X-Ray Vision Ch. 09: Family

She padded naked to the door into the condo, calling over her shoulder, "Oh, we're not done! We're gonna fill 90 minutes easy!"

I had my doubts.

Turns out, she had a plan. Came back with some energy drinks, something from a Vietnamese market decorated with suggestive be-dewed orchids and exploding cartoon rockets! Made me drink one while she drank the other.

Kind of sickly sweet-and-sour, some ginger and lots of other stuff. Anyway either through the power of the herbs or the power of suggestion, we both got our energy back in just a few minutes.

And by 'energy' I mean, carnal lust. She looked at me like a predator, threw her empty can away to clonk and roll around on the porch floor, pulled me up by one hand. Knelt on the couch, her arms on the back, her oh-so-pretty butt stuck out, wiggled it lewdly.

"Put er in there!" she ordered.

I wasn't done drinking, so with cock extended I approached, can of energy drink in one hand, other hand placed on the middle of her hips, probed around with my wet dick, found her warm entrance. Pushed firmly, my hips jutting forward obscenely. She rocked back abruptly, getting me halfway there in one thrust!

It was easy! She was open and wet and cummy, inside and out, slick as snot. I was still pretty damp, the evening air having done but little to dry my cock.

Now I was in charge! I finished the coupling, leaned on my arm and stepping forward a half-step, easing myself home.

When my hips met her butt I reversed, rearing my hips back like a bull and thrust! Each stroke I'd feel the chill air on my wet member, then Huuhp! she'd gasp as I humped it home, warm and wet and slippery.

Taking sips from my can, holding one hand palm-down on the small of her back, using her body, her cunt for my personal pleasure! Looking around at the porch, the beach, the shore as I took my time, masturbating using her wet hole, admiring the sun as it approached the horizon.

This was the life!

When the drink was done I threw the can aside like she'd done, let it roll across the floor. Now with two hands I gripped her hips, and instead of thrusting I pushed her forward, then pulled! her back onto my cock, dicking her cunt at my own pace.

"You fucking bastard! Fuck me right! Pound my twat! Make me take it!"

She started in on her sex-talk, rough and lewd, for her benefit or mine it didn't matter, it was hot.

I picked up the pace, but just a little. I was going to savor this one, use her body fully, get everything out of this fuck, all for me.

"Fucking fucker! Uhmph! Shove it in there! Huuhp! Fuck! Uuuuhhhhhh! Push it in! Huuhp! Make me gag on it! Uhmph!"

Sheesh! Where did all this come from? Was she watching porn over at Khang's? Wouldn't put it past them, those two got into all sorts of shit.

Each stroke she had something to say, until she was getting close and descended into gutteral noises.

Gah! Fu! Shove i..Huuhp! Make me..Uhmph! G..G..

She was close; her hips began shaking. But more importantly her vagus nerve went into action, digestion frozen, bladder constricting, uterus tensing and swelling. Reproductive act imminent!

Ok, time to end this. I combined pulling her hips back with thrusting mine forward, smacking into her butt, slapping my balls into her cunt, her clit on each stroke. That adorable clit reddened, swelled, began sending shuddering signals to her vagina on each impact.

She was past speech, just hyperventilating, gasping, quirking her knees. I held her up by her hips, feet leaving the floor, continued banging her cunt as her orgasm swelled, broke over her.

This time I came as she did, timing my final thrust to match her convulsions, putting my cock as deep as I knew how, buried to my root, my kinky hair tangled with hers, cumming fitfully into her with stray spurts of my remaining semen as she released what fluid she had left in her glands, her urethra.

As I held it in her, revelling in her vaginal contraction on my shuddering dick, her bladder constricted, hard. She squirted copious urine and sex fluid onto my member, out her cunt lips, down my legs to drizzle and pool on the floor at our feet, helpless to control it, to control anything.

As her convulsions emptied her bladder I struggled to hold her up, the floor now slippery from pee, my knees weak, my dick still pulsing out my orgasm into her slippery fuck tube.

Jill's arms gave out and she slumped off the back of the couch onto the seat. I released her to curl up in a fetal position, my cock pulled rudely free, her hands clutching the fabric, knees pulled up to her chest, twitching, spraying fitfully from her clenched cunt, face screwed up in ecstatic agony.

