Dexterous Dexter 03

"Better than with me?" I teased, leaning up and sucking her tits, then thrusting into her.

"You better not ask me that. It's different, that's all I'll say. Oooh, do that some more."

I rolled my hips around, brushing her clit, sending her skyward. "Oh fuck Dex..." she gasped.

"I'm learning all I can about everything I can, so I'll be ready for anything. Something will bite my ass sometime, somewhere. Maybe in Chichen Itza or Macchu Pichu, or Cairo or Kobenhavn or Calcutta. Maybe I'll be gob-smacked tomorrow, or in five years, I don't know. Or maybe I'll just be your kept man," I leered.

"Fat fucking chance. Even if I wanted a house slave, I'd never get you away from Wendy."

"What, you don't want her as your house slave too? We would take REAL good care of you."

"You guys would be pretty high-maintenance. I couldn't afford you. I'll just get a dog."

"Hey, I didn't know you were so kinky. I know a guy who trains German Shepherds for that."

Almy bent down and bit my nose. "One more word, and you'll be goddam Tycho Brahe, dude."

I shut up and rolled my hips again. I do not really need disfigurement. I am ugly enough anyway.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you are not familiar with Tycho Brahe, look him up. Read about his nose.

___

One of Juliana's underage girlfriends had been screwing a teacher at another school. She was not on The Pill or any other form of birth control. She got pregnant. She told the teacher; he dumped her, froze her out. She was frantic. Juliana talked Wendy into driving the girl to Tijuana for an abortion, at a clinic she knew of.

Remember, this was early 1972, before Roe v Wade, before California legalized any but 'therapeutic' abortions. Her options were 1) keep the upcoming kid, which she could not handle; 2) depend on an illegal local abortionist, but they were usually scummy and unsafe; or 3) go to an abortion mill in Mexico.

Wendy agreed to pull transport duty, but she had a price: her plan. She learned the teacher had a blond wife, and he had screwed more than a few underage girls. She outlined her simple plan to brunettes Lindsay and Teresa. They volunteered to help.

She told Juliana to bring back the aborted fetus from the clinic. She had me set up the hot-tub camera system for controlled shots. Wendy told the girls she would be behind a screen with a camera, and she was. We positioned the tub-side chaise carefully. And Teresa lured the slimy teacher into the honey-pot trap.

Nothing complicated, no photo manipulation, just straight documentation. Teresa and Lindsay got naked; the teacher quickly followed. They took turns blowing him. They laid him on his back on the chaise, his head in Lindsay's lap while Teresa cowgirl-rode his stringy cock. The Super-8 camera quietly rolled, two frames every second this time, while Wendy also fired away. A bongo-jazz tape masked their clicks.

Alas, before he could cum into Teresa, Juliana burst in, screaming at them, and clobbering the teacher with a badminton racket. The result: very rapid coitus interruptus and his quick departure, sans clothes.

Juliana chased his naked ass and feet through the backyard gate, across a lane of gravel (OUCH), down the driveway, and around the block to his parked car. His LOCKED parked car. His keys were still in the trousers he had left by the hot-tub. He kept running. I got some nice shots with a telephoto lens on my Pentax of Juliana chasing and whacking him as they passed under streetlights.

We got some great shots of the blowjobs, showing his face but not the girls'; and others of Teresa's back and side, with his cock visibly sliding into her, and with Lindsay hunching over and kissing his head. Neither girl's face could quite be seen, but their hair was obviously dark, not blond. The teacher's face was clearly recognizable.

Wendy mailed a package to the teacher's wife at her office. The package held prints of the best fuck photos; the precum-stiff boxers (embroidered with his initials) and keys the teacher had left behind; a bottle of formaldehyde containing the fetus; and a note: "This is a child your husband fathered by one of his students. These are items he left behind at another student's home. Ask him about his other girls."

(Before Wendy mailed the keys, we drove the teacher's car to another town, with gang-ruled streets, and left it there, unlocked. He had to pay when its stripped remains were towed and impounded. Ha ha.)

To the teacher's principal, and members of the school board, Wendy sent envelopes with the photo prints and another note: "Does Mr Z's contract contain a morality clause?" We did not send anyone the chase photos. Those were for our own amusement.

Would you like to guess what happened next? OK, I'll tell you. The teacher was fired. The divorce left him broke and homeless. A few friends of his victims roughed him up a bit. Last I heard, he had a job as a cockroach exterminator in Arizona. VERY BIG cockroaches live in Arizona. Maybe he could even fuck them.

