Roulette

The next period bell rang but what was taught in the following class was completely missed or totally forgotten.

Caps and gowns turned back in, and diplomas put away, it was now time for the party. Angie had originally feared that it wouldn't be cool enough for her and her friends, but that feeling had been replaced with a more general anxiety. What was going to happen? Fitting into the dress had been easier than she expected but the fact that she was going to go braless was another ratchet up in the worry quotient. She carefully made up her face, took one last look in the mirror with still no answer to whether she should flaunt herself or collapse in panic and came out of her room. She froze. Evelyn was also dressed up for the party but in a completely different manner. She wore a simple caftan but what a caftan! The bias cut material clung to her mature curves, the neckline, though narrow, plunged to her navel and there was a slit up one side almost to her hip.

Stepping forward to her trembling daughter, Evelyn took out a spray bottle and shot a squirt up each nostril. Then she handed to Angelica. "Here darling, do just what I did. You have no idea how much better it will make the evening. And in case you were wondering, it isn't anything illegal or harmful. Come on, now, sniff!"

Then they climbed into the car and headed for the Moose Lodge.

For a mid-June night, it seemed remarkably warm in the car to Angelica. It became even warmer when movement in the front seat turned out to be her mother laying a ringed hand on her father's leg as he drove, caressing his thigh. At the next stoplight, Mr. Redpath returned the gesture and went even further sliding his fingers along his wife's skin where the slit in her caftan revealed tempting pink flesh. Angie was dimly aware that she should be aghast at such displays of intimacy in her presence but instead of a blush flaming her face, the heat seemed to be concentrating lower down. Warmth began to spread out from her lower belly down her thighs and up her torso. She had a vague feeling that the sensations were just like the ones that Dalton had produced back at the creek. Her knees slowly fell apart of their own volition.

When the car came to a stop in the Lodge parking lot, Angie took a few moments to surface from a daydream that featured Leonardo Di Caprio in a vague but prominent way. Her door was open, held by her beaming father. Her mother clung to his arm in a way Angie had never seen before. She had even wrapped a bare thigh around his leg in a very provocative manner. "Come along, Angie," she murmured. "It's time to go in."

Whatever Angie imagined the inside of the Moose Lodge to be was wrong. She'd already come to suspect that the polka music was a cover-up before she called her aunt but she still thought that probably the Lodge was a hall, maybe with a bar at one end and a large open space. It was not. Instead, the Springsview Moose Lodge closely resembled an upper class British gentleman's club. Thick carpets covered polished hardwood floors, with upholstered loveseats with ottomans and end tables taking up most of the space. There was a large, unused fireplace in one corner. Tonight dozens of ice-filled champagne buckets sat next to tables with more dozens of glasses scattered around within easy reach of almost anywhere one could sit.

Her mother and father exchanged a hot kiss and then separated with Evelyn taking her daughter's arm and leading her to where Kirsten's tall, rugged-looking father sat comfortably sipping a glass of bubbly. "Darling, why don't you sit right here and keep Harold company for a while, at least until the games begin? And have some champagne while you're at it."

A champagne flute appeared in Angie's right hand as she found herself tucked very snugly against Harold Van Daam's right side. Then his arm encircled her with a palm cupping the underside of her unsupported breast. She opened her mouth to gasp, if not protest, and found his lips pressed against hers instead and his tongue exploring, tickling her cheeks, and running around the back of her gums. The heat in her crotch was now feverish and she could feel the moisture slicking her labia. Protest? She returned the kisses passionately, letting the champagne go flat, unheeded.

When the kiss finally broke Angie came up panting with one breast was exposed, its nipple standing tall and stiff. She looked down at it and then at her new partner's crotch where his hard erection bulged. "Can we find somewhere private?" she breathed quietly, heedless of any observers.

"Absolutely not," the answer was a chuckle. "Nothing is private here—besides, here's your mother. I do think it's time for the games to begin."

"Games?" What was everyone talking about?

"Roulette, my dearest girl," Evelyn helped her daughter to her feet. "We're going to play roulette."

"But . . . but I didn't bring any money!"

Evelyn gave a throaty chortle. "The stakes in this game aren't money, Angie. Come along and I'll show you."

As the entire gathering began to move towards the double doors in the back of the lodge, Angelica noticed something strange for the first time. While she and her classmates were dressed in different but very sexy outfits, the older women were all wearing some sort of caftan and all the caftans were cut in a way that concealed the bodies underneath them while emphasizing the curves they concealed. If anyone had wanted to make an entire town full of women look as suggestive as possible, nothing could match what was being worn.

The rear doors opened to reveal a broad staircase that descended into the hill behind the lodge. At the bottom, a very large room had been dug out from the hill and, to Angelica and her friends' astonishment, it was filled with huge, flat wheels. Music played in the room and a smoky-voiced alto sang of the pleasures of the flesh to a slow, throbbing, sultry rhythm that seemed to go directly to her pelvis. Angie found herself unconsciously thrusting her hips to the beat.

