Ch 01 Threshold

[NOTE: this story has a longish set-up. If you need instant gratification, this bit isn't for you. However, this story introduces some characters that may wind up playing out over several stories. So... if you can stand a slow, steady build-up of tension, the payoff should be pretty intense. Happy trails.]

Janie looked out the window. "Game starts in half an hour. Where are they?"

"Fuck if I know," Rick shrugged. "But here be beer, plasma, chips and good company."

"Aww."

Janie crossed the living room and gave her boyfriend a hug. It was a tender moment, at least until Rick gave her butt a squeeze. She giggled, gave her cheeks a wiggle and pranced away.

Rick half-pointed at her shirt. It was tight cream button down number – tight enough that the middle-bust button magically undid itself on a regular basis. "Button's open."

"Hm? Oh. Again?" Janie half-consciously buttoned the button as she headed for the hall.

"Tease."

"Maybe," she purred as she disappeared into the bedroom.

Almost a shame that his friends were going to show up, Rick thought. He watched Janie round the corner and couldn't help but stare at her dancer's butt. Granted, she wasn't naked but she still filled her jeans like an American calendar girl.

Rick turned back toward the tube. The television was flashing great Superbowl moments, from Vince Lombardi to Janet Jackson's boob - still the most TiVo'd event in television history. Even now there was a moment of silence between commentators as they ran every angle of pixellated nipple there was. It was an artistically lurid bit marred only by the doorbell.

"Do you have that?" Janie's voice rang from down the hall.

"Uh, yeah."

Rick opened the door to see a large brown paper bag hovering over a pair of Bahama shorts. "Well there's something you don't see every day."

"Dude, this is not light."

"Come in."

Brian brushed by Rick and it was a study in contrasts. The new arrival was a six-four, 205-pound beach bum, a poor surfer, a great volleyball player and an environmental engineer by trade. The host was a five-eleven, 265-pound former Stanford linebacker and psychologist by trade.

"Got room in your fridge?"

"Some. Why all the stuff?"

"You said it was BYO."

"I did not... Did I?"

"You did."

"Shit. Sorry." Rick took the thirty-pound bag off Brian's hands and effortlessly guided it toward the refrigerator. "No, I've got brew, chips and enough meat for a world-class tail-gater."

"Real food. Now that's an idea."

"Grill's on the patio. You know what to do."

"Would you mind?"

"Long as you make enough for everybody."

"I don't see anybody else here."

"Janie's in the back, Dave and Bill'll be here-" The doorbell interrupted. "-Right about now."

"I'll get cookin'."

Brian started rummaging through the kitchen, Rick stepped out to get the door. Standing at the front of the condo was a wiry man of five-nine. Bill brandished a bottle of Gran Patrón and a bag of limes in one hand, a small stuff sack in the other.

"One bottle? You're not sharing?"

"So help me God, if I drink like I did last time, just kill me."

"You drink like that and you'll have it covered yourself."

Rick stepped aside and Bill slipped past. The newest guest was a triathlete and certified computer science genius who worked on commission – when he felt like it.

Bill stepped toward the TV and sized up the pre-game. He waved the nylon stuff sack and it took the shape of a DVD case. "I brought a little post-game entertainment."

"Ahh..."

"Anabolic. Only de highest quality pussy for me frien-"

"Bill!" Janie cried out. She bounded across the living room and gave him a hug. "Good to see you!"

"Fuuuu-ck." Bill turned four shades of magenta and hid the stuff sack behind his back. "Have I mentioned I'm an idiot?"

"Frequently," Rick nodded.

"So," Janie pressed on. "What did you say you brought?"

"Er-"

Bill was going into fidget mode – something Rick didn't want to miss – but a loud rap on the door pulled him away.

The last guest was Dave, a 6-foot, 300-pound tree-trunk of a man that had been in the secondary at Stanford with Rick. Since graduating with his criminal science degree (and getting a job with the Los Angeles County Sheriff), he'd taken up powerlifting to grow from huge to fucking massive. He had a powerlifter's gut but if law enforcement ever got boring, Dave would make the next great strong man for Cirque du Soleil. The way he perched the pony keg on his shoulder, it seemed more like a parrot on a pirate.

"Brutha!"

"DAAAAAaaaave!"

"Let me give you this."

Dave swung the keg off his shoulder and put it square in Rick's arms. Rick practically went cross-eyed but managed to fake some grace as he carried it to the kitchen. Dave tsked-tsked behind him.

"Got to get back in the gym, my man."

