Into The Deep End

"Hey, Con. I just remembered; my cousin Marcus is going to be in town next week—staying at our place."

Connie raised a querying eyebrow. "Oh?"

"You know. I told you about him, the hockey player...? Twenty years old. Plays Junior-A, back east." Stewart was, obviously excited by this.

Connie nodded, "Oh, yeah," as he went on.

"Well, he's gonna be here Thursday to Wednesday, playing some exhibition games."

"Are we gonna see any? Have you got tickets?"

"Oh yeah. We'll catch at least one game."

"Okay. Good."

"Anyway, I spoke to him on the phone, and he gets the weekend off, so he said maybe we can hang-out Saturday... you know, show him around and all—before his curfew. Mom and Dad have promised to be strict on that."

"That sounds good."

"And maybe we can fix him up with a friend, just to keep him company—you know, round out the group."

Connie thought for a moment, before suggesting, "Maybe Paige..." Stewie's head snapped around to see if she was kidding or not.

Theirs had always been a kind of an unlikely friendship; the sort that parents generally strengthen by blatantly trying to discourage. At age nineteen, Connie was a bit of a wild child. She had been sexually active for several years, and was not ashamed to admit it. Connie and her boyfriend Stewart had, sometime earlier, agreed that they were too young to get really serious, so, despite having gone together for coming on five years, they'd consciously decided not to be exclusive. Hence—and unbeknownst to her—Connie was, at least among the males of her social circle, referred to as Connie-cum-slut! Stewie cheerfully acknowledged his girlfriend's nickname as complimentary—a sort of badge of honour.

Although Paige was just about the exact opposite of Connie—shy, innocent, a virgin—she and Connie had been best friends for forever. Naïvely unaware of her burgeoning attractiveness, at eighteen years old, Paige virtually oozed sexuality. She was incredibly voluptuous, with big-tits and prominent nipples.

"Yeah, right. The virgin princess?"

"No," Connie snapped, defending her dear friend. "Maybe this is just what she needs." She challenged her boyfriend. "She's smart, and friendly; and very pretty. She'd be excellent company for any visitor—your cousin included." Stewie relented, of course. He'd never, ever won an argument with Connie. He just smiled at her, and marveled that she was actually his girlfriend.

That evening, Connie called Paige, her BFF, and talked her into joining them, her and Stewie and his cousin, on Saturday. "It's not a blind date," she said, stifling Paige's protests. "We're just hanging out; showing him around. Anyway, what with him being a jock," Connie giggled, "I'll need a little female companionship, to balance out all that testosterone." Then, she added, seriously, "Anyhow he's gotta be back at Stewie's place by eight in the evening! A killer curfew!"

So, Saturday late morning found them all—the four of them—heading out in Stewie's dad's station wagon, with a picnic-lunch courtesy of Stewie's mom.

"Okay, who's up for a 'Magical Mystery Tour'?"

"Where to?" Paige asked.

"If I told you—if I knew—it wouldn't be a Mystery Tour, now, would it?"

Embarrassed about having asked such a dumb question, Paige glanced at Marcus to see his reaction. He simply smiled and replied to Stewie, "Sounds good to me."

Watching him through side-long peeps, Paige thought Marcus seemed nice enough. "In fact, he's rather easy to look at," Paige thought to herself. "A real hunk!" Then, she felt herself blushing at her own observation.

It was a beautiful day, so Stewie took them out into the country. Leaving the highway some distance out of town, they meandered along a back road, high along the side hill, with a great view looking down on the lake.

Paige noted that Marcus was a gentleman for most of the long ride, except for a bit of suggestive banter and, apparently, inside innuendo between the two cousins. As they got deeper into the rural wilds, Marcus leaned over toward Paige, now and then, to point out something, or comment, on the passing countryside: "Hey, look at that waterfall," or "Check out the dilapidated red barn over there."

Every time he leaned over, Paige could smell his masculinity. And, on top of his almost inappropriate proximity, it induced an odd tingling sensation. Objectively, she felt rather uncomfortable riding God knows where, in the back seat, rubbing shoulders with someone who was basically a perfect stranger. She realized that no one else noticed her discomfort. "Stop being such a wuss," she silently reprimanded. Anyway, after each pointing out, Marcus settled back on his own side of the back bench, and pleasantly engaged in conversation, taking the time to ask Paige innocent enough questions about herself and her life.

