The House to Themselves

And then, she felt her pants being pulled down by Alison's eager little fingers. Taking the initiative, she leaned back, taking her face reluctantly away from her best friend's mouth and eased her sweater up and over her shoulders, neck and head. And now there were two naked girls for Alan's gaze. One pale and slim and pony-tailed. The other dark and slim and short-haired. Two pairs of bright eyes and gleaming teeth, framed by different colours of skin, while the two girls wrapped each other in their arms, face locked to face, hands and arms exploring the back, the breasts, the nipples, the crotch, the buttocks, the whole mass of gleaming shining youthful skin.

And then the mouths unlocked from the slobbery sloppy slurping kiss, and tongues wandered over each others' faces, down the length of slim, arching neck, onto the chest and then to the breasts: Alison's lips taking her best friend's nipples in their grip, while Laura leaned her head back at the sensation. Seeing her mouth was no longer occupied, Alan again offered his dick to Laura's mouth which she took eagerly, snorting and gasping as she did so. Alison let her mouth traverse from nipple to nipple, while the fingers of one hand probed the slippery warm lips of her crotch and the other hand supported her friend up so that she wouldn't fall backwards. Laura could mostly see only dick in front of her face. A long length of dick with a bush of hair at the base and a smooth, slightly rounded belly. Alison had moved her gaze down from her friend's bare breasts to her crotch, which she kneeled in front of, tongue and fingers probing the smooth surface and none too intricate folds, sweat from her forehead mingling with the sweat running down Laura's chest and stomach, strong new smells assailing her nostrils, different and even richer than those from her brother's dick, with an odour as much of fish fingers and peas as of passion.

Alan arched up on his knees, supporting Laura by the back of her head, as her mouth and head bobbed backwards and forwards on a dick that had never before felt so thick and dirty and sticky and potent and raw. He could see his reflection in his sister's make-up mirror: a young man still afflicted by acne, with thick brown hair, a baggy sweater and a black girl's mouth attached to the end of his dick. And while his dick pulsated on the tongue and lips and sharp white teeth, he could vaguely hear heavy metal guitar and cat-shriek vocals from the leather-clad figures dancing on the TV screen.

Such a pose couldn't last forever, but the next stage had an inevitability and a logic to it, that surprised Alan just as much it did Laura. She lay on her back, her mouth once again glued to Alison's, dark and naked on the light pink sheets, beside the flowery lilac duvet, with Alan on top of her, his hands and arms supporting his weight above her, her eyes flickering with excitement back and forth from brother to sister to brother again. And then, with a suddenness that she felt should have been more subtle, but happy when it happened, Alan's erect pink dick sunk into the lighter brown folds of her vagina, pushing bit by bit into her, until all its length was tight inside the grip of her lips. The caution which had protected Alison's crotch from frontal assault was blown to the winds as surely as her clothes had eased off her, and Laura surrendered herself to the pain and pleasure of vaginal intercourse.

And fuck! It was painful at first. She felt a rip inside her which almost caused her to pull out, but she was so enrapt in passion, and eased by Alison's kisses. And it was mere moments later that this pain subdued, although she was conscious of it still, like a bloody nose on a summer's day, but from between her thighs rather than beneath her eyes. And had she or Alison or Alan focused their gaze away from each other or the flickering images on the television screen or the pink and brown flesh reflected from the make-up mirror to the pink sheets between Laura's legs, they would have seen a small bloodstain slowly grow as it soaked into the polycotton and nylon - a colour in keeping with the red heat of passion that soaked their skin, pounded their hearts and gave vent to choruses of grunts and shrieks that erupted unconsciously and frequently, giving a visceral accompaniment to the tawdry twaddle of the televisual teenage beat.

Alan's buttocks thrust back and forth, back and forth. Laura's legs were opened wider than she could ever remember them being opened before. Slap. Slap. Slap. Crotch against groin against crotch. Liquid loins and slippery thighs. Alison's mouth was sore and raw and focused on her best friend's mouth, her hands most often on her nipples, but then wandering to the conjoined crotches where all the action was. She put a hand where the two lovers' genitals met, and felt the hair of her brother's groin press against the top of her hand while her palm gripped her best friend's smooth crotch: margarine, blood and sweat mixed with the sticky fluids of conjunction and fevered copulation.

Had their passion not been so great they may have noticed a fourth presence in the room, Alison's younger sister Evelyn, who stood with eyes wide open and an even wider open mouth, framed at the doorway, as her brother and her sister and her sister's best friend were busy fucking and sucking and licking and stroking each other. This was an education to her for which her sex education classes at school had not prepared her. Rooted to the spot by her curiosity, but anxious not to be seen. So, that's what sex is like, she thought. So unlike the line drawings she'd seen and a lot more exciting. Her indecision and hovering relieved by the duty, as she considered it, of answering the door when she heard the door bell ring.

She dashed off, plaits streaming behind her, and opened the front door to find Alan's girlfriend, Fiona, standing there in her blouse knotted over her midriff and her baggy pink shorts. Fiona was a much larger and fatter girl than either Alison or Laura, and not just because she was older. Her plumpness was undeniable, her large full breasts pressing against the fabric of her bra and the starched white cotton of her blouse, a mass of stomach bulging over the belt of her shorts.

"Where's Alan?" she asked, seeing Evelyn's slightly startled face.

