AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yes, I'm back. And I promise you won't have to wait four years for Chapter 17.
*
The day after the general insanity at Elaine's house I actually had to go to school the next day. And then pretend I was an ordinary high school kid with ordinary high school problems. That, I hasten to say, was not the case. I was going to the prom with Bridget Landau, the most beautiful girl east of the Mississippi. That was good. Bridget, however, had spent the night writhing between the sheets with my mother. That was less good. I'd attended an orgy where Bridget's father had promised to fuck every woman in attendance in exchange for me demonstrating my autofellacial skills, and in a rage Bridget's mother had ruthlessly squat-fucked me and left her nail marks all over my tender flesh. This, after I'd promised Bridget that I wouldn't allow my stupidly huge cock anywhere near her mother's luscious pussy.
Now that we've recapped the action, you can probably understand why I was a bit distracted on that humid day late in May. There were just two weeks of school left and two days until the prom. I'd already been accepted to college and no matter what happened my grades wouldn't rise or fall that much. To be honest I just wanted school to end, wanted to get past the prom and graduation, and see what the future held.
I actually spent much of that day thinking about that exact subject. The future. I was going away for school, which meant that I would be away from my beloved Elaine, the sexy older woman who had introduced me to just about every sexual delight under the sun. I'd also be away from Elaine's friends, who found my boy-next-door charm and gigantic penis an endless source of delight. And then there was Bridget, who I was pretty sure I loved, and who almost certainly was going to move to L.A. to try to become a singer/actress/whatever. As I sat in class I tried to imagine a scenario where Bridget, a woman of almost diabolical gorgeousness, would be interested in being my long-distance girlfriend while she made the scene in La-La Land. I had trouble imagining that. There was also the unhappy fact that Bridget was perhaps the least-talented singer/actress/whatever in the Western world, and that going to California would doubtless end in bitter disappointment. I also worried that Bridget did not in fact have feelings for me, that she was just acting out some evil scenario concocted by her barking-mad mother, and that I was going to end up getting totally fucked, and not in a good way.
So consider the turmoil inside my head as the final dismissal bell rang and I headed out to the parking lot and my car. My total (and understandable) focus on Bridget had alienated my friends and no one talked or so much as looked at me as I walked across the asphalt. I waited by my car and about a minute later a woman who would've been at home atop Mount Olympus strode up.
Just seeing Bridget made me forget all my troubles. So what if this didn't last? So what, even, if she was a vicious harpy just like her mother. For now, for this particular moment, everything was perfect. No matter what happened in the future, I would trade all the heartbreak in the world for these precious moments of glory. And seeing her look at me, smile, walk up close, and kiss me on the lips...it was truly glorious.
And then Bridget looked at me in a stern way and said, "Did anything odd happen at Elaine's last night?"
My lower lip trembled a bit. "Um, define 'odd'. There were people having sex and other people watching. So far as that goes it was fairly normal."
"Did anything happen with my Mommy and Daddy?"
Other than her father promising to fuck a dozen or so women and her mother getting volcanically angry about it? "No, not really," I lied.
She frowned at me. "Really? There was some real tension at home this morning, Mommy seemed really mad about something. Are you sure nothing happened?
"Nothing."
"OK," she said, and I exhaled, thinking I was off the hook. And then Bridget said, "My Daddy still wants to see you today."
Gulp. "Uh...why?"
She cocked her head. "I'm not sure. But he sent me a text about an hour ago and said he wanted to see you. You remember how to get to his office?"
I did and said so. She smiled again and said, "You picked up your tux?"
"I did."
"And?"
"Not to toot my own horn, but I look incredible."
"Carlo is an artist."
"He is," I said, stepping back and sweeping my hands down my body, "But look what he has to work with."
She smiled, snuggled up close, and said, "I know what I have to work with. But I'd rather work on you when you're not wearing anything at all."
I broke out in a sweat. "Let's do that right now, I know an abandoned gas station we could park behind..."
She laughed and said, "Mr. Romantic. No, you have to go see my Daddy."
"You've no idea what he wants?" I asked, and she said, "No, but I can't imagine it's anything bad." Then she froze me with her eyes and said, "Unless something happened last night that you're not telling me."
I thought about how I'd sucked my own cock to arouse her father, how I'd arranged for him to bone every woman in attendance, how his wife had pinned me to the ground and ferociously fucked me in revenge. "Nope," I bleated, and she smiled, kissed me again, and said, "Tell Daddy about your tux, he'll want to know about it".
*****
Mr. Landau's office was in a corporate park not too far from our school. In fact it had a campus-like feel to it-wide lawns, paths meandering from building to building, and rather a large number of hot, sexy women walking around. Actually, they weren't walking around-they were gathered around the entrance to the building Mr. Landau worked in. And I recognized most of them. They were the women who had been at the orgy last night. The women Teddy Landau had promised to fuck in exchange for me blowing myself.
They hadn't waited long before they came collecting.
The front door opened and, in frightening unison, the dozen or so women suddenly turned as one and made a break for it. A uniformed security guard quickly shut it behind him and pressed himself hard against the glass. "Ladies, please!" he shouted. "Stay right where you are! I've warned you, I will call the police if you don't behave!"
The threat did little to dissuade the women, who pressed close around him. Very close. Hands started roaming over his body, caressing him, and one woman I was very familiar with, Elaine's friend Crystal, began running her long-nailed fingers up and down the fly of his dark-blue pants.
The security guard was a tall, burly guy in his fifties with forearms like Popeye. But his eyes were filled with terror at this feminine onslaught. "Ladies," he repeated, his voice quavering, "Mr. Landau instructed me to tell you all...that you should go home."
