A Modern Harem Pt. 05

When Friday afternoon rolled around, Bridget seemed unusually excited; in fact, she was close to hyperventilating.

"I think I want to!" she burst out when Hilary returned to the room from the library.

"Oh, yeah?" Hilary said, knowing exactly what Bridget meant. "Well, fine. We'll go over and have a nice dinner, and then--well, we'll see. Better bring a change of clothing if you end up staying the night."

They ambled over to the house, finding Gerald and Joyce in the midst of preparing a sumptuous dinner of pot roast and all the fixings, including salad and biscuits. When Bridget first laid eyes on Gerald, as he slowly approached her, she stood stock-still in the living room.

"Hello, Bridget," he said soberly, holding out a hand.

At first she took the hand--then realized that such a feeble introduction to the man who might or might not be bedding down with her in a few hours was silly, so she impulsively flung her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth and cheeks.

Gerald was taken aback at the sudden move, but slowly put his arms around the girl's waist and delicately kissed back.

Hilary gave her mother, who had wandered into the room, a knowing look. Joyce just rolled her eyes and retreated into the kitchen. I wonder how many more college girls my man will be relieving of their virginity, she thought to herself.

The dinner went well, but conversation was at times constrained--except from the ever-chattering Hilary, who did her best to infect everyone else with her own flippant enthusiasm. Bridget was particularly quiet, although she kept casting shy glances in the direction of the one man in the room, who did his best to reassure her by giving her welcoming and benevolent smiles.

After dinner there was some idle chatter, and Joyce tried to occupy people's minds with some soft classical music. But it didn't help much. At last, around 10 p.m., Hilary decided the time had come to get the show on the road. Waving her hands vaguely in the direction of the upstairs bedroom, she said to Gerald and Bridget, "Okay, you guys, time to go up."

Bridget sat frozen on the sofa, staring up at her roommate, who was standing in the middle of the room like some diminutive traffic cop.

Gerald noticed the girl's discomfiture and said, "Maybe she's changed her mind. Let's not force her--"

"No, no!" Bridget cried abruptly. "I'm ready. Let's go, d-darling."

That endearment came out awkwardly from her mouth, and why not? She'd never directed it toward a man before. Gerald, still a little worried, stood up slowly and led her upstairs. The two other women watched them with rapt attention.

When they'd gone, Joyce said ruefully, "I really don't know if this is such a good idea."

"Oh, what's the fuss, Mom?" Hilary said dismissively.

"Dear, I don't think you quite understand the gravity of the situation."

"What gravity? I mean, who wants that silly hymen anyway? It serves no function."

"That's not all there is to it. Remember, she's a lesbian: she has no experience with men at all. What exactly did you tell her about Gerald?"

"Not much--just that he was a real nice guy."

"I think you should have given her some more, um, information."

"Oh, you mean about his huge cock?"

"It's not huge, darling, but it's pretty big."

"Well, I figured she'd find out for herself soon enough."

And that's exactly what was happening in Hilary's room, where the act was to take place. The two had entered the room and Gerald had solemnly closed the door behind them. At first they just stood there and stared at each other; then they both began undressing, Bridget turning her back on Gerald out of a sudden spasm of modesty. In that way, he saw her shedding her skirt and blouse, then reaching behind herself to remove her bra. With just the slightest hesitation, she peeled off her panties.

Her backside was glorious. Much as he enjoyed Hilary's super-petite figure, he was a man who liked women "with a little flesh on their bones," as he once put it to a friend. And Bridget certainly had that. Her hips swelled widely, revealing a lusciously ample bottom that was as bright a pink as he'd ever seen. Her back, thighs, and calves were firm and strong, and he couldn't wait to see the rest of her. As he himself stripped, he patiently waited for her to turn around.

When she did, Gerald felt a little dizzy.

The curvaceous outlines of this tempting young creature seemed right out of some Renaissance painting. Those guys seemed to like full-figured girls, and the robust breasts, round tummy, and incredibly thick tuft of dark fur over her delta made Gerald's organ stand to attention without delay. But that very act caused Bridget to clap her hands over her mouth.

Omigod! she thought. Why didn't Hilary warn me? I'll never get that thing in me!