___

The rest of Senior year was rather predictable. Prom, finals, graduation. More parties, more weekends, more work. Yada yada.

I have read of proms of the last couple decades, the big lavish conspicuous-consumption affairs with sex and drugs and limousines. It was not like that at Piedmont HS, not in 1972. Prom was just another dance in the auditorium, but a better band was hired, everyone dressed formally, and prom royalty were elected.

The normals may have agonized over prom dates. Our circle were not concerned; we were already very close. We attracted a little attention because we guys each took two girls as dates. I took Doreen and Alma-Li. Stefan took Lindsay and Megan. Kirk took Teresa and Marissa. Alex took Rosalita and Wendy. The identical twins took each other but also snuck-in Paul and Paula, both in slinky gowns and flattering makeup.

We made a point of dancing with everyone BUT our collective dates. We left many unsuspecting students very happy, if maybe a bit confused, especially those partnered with Paul or Paula. I chose to twirl the shy wallflower girls around the floor, then subtly pass them on to Stefan or Kirk or Ted or Alex. I saw Wendy and Doreen taking the same approach with shy boys. Not noblesse oblige, no; just having different fun.

Finals went as expected. We maintained our grades. We were not about to blow our scholarships.

Wendy's hot-tub parties included a few more MGM kids from other high schools in the city. With summer approaching, more of our excursions were to beach parties or mountain forest frolics. Balboa Beach and Lake Arrowhead were favorite destinations. Yeah, we were all committed water-rats.

We indulged in sports. Wendy, Doreen and Lindsay blew a visiting football team. Kirk, Stefan and I screwed a visiting women's water-polo team at Clarion. We all fucked visiting cheer squads. Damn, cheerleaders are easy! And they did not mind being photographed. Very few inhibitions there, I can assure you.

My relationship with Alma-Li became a bit more complicated. My honkie grandpa and her Chinese grandma became a hot item. They were to marry and merge their farming interests. That made Almy almost my cousin! I joked again about moving to Arkansas. She said that if our folks all swapped with each other, so we would be step-siblings, she would consider it. Then she punched me, called me perv-boy again. Ouch.

Lindsay finally discovered the hot-tub hidden camera secret. She was nosing through the file cabinet next to my darkroom and found a folder of prints. Oops.

She quickly analyzed the subjects and angles and depth-of-field and said, "Oooh, Dexter Dexter Dexter, you have been a *very* naughty boy. Is it a 16mm camera? No, it must be 8mm. Yeah, those are Super-8 carts that Wendy sneaks to you. Hey, this is really nice work. How did you get all these POVs? Oooh, you must have the camera on tracks or something, with a control system. Very clever."

"Look, Linds, this has to stay hush-hush."

She pulled me over for a kiss. "No, I won't tell anyone else about this. Do you only shoot our gang in the tub? No, probably not. Hey, have you blackmailed anyone yet? No, don't tell me, that would make me a felony conspirator. But let me think about it; I might have some ideas..."

Lindsay's ideas tended towards danger. Oh shit.

Graduation day was no cap-and-gown affair. Graduates mostly dressed in the same formal outfits they had worn to prom. Most the graduates and their families gathered, many for the first and last time. Some roared off for not-entirely-sober grad parties. Others just turned their backs on childhood and moved on.

___

Now, the story you have all been waiting for: the seduction of Miss Diana Tompkins PhD, Assistant Principal, Piedmont High School, and tall blond thirty-ish multi-orgasmic MILF bondage-freak slut.

She was easy. A few days after graduation, she got a call from Wendy's father, inviting her to a hot-tub party with unnamed guests. Yeah, Kirk did a great imitation of Mr Reynolds' voice. Wendy had been taping her folks' calls for some time, so Kirk knew the right script and tone.

"Yes, Diana, skip the house door, the backyard gate would be unlocked. We'll be waiting. See you then."

She came like a kitten to cream, unsuspecting. Imagine her surprise when she opened the enclosure door, slipped off her slippers and wrap, and found herself facing me and Wendy and Kirk and Doreen and Lindsay. And Juliana, wearing her customary (for adult parties) leather mask. Actually, we were all masked, so she was only moderately surprised. Her shock would come at our unmasking.

"Hola, bitch, I see you're back for more. Get down! Assume the position. You know what I want, slave!"

Juliana snapped her riding crop against Diana's shoulders and chest and belly and thighs. This was not their first time. Diana knelt, hands behind her back. I wrapped vinyl straps around her wrists.

