The Slumber Party

It was on Monday afternoon that Grant issued a proclamation to his mother and sister.

"I want Angela to move in with us."

The decision could not have been entirely a surprise to either woman, but nevertheless they were both a little shocked. Grant had only spent a weekend with his new love, and already he wanted her to cohabitate! Did he really know what he was doing?

"Grant," Jessica said, "don't you think that's a bit rash?"

"No," he said emphatically. "I know what I want. There's a spare bedroom where she can put her stuff. Or she could even put her stuff in my room."

That really dumbfounded them. The very idea that another human being—especially a woman—would be allowed to invade the

sanctum sanctorum

of Grant's living quarters was, if anything could be, a true indication of how enraptured he was with Angela.

Jessica and Carrie just looked at each other, speechless.

Finally, Carrie said: "Um, have you by chance asked Angela what she feels about all this?"

"She agrees with me—but only if you two are on board."

Well, that was a neat way of putting the pressure on them!

"Okay, Grant," Jessica said resignedly, "if that's what you want. I'm just wondering—"

"I know what you're thinking," Grant interrupted. "You think I'm being too hasty. Well, I'm not. I know my mind, and I know my heart. I'm certain this is the right thing to do."

Carrie, with some trepidation, raised a delicate subject. "What about Marcia?"

Grant frowned in confusion. "What about her?"

"How is she going to feel about this?"

"Why should it bother her?" he said dismissively. "She'll still get as much of me as she wants. So will you two."

"I'm not sure you're really giving her what she wants," Carrie said ruefully.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I think you know."

Grant digested that for a bit. "Yeah, I think so too. But she shouldn't worry."

"No?"

"No. I'll talk to her—and I'll do more than talk."

And so it was decided. Angela moved in the following weekend. She did not in fact put her stuff—not much of it, anyway—into Grant's room, but Jessica made available their fourth and last bedroom for her use.

With the school year picking up steam and Grant having to spend more and more time on the football field, there was not much opportunity for remorse or recriminations. In spite of his heavy schedule, he remained ready and willing to service all his women more or less to their satisfaction. Everyone knew that Angela was at the top of the heap, and in a certain sense Jessica was not far behind. Then came Carrie, and the lugubrious Marcia brought up the rear.

But a new wrinkle occurred in late January.

Carrie was continuing to feed Grant a succession of virgins, and virtually all of them went away thoroughly satisfied. But it suddenly occurred to her that there were boy virgins as well as girl virgins, and she was in fact pestered by any number of young men who had gotten to know some of the ex-virgins that Grant had been with—and, learning of the bevy of women in his household, wondered why a similar service wasn't being provided for them.

So, after consulting with Marcia, Angela, and her mother, she came up with a plan of action. But she knew that it might be tough getting Grant's approval.

She explained the situation frankly to Grant, who nodded sagely, saying, "Yeah, I know plenty of guys who need help. So you're going to volunteer your services, sis?"

That startled Carrie a bit. "Um, well, no. I had another candidate in mind."

"Who?" Grant asked, already seeming to lose interest in the subject.

"Angela," Carrie whispered, then winced as if expecting a blow.

A shudder ran through Grant, and the blood drained from his face.

"No," he said quietly. "No way. That's not going to fly."

"Oh, Grant," Carrie said passionately, "you're not going to keep her all to yourself forever! She's not your personal property. She—"

"But why her?" Grant said in something close to a whine. "Why not—uh, Marcia?"

"She doesn't want to," Carrie said flatly. "Evidently she thinks your cock is the only one that should probe her insides. Very devoted of her, but—"

"How about Mom?"

"Are you crazy? First of all, she doesn't really want to, although she will if there's no other option. But if this gets out, she'll get into huge trouble at work." Jessica was an elementary school teacher, and the school administration was not likely to look favorably upon her hiring herself out as a hands-on sex ed teacher to college boys. "Anyway," Carrie continued, "these tender boy-virgins are going to be intimidated by her: they'll feel like they're sleeping with their moms—"

"What's wrong with that?" Grant said under his breath.

"—and maybe they won't even be able to perform."

"Then I repeat: what about you?"

"Oh, Grant, the boys don't want me. I'm no raving beauty, and you know it. They won't have any interest in me."