I slumped down beside her, leaned back hard, breathing from my diaphragm, restoring oxygen to my body, my nerves recovering. My cock wet and happy, utterly spent, recoiling on my lap and releasing clots of cum from the tip as it reduced in volume.

When she'd finished quivering she unfolded, inchwormed over on her back, draped her legs on my lap.

"You fucker!"

I grinned. "That's what they call me!"

She didn't respond, just breathing, moving her limbs carefully, testing out her muscles.

"I'm gonna be sore tomorrow!"

That seemed likely. I'd seen those legs muscles clenching, even cramping. I took one of her calves in hand, began working at the sore muscle. She recoiled at first, then relaxed, made happy sounds, let me do it.

Conversationally, "I think I like helpless-Jillian! She's hot. All those sexy raunchy words! That passion! That butt! I could really get into her."

This time she did respond, made to kick my thigh but gently, subsided. Let me knead out the other leg muscles.

When I started up her thigh, tried to get close to sexy places she pulled her legs back, sat up.

"Nuh - uh! Billie will be back soon!"

I doubted it, could see she'd not started up the beach yet. Nobody was out there now, all headed to the clubs as the sun was halfway down.

But we had some cleaning up to do! Pee all over the floor! The couch! Clothes everywhere! Cum-stains on the fabric, on our bodies!

"I think, clean first, shower after?"

She agreed. So we cleaned up the porch with a mop and bucket and rags, kept in the utility room by the polite Japanese gentleman who came in biweekly, not intended for this but worked well enough.

Watching my naked Jillian mopping while I scrubbed stubborn spots, blotted up pee and cum, I whistled tunelessly. Enjoyed the view, her breasts bobbing with athletic motion of the handle, really getting her hips into it, her butt bobbing this way and that! Clearly an expert at mopping. All that time in foster homes I supposed.

She saw me perving, grinned, continued.

"Work can be fun too!" I observed cheerfully. Jill went to slush the mop in the bucket, gave my dick a companionable yank as she brushed into me. All good fun.

While she rinsed the mop, the bucket and put them away I gathered soggy rags, cleaning supplies, clothes. The cans I crushed, put in a box outside the street door, there for recycling.

Glanced around, all clear! made a dash for the laundry room and dumped our clothes, rags into the washer. No coins, drat! Dashed back, raided our stash, made one more bare-naked run to load the slots, press Start!

A problem: should we shower together in the hallway bathroom? Get caught coming out naked when Billie returned?

Jillian solved it by leading me to my (our?) bedroom, to my tiny one-person shower stall. Started the water and when it warmed she pulled me in, grappled lazily, leaning on the wall, one leg wrapped around mine, arms around me, just enjoying the warm spray.

I resisted all the sex things I thought up, let her enjoy the moment, enjoy my body held in hers as the warm water soothed our sensitized skin.

After a bit I soaped my hands and stroker her shoulders. That worked! She shuffled around, stood straight, let me soap the rest of her. I did a thorough job, missing nothing, working lather into every limb and lip. Backing into the corner, I let her rinse in the spray, all to herself.

Then we traded places, me getting all my bits lathered and stroked, then her leaning in the corner, looking at me impudently, naked and wet and clean and shiny and knowing I wouldn't do anything, letting me look while I washed the soap and slime away.

She rinsed again, having gotten soapy from me in the confined space. I shut off the water, but when she tried to step out I put a hand to her shoulder. She began to protest, but I immediately began stropping water from her shoulders, her back, her arms. She figured it out, let me run my hands over her limbs, getting the worst of the wet off.

She returned the favor, spending a lot of time on my chest, my stomach, enjoying the intimate service in the confined space.

We emerged mostly-dry, shared the one towel I had in there, no need to risk the laundry closet in the hall, Billie surprising us prancing around bare-naked.

We were out on the love seat in the condo, dressed again, sipping more wine when I saw Billie coming up the beach, taking her time, giving us time.

On the steps she clomped loudly, then called out as she got to the screen door.

"I'm back! Get decent! I don't wanna know what you were up to!"

Jillian smiled warmly, her post-fuck softness still going strong. I blushed a little, not used to sharing my personal space with a brazen 15-year-old.

"Come on in!" Jillian sang out, greeted her with a smile when she appeared. For her part she studied our faces, our soft lazy expressions, came to the correct conclusion. Rolled her eyes, went to the fridge for another fruity beverage.

"How was the boardwalk?" I was curious to know her preferences, what she'd discovered on her own.