"You've been a dirty girl this week, haven't you, slave?" Whack, whack, more whip-snaps.

"Yes mistress, I've been a lonely slut. I fucked myself with bananas, in my pussy and my asshole. I broke them off inside me and squeezed them out and ate them. And I did worse. I..."

Juliana interrupted her with more whip-snaps.

"Shut up, bitch, I don't want to hear it. I'm tired of listening to you. You need your mouth full of something to shut you up."

Juliana gestured to us guys. We took turns stuffing our cocks in Diana's mouth and down her throat, filling her with several loads of thick hot sperm. She swallowed what she could but still overflowed. Juliana kept whip-snapping her, at various speeds and intensities.

We forced her body onto an L-shaped cushion, head down, hands still tied behind her back, butt up, legs strapped apart so her nether region was wide open, fully accessible, a tempting target.

Now it was the girls' turn. They each spent time shoving their vulvas into her face, while we guys stood above her, pumping our cocks into her vagina and anus, sometimes both at once, sometimes with fingers and thumbs added. Diana slurped pussies hungrily and groaned when her nipple were violently abused.

"So you like bananas, do you, slave? Well, we have some nice fat juicy bananas just for you." They were actually big electric dildos, but hey, that's close enough, right? We needed no lube, she was already soggy, so in they went, rather quickly.

Now for the big thrill, the unmasking.

"Open your eyes, bitch. Look up at me. Hey you vatos, get over here. Look at everybody, slave. LOOK!"

Diana's now-bleary eyes took us in, masked faces atop young bodies, younger than she was used to here. One by one, we took off our masks. With each unveiling, Diana gasped, "Oh shit, oh no, no not you, oh shit."

We were not her usual playtime crowd of somewhat-peers. We were the students she used to rule rather harshly. The sub-dom roles had been reversed. She was subject to our tender mercies. And we had not even needed to blackmail her.

We were in a paradoxical position. We all wanted to torture her, humiliate her, degrade her. Ah, but such actions were just what she required to attain orgasm. So we inflicted the worst torture: we ignored her, while we had a merry fuckfest right before her frustrated eyes. What the hell, she had already gotten off, multiple times. It was our turn. Maybe we were too easy on her.

Our only concession to Diana's pleasure was that we left the vibrators running. We added fresh batteries just before we all left a couple hours later. She was still strapped in, alone, when those batteries finally died. Juliana came back just before dawn to untie Diana.

Yes, school was out, but the administrators still had to deal with some paperwork. We kids just happened to be hanging around the admin building door when Diana arrived at eight AM that day. She was perfectly attired but her makeup was a bit heavy. She trembled a little as she walked past us. She did not respond to our greetings. But I saw her mouth twitch with a tiny smile.

___

We broke away for the summer.

I did indeed ride off towards Panama on a motorbike. I didn't quite make it, but I didn't die, either.

Wendy drove Alma-Li and Kirk on a USA-Canada tour of observatories and physics labs, seducing numerous astronomers and physicists along the way. They called it "professional networking". Hey, it worked.

Doreen and Teresa pulled summer internships at the San Francisco Chronicle and bunked with horny Bella.

Lindsay wormed her way into the fashion mafia, shooting models, and modeling herself, as well as shooting some porn. When she visited Doreen and Teresa in SF, she found a second home at the Mitchell Bros' lair.

Stefan did not quite make the US Olympics team but he traveled for the Munich Games and saw the massacre. This led to his post-basketball career as a stadium security consultant. Nobody ever cracked his lines.

By fall, all of us were at our colleges, starting the next phase of life. Our high-school days were over, irrevocably.

Wendy and I stayed in our family homes during our four years in the Clarion Colleges. We lived together during our post-grad years at Stanford, me in finance, her in international affairs. We invested some money in small companies in nearby nascent Silicon Valley, doing especially well with Intel and Apple. We went our own ways after receiving our doctorates but made sure our paths crossed very often.

That Senior year of 1971-72 shaped us all forever.

___

FAST-FORWARD TWO DECADES - SEPTEMBER 2001:

Alma-Li and Doreen and Wendy and I were together in San Diego for a brief intensive conference on network security. Almy had driven down from Pasadena; she was still at JPL, heading a team that designed and ran deep-space probes. The rest of us had flown in from the East: Doreen from Chicago, where she was bureau chief of a European news agency; me from Boston, where I ran my technology investment firm; and master strategist Wendy from Washington DC, where she headed a military think-tank.

