The Seehofer Chronicles Vol. 02

For a petite girl, Jem was well endowed with C-cup tits. However, unlike Sybil's boobs, Jem had been blessed with conical shape tits with a perky, erect deportment. With a sense of unnecessary self-deprecation, Sybil thought her own tits were positively bovine in form. She needn't have worried. Jem loved Sybil's tits.

Sybil and Jemima were unable to explore further. A rap on the bedroom door halted them in their prolonged mammary-worshiping tracks.

It was as though a spell of enchantment had been lifted and both girls stared at each other aghast. It took all of Sybil's experience as a trainee teacher to compose her mind and voice. "Who's there?"

"It's Isobel... Can I come in?" That she even asked suggested that Izzy was unsure of what she'd find.

"Two secs..." shouted Sybil. The Sapphic couple quickly sought and donned their tee shirts, forgoing their bras in their haste to appear decent. "Come in, Izzy!"

It was debatable who surprised whom the most. Remaining in the doorway of the tiny room, Izzy stared down speculatively at her cousin and friend sitting primly side by side on the bed. Izzy had donned her tee shirt but had forgone the belt.

Superficially, all appeared normal until Izzy clocked the tussled state of Sybil's shoulder-length hair and the smeared lip-gloss. Jem by merit of her pixie cut looked kempt aside from her flushed face. Izzy knew Sybil's silhouette well enough to know that she was braless. That the red fastening band jutted out from where Sybil was sitting on it only confirmed her suspicion.

"How's it going, Iz..." asked Sybil with impressive calmness.

By her own powers of discernment, Sybil noted that her cousin appeared to have been put through her paces. Sybil had no fucking idea where that equine adage came from. Izzy's face appeared to glow and her hair tussled. Further appraisal was thwarted by Izzy's declaration.

"I could do with some help out here, Sybs. There's at least six guys looking for a shag. Any chance of a hand?"

Sybil opened her mouth. Nothing emerged. Hearing Isobel talk as she did just didn't sound right. Isobel was the boring straight-A student who had only had one proper boyfriend in her life. And that was Josh, for fuck sake! Josh made Merlin, (Sybil's current squeeze of choice) seem like Hugh Heffner.

"Think about it, eh?" offered Isobel. She gave the two girls a final looking over before leaving them.

"Is she ill?" asked Jem of Sybil once they were alone.

"God knows... But she needs my help."

To Jem's way of thinking, it sounded as if Sybil was offering to drive Izzy to the supermarket. "I can help you."

"You can stay here." Sybil made her declaration forcibly but without aggression. Even so, she could see by Jem's emergent tears that she had once again hurt her feelings. She took Jem's hand and cradled it in her lap.

"I'm a big girl, Syb!" cried Jem defiantly. "I do have a boyfriend in the Navy. And believe me, he's no softy!"

Sybil lent across and lightly kissed her new friend, one that she hoped would stay one in the months and years to come. "You really don't have to."

"I want to... As long as we stick together."

Sybil could interpret that statement in so many ways. She settled on the short-term time frame. "Okay, we stick together side by side. And I'll lay down the rules."

The two girls emerged from the corridor holding hands and were approach by Sly.

"Feeling better, ladies?" His ever-ready smile was in place and Sybil tried to detect without success whether or not he was being sarcastic.

"Fine thanks... Where's Isobel?" She glanced around the room and counted ten heads, many of whom were checking her out along with Jem.

"Is that her name? Having a smoke. It's very bad for you, you know..."

"I thought you wanted to fuck us not give us a health check..." Sybil walked away hand in hand with Jemima before Sly could offer a comeback.

Isobel had borrowed Gary's jacket. At least three of her could have fitted inside. "So what's like the decision?"

"I thought you said six guys? I counted ten."

"Six, eight, ten, who cares... Two saw to Hen before she like crashed out. I doubt they're up for it. Probably rather watch the footie."

"Why are you like doing this, Izzy?" pleaded Sybil.

"Why...? For me. I've been boringly good all my life. This is my chance to be adventurous."

"Adventurous? If you want adventure, climb a tree!"

"... Says the girl who's been putting it about since her mother brought her her first bra!"

"Excuse me...," interjected Jem. "I'm still like here... If you two have nearly finished! Just because things have been shit all weekend, don't fall out with each other now! I quite fancy having a play myself. Sybs has put me in the mood." She walked across to Sybil and thrust her hand beneath her black leather skirt. Dexterously, her fingers pulled aside the gusset and she inserted first one then two fingers up Sybil's vagina.