Paige noticed that Connie had scooted over to the middle of the front bench-seat, and, during a lull in the conversation, she puzzled about what Connie was up to; then, it suddenly dawned. Paige realized that Connie must be fondling her boyfriend. Stewie, apparently trying to stifle his labored breathing, dropped his right hand into Connie's lap, while she, it seemed, began jacking him more energetically. Embarrassed, Paige tried to ignore them, turning her attention back out the window. Presently, they pulled off the road and finally stopped at a pullout. The front-seat couple sat for a moment, taking some time to rearrange themselves before getting out, histrionically greeting the fresh, country air. Stewie removed the basket, a blanket, and some beer from the back of the wagon, while Paige and Marcus climbed out and stepped to the edge of the shoulder to appreciate the view.

Glad to be out of the car, the four of them sauntered into the roadside grass and eventually spread out the blanket in the meadow a-top a bluff overlooking an impressive lake. To start they cracked some beers and chowed down on the sandwiches, sitting in companionable silence, taking in the magnificent vista. Before long, though, Connie and Stew began to get frisky once more: grabbing and kissing; tickling, leading to groping and necking; sucking face, oblivious of the others. Paige watched, aghast, as hands delved under garments, poking and prodding, and tearing at clothes completely unmindful of their audience. Marcus was as amused as Paige was shocked.

Marcus casually threw a protective arm over Paige's shoulder, whispering, "Ignore them. They're just showing off." As he spoke, he slowly pulled her to his side. Unsure of what to do, but not wanting to seem overly prudish, Paige did nothing. So, Marcus, interpreting her lack of response as assent, reached around to gently fondle her boobs.

When, trying to remain good-natured about it, she slapped his hand away, he took her near hand and placed it against the front of his slacks, pressing it firmly onto his turgid cock. "Feel that? You've done that!" and he moved his hands back onto her boobs. Paige's mind was awhirl. Before she could really understand what was happening Marcus had rather adeptly snaked his hand into her blouse, under her bra, and was brazenly tweaking her now erect and very sensitive nipples. Paige sat, paralyzed. Staring straight ahead, she hardly noticed that Connie and her boyfriend were frantically tearing one another's clothes off.

Marcus took his time, sliding his arm around her, and flipping down her bra so that he soon had two-handed access to her breasts. Gently molding her boobs with his hands—grabbing and weighing, pinching and teasing her stiff little, standy-up nipples—he let his gaze follow her stare, and watched as his cousin pushed between the open thighs of his girlfriend and began giving her a pounding. Then, with a practiced hand, Marcus, slowly, smoothly, single-handedly, got his own pants open and steered Paige's limp hand directly onto his stiffening boner. Still frozen, trying to figure out how to get out of her predicament, Paige left her hand there. With no basis of comparison, she couldn't really appreciate how big he was.

Meanwhile, unaware of Paige's tribulations, Connie and Stewie continued to fuck with wild abandon. If Stewie was, perhaps, showing off, Connie's world had shrunk to include only herself and her lover, focusing sharply on his steely erection stabbing repeatedly and rhythmically into her quivering, tingling pussy. Stewie wasn't particularly well-endowed, but, to Connie's continual delight, he got incredibly solid. And when he was fully turned-on, his cockhead hardened like a diamond drill, so that the flanged edge of his glans acted like a barbed end on his shaft, scraping Connie's vaginal walls with every withdrawal—his plum, then pummeling the end of her womb with every thrust. The intensity of the double-barreled sensation rendered Connie inarticulate. Notwithstanding, she was generally very vocal during sex—she just couldn't help it. In that regard, Stewie liked to play her, answering her every grunt, gasp, or cry with a roar or expletive of his own.

Paige was fascinated. As she watched, their writhing bodies seemed to merge, fusing together like some pulsating beast. While she was distracted, Marcus cautiously slipped a hand under her waist-band, and into her pants. With a feather-touch, he began to gently stroke and twiddle her moistening slit and clit through her panties. She tried, half-heartedly, to squirm out of his reach, but his tormenting hands showed no mercy.

What with the commotion in front of her, and Marcus, who just wouldn't leave her alone, Paige felt an unfamiliar arousal. Fully engrossed in the spectacle unfolding before her, she let her guard down, dropped her resistance. Barely moving, Marcus moved his lowered hand slightly, so his flicking fingers could creep into the high-cut leg-hole of her panties and take up their quest, now against the bare, glowing flesh of her cunt.

As he drew a finger between her puffy labia, gathering her feminine dew, she felt a bolt of electricity flash through her fundament; simultaneously, she felt his cock twitch and stiffen in her hand. Unconsciously, she responded by giving it a squeeze, as if to take the measure of its substance.

