Meryl Lee - The younger the better

"Always remember, my dear…" His fingers touched hers as they stood by the door an hour later, "…always, you are the Goddess. And a Goddess with such gifts for the world must take what she needs from the world."

Celeste smiled quietly, then stretched tiptoe to kiss him. Brief, fleeting kiss. How quickly passed their too short time together, thought Flambeau.

"Thank you," she whispered, hurrying out into the hall, suddenly the school girl again as she saw her friend waiting. "Hi, Jennifer!" The two locked arms and danced away to other girl things.

The last words a dazed Dean Ulrich Flambeau heard as the girls hurried down the hallway, were, "Jenn, can you believe it? One more week till we all go off in sixty separate directions."

"I can't stand it," wailed the other.

Flambeau, watching the rear view disappearing around a corridor corner, remembered that impudent tail grinding his rampant phallus deeply into her gorgeous body. "God help me," he muttered, wondering why this day couldn't have come a year earlier. "She really is a Goddess!"

Jennifer Quinby opened the letter excitedly, pausing to exclaim over the light fragrance of Joy that clung to the envelope and declared its writer was long-lost conservatory friend Celeste.

"She can come!" squealed an ecstatic Jenn, hurrying to the bathroom where her husband was toweling from his shower.

"Who?" growled Frank, glaring at the early morning stubble on his face. "And why?"

"Celeste! My bosom' buddy from Gordon. Fifteen years, Frank! I don't believe she's finally coming."

"For how long?" His expression showed the excitement wasn't shared.

"At least a week. Maybe two. She's in the music circus at Fairfield. She's Carmen. Then she's doing a concert in Stamford and another…"

"Okay… okay." Frank slapped lather on his face, annoyed that he'd forgotten to shave before his shower had softened his whiskers. "So, it's old home week. Where you going to sleep her… I mean, two bedrooms. Bryan goes on the living room couch, or what?"

Jennifer giggled happily, not put down by the grouchiness. "One look at you and she'll beg to share the wealth. Honestly, Frank, I'd think you'd show more self control, after last night."

"Hmmmmh… we make out last night? Forgot already." He strutted from the bathroom sink for the handtowel on the rack, arching to accent his elongating penis. "Think she'd like what made you quit the music career, eh? L'il Celeste's probably a manhater after fifteen old maid years."

His wife shrugged in pretend disinterest. "She'd have been able to marry a dozen times. It's just that she's having too much fun and making too much money to give up her career."

"S'pose she looks like her publicity pictures?" He whistled remembering. "Probably she's an old hag. Let's see, she'd be your age… thirty what…? Thirty-five?"

"And that makes me an old hag," pouted Jennifer, preening her pixie cut of silver platinum hair behind his shoulder. "I'm going to give her Bryan's room and he can use the den sofa."

"He'll love that," chuckled Frank, spinning suddenly to wrap his towel around his wife's waist and drag her close to his naked front. "And it's okay, kid. You know I'm just teasin'. Be nice to have your conservatory friend here."

Languorous arms circled his neck and Jennifer ground a suggestive bump against his nearly fully developed erection. "I'm happy I quit the rat race to marry, darling. She'll be jealous as an alley cat when she sees you. You know, she's never been East since we graduated. And here's her latest picture to stop your old maid talk." She waggled the snapshot Celeste had included in her letter and Frank ogled the statuesque beauty in bikini nothings. "That her concert gown? Ye Gods, Jenn! You can bet she's havin' a ball with a body like that. Those boobs didn't get that way from singin'!"

"Frank, you're awful!" Jennifer detached her arms from Frank and walked to the bathroom door. "I'm going to tell Bryan."

"Yeah, tell him to shag his butt outta bed, too. Denny wants him to do her lawn today."

"Frank, we've got to talk about our gay divorcee and her two terror daughters soon." Jennifer paused at the door and frowned.

"What's to talk?"

"I'm not happy about the way Denise looks at you, or the way the girls dress for outside. They may be neighbors, but they don't have to make it into a nudist colony. Honestly! I don't really think Bryan is happy working in their yard."

"Hah!" Frank dragged his pants on. "Baby, they're okay. I'm telling you Bryan and me are the only guys around, so maybe they like to show it off a little, goin' to their pool. But Denise Pritchard or her kids haven't designs on a soul. Relax."

"I hope you're right." Jennifer closed the door quietly, quickly forgetting her next door neighbor, eager now to tell her son about the coming of her best friend.

At the closed bedroom door, she paused, then knocked softly, knowing a two-by-four would make more sense, the way her son slept. A second of no response and she knocked more loudly. "Bryan… wake up time, dear."

With a sigh, she eased his door open, started to call again and stopped abruptly, almost pulling the door closed in her embarrassment. Her fifteen-year-old was still sound asleep, but he had wriggled from under the sheet and lay starkly naked and obviously in the middle of a happy dream. His penis, looking top heavy and threatening in its over development, soared stiff and free at his groin. One hand lay limply across his stomach and the fingers coiled loosely around the base of the impressive cock shaft.

Marveling that her son could already have so much when he had only a hint of pubic hair, Jennifer cleared her throat and called a little more stridently, determined not to leave just because her boy's arousal was showing. It was all in the family, she reasoned, even though she felt a little storm of lust to play with that trembling tower of mature manflesh. Only a groan answered her call and she caught her breath when she saw his fingers tighten slightly around the stiff barrel.

A second later, perched saucily on the edge of his bed, she stared down at his naked frame. Very much mature, she decided, studying the athletic tautness of torso muscles and the sleek trimness of his legs and arms. Carefully she slid the sheet over his nakedness, then shook him with maternal determination to force him awake.

"Huh… whuzzat?" Bryan ground a fist into his eye and slowly focused on the morning and on the figure seated beside him on the bed. "Oh… hi, Mom." He squirmed quickly to his side, sensing his condition.

"Time to wake, honey. Mrs. Pritchard expects you to come do her lawn this morning."

He groaned protest, then suddenly was wide awake. It was that day. The one of the seven days of the week when he had legitimate reason to be near his tormentors next door. Bryan couldn't decide which of the three drove him the nuttiest – Denise, as he privately called Mrs. Pritchard, or her two sexpot daughters, Sandy and Pammy.

"Okay, Mom, I'm awake," he yawned in pretended nonchalance. "Hey, you look sharp today." He stared brazenly at her open-necked shorty gown which hid little of the shapely nude under its peekaboo pastel blue.

"Thank you, dear." She leaned to kiss her son. "You're going to see someone your mother went to school with back in the dark ages. And she's going to put your old mom to shame for looks. Celeste Dantrelle is coming to visit and stay awhile."

"Hey, no stuff? Man, that's tough! She's the superstar you keep talkin' about, right? Neat, Mom!"

"Do you suppose you could let her use your room for the time she's here, Bryan? I hate to ask it, but we've no place else for her."

"No sweat! Hey, how about that? A big star in our house! Wow!"

"Hurry and dress, dear."