Ballet Dancer

by HAL

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, True Story, First, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, .

Desc: Sex Story: A boy ballet dancer discovers some compensations to being thought girly

I've done ballet since I was 5. Mummy was a ballet dancer, not a particularly good one, but a dedicated one. She loved it and when she retired she wanted a girl to encourage and coax. Instead she had me and discovered that the years of training and starving herself had left her with a damaged womb that could only conceive the once. So her boy was sent to ballet instead.

By 8 or 9 I was tired of being made fun of. I was the only boy in my primary school doing ballet – of course I was. Even in the class there were only two of us, Guy was 2 or 3 years older than me and totally dedicated to dance. At 16 I think it was obvious he was gay, but to be honest it wasn't girls or boys he was interested in, it was ballet. Even at 14 I'd seen him reduce a girl to tears because she couldn't get a dance right. But this isn't about him and I'm jumping around a bit.

By 10 Mommy was getting worn down and agreed that when I reached my teens I could give up. At 11 I began to realise there were compensations. We all got changed in the same hall together, Guy and I reduced to our underpants and then got our 'kit' on, always had done, so I never thought much about it. At that age I realised that the girls also got down to their essentials (as my grandmother called them). We did it at opposite ends of the hall ('girls this end, boys that, come on, chop chop' our teacher would say, every week; even when it was only me it was still 'boys that end') but you could see the young teenagers in their knickers and bra. It wasn't as exciting as it could have been because I'd grown up seeing this (from 5 like I said) so this view was just like scenery that you were just coming to appreciate.

This story starts when I was 13 – relax, it isn't some paedo story of underage sex (well, it is, but not that underage ... just read on).

One thing you should know about ballet dancers, they are fit. Not as in good looking fit, though Guy was undoubtedly that. He had the toned body, the shaped muscles and the lithe shape that one can appreciate whatever your sexuality; and I wasn't sure of mine. No, fit as in very, very well trained. We didn't lift weights, we did lift girls, we didn't kick balls, we did kicks that would rupture the average football, rugby or whatever player.

The other thing to know was that Ricky was a bully. Ricky is a bit part in this story, he was a year older, built like someone a year older than that at least, and would pick on people, anybody with a perceived weakness. He had picked on me for a while. "weedy poofta, shirt lifting ballet dancer" that kind of thing. Bullies come in two types, those who try harder if they don't get a response, and those that try harder when they do. Ricky was the latter. I didn't respond. I suspected I might be a shirt lifter, sorry I mean gay. I fancied Guy at this stage. After a while Ricky had run out of his imagination, which didn't extend too far, in insults for ballet dancers. He moved on.

This day he was picking on Tara. Ricky was an equal opportunities bully; girl, boy, gay, straight, black, white, thin, fat, old, young. He wasn't fussy. Tara was Irish, with a 'silly' accent. She was also the blondest girl in the class, same age as Ricky. Most boys fancied her, maybe Ricky did but he wasn't grown up past the throwing stones at girls stage.

In the entrance corridor he was standing by her locker. His mates were nearby. I walked in to collect my stuff to go home and could see she was close to breaking. So could he. Most 'victims' saw another victim being picked on and thanked their stars it wasn't them. So why today? I have no idea.

As a tear started down her face I walked over.

"Leave her alone" it was almost a mumble, I wasn't sure he had heard. Then I was sure

"You what?!!"

"Leave her alone" More confident sounding now, not more confident feeling, but I'd started and (as our ballet teacher also used to say to no purpose "the show must go on"). It was like that poem 'there was a deathly hush in the close tonight', only this was the corridor. People knew they were going to see me spread around the room like jam. Thing about Ricky-the-bully, he wasn't Ricky-the-coward. That would be nice; but I'd seen him play rugby and charge down a full back twice even his size. He didn't back off anything.

He turned to Tara, with an upper cut starting at his waist he smashed into the books she was holding, sending them flying all over.

"What you gonna do about it Nureyev?" I always wondered how single parent, sink estate Ricky knew who Nureyev was. You should never make assumptions about people.