Gerald felt a twinge of remorse. Poor girl! In terms of purely physical endowments, she'd probably chosen the wrong man to do this deed; someone with a smaller apparatus would have been better. But it was too late to think of such things, and Gerald vowed to himself to make the procedure as painless and "nice" as he could.

After a few ragged breaths, Bridget tried to get a hold of herself. She knew enough about men to know that they always liked a certain act as foreplay; and even though she wasn't all that keen on it, she was determined to go through with it. So she walked up to Gerald, gave him a brief kiss on the mouth, then fell to her knees and, taking his cock boldly in her hand, stuffed it into her mouth.

But she took in too much at once. Gagging, she had to bring it out, and several strings of saliva trickled out of her mouth. Mortified, she looked up at Gerald and said, "Sorry!"

"Just go easy, dear," he said softly.

She tried to follow his instructions, giving the tip of his cock a funny little kiss before slipping two or three inches of it slowly into her mouth. It felt good--warm and hard, but with that incredibly soft skin around the shaft--and she soon got down to the business of cocksucking. Sometimes she licked the length of his cock with her tongue, and other times she even nibbled gently on it. She didn't want to hurt him, of course, but when he let out some moans that she was sure were moans of pleasure, she felt she was on the right track.

After a few minutes, Gerald felt Bridget had done all that she needed to do along these lines. He raised the girl up to her feet, led to the bed, and they both lay down on their backs. Gerald couldn't take his eyes off her magnificent tits, and he knew he would have to give them some serious attention before anything else happened. As he did so, she wrapped her hands around his head as if nursing a huge baby; but she also relished what he was doing--licking her breasts, sucking and even nibbling on her nipples, and squeezing those incredible globes together around his face almost as if he wanted to suffocate on them.

Then he moved south.

As Bridget watched fixedly, he left a trail of wet kisses along her stomach and abdomen until he came to her bush, and then he rubbed his face back and forth over that patch of tight curly hair while taking in the musky fragrance wafting from her sex. As he positioned himself between her parted legs, he actually looked into the wet aperture in front of his face, where he could easily see the thin membrane that was soon going to be shattered by his cock. He used mouth and tongue diligently all around the area, delighting in the flow of her juices, which went from a trickle to something like a little river. And he wasn't about to stop: as Bridget stared in amazement, he grabbed her bottom with both hands and set about bringing about the culmination every woman wants--and it wasn't long in arriving.

Bridget's climaxes were like little explosions that jolted her whole body, and her legs began shaking uncontrollably as the first of them spread out from her vagina. She had to clutch the sheets, since she was feeling as if she was on a boat that was being tossed relentlessly by powerful waves--except that the waves were coming from inside herself. She let out strangled cries of ecstasy as her eyes rolled around in her head and her body continued to quiver spasmodically.

She'd never had an orgasm like this. Who knew that a man could do the job better than the several women she'd had?

Gerald stopped after a while, afraid the poor girl might actually faint away from pleasure. Moving up her body and placing himself between her legs, he patiently waited for her climax to subside. When it finally did--after Bridget expelled several little coughs and heavy breaths--he said quietly, "May I go in now, dear?"

At once a grimace of fear passed over her face, but she shook it off and said with as much courage as she could, "Yes. Please go in me."

What a brave girl, Gerald marveled--and plunged in.

For a man in this situation, there's always a dilemma: should he try to be slow and gentle (which might just prolong the girl's agony), or should he be quick and forceful, to get the worst part of the business (the demolition of the hymen) over with as soon as possible? Gerald chose the latter, but was immediately filled with guilt when Bridget, although she had wrapped her legs around his hips in proper missionary position, emitted a sharp, gargling cry and instinctively clutched him around the shoulders. She was in obvious pain, and he was grieved to see a huge tear spring out of each of her eyes and trickle down her cheeks. Her face was now in a mask of agony, even though he was careful not go in too far.

"Should I stop, dear?" he said.

"No, no! Please . . . go on. Just finish, okay?"