"Come on, sis. You look just fine. Anyway, all the boys really care about is a girl who has the right body parts. And you certainly have those."

"Thanks for that resounding endorsement of my feminine charms, brother of mine. But really, Angela's the obvious choice. She's beautiful, but she also has that shy exterior that will actually make the even shyer boys feel comfortable, as if they're in charge. Boys like that, don't they?"

Grant ignored that jab. "You're not going to tell me that she

wants

to do this."

"She does, Grant," Carrie said quietly.

"She told you that?" he said in a small voice.

"Yes, she did."

Grant paced around his room like a caged tiger. Returning to Carrie, he grabbed her by the shoulders and seemed on the point of shaking her within an inch of her life.

"I really don't like this, Carrie." Grant only pronounced Carrie's name—instead of calling her "sis"—on state occasions.

"Let go of me, Grant," Carrie said as his fingers dug into her shoulders. When he did so, she said: "Look, this is a case of what's good for the goose is good for the gander, isn't it? Since when is it okay for you to fuck all these virgins and not let your beloved do the same?"

"Don't use that kind of language," Grant said primly. He was amusingly squeamish about people—especially women—using profanities around him.

"You know what I'm saying," she persisted. "I believe it's called the double standard."

"Yeah, yeah, I know all about that," he said. "And I agree with you in principle. I just don't like to think of

her

. . ."

"I know you don't. But what about her? Do you think she likes the thought of you, um, deflowering all these virgins?"

"She's never said anything."

"She's too polite to say anything. Anyway, she loves you no matter what. So are you going to tell me you're not going to love her—or love her less—because she does the same thing?"

"No, of course not."

"Well, there it is, then."

And so it seemed to be.

But Grant wanted to take up the matter directly with Angela. That night, after a more than usually vigorous bout of vaginal and anal sex, he lay on his back next to her and said, "So I've been talking with Carrie."

Angela, covered with sweat, suddenly felt a shiver go through her. "Oh?" she said warily.

"Yeah. I think you know what it's about."

"I guess I do."

He turned to her with a look of pleading on his face. "Do you really want to do that? Really and truly?"

She took his face in her hands and gave him a long, deep kiss. "Grant, you mustn't worry. You know I love you, don't you?"

"Of course."

"I love you now and I'll love you forever."

"So do I."

"So what's the fuss? I mean, these poor guys—I feel so sorry for them! First because they haven't had the glorious experience of a female body, and second because they're just so clueless about girls. I just want to help them, that's all."

"That's fine, but—"

"And it will only be once or twice a week. You do your virgins more often than that."

"I know. I just worry."

"Worry about what?"

Grant swallowed hard. "Maybe some of them will . . . fall for you. Maybe they'll

all

fall for you. I can't imagine any guy who wouldn't!"

"That's sweet. But I think that's a risk worth taking. Haven't some girls fallen for you? Me, for instance?"

"That's different."

"There've been some others."

"Okay, but Carrie is pretty good about telling them that I'm not available that way, and they should find guys of their own."

"Well, I can tell them the same thing, can't I?"

"Sure, but . . . but what if

you

fall for one of

them?"

This, really, was Grant's biggest fear.

She kissed him again, also giving his cock a little tug. "There's

no

chance of that happening, dear. None at all."

"Are you sure?" he said. Tears were filling his eyes.

"Absolutely."

He had to be satisfied with that. He wrapped her in his arms and began another session.

*

Melissa Waters never thought of herself as particularly beautiful. Maybe pretty, maybe cute—but not beautiful. She was a bit short—five foot four—and just a tad plump, especially around the hips and thighs. She thought she had a nice face—open, honest, with full lips and high cheekbones framed by untidy auburn hair. And she felt her boobs were pretty nice—large and heavy, even if not as firm or perfectly shaped as others she had seen (not in real life, but in films). Those had probably been enhanced, and that's something she would never do. And she defied her friends by not shaving her pussy, with the result that her bush had become gloriously luxuriant.

So when she heard that the sister of the university's star football player was offering that superb specimen of masculinity as a means of relieving her of her tedious virginity, she leaped at the chance.