Last night there had been a nature programme on. I love nature. This one had cameras dotted round a common and filmed the wildlife. There was a stoat and the rabbits. A rabbit can outrun a stoat. What did the stoat do? It played. I rolled and jumped, it chased its tail. The rabbits stopped, froze, then slowly their brains said 'this stoat is loopy, no danger there' and carried on eating. But the camera showed what was happening. Slowly the dance of death brought it closer to a young doe. Slowly, slowly until flash! The rabbit was dead and even the slow motion re-play was barely able to keep up.

That, I decided, was my one chance.

I rose onto my toes (a releve) and then did a saute, then a pirouette, then dropped to the floor, rolled and up with a little jump. The 'audience' was shocked, appalled I think. A friend admitted the next day he thought I'd lost it. Slowly, like a green mamba I thought (no! focus, you are a stoat! You get one chance, ONE CHANCE, of surviving this) I edged closer. When I was one leg length plus three feet away I bent my legs, gave a little jump and landed 3 feet closer. I'm good at standing jumps. As I landed I saw his guard starting to come up; too late. My right leg did a straight kick that ended with it vertical in front of my face; but half way through the foot connected with his chin and his face snapped back. I went into a turn with my leg out and as I came round it kicked out (as if to turn again) but connected with his stomach. He doubled up. Then a little jump again and both feet one after the other caught his head. He went back like a sack of potatoes. The next day it was said I had laid him out. Actually I heard the crack as his head hit the floor. That's what did for him. He was still breathing. Thank God I thought. I didn't want to be responsible for killing the school bully.

Acting cooler than I felt I picked up Tara's books, put my arm round her and walked out with her.

I walked her home, I didn't need to; I kept my arm round her shoulder (which wasn't the best place since she was taller than me, but I was pretty sure her waist would be off limits). As we walked I could see her breathing deeply and her breasts rose and fell, the lacy pattern on her bra straining against her blouse and then disappearing again. At that moment I knew I wasn't gay. I might be bi- I thought, but definitely not gay. Halfway home she said


"That's okay"

That was all we said, and at her drive she turned and kissed me. Now, with hindsight, I have no idea if it was on my lips (as my heart wants to believe) or the cheek (as my head suggests it probably was). It didn't matter, this was the first time I understood what walking on air meant.

What? You think this is about me and her? No, Next day I went up to Ricky (a flash of fear on his face, then it disappeared and the mask of insolent hatred came back up, it made me realise I still had the upper hand) and held out my hand. I wasn't some super hero ready to fight all comers to right wrongs. I didn't want a feud where, sometime, someplace I would get caught and flattened by him and his mates. We made our peace, Tara and I were off limits but all the other victims would have to fend for themselves. Tara and I remained friends for a while. She called me over to eat with her friends at lunchtime. They talked about boys and asked my opinion (they clearly thought I was gay too). Slowly we drifted back to our own worlds.

Next session the teacher just walked past me (as I was changing, do you mind!) and said "Ballet is not a martial art!" So she'd heard, but who? Of yes, Marsha and Caley. Two less dedicated and more fulsome girls from my school had let it slip; meaning they had rushed in and told her.

Summer came and went, Guy left the ballet school for the London School of Ballet, came back for the Christmas show so I wasn't the lead. Teacher was ecstatic – her pupil at the London. Girls had gone off before to try their hand at professional ballet, but Guy was a boy, and at the London, and he was good; and he came back to do one last Christmas show for her. He's done alright since hasn't he? Lead in the Swindon Conservatoire. Not bad.

Spring rolled into Summer and I found myself slyly watching the girls now, not in a pervy way (okay maybe a bit pervy, but I was a young teenager surrounded by young girls, even the 11 year olds had breasts and bras and got changed and; well, and the older ones, some of them, had real breasts that stuck out and everything. Many didn't of course. The dedicated ones, the ones who practiced a lot; they would lose their periods, their tits stayed small, their hips were boyish. That's why Mum had problems with conceiving and giving birth. Extreme ballet is unnatural. But some girls did it for fun, or because they had always done it, and then they found food, drink, boys, chocolate! These managed to put on a little puppy fat, they rounded slightly, their breasts filled their leotards more satisfactorily. They weren't fat, most were still way lighter than the average. 'Course the average was creeping up anyway what with Big Macs and beer and cheap sweets. When they got changed I'd notice a bit more, their knockers were gorgeous I thought, their bums filled their pants rather than being bony protuberances at the top of their legs. Erections became a problem during the changing time. Once we started dancing, that was different. We worked hard, I once invited a rugby player to try out our work out session. He fell over exhausted. I kept up with his training easily.

