Misbehaving: Day Two

"Wake up man," I heard someone say as I felt an insistent nudge against my shoulder.

My eyes opened and I saw Jeremy's face looking down into mine.

"You need to hurry up and grab some breakfast if you want to make it to tennis this morning."

Tennis, fuck! I didn't even like playing tennis, but I remembered that I had agreed to do so last night at dinner.

"Fuck!" I said, rubbing my head and trying to wake up.

"Don't worry," said Jeremy, perhaps misunderstanding my irritation, "It'll work out, cause the luncheon for the cotillion escorts is going to be held at the country club before rehearsal. So we can hit some balls and then you can do what you gotta do anyway."

Great, I thought, could it get any more interesting? Then I noticed Jeremy glance down, and I followed his gaze to see my flaccid cock still hanging out of the fly of my boxers.

"I like to let it breathe," I said, unable to think of anything more creative.

"Whatever, dude," he said, heading for the door, "Dad left you some tennis clothes. We figured you hadn't brought any. I'll catch you downstairs. Be ready in thirty minutes okay?"

"Okay," I said, somewhat ungraciously.

I got up and stretched, realizing for the first time that Melanie was no where around. Other than my vivid memory of our time spent learning unlawful carnal knowledge of each other last night, there was no proof whatsoever that anything had happened between us. Damn, well, if it wasn't real, it had still been one hell of a fine dream.

Mr. Campbell had left me some of his tennis clothes to wear: shorts and a polo shirt. I had not packed appropriately for the activities of this trip. Thankfully, Mr. Campbell and I were about the same general height, although my broader shoulders and build caused the fabric to be pulled extremely tight across the muscles of my chest, and my much thicker arms filled out the short sleeves, so the shirt left very little of my torso to the imagination. After a shower I went downstairs to find the Campbells enjoying a nice full breakfast of eggs, sausages and pancakes. Melanie completely ignored me, which is to say that while she acknowledged my presence in her usual bubbly, infectious manner, she otherwise didn't give me any hint of having shared anything the night before.

Maybe it really had been a dream.

I wasn't given that much time to eat, but I'd never been a big breakfast person anyways.

Jeremy whisked us off to the club in his father's Porsche, where we proceeded to play several grueling sets of tennis. One thing that was clear, Jeremy was an extremely skilled player. I strongly suspected he was dumbing down his abilities so that I wouldn't feel quite so inadequate. Clearly it turned out to be a humiliating series of defeats that did not improve even when we played a game of doubles with two extremely charming and beautiful young women that Jeremy knew from the club. Eventually though I was put out of my misery because I had to get ready for the cotillion lunch and rehearsal. After apologizing profusely to my hot doubles partner for not being very good, I headed off to take a shower and change into my standard service uniform.

The time had come to learn how the ceremony would take place and what our duties as escorts would be. You see the military escorts were responsible for presenting a color guard, escorting our dates, and dancing constantly. The civilian escort accompanied the debutant onto the stage and was there to serve primarily to frame out the overall splendor of his date by providing her with a manly, well turned out arm to walk around on. The attention was to be focused on her, and not us, except in so far as we accessorized her.

Overall our goals and duties were clearly to ensure that the debutants had a good time, no matter what happened.

We ate lunch before rehearsal. There were a number of cadets there from various military academies and also present were a few midshipmen from the Naval Academy and even a third class cadet from West Point. As the only commissioned officer in the room, I was given the proper respect due to my rank and position. The rest of the gentlemen present at the lunch were the civilian escorts, all in casual dress, unlike the military escorts who all wore some form of uniform. Each civilian and military escort for each girl was paired together to get to know one another and we were seated together at tables.

That's how I found myself meeting Dave Roberts for the first time. He was a charming, raffish sort of fellow, not unlike the blokes that I'd hung out with in high school and college. He was in his freshman year at Dartmouth. And I found that, despite Mr. Campbell's warning, I liked him from the word go.

"So, where are the girls anyway?" I asked him after we'd sat through lunch and a couple speeches, talked about the college experience, the Marines and the general state of the NFL.

He leaned towards me and said conspiratorially, "They have lunch separately so their chaperones can warn them about the perils of men and their maidenly virtues."