She shrugged. "There. Bright. Crowded. Full of suckers." Crack! Took a loud slurp from her can.

Her usual theatrical pessimism, absolutely right for a 15-year-old.

"Did you see Trevor?"

She brightened. "Yup! Remembered my name, said Hi! I thought he might be sore, but no! He's a chill guy. Let me try their sweet potato fries, a new thing. Pretty good!"

Same thing Nick had said, Trevor was chill. I guess it was true. Jill had had her doubts at first, but Trevor had come through with flying colors.

Folks want to be helpful, want to do the right thing. They just have to work out what that is. It's not obvious sometimes. Takes a while. Trevor had figured it out; enough of it anyway.

"Did you take in a show?" There were two movie theatres on the strip, plus a live theatre. She'd not had time for that I didn't think.

"Nope. Gotta earn my first pay before I start spending it!" That was responsible of her. It hadn't occurred to me; didn't matter to me what she spent. But it did to her, and that reflected well on her I figured.

"That stage theatre? It's got shows for Dykes?"

Blunt; impertinent. Pure Billie.

Jillian nodded. "I've been there! A lot of fun!" Billie colored at that; not sure what to think of a Dyke-theatre-going-Jillian. Clearly confused, how that could even be a thing, as Jillian had just fucked a guy.

Jillian laughed, then stopped, not wanting to make Billie feel foolish. "I went with Khang! She's got lots of girlfriends that go. The shows are great, even if you're not perving on the girls! Musical theatre! Good singers! Beautiful costumes! All pretty tame."

That made more sense; Billie digested it. Jill didn't mention, she'd gone as Khang's date before they knew they were sisters. Nor the constant frigging going on in the audience! Best leave that for another time.

It'd been a long day; Billie started to droop, and so did Jillian. I kept up some conversation for a while but it was hard going. Finally I shooed everybody to bed, turned out some lights, headed to our bedroom.

Jill was in bed, spread-eagle, naked. Out like a light. Turns out you fuck the daylights out of a girl, she needs her rest afterward!

Billie didn't take much longer to get to sleep. I tried not to look; I'd not felt comfortable with seeing 15-year-olds since, well, since I was 15. But I can't not see, you know.

I verified she was well and healthy, everything where it needed to be. Had everything she required - toothbrush, bed clothes, sleepwear. She lay on her back for a while, thinking I supposed. Then rolled onto her side, was asleep in seconds.

To be young again! I took my usual 15 minutes to drift off, thinking about our new home situation. Pretty pleased, all told. Everybody getting along; everybody occupied and satisfied, one way or another.

The astronauts in the space station were also well satisfied, having some bedtime nookie as they orbited into twilight.

...

Billie

Hard to keep track of the week, now that her life didn't orbit around church events. Probably Thursday? Back home, no, back in Idaho she'd have choir in the morning, bible study over lunch, elder-care dinners to prepare in the afternoon.

She actually missed that. The old folks were so grateful for a hot meal. And often more forgiving that the busy adults, who had rigid ideas about how a young woman should deport herself. She'd heard some wild stories from wheel-chair bound blue-haired ladies, sewing some pretty wild oats in their prime.

But now! In charge of her own schedule, nobody to answer to, do what she needed to take care of Billie!

And her business partner, he had expectations. But Greg was so chill it'd be hard to excite him. The problem was going to be, to remember to do right by him since he wouldn't bitch no matter what. She figured the most kickback she'd get from any mistakes or indiscretions would be, his disappointment.

Which for some reason, mattered to her. No, she didn't want to feel ruled by some old guy with money. But Greg, well he was different. Not so much be ruled by his expectations, as wanting to do well and impress him. Digging around in her brain as she walked, wondering how that was any different, she came up with something.

She wanted to do it, because she wanted to be respected for her skills, her efforts. She was doing this for herself. That mattered. That was the whole deal right there.

And Greg was a handy guy to hang that impulse on. Because it didn't really matter if she impressed him or not. Especially because of that. It was all about her self-image, self-respect.

Which was a new feeling for her; she'd been rejecting censure and criticism so long she wasn't even sure what her self-image was any more, just what it wasn't.

So build a new one! A kick-butt business woman with plans! A housemate that contributed, made everybody's day easier. A cool woman that could hold her own in a partnership!

That would do for now.

Over the hill from the ritz-bits houses was another row of ranch-style rambling properties. Peering between the trees she could spot a golf course beyond. So these must be the high muckety-mucks, could afford premium locations on the 9th green.

