Dexterous Dexter 01

Wendy grabbed the brown cock we had just sucked. She aimed it towards the blanket, shoved the guy's butt and said, "Go get'em, tiger!" He shook his head, smiled, and went over to help his friend service the two surfer girls.

All this time, I had continued thrusting into Wendy's loving depths. With the other guy gone, she returned her attention to me, and to her pleasure. I held her hips. She wrapped her legs around my waist, pulled me closer, twisted her nipples, panted. My orgasm approached. I exploded and yelled. Wendy shook and screamed "Dex Dex FUCK FUCK DEX!" a moment later. She shoved tightly against me. I stood there till my now-limp dick slithered free.

Wendy sat up on the log, pulled me to sit beside her, and leaned her head on my shoulder with both her arms around my waist. She nibbled my upper arm.

"Wow, Dex, that was pretty fucking good. But now I want some personal time with you."

We pissed in the sand, walked to the surf, and splashed salty water onto our genitals for a superficial cleaning. We went to a campfire where a wine jug was being passed. We each took a mouthful, then sprayed each other's gonads with wine to rinse away the seawater. Oh yeah, that really works, sure. Duh.

Hands in that campfire circle touched and rubbed our bare flesh as we walked away. We retrieved our dropped clothes but did not put them back on. We got on my motorbike, still naked, and rode a short way down the beach to a secluded spot. We pitched the self-supporting tent on the sand. We threw our blankets and stuff inside, and crawled in.

We 69'd to finish cleaning off the wine and salt water, and just to taste each other some more. Then we rolled into position and enjoyed a nice slow relaxed fuck again, our favorite. She wrapped her arms and legs around me. We rolled onto our sides, eyeballing, murmuring, kissing, stroking. Life was good.

___

I should maybe explain our relationship.

Wendy and I had been classmates and friends forever, best friends and confidants since middle school, and best-friends-with-full-benefits (super fuckbuddies) since she got on The Pill. She had grown from a skinny little tomboy to stand almost as high as my nose, with long brown hair, an oval face, perfect medium breasts and hips, toned runner's legs, and a very sharp and creative mind.

We loved each other, and really loved being with each other, but we knew that we could not be exclusive. We were more like intimate partners-in-crime than miraculous soulmates. We knew that we would be mentally and emotionally close for as long as we lived, whether or not we actually lived together. If we could be together, great; if not, we would still always be the best friends we'd ever had.

Wendy had a basic rule: She would have sexual contact with whomever she wanted, but only her very closest male friends could ejaculate in her vagina, preferably with me present as her guardian angel. So far, those "closest male friends" had only been a very few guys from the Piedmont MGM program. Everybody else was just too stupid for her.

I had my own basic rule: I would also have sexual contact with whomever I felt comfortable with or lusted for, and I would tell Wendy all about it. And she said she would tell me all about her own fun. We loved sharing and comparing our experiences. Some were pretty funny, some were sad or pathetic, and a very few were terrible.

"I was riding back from Grandpa's shop one evening and I saw this cute girl in a short skirt on the road, right about where my bike blew up. I asked if she needed a ride. She was crying, said her boyfriend had dumped her there because she wouldn't take him up her ass. She said she wanted to get even. She pulled off her panties and my pants, got on the bike facing me, slid onto my cock, and told me to roll.

"Vibration fucks are great, but it's kinda hard to steer carefully when you're cumming. I went off the road into a pasture. I fell into a mound of hay. She landed in a big pile of cow shit. She's, like, sitting there half-naked, covered in manure, screaming about what a rat bastard I was, that all guys are rat bastards. I didn't dare to laugh; she probably would've murdered me. I rode her up to the Circle-K so we could clean up in the johns and she could call home. That was about my shitiest fuck ever."

Wendy was convulsing with silent hilarity, rolling around, unable to get a laugh out or a breath in. Her face was turning purple when she finally gasped and forced her lungs to work.

"That is about the funniest fucking thing I have ever heard!" she cackled.

"But wait; let me tell you about this couple I hooked up with at Clarion. We were all in bed; he was eating her out while I was sitting on her face. She came, but then she farted something terrible, right in his face, and he turned green and barfed all over her, and then *she* turned green and barfed into my pussy! She almost choked!