Sybil shuddered and clutched the girl she so wanted to make cum. Izzy looked on with amusement to see her cousin finally admit to her bisexual nature.

"You're wet, Sybs," uttered a Jem unrecognisable from the timid creature she portrayed. Despite the fingers eliciting wonderful sensations, Sybil still found time to wonder who the real Jemima was. "Is that 'cos of me or the thought of all that cock in there?" Jem never really expected an answer. "Come on girls. Let's have us some fun..."

Chapter 13 -- A Threesome and more.

Saturday, 17^th August 2013.

Manchester, England.

Sly had to collect spare memory cards for his professional quality camcorder. Finally, he spoke up above the sound of football punditry.

"Stick to the rules if you wish to participate, gentleman. No bum play and only one at a time. If the girl says get off, get off pronto. Remember, I'm filming what goes on for posterity and the security of everyone, so keep the TV volume down low. It would be great if you girls could remain as you are on the sofa. In that way, you'll be in shot of the main camera at all times." He still had a second camera for roaming shots. "So let's have some fun!"

At the outset, only four of the doctors were keen to participate. Ray, who had ejaculated earlier, chose to watch the football. So too did Jack and Will, the tag-team who had tackled the now sleeping Henrietta.

One guy, a visiting Indian on a sabbatical by the name of Anish, chose to spectate as an enthralled student of western gross goings on. Dan, Sly's flatmate similarly chose to sit things out.

Hen's three chicks sat line abreast on the sofa. Sly had covered the long seat in a gingham throw, having decided that the present from his mother would finally come in useful by way of protecting the fabric from female juices and hopefully ejaculated spunk. The girls slouched wearing only their pink tee shirts, their groins dissolutely exposed.

Lots had been drawn. Gary had been nominated to perform a supervisory role as well as participating. He opted to let the other three guys go first, having already enjoyed early "dibs", as the act of coitus had been coined by one guy and the appellation had stuck. They were doctors after all, at least half of them former public school boys.

Of the three girls, Gary had developed a crush on Izzy. He had heard it said that a guy never looked upon a girl in the same way after he had fucked her. It was true. He resented the thought of anyone else touching her even though he scarcely knew her. Privately, Jem was the punters' initial lay of choice, based upon her stunning looks. Whether she could fuck or not was as yet to be seen.

The tall Aussie doctor named Rod had drawn Jem's name out of the hat. South African, Hansie, had drawn Sybil. Comparative local boy Phil from Leeds had been allotted Izzy. Had the girls been keeping tabs then they might have found the fondness for nicknames very confusing. For example, the Afrikaner named Hansie was called Gretel.

What was essentially a gangbang began more as a collective fizzle. Predictably, the three men were somewhat circumspect in their approach to the act. Whilst hardly unwilling conscripts, they nevertheless adopted a polite approach as befitting the bedside manner of medical practitioners.

Rod was the first to embark upon the odyssey. He stripped off his bottom layers, his polo shirt falling over his arse but caught on the impressive boner he sported out front. He was the only guy of the three with an erection that didn't require manual support. He noticed the pretty blonde girl he had drawn out of the hat (actually a plastic bag containing Scrabble tiles) holding hands with the stygian-haired girl to her left as he hesitantly shuffled up to the sofa.

The petite girl he knew as Gemma reposed almost horizontal despite being conventionally orientated to face forward. Her splayed bum rested on the edge of the seat and the feet of her flexed legs only just reached the floor by assuming a flexed tippy-toes arrangement.

Her shirt had been hiked up to just above the level of her mons Venus, a specimen that provided a home to an alluring bed of tightly cropped pubes fashioned in the shape of a narrow wedge. The base of the wedge pointed arrow-like to her as yet ill-defined vulva, discernible only by a virginally discreet crease that curved away out of sight around to her asshole.

Her pubes were a golden honey colour. Judging by the dark roots visible on her head, the pubes had been artfully dyed and that they had been carefully manicured proved to be a powerfully invigorating sight.

A glance to his left at the similarly reposed dark-haired, olive-hued girls, who might have been sisters, revealed not a trace of pubic hair, which seemed to be the in vogue convention with UK girls. If he had to define female bodies of the era in which he sexually operated, he would quote shaved pussies and a plethora of often-gratuitous tattoos.