Winter began to approach and I was the lead, alright the only, boy for the Christmas show. Three girls and me would dance a routine the teacher had choreographed. It involved three lifts, one for each. These were all dedicated dancers, they were thin and feather light and wore their hair scraped back.

Sarah – dark haired, brown eyed. Dedicated to dance since she could walk, said her Mum proudly to anyone who would listen (or who couldn't get away). Quite pushy, her Mum. We had that in common and hit it off. We would jokingly compete to see who had the most manic mother. She had to run across the stage and kind of jump, but it wasn't a jump, it was her momentum that I would convert from horizontal to vertical motion. As she arrived at me my hands would rest on either side of her rock hard stomach and with stiff arms she had no choice but to rotate into the air. My hands held her at the balance point just near her pelvis. Not an overly sexual position.

Unlike Andrea – brunette, grey eyes. My lift for her involved me coming up behind her, putting my arms round her calves and, as she jumped, catching her against me. Then she pivoted forward until her hands hit the floor and I released her to roll head over heels and back up onto toes. Done right my hands were halfway between knee and groin; and my face was in her arse. Done wrong they were holding her upper thighs with hands rubbing her. Like a man having his balls touched, the first time I got the hold wrong she screamed in surprise; only later wondering if she liked it or not. Done very wrong my hands would be too low and I would be unable to hold the leverage as she cantilevered forward. Guy, teacher said, would have done it easily. I was going off Guy.

The last lift was the best. Single handed, the other hand steadied her leg if necessary. She stood and in a complex move I won't try and explain I lifted Marie off the ground with my hand between her legs holding her pelvis. Nothing sexual the teacher implied, showing us all clips of famous male dancers doing it. Ha! Maybe not for them when they fancied men. Me, I had to hold a pretty girl high in the air with my hand on her 'bits'. Of course that wasn't the idea, supporting a girls weight through her vaginal lips would be painful (like hanging a guy by his balls), the pelvis, that was the target. But to the uninitiated it looked sexual.

Mummy offered to help me practice with her. Err No! I wasn't into holding my mother's arse next to my face or thrusting my hand up her jaxy thank you!

But we did need practice.

Andrea, it turned out had a massive house, with a huge wooden parquet floor hallway ideal for practicing our routine. Just when you think someone has it all you find out (again) you shouldn't go by appearances. We went round after school on that Thursday after a ballet practice on the Wednesday that had our teacher ringing her hands in anguish, Marie rubbing her bottom (after I dropped her), me doubting I could do it (I cried later, in private; hetero see? Afraid to express my feelings in public. I didn't think I was up to it) and all four of us thinking this was a disaster. We were met by Magda, the live-in au-pair. Mummy and Daddy were both high-flying financial consultants, away all week and convincing themselves they were doing it for 'the family'. Since the family was Andrea and she had been brought up by a succession of nannies and au-pairs (and as a result could talk badly in 3 East European languages and swear very, very well in French and American) it seemed a little hypocritical I thought but then I really am trying not to judge.

"'Ello Andreeea. Dese are your friends yes? They stay for tea?"

"Ah, yes, please; is that okay?" She was really the boss, but Andrea was always polite.

"Of course, I have made dinner in the oven and a cheese cake in the fridge. I 'ave to go out. Is okay?"

She left, apparently to meet her boyfriend Posdam or Pavlov. I said if he was Pavlov was she his dog, the girls looked horrified and I had to explain the whole thing about Pavlov's dogs so they didn't think I was saying Magda was a dog. She definitely wasn't, she was quite good looking – and it turned out she was a great cook, the beef stewy thing was perfect and the cheesecake wasn't some Tesco bought confection, it was made with Quark and real lemons and limes and tasted like ambrosia. I only tasted one thing better. We're getting there.