"Turns out that they ate some peyote just before we started making out. They could hardly move now. I got us all into the shower and got us hosed off. Then they just lay there in the shower, they couldn't get up, and they started talking about the colors, how groovy the colors were. Real stone freaks, I tell ya. And then I found out they were brother and sister!"

"Big deal," I said. "You're like a sister I can fuck. Let's keep it all in the family, baby."

Yeah, we had some great experiences to share. Ha.

Our immediate future looked good. We each got a partial-ride scholarship at a Clarion college: Fitzroy for me, Polson for her. Partial was OK -- we did not need room and board money. We lived close enough to campus that we could stay at home. We did not have carved-in-stone plans, did not need to declare majors till Junior year. We knew that once we graduated from Piedmont HS, we would still be pretty much together for the next four years. And together, we would fuck our way through the best of the whole student body.

___

Wendy's next hot-tub party had a different cast of characters. Curvy half-Nigerian Marissa was there again, and Megan, a short fiery redhead with large freckled breasts. Also Fred and Ted, tall pale thin identical twins who were the ping-pong champs of the county, and the best violinists at Piedmont HS. The girls were also in the school orchestra. Marissa clutched a cello between her strong steaming thighs while Megan won piano competitions.

We all liked eating both pussy and dick of friends, although I much favored women and the twins were a bit more boy-oriented. Remember, this was 1971: before Stonewall and Gay Liberation, before bisexuality was cool, and before AIDS. Same-sex connections had to be discreet and/or anonymous. 'Queers' and 'dykes' were subject to raids, jail, beatings, death. Even heterosexual oral-genital contact was considered 'sodomy' in some jurisdictions.

All our fun was tempered by realistic paranoia. We had to read the signals very carefully.

Wendy's home was private; her family's hot-tub was a safe zone. Word of our activities never leaked.

At this particular party, all the girls got triple penetrations, and the twins got doubles while being blown. (I did not take stuff up my ass. Even liberals have their limits.) Every mouth and pussy received tongues and cocks, sometimes in multiples. Nobody got hurt.

This party broke up a bit early. As Wendy and I lay on the chaise in slow lazy coitus, the housekeeper's daughter Juliana arrived, the well-endowed little Chicana beauty just a year older than us.

"OK you guys, I got time now, Mama's dead till morning, who's gonna fuck me first? I tell ya, I don't wanna have to wait too long to cum, you wouldn't believe how horny I am. Hey chico, get your fat chorizo over here, I really need some meat in me, NOW! And you little puta, you better start sucking my tits."

For hired help, she sure was bossy.

Wendy slipped me that night's film cart the next morning in Photo class. Lindsay was across the room and saw us handling it. She strode slinkily over to us.

"Hey Dex, is that the Stones tape you promised me?"

"Oh yeah, I have it right here." I handed her a dubbed reel in a box that looked a lot like the packaged Super-8 cartridge. "Sorry for the delay; I had to wait for parts before I could fix my Nagra. How's my fisheye working for you?"

"It's rad! I got some really gnarly close shots of Teresa and me cumming and pissing, and I didn't even get it wet."

"A lens is like humor or a martini, baby, best when it's served dry," I quipped in my Bogart voice.

I developed the film in my special soup when I got home. I ran it through a viewer and printed a few of the best frames, which I gave to Wendy. These pix were strictly for our own amusement and stimulation, we told ourselves. We had zero plans for future blackmail, although we were aware of the possibilities.

We did not record just our own activities, of course. The motion detector switched-on the camera whenever anything moved in the tub enclosure. So Wendy's folks and their friends, and Juliana and her friends, had all their hot-tub sessions recorded. Some of these got pretty interesting.

___

Rosalita was an occasional hot-tub dipper. She was tall for a Mayan girl, almost up to my chin. She had the typical long legs, long black hair, deep brown eyes, and sassy, snide smile of Quiche (KEE-chay) women from Chichicastenango (chee-chee-kass-tay-NAN-go). Her family had emigrated from Guatemala first to Mexico and then the USA a decade ago. They flew back to Guatemala a few times each year to stay in touch.

