Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 05

I hurried into the shower. Bette had thoughtfully laid out a sports outfit for me; a comfortable pair of slacks, my favorite polo shirt and a worn sport jacket. While I dressed, I watched Bette slide into a wonderfully tight, white knit minidress that announced that her upswept breasts were unfettered by a bra. It also, conveniently, zipped up the front. Not for the first time I wondered where the hell did she find these clothes? She touched up the lipstick on her slightly protruding upper lip. "There. How do I look?"

"Ask me that again, and we'll do our swinging right here," I threatened, making a terrible leer.

Bette giggled. "I packed a bag. Grab it and let's go!"

Several times during the long drive, Bette seemed to be on the verge of saying something, then lapsing into silence. I assumed she was nervous, perhaps because she was unsure what to expect, but I was surprised considering how enthusiastic she had been about the Ten/Thirty Club. It was probably only stage fright.

It was still daylight when we pulled into the Rollins' driveway. Steve had not exaggerated. Their nearest neighbor was at least a quarter mile away. Several cars were parked near the garage -- there must have been ten or more, although I didn't count them. I pulled in next to a big Buick. As I stepped from the car, I grabbed our bag and paused to look around.

The old farm house in front of us had been substantially rebuilt and now included an obviously new wing that was larger than the original building. The outbuildings -- barn, tool shed, garage -- were grouped to our left. We heard a woman's laughter followed by a loud splash from behind the house. I grinned at Bette. "What'll you bet they're skinny dipping?"

Although my curiosity urged me to go around behind the house and find out, we politely went to the front door. I raised the knocker, but before it could fall, Steve opened the door. A big welcoming grin split his face. "Welcome, welcome," he said before grabbing Bette in a tight embrace and giving her a passionate kiss. I wondered if he greeted all his female guests so enthusiastically.

He opened his eyes and offered his hand to me. "That can wait," he said as we shook hands. He reached for my bag. "Come in, come in and meet the people."

We followed him into the living room. My first impression was that of a small crowded cocktail party. People were standing in a narrow room decorated with old movie posters. Almost everyone held a drink and some were munching small canapes and other tidits from strategically placed crystal and silver trays.

Carol detached herself from a group and came forward, welcoming hands outstretched. "Jim and Bette. I'm so glad to see you. Come and meet the other beautiful people. But first, let me get you drinks."

Carol was wearing what at first appeared to be a sedate cocktail dress. On closer examination, however, she was nearly topless and bottomless. The dress featured a heavy, multilayered collar, waist, and hem with only the sheerest fabric between. She was quite obviously nude under the dress, and I watched her butt cheeks twinkle as she led us into the kitchen where an impromptu bar had been established.

"Whatever you'd like is here," she said. "Fix yourselves a drink and come in and meet the people. It's easier to tell them apart while they still have their clothes on."

As she walked out the door, Bette leaned over, her eyes sparkling in muted excitement. "Boy, do I feel over dressed!" I mixed a pair of stiff drinks and followed Bette into the next room.

Carol saw us coming, and clapped her hands for attention. The murmur of conversation fell away. Then she took our hands. "Please," she said. "I'd like everyone to meet Jim and Bette Bromfield. They are our very newest best friends."

Then she led us around the room. We were introducted first to an odd couple; a slender, pleasant looking middle-aged woman with light brown hair wearing a dark cocktail dress, and a much younger man in sports clothes. Carol paused in front of them. "I'd like you to meet Jane and Blair Harper." We shook hands. Then as we turned away, Carol said under her breath to me, "Jane fucks like your friend did last weekend. After she gets going, she's a regular machine!"

"Her husband seems awfully young," Bette said.

Carol snorted. "He's not her husband. That's her son. I'll say this for her; she raised him right." Carol looked speculatively at Bette. "If you get a chance at him, take it. Considering he's barely 18, he's very good."

We paused before another mismatched couple. She was young, barely out of her teens. She was also very slender and wore a plain black dress with no ornamentation. Neither did she wear makeup. The man was a good deal more than twice her age with an unbecoming paunch, gray -- almost white -- hair, and beautifully cut clothes. He wore a guardsmen's moustache. I almost expected to see him twirl it.