Gemma's orientation demanded the he descend to his knees. As a proof of the pervasively peculiar atmosphere, he apologised when her body flinch after he had inadvertently touched her leg whilst kneeling.

"Sorry, luv..." His Aussie accent was all too evident.

"That's okay..." She sounded sweetly amenable, hence his following request.

"You might have to help me here, mate..." His request stemmed from the study of her quim that appeared hermetically sealed.

Jem obliged by widening her legs, stretching the halves of her smooth outer labia to divulge the collated seam of her inner lips within its delicately cerise ravine. Her hands fell each side of her hirsute mons, the fingers unpeeling the labia minora, stretching the lips of pink translucent gossamer tissue that appeared too flimsy to spread. The enthralled Rod feared the petals might tear asunder at any moment.

Regardless of the invitational gape of the exposed vibrant crimson of her vulva, Rod feared she remained too small to take his no more than averagely dimensioned knob. Even though he was visually transfixed by her enticing cunt, he felt the eyes of everyone in the room upon him, including the football fans who had momentarily abandoned their sport at what was a pivotal moment.

Sly with his roving camera didn't help the situation. "Back off, mate!" Rod's command had the desired effect.

Sybil twisted her head to the left and stared at the impassive Jem's profile in preparedness to witness her expression as she was impaled. For the first time, Sybil noticed the studs and rings that adorned Jem's lobes and helix. Regardless of Rod's concerns, Sybil was unable to make out any marked change in Jem's expression. Only when Rod found the confidence to ply with a tender rhythm, proportionately imparting a judder within Jem's yielding body, did the studied face appear to squint with appraising attentiveness.

"You aright, mate?" asked a concerned Rod.

"Fine, I'm cool..." Jem smiled her reply, so encouraging her selfless fucker to set about his coital enterprise with increased enthusiasm.

All the while, Hansie had been dividing his attention between Rod and his assigned fuck-buddy. He only knew Rod by name, working as he did at another hospital. Hansie, a veteran of the city's main accident and emergency department, viewed Rod as a typical Aussie surf dude. It was a physically apt yet wholly erroneous assessment of the Aussie's mental attitude. Nonetheless, Hansie Gretel took inspiration from the Aussie's icebreaking accomplishment.

Hansie had felt a gut wrenching queasiness when hearing of the improvised gangbang. Sure, it was a fantasy come true. Yet reality was something else. Only his acknowledgment that he was unlikely to find himself in such a situation again overcame his moral disinclination to participate.

Like his own opinion of the Aussie, the others took Hansie's Afrikaner upbringing to mean that he was a rugged outdoor type, wrestling with wildebeests and hounding hyenas. He had in fact grown up in Pretoria and had seldom left the city.

Even removing his pants had been onerous in the extreme. Thanks to his position flanking the Aussie, he too had watched the girl named Gemma expose the interior of her vulva and with relief, he had felt the twitching in his underpants that he feared would not happen. He had reached the point where he didn't fear exposing his genitalia. What he dreaded was peer condemnation for failing to rise to the occasion.

With Rod paused to deliver his incursive thrust, the twenty-five year-old Hansie transferred his gaze to his selected partner.

Although conceding it to be a purely subjective opinion, he found her to be the plumpest and least attractive of the three. It was a harsh criticism, for had she been alone in a bar, he'd have happily chatted her up in the hope of a speculative coupling. Without disparagement, he viewed her more as fuck-material rather than the makings of a girlfriend. He smiled at his candid observation. He wasn't here to woo her.

Her pudenda appeared at complete odds with the girl whose hand she had been holding. The shorn mons might have appeared less conspicuous had it carried hair. Within the clef between her broad upper thighs, the protruding inner labia of her long slit were prominent and spread like tulip petals despite only the most modest spread of her legs. Unlike Rod's concerns, he little doubted that she could accommodate his cock.

With a final resigned shrug of "what the fuck", he shimmied out of his shorts. As had Rod, he elected to hang on to his shirt, in his case a green Springbok rugby top. With the combined incentive of shyness and inexperience, he dropped quickly to his knees, his trailing shirt obscuring most of his buttocks and obfuscated his cock from all but the nearest observer. He was most sensitive about the thought of flashing his hairy butthole to the guys.