"Probably not a bad idea," I said distractedly, as my eyes surveyed some of the less than savory characters both at my table and around the room.

"You're telling me," he said, getting ready to dig into his dessert, "Have you seen some of that ass? Half these guys have boners just thinking about it."

I took a sip of my coffee and asked my new best friend Dave the question that had been on Mr. Campbell's mind the night before.

"So, man, is Jenna your girlfriend?"

"Naw, man," he said around a mouthful of cake, "She's just a friend."

I nodded at him nonchalantly to indicate that I understood and took another sip of coffee.

"Now her sister Melanie on the other hand," he continued after swallowing, "That girl has a pussy that doesn't quit."

"You've boned her?" I asked.

"Sure, man," he went, taking another mouthful, "Who hasn't? The girl is a slut, but she's got a nice rack. You're unbelievably lucky sleeping in the same house with her. I would love to tap that ass again, but I just haven't seen her around in months. It's not like we ever tried to be exclusive or anything anyways, it just sort of happened three or four times when we were all hanging out."

"What about her other sister?"

"Lizzy?" he asked, swallowing his last bite, "She's frigid man. I'd worry my dick wouldn't defrost."

"Dude," I said, seriously, "She's smoking hot. She's got those nice titties and a tight looking ass. I wouldn't mind letting her try and tame my bronco."

"Good luck man," he said.

"Surely she's not a virgin?" I said, "The chick is older than me."

"I don't know man," he replied, "Hot or not, that broad has never fucked anyone that I've ever heard tell of."

"What's the story with her brother?" I asked by way of changing the subject.

"Jeremy? I don't know much about him. We don't exactly hang out together."

"That's not what I'm asking," I said.

"You mean is he a little light on his feet?" asked Dave, grasping what I was asking, "Well, I dunno about that. I've heard stuff from folks who think he's a faggot. But you know talk is cheap if the story is good. I've also heard that he was banging this redheaded chick he plays tennis with, but I don't know that for a fact either. So it's anybody's guess."

My mind wandered back to the pretty little red headed girl, Vanessa, who we'd been playing as my partner in the doubles match that morning. She had been totally hot and fuckable in a jail bait sort of way.

"Weird family," I said.

"Dude," he said, "They may be weird, but the bitches in that family are hot. You've seen the mother right? Total M.I.L.F."

"Yeah, man," I said, "She's wicked hot. I can't believe that she's had four kids. Plus she's my mother's age."

"Liposuction does a body good," he said, smirking at me.

"It's done her body good anyways," I replied.

"Yeah, well, with any luck I can give one to Melanie before this is all over."

"But man, you've never thought of trying out Jenna?" I asked, pressing him, "She'd be a pretty sweet score."

"Yeah," he said, "But I like my women built for comfort. I'm more interested in pounding Melanie. You should try and score with Jenna though. She might be interested."

Just as I was about to reply, the girls began to enter the room. My breath was taken away for a few seconds as I surveyed some of best nubile flesh the South had to offer. They came in wearing sun dresses, some dressed even more casually. It was like some kind of beauty pageant, with each girl looking better than the one before her. I don't know about you all, but I have always been a sucker a long pair of legs and nice little strut to go with them.

"What did I tell you man?" said Dave, leaning towards me, "Have you ever seen so much fuckable pussy in one spot before?"

I murmured my agreement.

The debutants surprisingly did not stay, but went off to a rehearsal of their own, as our instructors continued to go over the rigid protocol that was expected of us. I think the military escorts, having some experience in these matters, had an easier time of it than the civilians did. But when it came time to learn how to dance, everyone was in the same boat. Except for me, that is. My mother had insisted that I learn basic dance steps in high school. Ballroom style dancing is no easy task I assure you, and it took some time on the dance floor before everyone had mastered the absolute basics of the waltz, sufficient so as not to embarrass himself or his date tomorrow night. We went through more after that, the whole tedious affair lasting around five hours, but I wouldn't want to bore you with the details. To that end we were scheduled to have another rehearsal in the morning, this time with our blushing young debutantes present. No doubt it was to practice walking and chewing gum at the same time.