"Meet Jennie Sofer," Carol said. "Her husband is over there . . ." she pointed across the room, "talking to Bridget. Jim, shake hands with Tod Benson." Carol paused and looked around the room. "I don't see Sam." While he shook my hand, Benson said evenly, "I think she's otherwise engaged, if you take my meaning."

Carol sighed. "Damn that woman. Why can't she wait like everyone else?" Not waiting for Tod's response, she turned away again, and we trailed after her. "It seems we've got practically one of everything here," Carol said. "Tod is practically a certifiable pedophile. Jenny, on the other hand, belongs to a religious cult called FFJ -- which stands for "Fuck for Jesus." That's why she wears no makeup. She likes a big daddy, however, and she keeps herself shaved for Tod.

"Her husband, Alex, is a cameraman and works at the studio for us. Sam, Tod's wife, is another odd one. She'll go for the occasional man, but I think she prefers women. Cute women like you, Bette." Carol cast a sly sideways glance at my girl. "Do you swing from the other side of the plate?

"Ah," she said, not waiting for an answer, as she stopped in front of a very young, very attractive couple. I was instantly reminded of Pat Boone and the Osmond brothers. These young people fairly reeked of wholesome family values. The girl wore a sensible prom dress. He was the only man in the room wearing a tie. "Jim, Bette, meet the Rounder twins, Lucy and Mark."

We shook hands and said the conventional things. Carol steered us away. "Watch out for those two," she said. "We seem to miss things after they've been here, but they more than earn their keep because they are the only incestuous twins we know. They're older than they look, and I know you'll like her Jim." Carol lowered her voice confidentially. "Steve says she's a great piece of ass for a kid barely 18." I gulped. I saw Bette's eyes widen.

"You'd think she and Tod would make a wonderful pair," Carol added in a normal voice, "but she almost can't stand to be in the same room with him."

We stopped before a woman in early middle age whose basic good looks were somewhat tarnished by the excessive makeup she wore. Her dress was very revealing. It was cut so low that her ample breasts nearly flowed out of it. Somehow, I felt certain I had seen her somewhere before. She seemed relaxed and was obviously in a good humor. "Hi, Cor," Carol said effusively. "I've brought fresh meat. Jim and Bette, this is Corrine McLaran. Where's Mac?"

Corrine shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "Off chasing pussy, I imagine."

Carol explained as we walked away that Coirrine was a porno actress nearing retirement. Of course she looked familiar. I had seen her dozens of times in porno flicks.

We found Alex Soper in a corner with a young woman who was blessed with flaming red hair and freckles to match. He had both hands in her dress; one on her bodice, the other through a lowered zipper in the side of her dress. He didn't bother to remove them as we approached. Carol frowned, "Can't you wait until everyone's here?" Then she shrugged and said to herself, "I guess not." She introduced us to Alex and Bridget.

"I'd shake hands," Alex said, "but as you can see, my hands are full." The girl smiled helplessly at us. I smiled back. I had a sudden conviction that she and I could become good friends.

Carol looked at her. "Where's Spencer?"

"He's out in the pool with Barb and George." The minute Bridget opened her mouth, I heard the most beautiful lilting Irish brogue I had heard in years. I had to know this girl better. Carol then led us back into the kitchen so we could freshen our drinks. She excused herself and left to attend to her other guests.

I realized we were expected to circulate. Bette and I looked at each other. "Tell you what," I said. "I'm going out by the pool. You look around inside. We'll meet in a few minutes and compare notes."

Again, I had underestimated Bette. She was more at ease than I was. She laughed. "Don't get lost," she said. Then she turned and followed Carol into the crowd.

I went outside, toward the splashing sounds and found a nude woman slowly, methodically swimming laps in the pool. She paid no attention to me, so I turned and went back into the house.

In just the few minutes I had been gone, the atmosphere in the house had changed. I looked around for Bette, but didn't see her. Just then, Carol clapped her hands again for our attention. "Everything's set," she said.

