over the back of his wrist. With one hand he wrenched her panties down, Frances snapped her knees closed to permit him to pull them up over her legs and off. She then opened wide again for him. He obliged her by continuing to stroke her pussy.


Moaning, Frances pulled his elastic aside and reached for his cock. Seizing him she pulled it free of his briefs, her fingers curled around the girth.


"Oh!" she moaned, "so hard, I..."


Pulling him towards her pussy, she whispered for him to be gentle with her.


"I don't like the... uh... rough stuff... please!"


Justin got between her thighs and probed for her entrance with his cock. Suddenly he sunk in, barely feeling the walls of her vagina despite his size. Nevertheless she groaned and grabbed him by the butt, pulling him harder and deeper inside her. She began to rock herself against him. Mouth open, she moaned steadily as Justin matched her movements.


He breasts were kind of squeezed out the sides. Justin pinched her nipples as he built up speed. Frances sucked at her bottom lip, her moaning grew in intensity. Justin ground himself against her pubic bone. She squeezed him with her thighs and clenched her pussy. In response, Justin moved in a circular motion, grabbing her by the arse and fingering her fleshy cheeks.


"Oh, my God!" she panted, "ooo... oh... OH..."


Justin rapidly thrust into the woman, making sure he ground onto her clit on the downward stroke.


"OH YES... OH..." she continued, "OOOHHH... GOD!"


She bit the pillow, clutched at the sheet, lifted her pelvis clear of the bed and threw herself at Justin. She squirmed and wriggled and babbled unintelligably. Carried along by her ecstasy, Justin came powerfully inside her, setting off another round of gasps and moans. Slowly she subsided, heaving desperately for air.


"Smoke too much," she rasped, grinning.


They were slippery with perspiration. Frances, however, wouldn't release Justin until he had fully wilted inside her. Even then, she lay with her thighs apart, and glistening, chest heaving rolling her boobs around.


Suddenly, Justin felt a stinging blow between his shoulders. Something bounced past his ear and crashed onto the floor.


"BASTARD!" yelled Sharon, "GET OUT OF HERE, YOU ARSEHOLE!"


Justin rolled off the bed and stared at the furious woman by the door. In her hand was a glass ready to throw.


"No!" he cried, holding his hands up to his face, "what have I done?"


"Nothing," she subsided, putting down the glass, "and everything. Go home, Justin, just... just fuck off!"


Justin looked from one woman to the other. Frances looked stunned, she nodded towards the door and mouthed, 'go!' Sharon staggered back into the lounge, there was a crash as she stumbled over the coffee table. Retrieving his clothes, Justin watched the door carefully as he pulled on his things.


"I don't understand!" he whined to Frances, "what have I supposed to have done?"


"Isn't it obvious?" she asked, enigmatically.


Justin still looked confused.


"I think you'd better talk to Sharon. But not yet," she cautioned, "in a day or so, perhaps. She's too bombed at the moment."


Frances gave him a quick kiss and ushered him out the door.


"You're all she said you were," she whispered, "and more!"


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The next day Justin received an angry call from Chrissie.


"What have you been doing to my mother?" she yelled.


"Honestly, I don't know," he tried to say, "she just went ballistic... hit me with a bottle."


"And what were you doing at the time Justin?" she asked, menacingly.


"I wasn't having sex with her if that's what you mean," he replied truthfully, if somewhat evasively.


"Well you've hurt her somehow, Justin. You didn't tell her about us?"


"Of course not. I... I just don't know."


Chrissie rang off with a loud click. Confused as always, Justin had an early night for the first time in weeks.


Miserable, Justin had no-one he could confide in and seek advice. He couldn't very well call Angela, usually his first port of call. He couldn't tell Chrissie, oblivious, but suspicious of his continuing affair with her mother. His mother and step-father were distant. All that was left was his real father and he was somewhere down south, selling jewelry at some local fair. Typically, his cellphone was turned off or left behind.


He cruised past Sharon's Travel Company. He'd often seen her through the window working in the open-style office. Today, however, her desk was unoccupied. Clearly she was still in recovery from last night's 'bender.'


He marched into the office and up to the reception desk. The finely made-up young clerk beamed falsely and asked him what she could do for him.


"Does a Frances somebody work here?" he asked her.


"Frances La Chatelleon? She's our manager, owner actually. She's on a lunch break, can I make you an appointment? Are you travelling overseas? We have some information..."


"No, no," Justin told her, "it's a personal matter, I'm..."


The girl suggested he wait as Frances wouldn't be long. Justin sank into one of the big chairs and glanced idly at the brochures. Shortly Frances clicked businesslike into the office and headed for her office. The girl called to her and nodded towards Justin. She took one look at him and reeled. Collecting herself, she indicated her office and marched in.


"You can go in," the girl said, unnecessarily.


Through the door, Frances rounded on him.


"Shut the door!" she demanded, "what the hell are you doing here?"


"I.. I just wanted to talk," Justin whined, "I want to know what's wrong with Sharon."


"Oh for Christ's sake!" she looked upwards in exasperation, "Sharon's fallen in love with you. Isn't it obvious?"


"But... but..." Justin tried to say.


"Look, you may think she's in control, but who's going to end this? Sharon? I don't think so. You know something?" she pondered, "you remind her of her husband, that's it. He was an arsehole to her, always screwing around. Inadvertantly, you hooked some memory of hers, perhaps reminded her of something her husband did. The booze and everything... she blew a fuse. It was all a big mistake. Please don't call again. Don't try to see us. It was all wrong, sorry!"


With that, she opened the door and indicated he should go. As he moved past her, she whispered,


"Justin, thanks for a great night. Goodbye!"


He stumped heavily out of the Travel Office. Once onto the street he had one last look through the window. He caught the girl on reception looking at him. He winked at her and smiled. The girl beamed happily back. Justin continued on down the street whistling.


KATZMAREK (C)