"Eh... I enjoy shopping for clothes at normal-person stores."

Janie's gravelly voice croaked between them. "–Which you barely do anyway."

The one girl of the group gave the Dave the Bear a bear-hug and sent the giant into terminal aww-shucks mode. Just as quick, she unwrapped and headed for the kitchen.

Both men watched her bound past the breakfast nook. The middle button on her shirt was open again, teasing the men with a glance of globes in black lace. Dave was shaking his head and trying not to stare. Rick glanced at Dave, and joined in the head shaking.

"Man, she is something else," Dave mumbled.

"Yeah, she is, isn't she?" Rick tilted his head as he watched her. "Ya know, she actually gets all my jokes..."

Dave looked at Rick with a bit of alarm. "My friend, you've been bitten. Have you used the 'L' word yet?"

"...Yes."

Dave shook his head, his expression grave. "This is serious-"

Brian walked past and high-fived Dave. "Dude, good to see you!"

"You too, man!"

"Three burgers or four?"

"Just two," Dave demurred. "I'm on a diet."

In the background, the television got suddenly louder. The pregame was wrapping up, statistics flying around the screen as the cameras showed players running out of the tunnel. It was game time.

From kick-off to the end of the first quarter, it was tense. The first ten minutes was a pure defensive battle, then the offenses started to hit their strides. By the beginning of the second quarter, the score was 10-10. Everybody was shouting, drinking, eating, yelling, drinking, glancing at Janie's peek-a-boo shirt, drinking, cursing, whooping, drinking, hollering and high-fiving.

By half-time, it was 17-16. As they tossed to a commercial, Brian and Bill each sprinted for a bathroom. Dave sat on the couch, almost vibrating with adrenaline while he swished beer around in his mug.

Janie put a hand on his shoulder. "Freshen that up a bit?"

Dave killed the last half in one gulp. "Sure."

"You doin' okay? You're looking a little intense over here."

"Yeah... It's just... I see a good game, I start reliving all the days I played."

Janie nodded. "You're big enough to play in the pros. Why didn't you?"

"I wasn't this big back then. I was good, but I wasn't like Rick. He had the kill instinct. You know he had an offer? He turned 'em down. It coulda gone Butkus-Singletary-Urlacher-Rick... But he turned 'em down."

Janie straightened up. "I had no idea."

"He won't talk about it unless you ask. You should ask him sometime." Dave nodded, then glanced down and his vision caught on her shirt. "You know your button..."

"Oh! Thanks."

Janie took the beer mug and disappeared into the kitchen. Dave watched her hips sway as she walked away and Bill whacked Dave from behind.

"What did you have to go tell her for?"

"Don't worry. I'm psychic and I will 'will' her shirt to open again." Dave turned and grinned. "It's all a part of my master plan."

"Master-bate, maybe."

Rick reappeared from the bathroom. "Master what?"

"Self-control," Brian piped in.

Dave nodded. "Just talking about all the natural beauty around here."

Janie came back out, nodding as they spoke, a snack tray in one hand and Dave's beer in the other. She handed him his beer and looked out the sliding glass door at the dark Santa Monica Mountains. "They are pretty aren't they?"

All eyes went to her shirt and the answer was four male voices in unison. "Yes, they are."

Janie rolled her eyes and set down the vegetable tray. When she stood, the weak button popped and male eyes were on it like tracking radar.

"Damn," Bill said. "You are psychic."

"I told you."

"Psych-o, maybe," Rick corrected.

Janie looked at her shirt and shook her head. "Fuck it."

When she didn't reach to redo the button, there was a general cheer.

It was the perfect note to kick off the second half. Special Teams action kicked the adrenaline right back up as the return went 44 yards, nearly breaking the last tackle for a touchdown. It set the tone for the next two quarters as the evenly-matched heroic teams battled on the grass.

The living room was an extension of the sidelines. Janie was enough of a tomboy, calling yards gained before the commentator, that the guys almost forgot about the black lace under the cream shirt. Brian and Bill sounded like coaches, Dave and Rick were on their feet most of the game, ready to go in if somebody would just hand them a helmet.

It came down to a one-point game. Their team lined up for an easy field goal and everybody was on their feet, shouting and yelling at the television, but none of it kept that lineman's hand from tipping the kick. The clock ran out, the graphics played across the screen... and the room was silent.

Janie put her head in her hands. "Laces out... Dan."

Rick snorted and the tension melted from the room. Brian went back out to the grill, Dave lumbered toward the bathroom, and Bill followed Rick and Janie into the kitchen.