I followed the crowd into the game room. Beanbag chairs and tumbling mats were randomly scattered around a large room that boasted a small stage and a huge TV screen in one corner. I looked around again for Bette, but she had disappeared. I chose a beanbag chair against the wall, and settled into it.

"Hi, gramps," said a familiar voice. "Mind if I join you?"

"You still owe me one," I said darkly.

Carol laughed, her voice tinkling over the murmur of voices. "I think we'll be even -- maybe even more than even after tonight," she said.

Steve stepped through a small door at the back of the stage and cleared his throat. Everyone fell silent. "Thanks for coming tonight. I have a special treat for you. Well, actually two treats. We're just releasing a new film that I think is going to out fuck The Devil in Miss Jones and out swallow Deep Throat. This film also introduces new, fresh stars. Hopefully they'll bring new life to the adult moving picture industry."

There was a smattering of polite applause while I tried to understand what I had just heard. Releasing adult films? Were these people involved with porno flicks? I leaned over to Carol. "Pardon me for being so dense, but . . . are you . . . well, in the movies?"

"Yes," she replied calmly, "we have a studio. Most of our guests tonight work for or with us. You and Bette and a couple of others are the only outsiders here tonight. Now hush up and watch."

The screen brightened and soon the production logo and legal disclaimers appeared, followed by a list of names, which faded to a couple seated in a car. The camera focused tightly on the female star.

MY GOD!! IT WAS LOUISE!!

Then the camera shifted to the man. Somehow I wasn't surprised that it was Phil. Suddenly, I desperately needed to find Bette, to warn her! I turned to Carol and whispered, "I've got to find Bette. It's urgent!"

Carol smiled and patted my hand. "Don't worry," she said. "Everything's OK. Don't worry. Just relax and enjoy the show."

"You don't understand. . ."

"Yes, I do. Bette knows that her husband and your wife are tonight's stars. She's not worried; why should you be?"

Although I can't say I really relaxed, I actually began to enjoy the show except, of course, when Phil's repulsive tool was in view. My revulsion was not widely shared. Every time he exposed the damn thing, there was a general murmur of approval -- at least from the women in the audience.

My voyeuristic tendencies took over and I found I enjoyed the extensive orgy scenes as much as the scenes where Louise's clothing was removed and she was fondled, petted and fucked. Even on the screen, the woman's class and style were obvious.

Carol found the fly to my pants and slipped the zipper down. Her cool little hand crept inside. "Ooooo, nice," she whispered as she tugged my cock free from my chorts, skinned my foreskin back, and leaning over, touched the tip of her tongue to my exposed glans.

That got my attention. I reached over and began running the backs of my fingernails gently over the skin on the back of her neck. A woman behind me moaned. I heard other people moving around. The film ended. There was a smattering of applause.

Steve jumped up on the stage again. "We're lucky tonight to have our own Lucy and Mark back to give us another show. Let's give them a nice hand."

This time the applause was more enthusiastic. The young couple strolled on stage. She wore a pinafore that made her look about 12 years old. He had on shorts and a T-shirt. His shoes were run over and one stocking had gathered around his ankle. The girl sat on a small stool while the boy rummaged in a box of toys and came out with a toy stethoscope. He put it in his ears and placed the cup against the girl's breast. She protested, so he hooked the device in her ears and, pulling up his T-shirt, placed the instrument's cup over his heart.

Her eyes got big as she listened. Then he took the instrument back, and this time he persuaded the girl to unbutton her blouse and lie down on a narrow cot. He played the instrument over various parts of her body. Whenever she protested, he surrendered the stethoscope and put the cup on various parts of his body. Finally, he opened his pants and put the stethoscope on his cock. She jumped up, her opened dress falling off her shoulders, and ordered him to lie down. Then she took his stiff young cock into her mouth She was bare to the waist, her small conical breasts and puffy areolas brushing his arm while she tugged his shorts off. The audience gasped when they realized the boy had no pubic hair. He sat up and began suckling her tiny breasts. I felt terribly debauched as I watched those young people, and my erection was actually becoming painful.