Evelyn turned to her daughter. "Take the dress off, dear, and give it to Harold. But let him pull down your panties." As she spoke, the older woman grasped the zipper pull on her caftan, undid the garment and slipped it off her shoulders. To Angie's dazed surprise, her mother was completely nude, moisturized and shaved bare below.

"Come on, Angie, this is no time for shyness. We need to be naked."

With trembling hands, Angelica undid the clasp at the nape of her neck to let her dress slide from her nubile body, handed it over to Mr. Van Daam then raised both arms over her head waiting to be stripped completely. The music grew louder and Angie felt a serious need growing between her thighs.

Kirsten's father ran warm hands over Angie's soft, yielding breasts and gently twisted the nipples. She groaned quietly. Then those naughty palms slid down her sides and over her hips until they encountered the bikini panties. Rather than sliding them off, the older man simply grasped the elastic, snapped it easily and threw them carelessly aside.

"One's first man really should be older and experienced just as a boy's first woman should be. Come along, Angie, you've been a girl for long enough." Evelyn took her daughter's arm and led her over to one of the wheels.

They weren't really roulette wheels in the usual sense but they were decorated in alternating red and black. Each colored wedge was padded and sported different combinations of pillows and bolsters. Angie was taken to a black section with nothing but a modest cushion in the center.

"Sit on the pillow, dear, and lay back. It will position that cute little pussy just perfectly. Now raise your arms over your head . . . farther . . . yes!"

Angie felt pads surround her wrists and heard a quiet click as they closed around her. Her mother pushed her feet apart and back just a bit until the same thing happened to her ankles. She was pinned down, helpless and completely exposed. The idea was exciting. She saw her mother kneel in against a large, wedge-shaped cushion and bend forward putting her wrists and ankles into tethers identical to the ones that held her daughter.

"I'm going to give the gentlemen a choice tonight," she winked. "You can wait until later to find whether you enjoy being buggered."

The music grew louder. The room felt hotter. Angie looked down between her knees to see Harold Van Daam standing there, naked, his manhood at attention and covered in purple latex. He smiled at her and then, instead of kneeling down, grasped an upright handle at the edge of the wheel. All the men who had lined up on one of the women did the same and together they gave a mighty shove and the wheel spun. Angelica looked up to see the ceiling whirling around over her. When she looked back down man after man flashed past her pinioned feet.The stakes in this game aren't for money. she remembered her mother's words. My goodness, this game is being played for pussy! Or, she reconsideredit could be for cock . . . depending on your viewpoint. I wonder who is going to get me!

The spinning and clicking of the wheel slowed, the men waiting at the women's feet grew more distinct. At last, with a final click the wheel stopped and Angie saw that she'd won or been won by, Erwin Anderson. Mr. Anderson was a great, hard-muscled slab of a man whose chest and arms told better than words his devotion to the draft horses with which he farmed. As he knelt between her thighs, those massive hands looked alarming but, as he gently and carefully stroked her sex, felt heavenly. Angie hummed and quivered as Erwin slowly spread her labia and carefully inserted one large index finger. He stroked the upper surface of her vagina, pushing more forcefully when he encountered the spongy tissue of her G-spot. Pushing there and stroking her clitoris with his thumb Anderson soon had his prize squeaking as her arousal grew until with a yelp she cried out her ecstasy to the world.

"Excellent, Angie," Mr. Anderson murmured. "Now for the next step." He released her ankles from the wheel and set them onto his shoulders, inched forward just enough and began to run the head of his phallus up and down her nether lips.

"Please?" Angie's need was unbearable now, and she pleaded for release. Erwin smiled quietly and with a smooth push was inside her. She felt a sudden stretching and knew in an instant that she wasn't a girl any more. Now she was a woman! A fuzzy thought surfaced in her heated brain that she was relieved but then he leaned forward on his elbows over her and began to piston in and out to the sensual beat of the music. She stopped thinking of anything and her whole world became nothing but bucking against his thrusts. The beat went on. Angie began to climb the heights of orgasm and once again it broke over her in waves bringing tears of joy. Under the man's remorseless driving the young woman finally reached the state where all the climaxes rolled into one, all sense of time fading away.

A bell chimed at the edge of her consciousness and Anderson withdrew returning her ankles to their tethers. She looked up at him vacantly and saw all the men grab the handles again and send the women spinning towards another random lusty male.

"Wonderfully done, my dear," came her mother's soft voice in her ear, "now keep that up. The night is long and there are many men out to—sample our wares, if you will."

All that Angie knew was the whirling ceiling above her and the slippery wetness in her crotch. Many men, she thought dreamily,I like the sound of that. When the room stopped spinning, she looked down to see Elliot Campbell. He looked happy and satisfied and, to her dismay, completely spent. Oh dear, that would never do! She wanted more, she needed more and then Elliot winked. He leaned down and put his mouth full on her juicy, slippery labia and, with gentle suction, started to lick. Just as before, everything was in time to the music that throbbed through the room. The only other sounds were the slaps of flesh on flesh and the grunts and moans from everyone's pleasure.