Throughout high school she had yearned to get rid of that annoying membrane in her vagina, but never found the right boy for the purpose. She'd had a certain number of volunteers—the boys whom the prettier girls had scornfully rejected—but she found them wanting in various ways. She had no desire to wait until marriage to be deflowered, but she did have certain standards.

So when she came to Grant's house, she was shaking just a bit in tingling anticipation.

Carrie let her in with a knowing smile and led her upstairs.

Yes, upstairs. For Melissa's life was about to be profoundly changed by sheer happenstance: it was only because some repairs needed to be made on Grant's windows on this chilly Saturday afternoon in March that he had to take Melissa into what was ordinarily his mother's bedroom. She was out shopping and would have no use for the space for hours.

Carrie quickly introduced Melissa to Grant, then retreated discreetly.

Grant had done this so many times by now that he had fallen into a routine. He made efforts to put the girls at ease by asking them to tell him something about themselves—not quite as intensely as he had done with Angela, but something along those lines. The girls seemed to find Grant's interest, whether feigned or not, reassuring, and they were happy to chatter on—partly out of flattery, partly out of nervousness. The tactic did seem to work.

So Melissa told him the basics of her life while Grant expertly scrutinized her.

She was far from bad-looking, he concluded—and he even felt a bit mortified in thinking that she had some minimal advantages over the divine Angela, whom he at times felt was sometimes just a bit too thin. He liked girls with a little flesh on their bones. Anyway, as Melissa was babbling away, he blandly began undressing her and then let his own robe fall to the ground.

Melissa gasped when she saw a naked man for the first time—it was in some ways the most gorgeous sight she had ever seen. She promptly dropped to her knees and inserted his cock into her mouth. Carrie had told her to do that, but she didn't need any coaching. She had in fact done the same with a few high school boys, although that was as far as it ever went.

Grant lifted her up after a few minutes and led her to the bed. As usual, he plunged his face into her pussy and began licking and sucking vigorously. Somehow Melissa wasn't expecting that, and she came within minutes. A little embarrassed at how quickly her climax had come, she lay on her back looking hesitantly at Grant, who looked back at her beaming. Then he slowly climbed her body and mounted her.

The initial penetration—in which his cock came up against that surprisingly tough membrane—was not at all painful, as Melissa had known from the numerous times she had stuck bananas or cucumbers in herself up to that point. She hadn't gone any farther, knowing that whoever took her virginity would want the honor of breaking through the barricade. As Grant did so, she did feel a twinge of pain, but it was not nearly as bad as she had expected. As Grant recognized that his partner wasn't in as much discomfort as most of his partners, he pummeled her thoroughly, hands squeezing her breasts and bottom, until he came.

He rolled off of her and lay on his back. She looked over to him and saw that his cock was streaked with blood.

Omigod! That's mine. There must be more in me.

She tentatively felt herself—and sure enough, aside from the viscous fluid that came from Grant, she detected some blood oozing out of her.

Not wishing to stain the sheets, Melissa quickly got up from the bed and said, "I'd better clean myself up."

Grant was in the habit of helping his ex-virgins in the procedure, and he stiffly tried to get to his feet, but Melissa said, "You stay here. I'll be right back."

Without thinking—she must have known there were others in the house, but in her post-coital daze she forgot about it—she walked naked into the bathroom. And she also failed to close the door fully.

As she gazed at herself in the mirror, she noticed the spots of red on the insides of her thighs. She was about to begin the task of cleaning up when someone walked into the room.

It was a young man—and he was naked also.

"Omigod!" she squealed. "What are you doing here?" She made futile efforts to cover her breasts and her groin with her hands.

The guy in question seemed dumbfounded by the presence of a female in the bathroom. He made no attempt to cover himself. And what's what led Melissa to gaze in a kind of horror at his midsection.

Holy smokes—this guy's huge! I swear I've never seen a cock as big as this.

The cock, although softening somewhat, must have been at least ten inches when erect.

The guy continued to stare at Melissa in bewilderment. He managed to say: "I—I was with Angela."

Melissa knew that that was Grant's girlfriend—in fact, they seemed all but married. And she knew that Angela did the same service for guys that Grant did for girls.