He soon had her lying on the cot. She, too, lacked pubic hair. He crawled on top of her, forced her knees apart, and drove himself into her body. She began yelling, and suddenly there was a terrible commotion. The door behind the stage opened, and a woman dressed as a schoolmarm, ruler in hand, marched onto the scene. The little girl let out a bleat, and ran off the stage into the audience where some kind adult undoubtedly consoled her.

I hadn't really paid that much attention to the tableau because Carol's sucking had claimed my nearly undivided attention. "Look at the stage," she hissed.

Another shocking surprise. The schoolmarm was Bette. She sat on the cot. The boy stood between her legs. She took his member in her hand, examined it, and then bent down and took it between her lips. Apparently satisfied, she ordered him to lie down. Then she stood and loosened the scarf over her head. She unpinned her hair, She unbuttoned, untied, rolled down, concealed, flashed, and when the audience saw her upturned breasts, men and women alike began calling for more.

Bette gave one of the finest strip I've ever seen. I don't know where she learned it, but it was a stunning performance. My cock was about to explode when she finally lay on the cot and spread her legs for the boy. He jumped on her like a cat on a moving fence and began drilling himself into her like a jackhammer. She couldn't begin to keep up with him, but very quickly arched happily into the noisy throes of her first orgasm. The boy pulled out and jumped down into the audience looking for another friendly and willing female. In the meanwhile, young Blair Harper, the mama's boy, took Mark's place between Bette's welcoming thighs.

His pace was more practiced, more professional. Carol whispered, "He ought to be good. He's been fucking his mother since he was five years old!"

He quickly had Bette climbing that wonderful mountain again. Her body began to convulse, and her skin turned a mottled pink. She screamed as she soared to still greater orgasmic heights. His mother must be proud of him, I thought sardonically.

Blair then withdrew, and like Mark, came into the audience looking for more willing female flesh. He came to our mat and silently extended his hand to Carol. She looked at me apologetically. "This is something I have to do," she said as she took the boy's hand and followed him around the corner.

While I was wondering who Bette's next customer would be, I felt a little hand on my stomach. It was young Lucy. I wanted so badly to fuck her hairless little cunt that I almost came just thinking about it. Yet she looked so young that the unravelling part of my brain that was still sane screamed, NO! NO! This is wrong! She sat where Carol had been, and reached for my cock. "I want this big thing in me," she pouted in a little girl voice. She lay back on the mat and spread her legs. I salved my conscious by promising myself I would just taste her, and slid between her spread legs. I gently ran my tongue up the crease of her slit. "Oh, that's good, Daddy, lick it again." This woman knew how to play her nymphet role! Encouraged, I began licking inside and outside her vulva, touching the tip of her clitoris on almost every swipe of my tongue. I sucked her delicate labia into my mouth, and finally rolled her clit back and forth between my moist lips. The girl was sobbing in ecstacy. "In me, in me, please put it in me, Daddy!"

My mind shifted into neutral, and I crawled higher on her slight frame, nuzzling briefly on her puffy breasts. She reached down to grab my cock, which she swept up and down her slot. Then she grunted, "Now, Daddy! Give it a great big push!"

As I did so, her little torso wiggled up and down. Pressing into her was like putting myself into a great, tight, animated hotwater bottle. Every wiggle of her torso let me in that much deeper. Finally I was as deep into her as I could get. She put her legs on my shoulders and began riding my rigid cock as if it were a pick handle.

Suddenly, I was aware that someone's hand was supporting my scrotum, stroking me and the girl's labia as I moved in and out of her. Then I felt something wet and warm in my ass.

Remembering my recent experience with Jeff, I was torn between hope and fear, but that didn't interfere with my randy plunges into my little partner. Her cries of esctacy were becoming more shrill. "Offff, Offff, EEEEEEyah!" She exploded. I couldn't hold it any longer. My cock began to spasm and I squirted and squirted and squirted into her. Then I collapsed on her tiny frame. She pushed at me from below. "Get off me; you're much too heavy!" The little girl voice was gone. This was a grown woman speaking.

A much friendlier hand was still caressing my ass and scrotum. I looked over my shoulder. It was Bridget.