"He's in Alison's bedroom," Evelyn replied nervously, not at all sure what to say in these circumstances. "But I think he's busy."

"Busy?" queried Fiona. "Well, not too busy to see me, I hope." She marched into the house and set a course up the stairs. She paused half way as she heard a curious kind of thumping and slapping and gasping, and the echoes of electric guitar and whining vocals. She couldn't remember that John Bon Jovi ever had samples like that in his songs. She continued up the stairs towards the open door of Alison's room, while Evelyn hovered around in the hallway, too frightened to follow her brother's plump girlfriend, but too curious in what would happen next to leave where she was standing, the front door closed behind her.

The sight that met Fiona's eyes when she entered Alison's bedroom could scarcely have been more shocking. There was her boyfriend on the bed, buttocks raised behind him and rhythmically lowering and raising them, while wrapped around his legs were Laura's dark legs. And this wasn't all. Just under her boyfriend's head was Alison's naked body, stroking and kissing Laura and Alan, as the two of them gasped and yelled and grunted in the heat of their passion.

"Alan!" she cried, hardly able to voice the words. "What are you doing?"

From where Evelyn was, she could hear the dialogue continue: four voices intermixing with each other. Fiona was saying: "Why with her? Why not with me? What's wrong with me?" Alison was saying: "Fiona. What a surprise. Why don't you join in?" Alan was sobbing in confusion: "Oh Fee! I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I just don't know how this happened. Please forgive me!" Laura was crying: "Don't stop! Don't stop! I want more!"

There was a chaos of soothing low voices, Fiona's strangulated cries, Laura's admonitions, a rustling, a fumbling, and the sounds of voices gradually getting softer, sobs becoming less distinct, and some whispered moaning. Evelyn couldn't hold back her curiosity. Careful quiet step after another, up the richly carpeted staircase, took her closer and closer to Alison's open door, her heart beating thunderously under her tee-shirt, while the sounds of teenage pop songs continued warbling cheerfully and inanely in the background. At last, she was at the doorway and grateful to see that no one was looking anywhere at all in her direction. And there on the bed was a mass of white and dark flesh, but mostly white.

Clearly, Fiona had been persuaded to join in with her boyfriend and sister and best friend. Her blouse was removed, revealing quite the most enormous breasts that Evelyn had ever seen: two large aureate pink nipples on round bulbous bosoms, one being sucked by Laura, while her mouth was locked to Alan's own, who grasped her head from behind the neck, while supporting her large white fleshy back by his arm, his fingers almost sinking into the folds of her skin. Her shorts and panties were also off and flung wildly to the ground. Her legs were parted, and Alison's head was between the thick flesh of her thighs, a ponytail bobbing up and down with Alison's head, nose in a mass of reddish blonde pubic hair. One shoe was kicked off, but the other dangled over the side of the bed.

Evelyn stood transfixed, her head and hands around the frame of the door, unable to move and far too wise, even for her years, to reveal her presence. She was hoping that she could once again see her older brother's erect penis again and for it to once again enter inside one of the girls' vagina.

And she didn't have to wait long. Fiona was guided backward, gasping, with Alison's mouth still to her crotch to be joined by Laura's thick dark lips, and Alan's mouth to her mouth, a choked grunting and gasping as she slowly descended, a mass of white flesh bulging up on the hard mattress. And then Alan's erect penis was in view to be guided in to Fiona's vagina by her sister's pale pink varnished nails and Laura's less pale fingers. Her legs were open just to the side of the dark red patch of Laura's breached maidenhead as Alan's penis slid in, lubricated by come, semen, vaginal juices and margarine. Bit by bit, the penis entered, inch by throbbing inch, while Alison licked her brother's pebble-hard testicles, and Laura's tongue and fingers explored her best friend's pale and slim naked body.

And then a loud, agonised, visceral cry of agony as a second maidenhead was broken, a trickle of blood down under Alison's probing tongue and spreading onto the sheets. This merely added to the excitement and the fumblings and gropings and thrustings. Fiona gave vent to more cries: urgent sharp continuous, rising and falling as Alan's buttocks thrust harder and harder and the two other girls busied themselves on her plump white flesh. Alan was also gasping, louder and more insistently: raucous and guttural and uncontrolled. And then, on a signal perhaps learned from the pornographic videos he'd watched with his friends, he pulled out his penis, which was jerking and twitching as uncontrollably as his girlfriend's cries of ecstasy, a stream of pale viscous liquid squeezed out of its end. And then, to Evelyn's delight, and to the wonder of both Alison and Laura, a sequence of long trails of semen arched out of his twitching dick, rising high into the air and landing on Fiona's large breasts, her round mass of stomach and adding its own colour to the palette of blood and sweat on the sheets.

And then, a sudden collapse: the four youngsters fell into an untidy heap on the bed: two young friends, a brother and his girlfriend, legs and arms and breasts intermingled and tangled amongst each other. Evelyn hovered by the door for a few more moments, dreading the time when one or other of them might raise their head and see her there. And all the while, the afternoon sun shone through the open window slanting onto the television screen. The pants and gasps of sated passion, as the four lay there breathing heavily and low, whilst a chorus of five Irish teenagers sang and danced to songs of dubious merit on what could be seen of the screen through the bright reflection of the trees and passing clouds over Ambleside Close.