He would have preferred to be harder but that wasn't going to happen. He managed a few surreptitious wanks to his cock before committal. Unlike Rod, he forwent any polite necessities. The girl had spread her legs as he squatted before her, so she knew what was coming. Aligning himself in the general area in which her vagina should lurk, he pushed home. He might have been a physician; even so, his aim was too high.

Sybil uttered a shout of fright, promulgated by shock rather than pain, as she recoiled from the misdirected dick. He appreciated her muttered reply that failed to carry to anyone else of significance.

"You're supposed to be shafting my cunt not my piss hole!" decried Sybil.

The response was coarse and sexually charged. He unexpectedly smiled. "Jammer, liefie," he apologised in Afrikaans.

His second push found its goal. Although far from at maximum rigor, his small glans remained turgid enough to press beyond the opening of her vagina and with a few tentative tightness-assessing strokes within the delicious burrow, his cock felt sufficiently at home to inflate to a satisfying if not yet optimum degree.

Of the three men assigned duties, Phil was perhaps the most au fait with what he termed inconsequential sex. That statement might hold merit by way of virtue apropos relational commitment but his shagging around had most definitely yielded consequences. The most pertinent being that the registrar specialising in spinal injuries was undergoing a course of antibiotics to treat chlamydia.

In no way could he be confident that the antibiotic had done its work. By rights, he should not be engaging in sex, certainly not without a condom. Confidence was not an issue as far as the Yorkshireman from Leeds was concerned. Probity certainly was. He was not going to meet the lasses again, so what was it to him if he infected them? As for his fellow physicians, well they knew the risks better than anyone did. They should fuck bagged. So much for his Hippocratic Oath...

He was small of stature but fit, a runner and attendee of a gym. He was the type to undress at the drop of a hat and enjoyed frequenting nudist beaches as an exhibitionist and voyeur in equal measure. Hence, he was the only man of the three to strip off completely and pose with what he called a boner without discomfort. That he uninhibitedly stroked his knob was for unabashed pleasure not erectile support.

The girl supplicating before him was the prettier of the dark-haired girls. Obviously slim of build and leg, it was her labia that most drew his attention. They were the meatiest he had ever seen.

Okay, she had already fucked two guys and the puffy labia bore testimony to that fact, appearing as a high, prominent ridge of russet flesh. Nevertheless, he was under no illusions that even without prior coital stimulation, the girl boasted what he and his Yorkshire friends might call a lot of tasty chitterlings.

He was the only man of the three circumcised, not that Isobel was aware of the fact. Unlike his compatriots, Phil opted not to kneel but hover with his outstretched arms spanning Izzy as though he were about to perform push-ups over her.

With his lean body posed linearly above her, he penetrated her with his very stiff phallus with unguided, uncanny accuracy, his fuck-strokes maintained by his pendulistic hips. He fucked with the least empathy for his partner and with the most gusto in a pile-driving motion that bordered upon the spiteful. As he had noticed before, the filming Sly loved the way in which the girl's inner labia clung to the cock as it egressed, forming a tight sheath around the phallus.

Izzy accordingly expressed the most noise of the six. She may have already partaken in sexual acts, yet that hadn't prepared her for the hammering she received.

Whereas Jemima and Sybil freely and quietly acknowledged the pleasure imparted by their suitors (the superstitious Sybil admittedly with a caveat that she did not wish to tempt fate), Izzy positively embraced and noisily regaled in the discomfort with its piquant highlights of pain inflicted by her beau.

Phil fed off Isobel's oral reports, which conveyed her sexual gratification from his unrefined molestation. He grunted at the completion of each pelvic slam against the cradle of her hips.

Whilst the supervising Gary had no issue with the prudent gentlemen from the southern hemisphere, he took umbrage with the arsehole named Phil. He was grunting like some bloody annoying Russian tennis player, whose name escaped him. And it had to be the bloody girl he fancied who was taking the battering!

"All right! All change!" Gary rang the prescribed changes, each man shifting to the girl to his left, meaning that Aussie Rod moved around to Isobel.

Gary found it laughable that Rod and Hansie introduced themselves to Izzy and Jem respectively as though they were engaged in some courtly dance. Sybil's welcome was hardly gracious. She gave Phil a look that threatened to stomp on his balls should he play rough with her. Phil took one look at the nutcracker thighs and didn't challenge the unspoken threat.