Bill looked positively shy as he gripped the porno-filled stuff-sack. "Hey, er, love birds...?"

"Dude."

"Since this is the only place I can get away with being inappropriate..."

Rick glanced at Janie and she turned to Bill. "Yes, you can put on the porno."

"Oh, thank God. Are, uh... Are you going to stay?"

Janie smiled. "What? And miss all the comments?"

"We were pretty crude."

"I felt like Jane Goodall on safari..." Janie started imitating wonka porno guitar as she downed the last of her apple martini. "Tell me you got a better movie this time?"

Bill made ape noises and swung the DVD around. "Me got Anabolic! Outdoor Gang Bangs IV!"

Janie pointed toward the TV. "Go put it on. We'll be right out."

Bill kept swinging the bag, doing a primate walk around the breakfast bar and into the living room.

Rick peeked around the corner to see his friends milling about. "Well... if you're going to stay, how about being our serving wench?"

"I'll service you, alright..." Janie brushed her hand past Rick's crotch and leaned in for a deep kiss.

Her fingers lingered over his zipper and he could feel stirrings despite all the alcohol.

"Okay," Rick mumbled, "you're going to get into trouble if you keep that up."

Janie wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered into his ear. "I'll keep it up as long as you'll let me..."

Rick caressed the side of her shirt, his fingers tracing the underside of her breasts. "This is going to be a good night."

Janie squeezed his cock through his pants. From the living room they heard a chorus of "Get A ROOM!"

Schlocky techno echoed around the breakfast nook and Rick headed for the living room. He plopped down on the couch as the movie started, though he couldn't say much past the shit-eating grin.

A moment later, Janie stepped into view – still in the kitchen but on the other side of the breakfast bar. "We have a room. We call it: 'the kitchen.' Now, who wants what?"

There was a moment of silence after the question and Janie sighed. "Who wants what DRINK?"

"Oh!"

"Right."

"Gotcha..."

Drink orders followed while the screen had a montage of shots under opening credits, mostly single girls on their knees surrounded by a ring of jerking cocks.

Rick watched as the credits dissolved to the first segment. A girl was tanning poolside. Cut to: a truck pulling up in a parking lot. Several guys step out with pool cleaning equipment. The camera cut back to a close shot of the girl, her skin glistening in the Southern California sun. "How is it we keep winding up with gangbang videos?"

Dave shrugged. "Popular theme, I guess."

"A motif, if you will." Brian added. "More the merrier and all that.

Bill glanced back at the kitchen. "Perhaps a suggestion..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Dave slapped Bill on the back - a good natured nudge that nearly broke ribs. "Dream on."

Janie rounded the corner with four bottles barely contained in dainty fingers and her own fifth bottle pressed into her chest like a cleavage cooler.

Bill accepted the bottle and glanced at the one between her boobs – her nipples were standing out – then he forced his gaze back toward the TV. "They're fake!"

Janie's eyes narrowed. "Are not!"

"No, the girl in the video."

"Oh."

"Yeah, that half-ring around the nipple kind of gave that away," Brian explained.

"Cheap job," Janie instructed.

"So what?" Dave glanced back. "Real, fake, a boob is a boob."

"Different feel," Bill countered. "Natural are softer."

"Nicer," Brian added.

Janie turned to Rick. "Honey?"

"Yeah! Great on boobs but there's always some that gets all over everything. Then it's hell to clean up."

"No, I meant: do you like natural or artificial?"

"Honestly? Every boob needs a balance of size and shape. Texture comes second. I come third."

"Har har."

"Hang on, hang on," Dave interrupted. He pointed at the screen and the squad of pool cleaners coming through the gate. "...Excuse me, ma'am, we're here to clean your pipes."

Sure enough, a moment later, the video focused on one clean-cut guy stepping up to the bikini-clad girl. 'Excuse me, did you call for a cleaning?'

"Close!"

"Pause it. Okay... Odds: does she wind up in the pool?"

"No way. Water is a crappy lube."

"Do they put lotion on her?"

"Take too long. This is Anabolic, remember? They are the blunt instruments of the porno world."

The comments kept up for another five minutes. This video wasn't quite as cheesy as the one they'd watched a couple weeks ago. This girl was a little hotter, the action a little more intense.