Mrs Bernalillo, the Piedmont HS Spanish teacher, was a Castillian from Spain, with the characteristic upper-class lisp. That accent does NOT go over well in much of Latin American, any more than the funny Cuban accent with its swallowed consonents. Rosalita was my main language coach, as well as being an excellent fuck. I learned the soft Guatemalan dialect, rather unlike the harsher Mexican variant. I also skipped the Mexican practice of calling everybody a motherfucker.

"Dextro, you almost got that, but you need to roll your R's more."

"I'd rather that YOU roll your arse. Maybe you should wear higher heels."

"You're a real shit-pie, Dex. How about if I just roll your balls some?"

"Hey, that works for me. Yeah, right there. Oooh, that feels good..."

Rosie continued handling my scrotum as she bent over and licked my dickhead, then down the shaft, and back again. I put my hands on her narrow hips and pulled her light brown body atop me. I positioned her dark snatch right over my mouth and engaged my tongue. My hands were on her butt; I kneaded her delightful buns like putty. The deep massage really turned her on. She swallowed my cock energetically. I handily rubbed her butt cheeks some more, then turned my face aside so I could speak.

"And there's yet another way to roll your arse. Like it?"

Her faster rate of cocksucking indicated her approval. She also approved of my finger in her anus.

___

As I entered my homeroom class, I was handed a note to report to the Assistant Principal. Hmmm.

I trooped into Miss Tompkins' office and found Wendy seated in the waiting area. I plopped down beside her. We looked at each other silently, communicating with our hazel eyes. We could read each other pretty well as we blinked and our pupils shaded between brown and green like semaphores. The signal: trouble.

The intercom buzzed. The harassed-looking secretary told us to proceed. We entered the windowless inner sanctum.

Assistant Principal Diana Tompkins PhD closed a folder on her desk and looked up at us.

"Mister Garson, Miss Reynolds, please be seated. We have an important matter to discuss.

"First, let me congratulate you two again on receiving Clarion scholarships. What you and your classmates have achieved shows that our MGM program is very successful. We're proud that the nation's very best colleges and universities welcome our students.

"As you know, these scholarships have strings attached. Of course, you must do well academically. You two should have no problem maintaining the mandated 3.0 or higher GPA. You are both excellent students.

"But a Clarion scholarship also contains a morality clause. You are required to, quote, 'Maintain strong moral behavior and character,' unquote. That phrase is coded. It means, 'Don't be caught in activities related to crime or vice.' Cross that line, and the scholarship is cancelled; your free ride goes away.

"Mister Garson, Miss Reynolds, disturbing rumors and reports have come to me about your activities."

Wendy and I looked at each other silently, then looked back at Miss Tompkins. Had our parties been narked? Was Wendy's home's safe zone no longer safe? We waited.

"Don't give me those innocent expressions," she grimaced. "I have been told of certain... escapades... during a recent orgy at the beach. I have been told that you have each had multiple sexual partners in public, and partners of your own sex, as well as... copulating... with each other.

"You are both 18 years old now, both legally adults. You can have legal heterosexual relations with any other adults you want, without repercussions. But homosexual activities cross the line. If these serious allegations are substantiated, you two will be dropped by Clarion. You'll have to tell your families to make other college plans for you, more expensive plans."

Wendy and I remained deadpan and silent.

Miss Tompkins was in her early thirties, a curvy tall attractive blond who, in public, always dressed severely and kept a fairly stern expression on her face. She was a formidable woman who exuded authority.

She was also bisexual and promiscuous. She ate varied pussy and accepted multiple cocks of various colors and shapes into her orifices. She liked being restrained and dominated. Her bush was bikini-waxed. Her ample breasts sported wide aureoles and puffy nipples, and bruised easily. She screamed when she came.

We knew all this because she was sometimes a guest of Wendy's parents, a guest who joined in their games in the hot-tub, games that we filmed automatically.

I had updated the camera system. It was not fixed in one place, but rode silently on cords behind narrow one-way-mirror panels around the hot-tub enclosure. If the motion detectors sensed a certain level of activity, the camera was repositioned and the lens zoomed to the hot spot. A small shotgun mike sent clear sounds to a tape recorder. We recorded everything but the scents. No smell-o-vision yet.