Meanwhile, across the blanket, the other two howled and huffed as they climaxed together. Remaining conjoined, they let themselves go limp in a heap, first catching their breath, then, together, looking across at Paige and Marcus, as if they'd just remembered they had company.

Paige's stare was no longer seeing. She swatted ineffectively with her free hand in a rather futile attempt to fend off Marcus's advances. Ignoring her feeble protests, his relentless manipulations inexorably raised her to places she had never been. Stimuli and sensation crackled and sparked, engulfing her whole body. She couldn't stand it; she couldn't get enough.

In a subtle switching of roles, Connie and Stewie were now the spectators—Paige and Marcus the spectacle. Connie found herself hissing encouragement: "Go for it!" She realized that she dearly wanted her friend—her BFF—to experience the same thrill she did, the thrill of orgasm.

Holding onto the juddering erection for dear life, Paige sub-consciously detected the emission of pre-semenal fluid and had begun to gather it, sliding her fist up and down the fleshy shaft. And suddenly—she wasn't quite sure how—she realized she was on her back, her bra loose under her chin and her slacks hanging from one ankle. Marcus was smiling down at her, speaking in inarticulate whispers. He gently pulled himself out of her grasp as he repositioned himself above her.

She felt him, at first, holding himself against her dripping, inflamed vulva, gradually pressing to insert his tool between her lips; then, bulling his way in—stretching her hyper-sensitive opening mercilessly. "Unhh! Uuunnhh! Ow! Uh, uh, owwww!" The, at first stifled, complaints grew. The sharp pain was excruciating as his massive insertion ran up, momentarily, against resistance. "Owwweeee! That hurts!!" In a flash, the sharp pain gave way to whimpers of confusion; the discomfort of the stretching feeling almost like relief. Marcus and Paige realized at the same time that he had just 'popped her cherry'—though nothing was said.

While the pain detracted from the marvelously intense feelings, it didn't, Paige decided, detract much. Clutching Marcus's shoulders, she wiggled and squirmed her hips, trying to optimize the other-worldly sensations his rampant woodie was fomenting. "Ayyeee!!" Paige cried out, getting louder again. It was now unclear as to whether she was in agony or ecstasy.

As Marcus lifted her thighs and placed her legs on his shoulders, he muttered, under his ragged breath, as he slammed into her once again, "Stop complaining fer fuck sakes. Isn't this what you want?" And, just like that, any confusion regarding her desires was cleared up as Paige went suddenly stiff. Overwhelmed by an immense orgasm, a keening shriek split the air, and, just as abruptly, Paige's entire body—her entire being—shook violently. Her climax came on like gangbusters, the twitching and quivering and shaking, running through her body in waves, and echoing for what seemed like minutes. And even amidst the sensory overload, Paige felt him cum; felt his cum—detected Marcus's ejaculation, his hot semen jetting repeatedly against her quivering flesh, to splash, warm in her depths—liquid heat flooding her fundament.

Her recovery was long and serene and surreal. This was a new experience, for she had, previously, only ever cum on her own fingers. So, gasping for breath in the afterglow, tremors still running riot, pinballing helter-skelter throughout her glistening body, she tried to assess the experience. It was, literally, unlike anything she had ever imagined. "I've got to do that again," she silently remarked, as, at last she felt herself coming out of orbit, floating lazily back into the here and now. Intoxicated by the sheer intensity of hitherto unexperienced sensations, Paige emerged slowly, somewhat hesitantly, from her state of rapture, flickering once or twice before actually regaining her reality.

Of course, he had touched her in places she'd never been touched, but she didn't realize that he pushed deeper than most if not all of her future lovers ever would or could, butting the back wall of her vagina and massaging her cervix. Smiling beatifically at Marcus, Paige whispered, "Can we do that again?"

"Ooooohh! Eager, are we?" he replied, teasingly. Rolling onto his side, head on his hand, he studied her for a moment, as if to determine if she were serious. Satisfied that she was, he added, gesturing to his crotch, "First you've got to get me up." Paige gave a puzzled look, as Marcus lay back on the blanket his semi-turgid cock lying to the side like a resting eel.

"He means, you've got to suck him till he's hard again. It's called fellatio," Connie explained for Paige's edification. "Here," she further chirped bouncing up on her knees, and moving swiftly across the quilt, "let me show you." Paige watched in stunned amazement, as her best bud, reached for Marcus's languid cock, and after hefting it once or twice, held it up and energetically pushed her mouth over the plum, gobbling it up until well over half had disappeared.