He had to admit that he didn't want to finish--not quickly, anyway. The feel of this girl's wet, warm pussy, soft as velvet and holding onto his cock as if it never wanted to let go, was a transcendent moment for him as much as it was for her, and as he lowered himself onto her body and felt those abundant breasts pressing against his chest, he sensed the inexpressible delight of coupling with a hefty young woman whose firm flesh was just designed to be caressed by a man. It didn't matter that she'd never had a man before; or rather, Gerald felt a surge of pride and gratitude that this succulent creature had chosen him, out of all men in the world, to be the first to enjoy her body.

And enjoy it he did. He didn't want to pound Bridget, but he couldn't resist thrusting forcefully while he showered her face with kisses and squeezed her back and breasts and bottom and thighs and anywhere else he could reach. After a while it seemed that Bridget was getting used to the feel of a cock inside her, and she even gave him a broken smile--a smile that made her tear-stained face a symbol for the complex sensations of the sex act. Toward the end he fastened his lips to hers in an unending kiss as he kept on grinding his hips into her, forcing his cock as far into her as he could even though he'd promised himself he wouldn't do that.

And when his cock began sending the first of many streams of his emission deep into her, he had to break off the kiss as he gasped and moaned in dizzy ecstasy. Never in his life, it seemed, had he ever poured so much of his essence into a female as he did then, and she received it with a quiet sort of grace as a fitting tribute to her own beauty and desirability.

At last he grudgingly pulled out and rolled off of her, landing heavily on his back next to her. His cock was streaked with blood, just as it had been when he'd done this to Hilary, and he quickly snatched up some Kleenex to mop himself up and her as well.

Bridget's whole front was doused in sweat--both his and hers--as she huffed and puffed from the exertion. It's a myth that a woman does nothing in the missionary position, merely taking what the man gives her: she plays her part too, especially during her first time. Her exhaustion was real.

"How was it, dear?" Gerald said between breaths.

"Wonderful," she affirmed.

"Hurt too much?"

"Not too much. Some."

"I'm glad it wasn't so bad."

"The whole thing was just incredible!" She impulsively flipped herself on top of him and plastered his face with kisses. "I couldn't have asked for a better initiation into heterosexual sex!"

They cuddled for a while. Gerald couldn't resist slipping a hand between their bodies and cupping her sex, where he could feel the thick stream of his come leaking out of her. Sure enough, something happened to him--and Bridget had been expecting it.

"You're hard again," she said, a little regretfully.

"Yes, I am," Gerald replied. "You have that effect on me--on any man."

She let out a little sigh. "Gerald, dear, I'm really sore down there. I don't think I can take your thing in me again--not there anyway. Is there anything else we can do?"

Gerald had been massaging Bridget's bottom while she'd been speaking, but he had to bite his tongue and not say what he really wanted to say. What he did come out with was: "How about sixty-nine?"

"Sure!" Bridget said enthusiastically. As a lesbian she was very orally fixated; and she had enjoyed the sensation of having the male organ in her mouth. What a curious thing it was!--certainly the most unusual part of either the male or the female body.

She got into position. Although, with Hilary and other girls, she usually was on the bottom, she felt she should be on top of Gerald, both because he was bigger than her and because she felt that access to his cock would be easier that way. Sure enough, as she spread herself out over him, facing his member and lifting it up to a vertical position, she saw it towering in front of her face like a monolith. From this perspective it looked huge and a little scary; but even so, she popped the first several inches into her mouth and began licking, sucking, and nibbling with gusto.

While Gerald lapped up the juices--both his and hers--oozing out of her pussy, Bridget became so focused on her job that she hardly noticed the stimulation she herself was receiving. That's why, when all of a sudden she felt an orgasm wafting through her from Gerald's ministrations, she was taken by surprise. She had to stop what she was doing to appreciate her climax properly--and Gerald managed extend it for several minutes by the diligent use of his tongue and by squeezing her sensitive bottom with both hands.

But an even greater surprise came to her when she resumed her task and Gerald, without much warning, shot his seed into her mouth.

Why she failed to predict this volcano-like eruption from his cock, she couldn't tell; but it startled and even shocked her. But mostly it was the strange taste of his seed that struck her--so gooey and salty! She ended up expelling most of it even as more and more fluid poured into her mouth and over her tongue. The stuff dribbled messily out of her mouth and down the shaft of Gerald's cock, and she coughed and spit most of the rest of it out in a most unladylike manner. Then, as he caught a glimpse of her lips and chin covered with the remnants of his emission, she stumbled up from the bed, rushed out of the room, and into the bathroom, where she swallowed a fair amount of water to wash the taste out of her mouth and clean herself up generally. Then she hastened back to the bedroom and got back into bed.