"You were a virgin?" Melissa said, unable to believe she was having a conversation with a naked man while she herself was naked. She realized the absurdity of trying to hide her private parts and dropped her arms to her sides.

"Yeah. You too?"

"Yeah."

The man looked down at Melissa's groin. "Um, did you bleed?"

"Yes," she said tartly.

What's the meaning of that remark? Do you get off on the idea of a bleeding virgin?

"Can I help?" he said softly.

Melissa was stupefied. "What? Help how?"

All of a sudden the guy was all business. "Look," he said briskly, lowering the lid of the toilet seat, "why don't you sit down there? I'll see what I can do."

For the life of her Melissa didn't know why she obeyed him so readily, but she did. The guy took up a washcloth, soaked it in cold water, and then looked down at Melissa as if he were the family doctor. Then, bending down on his knees, he split her legs and said, "Let's see what we have here."

Melissa looked down in wonderment as the guy scrubbed away the blood that was already drying on her thighs, then mopped up more fluid—both red and white—leaking out of her pussy.

Rinsing out the washcloth as best he could, he turned back to her and said with satisfaction, "There! That's better, isn't it?"

"I guess," Melissa said dreamily. "Thank you."

The guy continued to beam at her.

"Um," she said, "why are you here? I mean, why did you come into the bathroom? Do you have to pee?" She had heard from someone that men often had to urinate after sex.

For some reason the guy blushed. "Well, no," he said unsteadily. "You see, I just went into Angela's bottom, and she insists that a guy clean up right afterwards."

"You're not going to tell me," Melissa said incredulously, pointing at the guy's member, "that you put that thing into her bottom!"

The guy's blush deepened. "Well," he pleaded, "I didn't go in all the way."

"Thank heaven for small mercies! You'd have split that poor girl in two!"

And they both laughed at that.

Now it was Melissa who was all business. Standing up and facing the guy directly, she said, "So you need a bit of cleaning up? I'll see what I can do."

And as the guy watched in silent amazement, Melissa grabbed his cock, brought him closer to the sink, and did a thorough job—with soap—washing and scrubbing that organ to the best of her ability. She was amused to note that her actions made it quiver and harden.

She looked at it wryly, then up at the guy, who was at least six inches taller than her. Screwing up her face as if pondering a complex problem in quadratic equations, she said, "I really don't know how a girl even gets that thing into her pussy."

"Oh, it fits," he said weakly.

"Yeah? Well, let's see about that."

And she led the dazed man to the same toilet seat she had sat on. Looking down at his hugely erect member, she said, "My God! I really don't think this is going to work. May I try?"

"Okay," he said in disbelief.

She took his member in her hands and made it probe her opening as she tentatively squatted down on him. Getting the first few inches in wasn't a problem, but after that she was in a bit of discomfort. Then, slipping a bit, she inadvertently plunged the entire thing into her in a single motion.

"Omigod!" she said, having the strange sensation that she was choking.

"Don't hurt yourself!" the guy warned.

"It's okay," she said with some effort, pulling him out of her a few inches.

My Lord, he really does go in pretty deep—it seems as if it's coming out my throat.

But she gradually got the hang of it, even though the cock was both longer and thicker than the one she had just had in her a few minutes ago. She started riding the cock—gently at first, then with greater vigor. The guy, for his part, grabbed her bottom and also had ready access to her breasts, bringing her closer to himself so that he could nestle his face against those heavy globes and suck and kiss them to his heart's content.

Melissa hugged the guy's head to her chest as she moved her hips up and down on that immense member, becoming more and more comfortable with it. Her own juices were helping, and she sensed that she was on the brink of another climax. But then, somewhat unexpectedly, the guy exploded in her—and the frequent bolts of fluid he was shooting into her triggered her own orgasm, causing her to cry out and hold his head so firmly to her chest that she momentarily wondered whether he could even breathe.

After their paroxysms had subsided, she pulled his head back and gave him a wet, sloppy kiss. Still keeping him in her, she said, "Wow! That was fantastic!"

"Yeah, it was great," he said, breathing hard.

She now pried herself off his cock, feeling a bit of pain in doing so. It was now slick with some residual blood from her vagina and also with both his and her fluids, and his own essence was dribbling out of her and down her thighs.