Wendy and I were still the best friends we each ever had, and Almy and Doreen were still our closest confidants. We fed each other information and ideas that enhanced our endeavors, our own private network. We still gathered regularly, and brought our spouses and partners. We still had the greatest fun together.

Just the four of us were at this confab; Almy's husband Kirk was busy that week at Goldstone, the NASA-JPL Deep Space Tracking Network big-dish station north of Barstow.

We four blearily crawled out of our joined beds at about eight AM. We could have risen sooner, but we mostly had our mouths in each other's faces and crotches. Wendy played a morning raga CD on the room's boom box. We called room service for breakfast. We talked of running a morning jog before returning to the conference floor.

Alma-Li checked her cell phone and found she'd had a call from her mother an hour before, anxiously saying not to worry, that her sister was OK. Her sister was a security chief with the New York City transit system, with her office in the World Trade Center. Alma-Li called back.

"Momma, what did you mean that Lily is OK? Did something happen?"

"Haven't you seen the news yet, girl? Turn on a TV. Right now!"

That is when we first saw the video loops of airliners driving into skyscrapers. Oh shit.

The conference was truncated. Regular sessions were cancelled, replaced by a morning roundtable discussing the attacks and their likely repercussions. Then all participants tried to figure how to get home.

All air traffic in the USA was grounded. All Amtrak and Greyhound seats were quickly filled.

Alma-Li drove us to Pasadena and kissed us good-bye. I rented an RV with a queen bed. We drove northeast in three-hour shifts, through Barstow to Las Vegas to Denver to Omaha to Chicago, 2000 miles in 40 hours. Whoever was not sleeping or fucking or driving was brewing coffee and cocoa and working their cell phones. When we were all awake, we talked, and grew together yet more. We grokked fully.

We stopped for a pre-dawn rest break an hour outside Chicago. We knew life would be frantic ahead. It might be some time before Wendy and I were with Doreen again. We undressed and snuggled into the bed.

Doreen and I kissed Wendy's mouth, her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. Doreen worshipped Wendy's breasts. I slid down to mouth Doreen's tits and finger her vulva. We sucked softly, Wendy starting to groan, Doreen's moans muffled as she suckled.

"Holy shit guys, I need you both to eat me now," Wendy murmured.

I rolled Doreen on her side. I wrapped her legs around my hips, slid my cock down her soft wet tunnel, pulled us together. We put our mouths together between Wendy's legs. We licked up and down her lips, out of sync, then worked our tongues together into her vagina. Tongue-twiddling is so much fun. We took turns slurping Wendy's labia and teasing her clit.

"Oh fuck guys, don't you dare stop, don't ever stop, never, never..."

We worked her clit, Doreen going back and forth, me going up and down, sometimes delving back down her hole and beyond, almost to her rosebud. Then back up to her clit while Doreen delved further south. Then we dove in, both sucking hard around Wendy's clit, stealing the nub from one mouth to the other.

"Oh fuck oh fuck Oh Fuck OH FUCK FUCK FUCK..." Wendy almost screamed.

I held my tongue as deep as I could in Wendy's vagina while Doreen pressed her clit down gently, cooling her, soothing her from her climax. Wendy rolled away from our faces, gasping.

I kissed Doreen deeply. I licked her mouth, smeared with Wendy's juices, spreading the salty nectar over our cheeks and noses. Doreen tightened her legs around my waist as we lay on our sides, me thrusting a bit faster into her, my head bending to suck her nipples.

Doreen rolled further till she was atop me, lying on me, our closest clinch, her full breasts pushed into my chest, her mouth near mine, her hips pushing, grinding, smashing her clit into me.

"Dex, you fucker, I don't ever want you to pull out of me, I want to stay like this forever."

"Today is an endless highway, tonight is a crooked trail, tomorrow is a long time," I whispered.

"Goddammit Dex, just hold me, you're my strength, my heart, ohhh, ohhh..." she sobbed as she came.

Wendy rolled to us, embraced us, glued our faces together, kissed us in a triad of desperate tongues.

Doreen sat up, still crying, straddling my hips, my cock still stiff inside her. Wendy bent over my head, feeding her breasts to my mouth and sucking on my nipples, wetting me with her tears. I thrust faster and harder into Doreen, came in her, shattered in her, shot my soul into her, while sucking Wendy's soul from her tits. I was the channel that emptied Wendy into Doreen, the bridge between them. I sobbed in agony and ecstasy.