As the pace picked up, the jokes slacked off. By the time the girl was hanging on the pool ladder, getting fucked over and over, everybody in the room was silent. The music was low, adding its own electronic moans, but they could hear the wet slapping sounds of flesh. One guy would get behind her in the shallow end and maneuver his cock into her wet, swollen pussy and pound away as another guy stood between hand rails and fed his cock to her hungry mouth.

The girl was into it. Every cock seemed like a treat between her lips. When a guy started really pounding into her, she closed her eyes, enjoying it. The room was quiet as the actress was picked up and set on a chaise lounge. Nobody budged as half a dozen cocks surrounded her, and two men stepped a little closer. A moment later, cum was flying, splattering the porno queen. She leaned into it, licking her lips, licking the cocks, sucking the heads when she could.

The first two backed off and a third stepped up, giving his money shot from a step away before he could close in. She got a burst of across her enhanced chest and another blast in her hair. Rick had to make an adjustment after that one and Janie brushed her hand over his pants. He was rock hard under his zipper.

She leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Is it the girl or the situation?"

"Yes."

She brushed over his zipper again. "She's pretty, isn't she?"

"Yes... but there's something about... coming on tits. And in her hair. Like she might miss cleaning it. Somebody else might see..."

Janie leaned back and Rick stole a sidelong glance at her. Her nipples were casting shadows on her shirt... and it was not cold in there.

The third pool man stepped back just as numbers four and five stepped up. Within a few strokes, the actress was well splattered. The fourth man stepped back and made room for the last. A few beats later, the girl's face was glazed in shiny come. She was fingering herself – and coming – as clumps dripped off her chin and landed on her tits.

As the last man stepped back, the camera circled the beautiful, come-covered girl as she continued fingering herself. She was starting an orgasm as the scene faded to black.

Dave stood up and Bill paused the video. Dave shook his head and waved away the television.

"Don't bother, brother. I gotta split – can't drink anymore and can't drive any later. It would be bad for a Deputy Sheriff to get busted at a DUI checkpoint."

Rick looked up. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm legal – but I don't want to push it. So I'm gonna go while I still can."

"You're invited to stay here."

"Uh, thanks... but I'm afraid Janie'll walk past and I'll fatally strain my zipper."

Janie snorted, nearly falling off the couch.

Rick looked back to see his well-buzzed girlfriend in hysterics. "I think she takes that as a complement."

Dave nodded, traded handshakes all around and got a close, extended, sexy hug from Janie. Then, with a flourish fit for Cirque du Soleil, he rumbled out the door like a force of nature.

There was a beat of silence as the rest of the group stood by the door, then Bill led the charge back toward the TV.

The video started back up and the comments resumed. It was easy enough – the video compressed the set-up into a thirty-second montage of a girl walking into a convenience store. The store's AC was broken and the credit card system was down, so they'd all have to wait... and presto, the heat had the girl doffing her shirt. It didn't really explain the magic it took to get her to blow every guy in the line – it was just kind of assumed that exposed tits did that kind of thing for people. Jokes were there but once the girl got going, the off-hand comments were no match for the tension in the room.

It started with a girl, two clerks and another customer. By the time they finished, the manager joined in, a cop came by and two more customers added to the frosting of "Kelly."

Rick was stroking Janie's chest, his fingers gliding over a safe but suggestive area. He could feel her breathing, her chest rising and falling under his touch. With the touch of a safecracker, he undid her topmost button and peeled back the flap of her shirt. The next closed button was below her bra and black lace was on display from curve to curve.

As Rick's fingers caressed from one globe to the other, Janie squeezed her shoulders forward and caught his fingers in her cleavage. There was a moment of eye contact, a smile, a kiss... and they turned back to the movie, her shirt still daringly open.

As the second segment ended, Bill stood and bowed to the rest of the audience.

"Well, lady and genital-men, I must go– Whoa-ho!" Bill's eyes bugged as he saw Janie's cleavage.

"Are you calling me a ho?" Janie mocked.

"Calling? No. Hoping, yes, but calling no." Bill stared a moment, then squeezed his eyes shut. "Much as I'd love to stay, one can only take so much before one makes a mess and I've decided to make a mess in the privacy of my own home."

More handshakes were passed around, and Janie gave another long hug – this one complete with heaving cleavage. By then, it was all Bill could do to not reach out and fondle as well.

"You are an awful, awful tease. Welcome to the family."

Janie gave him a kiss on the cheek and Bill did a stumbling twirl out the door, whistling as he walked back to his car.

Rick shook his head as Janie headed toward the kitchen. "I have the feeling he's going to be envisioning his own third segment when he gets home."