Not likely to catch any of them at home. Maybe some functionary, but she figured she could handle their pushback. If she met anybody at all! Just apologize for disturbing them, make her ask, move on.

Trouble was, it was a hike between properties, then those long drives. Felt conspicuous walking two minutes up to a door, sticking one card in, then hike back to the street. She didn't figure it was good marketing to cut across lawns, trespass. Don't want that reputation, not before anybody knew who she was, what she was up to.

So she walked and walked. Feet a little sore already, after yesterday's canvassing then the jaunt up and down the boardwalk, in tennis shoes that should really have been replaced months ago. But she'd let that go, had been saving money to file her paperwork then buy a bus ticket to anywhere.

Gotta earn some cash! So much baggage, old clothes, worn shoes. Need to see a dentist sometime, maybe an optometrist. Get a haircut. Didn't young adults do that shit? Take care of themselves?

Then there was Trevor; she owed him for more than a plate of bar snacks. She owed him some friendship, some favor a peer owed an acquaintance. Because he'd been so ready to help, she had to help him right back. That's what cool people did right? Help without being asked.

Maybe he had something lost, she could find it. That would be sweet! Right up her alley.

A dog barked at this place, brick ranch-style but two stories over the three-bay garage. A big scary beast lumbered around from the shade behind the garage.

A guard dog? Shit.

It kept lumbering toward her, sounding loud and maybe mean. She stopped in the drive, held her ground. Show no fear!

It stopped abruptly, halfway down the drive, stood as if nailed there, looking at her, giving an occasional bark.

She could see a collar, studded, black. With something bulky fastened to it?

An invisible fence! This beast couldn't go any further without getting a shock from a device in the collar. Some radio gadget, or maybe a buried wire. They had those at the turkey processing plant in Ketchum, no fences but plenty of guard dogs.

Retreat? Or try it? Heck, this dog was probably a pushover, just there for show, to keep riffraff out.

Or a killer that would tear her throat out.

She walked confidently up the drive, looking past the dog, noticing him but not reacting to his bluff. Stopped when they were six feet apart, him barking his head off, just ignore him, let him know you're not afraid of his shit.

It took most of a minute, then he abruptly stopped, lay down. Whined, tried to creep forward, winced, crept back.

"Good doggie! You lay right there, like a nice pack puppy, my friend! You don't want to bite me. You just want some love and attention."

She continued in this vein for a while, saying nonsense in a sing-song voice, making no sudden moves. Take a half-step forward, stop. Repeat.

Each time he shiverred in excitement, made as if to creep forward then thought better of it. Clearly wanting to meet her, afraid of the fence.

When they were two feet apart she turned to address him. He wriggled so hard, so excited, she was worried he'd dislocate something.

"You left alone here every day? Nobody to play with? Poor puppy! You're a sweet puppy aren't you?"

She squatted, looked at him, waited him out. When he calmed she reached out one hand slowly, palm up for him to sniff.

When he could reach without getting zapped he sniffed her hand thoroughly. Then licked her fingers, very very gently. Gave a little ruff!

Ok for now. Did she want to risk it? Would he be ok with her approaching the house? If somebody came to the door would he go bonkers again?

Old Billie would have fled. But new improved Billie? What would she do?

She'd be fearless. Even if it was stupid foolish, she needed to do this, prove she wasn't a scared bullied kid any more. Take whatever shit went down, lesson learned but she would move forward without cringing.

Standing, she walked slowly past the dog, into range.

He hopped up, fell in behind her, under her right hand. Like he'd been trained to do? She found his head just under her fingers, Jesus this dog was big!

Leaned a little, gave him a pat, a ruffle behind the ears, kept walking. Got a whine, sounded satisfied this time, happy-doggy sound.

Up to the porch, he stayed back, wouldn't go up the step. Again, as if he'd been trained to stay out of the house. This was some dog! Even the hunting dogs back in Idaho weren't this obedient.

Clump up to the door, jam a half-dozen cards behind the mailbox. Not inside it; that could be seen as too forward, just left in a place where they could be found. And a half-dozen because she wasn't sure she would do this again, brave this particular porch again.

Turned to go, saw a happy tongue-lolling dog sitting, waiting, relaxed.

"We're going back to the road, Roscoe! Hup! Fall in!" That was as good a name as any, for a big dog.