Calvin Mason - Gang bang sisters

"Hey, that's a good idea. I'll get it." Kay left the room and quickly returned with her bicycle, which was then propped against a wall.

Now that everyone felt relieved, they were more enthusiastic about the task at hand. Charles watched with a happy grin on his face as Kay and Margaret removed their underwear, packing the clothes into their handbags. His cock was straining to get out of its prison, but he took would have to restrain himself and not get undressed. However, the thrill of the daring adventure compensated for some of the inconveniences and made it worthwhile; even more exciting than when they were in robes, with instant nudity. His eyes had watched carefully while the girls slipped out of their clothing, but didn't even get a glimpse of anything worthwhile – tantalizing him even more.

When they were all set, Margaret positioned Kay on the edge of an old wooden chair, looked over her shoulder as a signal to Charles and lifted Kay's skirt, exposing her little bush of hair. Since Charles was just watching at this point, Margaret took the time to comb her fingers through the dampening hairs, spread Kay's chubby white legs farther apart and finger-fucked her.

After a few minutes of watching his sister wiggle and squirm with delight, Charles was ready for his own pleasure. He reached down and picked up the hem of Margaret's skirt, revealing the twin balls of white meat that never failed to fascinate him. Margaret bent now, giving him a better view and target. He carefully deposited her skirt above the area and out of his way, then unleashed his pounding cock. Margaret jerked away at the first touch of the wad of cold petroleum jelly on the sensitive, hot hole, but quickly adjusted to the feeling.

Kay gave out a squeal of delight when Margaret's hands slid under her buttocks, lifting her off the chair and covering her panting cunt with a warm, open mouth. To muffle the sounds she was making. Kay slipped her thumb in her mouth and sucked on it, sucking louder and louder as Margaret's tongue slithered around the opening to her cunt, creating havoc inside. But when Margaret's tongue parted her cuntlips, snaking inside to lick the walls, Kay popped her finger out of her mouth, gripped the seat of the chair and moaned uncontrollably.

Charles spread the balls of flesh apart with both hands, stuck the head of his cock at the bull's-eye and pushed. He watched with wide eyes as the heart-shaped head of his cock disappeared into the tight tunnel, hardly believing he was finally accomplishing what he had always longed to do. He pressed forward at a snail's pace up the squeezing, sucking channel that seemed to be coaxing him deeper and deeper. When the full length of his shaft was inside her, he released the flabby mounds of flesh and they seemed to devour the whole front of his groin. Margaret's ass muscles sucked him tighter and tighter, until he could hardly breathe. Then his cock fired a blank, and the recoil went through his body. His breathing was fast and furious now. He reached around her hips in a bear-hug and began shooting his come with a vengeance. The muscular tunnel milked and sucked him into a state of delirium.

Kay was just as delirious at the other end as she reached an orgasm on Margaret's whipping, delving, sucking, licking tongue. Even after she collapsed with exhaustion, the tongue reamed out the last drops of dew from the walls of her squeezing cunt. It was hard to tell about Margaret. She may have had an orgasm, but if she did there wasn't any outward sign of it. She just continued at the same, grueling pace until Charles' dick withered and plopped helplessly out of her anus, and Kay forced herself away from the still-attacking tongue.

Anxiety, boredom, desire and hopelessness began to plague Tom. He found himself doing exactly what he had always criticized the others for doing – playing the "If Only" game. If only I had a car; if only I had my own apartment; if only I had money… were just a few. The frustration of going down to defeat by this simple challenge was greater than his desire for sex. However, his mind kept telling him it was the other way around, completely confusing the issue, since he kept insisting he could wait a few weeks. After all, he had gone months and months without sex – now he couldn't wait for a few short weeks?

He discussed the problem with his friends at work, who didn't seem to be plagued by the same frustrations as his neighborhood friends.

"Where do you take a broad for a quick hump?"

"Your car."

"Don't have a car."

"Your place."

"My mother is always home."

"Her place."

"Her mother is always home."

"Down in the basement."

"The landlady guards the basement like it was Fort Knox."

"In the park."

"Too cold."

The other suggestions involved too much risk; like finding a car someone neglected to lock or doing it in the hall of a building. The thought of being caught outweighed the satisfaction.

The conversation always ended with the suggestion that he get a hotel room. Under normal conditions he would have done that, he told himself. If it was a good-looking chick he was trying to impress – but not Stella. Besides, he didn't know exactly how to go about it and it was too expensive to start learning. And the fact that Stella was only fifteen weighed heavy on his mind.

But Wednesday morning, as he was walking to the subway, he saw Stella walking straight at him. She was on her way to school, with an armload of books, a too-short miniskirt and such a slow pace that he knew she wasn't happy at the thought of her destination. A short pain swirled around his balls at the sight of her.

They stopped to talk for a minute and he was about to leave when he impulsively asked her if she wanted to play hooky. Suddenly she was bubbling over with enthusiasm. She knew just the place to ditch her books, she told him. The corner candy store. He sent her off on that chore, while he rushed off in another direction so he wouldn't be caught by his mother, who left for work a few minutes after him and would be coming to the subway.

Tom walked briskly to the rendezvous, waited patiently for Stella and hated himself for doing this. Now he'd have to call in sick, lose overtime pay… and where was he going to take her? What would they do all day? You made a big mistake, he told himself over and over. But then Stella came into view and his thoughts were washed away by the sight of her delightful body.

They walked ten blocks, mostly in silence, to a diner that Tom felt was a safe haven to get in out of the cold. But panic swept through him with the sight of every police car, patrolling or every passer-by who happened to look their way. The diner was only a relief from the cold, because he was just as nervous there as he was outside and began to find himself obsessed with the desire for a shot of whiskey. Even that was out of the question, since he couldn't take Stella into a bar. That would really be asking for trouble, he thought.

Meanwhile, Stella was as happy and contented as possible. She did most of the talking and eating, never once thinking about school, getting in trouble, or that anyone was looking at them. Just being with Tom gave her a feeling of complete safety. What did she have to worry about? He was the most intelligent person she had ever known – including her teachers.

Tom excused himself to call the office, wishing more than ever that he was on the other end of the phone. How carefree and contented he would be in the office, with its familiar surroundings, he thought. His boss was pleasant, which surprised Tom, and he left the phone booth with a slightly relieved feeling. Since the men's room was opposite the phone booth, he made a detour on the way back to Stella.

It was there, as he stood watering the daisy, that his confidence began to surge back into his bones and the solution to his problem came to him: he'd take her home!