I sure had fun building the control system electronics. I can do wonders with sensors and integrated circuits and program cards. I captured very nice shots, including close-ups.

"Do you have anything to say about this?" Miss Tompkins asked impatiently.

Wendy and I looked at each other again. I cleared my throat.

"I won't ask where you got your reports; I know you won't reveal that. I *will* ask just how it could happen that, as you said, 'these serious allegations are substantiated'. Who decides what 'proof' is, and who takes action then? Is it you?"

"Yes, I make those determinations. I judge the allegations, I consider evidence and corroboration, and I take the appropriate actions, including communicating with scholarship committees."

Certain things would happen at this point in many fantasies. I would whip out photos of Miss Tompkins using her mouth in immoral ways, photos that I should always keep stashed in my book bag, just in case. She would break down and admit she is a slut. We would force her to fuck us on her desk, me with my dick up her ass while Wendy sat on her face and wiggled. We would put her in a dog collar and lead her around on a leash. Et fucking cetera.

None of that happened. I looked a Wendy. She smiled.

"Miss Tompkins, we have nothing to worry about. We know that we'll be cleared of suspicion. You can count on that," Wendy assured her. And stopped.

Miss Tompkins blinked. "Is that your only response?" She regarded us. "Very well. Return to your classes."

We thanked her and left. We said nothing as we walked the hallways. I flashed Wendy a hand signal: after school, my place. Yes, we knew ASL dactylics. We're the smart kids here, remember?

___

The rest of the school day went slowly. Getting home was a relief.

Wendy and I went into my garage darkroom. I had built it for complete privacy. We locked the door, switched on the safelight (which lit a warning bulb outside), stripped naked, sat on the padded bench. She sucked my cock to hardness, then straddled my legs, slowly impaled herself, settled down with her arms around my neck, kissed me. We stayed still and breathed as one. Just another long slow lazy fuck, almost tantric. I smoothed her shoulders and back and hips.

"OK, so what probably happened is, somebody from Clarion or more likely Piedmont, who doesn't much like one or both of us, saw us at Balboa, and decided to nark us out," Wendy murmured. "But there's only one of them, and they didn't have a camera."

"Yeah, that's a given. So what do we do now? The straightforward way would be, I'd print a few photos that show the fun she's had but not where she was, and we'd mail them to her with a note asking if her school contract has a morality clause."

"That would be simple and clean. But would it be enough? Do we need a more devious strategy?" she asked, rocking back and forth slightly. Her cunt muscle motions synchronized with my cock's willed throbbing pattern. "Let me consider this. Don't do anything rash."

Wendy pondered a minute, and said, "I think the key here is in that folder she had on her desk. We need to know her source. If we can get into Tompkins' office and see that, we'll have a better idea of where to go." She moved around my cock a bit faster. "How good are you with lockpicks?"

I grinned. "I've gone through office doors here with no problems. They use cheap Yale locks. Those pin tumblers are a breeze."

"Then I think we should pay her office a little midnight visit. Enough of that. Suck my tits now."

We pleasantly whiled away the rest of the afternoon. It's good to have a best friend.

Oh-dark-hundred hours found Wendy and me at a school side door whose alarm contacts were shorted and useless. We both had red-bulb penlights. I had my picks and my flash Minox. We were inside the school, Miss Tompkins' inner office, and her locked file cabinet, in about ten minutes. Wendy leafed through file folders while I kept watch at the outer-office window.

"I have your file, Dex, and there's nothing guilty in it. Let's see, where's mine...? Ah, here it is. Aha! Our fink is that buttwipe Simmons, the fullback I kneed in the balls when he tried to cop a feel. Yeah, he thinks he's getting revenge on me, and on you because we're so close. He's just a jealous dickweed.

"OK, now I've got Simmons' file out too. Dex, I'll take your place on watch there now. You should shoot all these files, get everything that's important. Hmmm, I wonder if she has dirt on any of the other MGM kids? Maybe we'll have to come back another night and check all their files. But let's get this done now."

I used the Minox to snap photos of all the non-trivial pages. Wendy replaced the files in the cabinet. We locked up and left.

NEXT: A trap is set and sprung, and birds fly the coop.