Connie, then, bobbed up for a breath before plunging her head, forcefully down into Marcus's groin, taking him in a little bit further with each thrust, and pausing at the depths, her neck muscle visibly working him. After a half-dozen or so of these deep-throated caresses, Connie surfaced, popping off his twitching woodie, and turning to Paige, she proceeded in giving her instructions and advice, much like she were explaining how to do an unfamiliar sewing job, while continuing to lazily jack Marcus's erection. "Cover your teeth with your lips." "Breathe through your nose at the top of each stroke." "Go down as far as you think you can—then push just a bit further. You'll be surprised." "Ignore your gag reflex—it's easier than you'd think."

And while she gave detailed direction, Connie positioned Paige on all fours, passing her the stiffened tool. She guided Paige meticulously, to start; demonstrating how to round her lips, as she lined herself up, and assisted her in the initial plunge. As Paige sucked eagerly, Connie stepped back to observe her pupil. An eager and enthusiastic student, she got, immediately, well into it.

Sidling up next to Paige, Stewie coolly reached under to fondle her hanging tits; "To keep her on a low simmer," he explained, turning to his girlfriend. And it had the desired effect—more so than Stewie realized, as sharp flashes of arousal arced between Paige's nipples, her pussy, and the back of her throat, where Marcus's spongy cockhead repeatedly bumped. Taking up Stewie's good idea, Connie reached in behind and began fingering Paige's slimy sex—labia flushed; clitoris standing firm—and instigating, once more, the ignition sequence of another orgasm.

Nipples engorge and stiff, like little pencil erasers, her breasts blushing and firm as they suffused with hot blood and excitement, Paige could hardly stand it. It took all her willpower to stay focused on the ever-stiffening prick working in and out of her mouth.

When Marcus was fully erect, but just before Paige achieved climax, Stewie and Connie pulled Paige off her oral insertion, and shuffling her forward, positioned her in cowgirl position. Paige passively followed their directions, allowing them to maneuver her and slowly lower her onto Marcus's rampant sceptre. It was an experience that she would later consider an 'agonizing ecstasy'—a marvelously wonderful pain; they dropped her gently until she was completely penetrated; entwined pubic hair proving that she had Marcus fully engulfed. And that simple feeling of being totally stuffed was almost enough to make her cum on her first descent.

"Hey, let's make it stereo," Stewie chirped, lying down beside Marcus and pulling Connie over. With a gale of laughter, Connie climbed aboard Stewie and began bouncing; but Paige barely noticed. Her attention was concentrated entirely on the delightful sensations incited by the tender friction as she moved gingerly, rising and dropping, up and down Marcus's magnificent manhood. Paige could feel the bubbling and broiling of some mammoth orgasm already frothing in waves from her fundament up her spine to sparkle and flash behind her eyes.

Marcus's cock seemed to be getting even harder—firmer and longer, if that was possible. Paige rode his priapism, smoothly, calmly, resisting with gritted teeth, the urge to speed up, to rush. With each stroke, she dropped down over him, until his pubes tickled her stretched vulva. She loved the way he poked her, pressing hard against the far wall of her womb.

Meanwhile, Connie and Stewie laughed and bounced and squealed. Cowgirl position was nothing new to either of them. They both loved it as a regular part of their repertoire. Once Connie had picked up the rhythm, mirroring the other two, she leant over, mid-stroke, and, threw an arm around Paige's neck, turning her so their eyes met, then proceeded to give Paige a scorcher of a smooch! Paige, barely sensate in her erotic fog, returned it in kind.

Her arousal rose like a juggernaut, roaring inexorably into yet another massive orgasm. Paige's febrile shaking, threatened to topple her off her mount. Marcus grabbed her biceps to steady her as her focus shrank to a pinprick before exploding into a miasma of charged crystals, filling her consciousness. The incredible energy she suddenly discharged—heat and electricity, colour and light—pulled Marcus into a bucking, grunting climax of his own. He felt himself pumping more cum into her than he thought possible.

The erotically charged field emanating from Paige and Marcus, the sight and sound of their shared climax, sparked the ignition between Connie and Stewie, who erupted forthwith into a shared orgasmic bliss. Mewling and groaning and shaking in unison, they gradually stilled, until only the four-part harmony of their panting breath broke the silence—the soothing hum of nature at rest.