* * *

I caught a cab back to the Campbells. I had been told at breakfast that Lizzy and Melanie would take me out that evening to show me the town. I thoughtfully invited Dave at lunch to come along with us, figuring to give him another chance with Melanie. I was still wondering if I'd ever had a chance with Melanie myself. My the unconscious mind does play tricks on us, doesn't it? But what would Freud say? Sometimes a cigar IS just a cigar.

In any event, the girls were out shopping and Jenna was still at rehearsal, which was going to be followed by a dinner with the other debutantes. As I found out this morning, Jeremy was giving tennis lessons all afternoon until dinner time. And of course Mr. Campbell was working late. I was going to have the whole house to myself for a couple hours. Or at least, so I thought.

Then I realized that I'd overlooked the lady of the house.

I spied her out the window when I got back. She was lying out by the pool, face down, absorbing the sun, with her top undone to avoid tan lines.

A little sun seemed like a good idea, I thought, so I went upstairs to change out of my uniform and into a pair of shorts and a tank top that I'd brought with me.

When I came back downstairs I found that Mrs. Campbell hadn't moved a muscle. She was an exquisite sight and I could just make out the subtle curves of her breasts pressed against the lounge chair on which she was laying.

"How're you this afternoon, ma'am?" I chivalrously asked her in order to make my presence known.

I didn't want her to inadvertently expose herself to me, causing both her and me embarrassment.

"Oh, it's you Marc," she said looking up at me, "I wasn't expecting you for a few more hours."

"I think they may have let us go early," I replied, "They about danced us near to death."

I sat down on a chaise that was positioned next to her's and pulled off my tank top.

I wasn't expecting anything to happen.

"Well, young men can usually use all the practice they can get," she said.

I leaned back to enjoy the warmth of the sun beating down on my chest.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Marc, please call me Chris."

"Okay," I said, "Chris it is then...at least when we're alone."

She smiled at me indulgently.

"Marc," she said in her deep throaty voice, "Would you mind putting some suntan lotion on my back? This sun beats down something awful and it'd be a shame if I got a sunburn for tomorrow night. I'm wearing an open back on my gown for the cotillion."

"I'm sure it'll be lovely," I replied, getting up to squeeze some lotion into my hands.

I worked the lotion between my hands until it was warm and started to massage it into her back. I've never had any formal training, but I'm told my technique isn't half bad.

"That feels so good Marc," she said pleasantly, "You could be a professional masseuse with those hands."

"It's just a little something I've picked up."

I massaged all around her shoulders, using more lotion from time to time. I may have gotten a little carried away as I rubbed around very close to her chest and very low on her back to where the curve of her ass started to rise. This woman was simply breathtaking. And, if she took offense to my advances, she didn't say anything.

"There now," I said, "All done."

"You're a very nice young man, Marc."

"Thanks," I said, settling back into my chair again.

"We should put some lotion on you as well," she said, "I know that you Marines spend a lot of time outdoors, but your hides aren't made of leather. No need to get a nasty sunburn before the big night."

She looked at me for a second, and before I could do anything, she got up off the lounge chair she was lying on. Her tits getting a chance to spill out in front of her in the process. Jesus, what a pair of knockers she had! They were very big and full, still beautifully round and although perhaps not as proud as they'd been twenty years before. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought this woman was no older than thirty. Her nipples were big and round and bronzed from the sunshine. I took an involuntary breath.

"I promise this won't hurt a bit," she said, squeezing lotion from the bottle into her hands.

I was having a hard time tearing my eyes from her chest, and Mrs. Campbell clearly noticed the direction of my gaze, "You don't mind do you?"

"No ma'am...I mean Chris," I said, getting into the thick of it, "I see this kind of thing all the time."

I smiled at her and she moved over to where I was sitting, very close to me indeed. Her breasts jiggled a little as she got up; they swayed and shook in time with her movements.

"I'm sure you do," she said, "A handsome, strapping young officer, like yourself. You must have to beat them away with a stick."

I could feel her body heat radiating towards me, and having made no effort to warm it, the lotion felt very cool as she started massaging it onto my bare chest. She paid particular attention to my nipples and let her fingers trace the outline of my pectoral muscles. I've been lifting weights for football and wrestling since I was thirteen years old and the muscles of my body, while not as big as a professional bodybuilder's, were nevertheless large, developed and very well defined. My low body fat also helped give me a nice ripped appearance.