"I'm really sorry," she said, looking utterly mortified at her behavior. "I--I wasn't expecting that."

"That's okay, dear," Gerald said, although the tone of his voice showed that he was a bit disappointed that she'd rejected his most precious substance.

"I'll swallow it next time!" she cried, although she wondered to herself whether she could ever bring herself to do that. God, what things straight girls have to do to please their men!

They cuddled some more, then went to sleep. They'd earned their rest!

*

Meanwhile, a different sort of drama was playing out in the master bedroom.

Even though there was in fact a vacant bed in a second guest room, Hilary somehow assumed that she'd be in Mom's bed for the night. Joyce was startled by that decision but said nothing. Maybe, she figured, it'll give me the opportunity to get closer to my daughter.

As certain unmistakable noises could faintly be heard in the guest bedroom where Gerald and Bridget were ensconced, Hilary let out her customary chuckle. "Well, they didn't waste any time," she said. Joyce did not trouble to respond to that remark.

At first the two women lay down on their backs next to each other; but as Hilary noted the immense contours of the king-size bed they were on, she felt silly--the more so because she was so diminutive. With an impatient "Oh, this is absurd!" she flung herself in the direction of her mother, bumping up against her and pushing her to the edge of the bed.

"Oof!" Joyce said. "Hilary, what on earth are you doing? You almost knocked me off the bed!"

"Sorry, Mom," Hilary said, helping the drag Joyce back toward the middle of the mattress. "Is that better?"

"I suppose so," Joyce said, although she still felt a bit uncomfortable as her daughter wrapped her arms around her waist and clung tightly. Hilary's face was now tucked into the crook of Joyce's neck, and the younger woman absorbed the distinctive body-scent of her mother with relish.

"Mmm," Hilary said. "You smell good, Mom."

"Dear, I haven't worn any perfume today," Joyce said.

"It's not perfume. It's you." And she took in a deep breath as her nose was buried in the place where her neck and shoulders came together.

For her part, Joyce tentatively placed her arms around her daughter's back. She had to admit that Hilary was about as succulent a morsel of female flesh as she'd ever seen. No wonder Gerald had been so keen on deflowering her! She'd probably have a long line of lovers in the course of her life, and it would be interesting to see which lucky man would finally win her heart.

But then Joyce remembered that Hilary had bedded down with the young woman now being serviced by Gerald in the other room. The idea of her daughter's lips and fingers encountering the private parts of another female sent a shudder through her.

"You cold, Mom?" Hilary said.

"No, dear. Just thinking about something."

Hilary had a sense of what was running through her mother's mind. Maybe that's why she said, "Your breasts feel nice against mine, don't they?"

Joyce was taken aback at the comment, but she had to admit that she felt the same way.

"That's something you can never get from a man, right, Mom?" Hilary went on impishly.

As Joyce remained silent, Hilary looked up at her. Even in the near-darkness of the room (a little moonlight was filtering in from a gap in the curtains over the one window in the room), she could tell that her mother was blushing. Gee, it didn't take much to get Mom flustered!

So Hilary went on with a bit of teasing. "You know, it would feel even better if we took our nightgowns off."

"Hilary, please," Joyce whispered.

"Oh, come on, Mom, don't be such a prude."

"I'm not a prude!"

But Hilary was getting impatient. Taking hold of Joyce's nightgown at the shoulders, she pulled down hard--and exposed her mother's breasts to her gaze.

"Oh, boy!" she exclaimed. "What a pair of knockers!"

"For God's sake, Hilary!" Joyce burst out, covering her bosom with her hands. "What do you think--?"

Hilary now saw that she could remove Mom's entire nightgown by continuing to pull it down--and she did just that. In a matter of seconds, Joyce was naked, and Hilary wasted no time in doffing her own baby-doll nightgown off of her head.

In the midst of Joyce's utter embarrassment at being exposed to her daughter's gaze, she was also struck by something that had gradually been dawning on her. "Omigod, Hilary, you're so beautiful!"