Angie had no idea how long the evening wore on. There would be a chime, the room would spin and one of her classmates or neighbors would mount her. None of them hurried to climax, though in the case of the senior class, that was more likely because they had already done so and were coming back for seconds or possibly thirds. Nothing in Angelica's education had prepared her for the variations among men. Different girths, different lengths, different kisses . . . she could but take them all, helpless as she was. Romance novels never mentioned anything like this, not matter how steamy they had seemed.

Finally, when the wheel came to rest, she saw Dalton Corby between her thighs. A soft voice overrode the music, "Will the senior classmen please all remove their condoms? This is the last dance and we want you to enjoy your lady bareback."

Dalton looked startled. He looked down at his latex-clad, engorged manhood and then up at Angie.

"Do it, Dalton," she panted, "if I'm going to have anyone's baby, I want yours!"

Dalton smiled slowly and peeled off the encumbrance. Placing a knee behind each cheek and taking her head in his hands, he entered her tongue and cock together. Angie grunted, then moaned and as he started to thrust to a new and more rapid tune, to mew. The beat was faster, her lover more urgent and the orgasms more intense. She tried to suck on his tongue or his lips but the electric spasms destroyed her control and all she could do was buck and thrust in return. Then he came. She felt the same seed that a week before had gone down her throat jet into her, each wiggler racing for her womb.

"Yes, Dalton! Yes! Oh God, oh God, Dalton, yes!"

Sunday morning found Evelyn and Angelica at breakfast. Father and the brothers were already out in the greenhouses making their rounds of the ornamental plants and exotic houseplants that kept the family in comfortable straits and the two women sat, albeit a bit gingerly and on pillows, over their coffee.

"Yes, dear, of course you needed that pill. However much your hindbrain is beating out 'baby, baby, baby', now is not the time, not yet. You need a suitable husband and father for your children first. However much we appreciate passion, economics still raises its ugly head." Mrs. Redpath sipped her steaming brew and sighed appreciatively.

"Then why did all the boys get told to take off their condoms? They could have left them on. I know Elliot had at least one orgasm before he got to me because he had to eat me while he recovered. It seems a little silly to have this mass impregnation and then stop them all." Angie was irritated at being made to prevent whatever pregnancy might have resulted from the previous night's coupling. She really wanted Dalton's baby, but couldn't explain why.

"Oh, that's just the way we've done things for the senior class for years. I don't know who came up with the idea but we still do. Of course, we always made sure that the final fuck a girl had on grad night was with the guy she wanted to marry before the morning after pill came out. It's made Roulette much more sporting, that little pill. Anyway, you're not really ready for marriage. Heavens, girl, you don't even have a steady boyfriend!"

Angie thought that over. Her mother was technically right. All through high school, she had played the field to the hilt. If there was any time during the last four years that she'd go out with the same boy twice, it must have been an accident. Still, there was no doubt in her mind who she wanted. Every hormone in her body was screaming his name but the frontal lobes of her brain somehow managed to stay in control.

"I know who I want. I really do. But if you're going to bring money in to the equation . . . you're starting to worry me. Mom, I think I'm in love with Dalton Corby."

Evelyn smiled warmly at her daughter. "Such a wonderful young man and, I'm happy to be able to report, such a virile one, too. When you're ready to surrender your backside, girl, be advised that he can pound you into the mattress that way. I know. I found out!"

"Mom, artists don't make any money! Why are you so happy I love Dalton?"

"Don't make any money?" Ms. Redpath arched an eyebrow most disapprovingly at the statement, "Angelica Lee Redpath, you really need to pay more attention to what goes on around you. In October and November of last year, Dalton signed contracts with two galleries to carry his work, one in Vail, Colorado and the other in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. Since Christmas, he's sold over twenty-five thousand dollars worth of his art and the tourist season in Wisconsin is just beginning. He'd have a gallery in New York selling his wares, as well, but they told him that rural and wildlife scenes wouldn't sell in Greenwich Village and that he needed different subject matter. If you want Dalton, my love, you're going to have to go after him. You know how reserved he normally is. I'll admit, under the influence of our "aerosol foreplay", he's a different man altogether but usually he's quite shy."

Monday, the first day of summer and the first weekday of her legal and sexual adulthood, Angelica Redpath drove the old pickup under a big tree and parked. Calmly she crossed the grass to the base of the new wooden stairs that climbed the outside of the old barn to the loft. At the top, she opened the door and stepped inside, smiling lovingly at the startled figure that looked back at her. She unzipped her caftan, stepped out seductively nude, and tossed it over the back of a chair.

"Hello Dalton," she said, "I've come to model for you."