The sensation of her fingers on my hard muscles was so pleasant, and I enjoying her attention so much, that I wasn't going to make her stop, no matter how it must have looked. I was concerned though about the intentions of my mother's best friend, because it was clear this was more than a friendly gesture.

"Chris," I said, "What exactly is going on here?"

Her hands had descended from the safer area of my chest down to the far less safe area of my six-pack.

"Greg never makes love to me anymore, Marc," she said bluntly.

Her hand now moved dangerously close to my lap and I realized at that particularly awkward moment that I was getting a boner. Despite the fact that I thought this woman was fucking hot, I had not come out here with the intention of this happening. But as they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. There was a powerful conflict in my mind as memories from my childhood collided with the intense attraction I was currently feeling.

When she grabbed my cock through my shorts I figured I was probably a goner.

"What about Mr. Campbell?" I asked, in a last ditch effort to forestall a situation which we both might regret. Plus I still had a few vestiges of respect left for the man who had taken me fishing as a boy and with whom yesterday evening I had shared a cigar as an equal.

"Greg is probably balls deep in his secretary right now," she said a little angrily, "The little whore."

At that point she squeezed my cock for emphasis and I knew 'probably' was no longer in the equation: I was definitely a goner. This woman could do whatever she wanted to me, whatever the consequences.

"I can't believe that's true," I said sincerely, "Why look elsewhere when he has a woman like you waiting for him at home? You truly are a gorgeous woman Chris."

She actually blushed at my compliment like she was a sixteen year old virgin. I reached up and took her breast gently in my palm, shattering every boyhood taboo I could think of, while at the same time fulfilling every boyhood fantasy I might ever have had.

Her flesh was still firm and her skin was very smooth.

"You're so soft," I said, and she really was. I started massaging her tit gently, my thumb rubbing her nipple.

"And you're so hard," she replied in turn, her lotion covered fingers grazing the muscles of my left bicep, chest and abs in succession.

"I love that about men," she said, resting her fingers around my belly button, "Each part of you is harder than the last."

At that she ran her hand over my cock for emphasis and I felt myself growing ever more firm in her grip. I was aching to be free, but she proceeded no further, as if some unspoken proscription was stopping us.

"I would consider it an honor, ma'am," I said to her pointedly and formally, "If you'd let me help you out in your time of need."

"Is this a service you provide to a lot of women?" she said, teasingly.

"I was raised a gentleman, ma'am. It's not in my nature to leave a woman in distress."

"I was so hoping you felt that way," she said longingly.

She undid the top button of my shorts and unzipped the fly. Underneath my cock sprang free to tent the boxers I was wearing. Mrs. Campbell ran her index finger up the length of the fabric, tracing the underside of my cock in the process. It sent chills of pleasure down my spine.

"Don't tease me," I begged her.

"Never," she replied.

She crawled down the lounge chair, so that her face was over my cock, and her ass was pointed deliciously up in the air. I lifted my ass and assisted her in pushing my shorts and boxers down far enough to free up my cock and balls. I felt the bare skin of my ass resting on the cool plastic underneath.

"Damn, Marc!" she exclaimed really seeing my cock for the first time, "You're huge!"

"I get that reaction a lot," I said smugly.

I am not ashamed, nor so humble that I have trouble admitting I am blessed with four quality attributes for getting laid: good looks, good body, good personality, and a fucking huge cock. I may not be in league with John Holmes or anything, but I've only run into one guy in my whole life that made me feel totally insignificant. Fully erect I was a stud, packing nearly ten inches of thick, top quality meat, or more usually slightly smaller when I was aroused, but not at optimal density. No woman I had slept with had ever complained to me that I'd failed to hit her g-spot.

Whatever she thought of it, Mrs. Campbell bent down and let the head of my cock pass her full, pouty lips. I let out a long groan of pleasure. This was it. That was the moment that I'd just crossed a horrible line in the sand somewhere by penetrating an orifice of my mother's best friend. If the nuns were right, I'd just committed one hell of a mortal sin. And I was abso-fucking-lutely loving every damn moment of it.