"She won't be back tonight" Apparently if she could spend the night with Pavlov, she would. I swear one of the girls mumbled 'dogging', we all dissolved in fits of laughter. These girls could be quite disgusting when the wanted! "Shall we have wine?"

She led us down to a cellar full of wine, I mean full! At home we had a wine rack of 12 bottles and Dad thought himself quite the sophisticate. Andrea pulled out a bottle of St Emilion, then showed us a Nuit St Georges. Then she pulled out a Margaux "Dad paid £200 for this" she wasn't showing off, I think we began to realise she had no home life, God she was deprived! In this house! "I swear one day I'll just have a party and we'll go through these"

"Won't they miss this bottle?"

"Look around you. Do you think they know what they have? No, no idea. Even the Margaux is just to show off, Mummy and Daddy don't know anything about wine. Don't! No, take a sip and savour it. It's actually better than his bloody Nuit St Georges." Turned out one thing she had learnt was how to actually enjoy wine.

We had a glass each and then practiced. Maybe the wine loosened us. I caught them I lifted, they looked brilliant in the mirrors. We danced like Nijinski and Fonteyn! Then we had dinner and another glass.

"Do you want to stay?"

"Nothing to wear tomorrow, no overnight bag babe" said Sarah

"No probs, I'll wash your undies, and your shirts. I can lend you a night dress"

Just like that. Sarah didn't do nightdresses, but there were pyjamas too.

We rang home (again) "not just sshtaying for tea, we've been arshed to stay" The girls had no problem. How was I going to get this passed the Gestapo at home (Mum to you)? "Hi Mummy I'm going to stay overnight with three pretty girls and no supervision and lots of alcohol, Okay?"

Actually it went like this

"Hi Mummy"

"Hello? Oh yes, hello, look Grandma has had a turn. Umm you're staying over aren't you?"

"Ah, I wasn't. Hang on" I covered the mouthpiece smiled at the girls, counted to 30 and then "yes, that's fine. No really it is. Oh, she's just gone into the bathroom " the 'can I speak to his mother' bit "Honestly she said she was happy to help, go and see to Grandma" Grandma lives 50 miles away and has turns when she feels she isn't getting enough attention from her children. She would (as usual) be fully recovered when Mummy arrived to spend the night fretting.

The girls were pleased, really. They wanted to watch some horror film on that night and wanted a man (I was a man after the Ricky incident – they'd heard about it) around. We did our homework. Well, I did the homework. I'm a year younger but in the top maths set and actually ahead of them. They weren't stupid or anything, just like millions of children they didn't get maths. I did. I did all our homeworks.

Andrea sorted out clean knickers for the girls and nightdresses (and pyjamas for Sarah).

"Umm – I have nothing to wear" I pointed out "No!, not wearing a nightdress!"

Only one set of pyjamas (she did say I could have her Dads, that would have been weird). Sarah agreed to vacate the bottoms and just wear the top. I went into the bathroom and pulled on a pair of tight, girls pyjama bottoms, still warm from the girl that had been in them. Thank goodness girls' ones don't have a slit at the front, no pants, they're tight and I'm semi erect. Definitely not a combination for the unwary.

We watched the film 'Curse of the Naked Vampires', yes, 'that' one. Where soft porn meets low grade horror. The number of naked tits was in the hundreds, the number of naked male vampires? Nil. The girls got one view of a naked male arse, that was it.

Then we unpacked the washing machine and carefully arranged the shirts on the typical teenage plan that if they dried flat there would be no creases and no need to iron.

I let Sarah go up the stairs first. With just a top on she gave a great view. Marie knew what I was ogling "nice arse?" she whispered.

"I'm sure yours is just as good" I wasn't going to get embarrassed at lusting after three girls. They knew I thought they looked good and saw it as a compliment. I knew they knew and they knew I knew they knew. We were all comfortable so far.

They slept together in Andrea's bed and I slept in her spare bed (she had a spare bed!). Nothing happened after I realised it was impossible to jack off silently enough not to be heard and I was never sure they were all three asleep.

Morning dawned with showers before breakfast and girls wrapped in nothing more than a towel and me with a hard-on. I realised I should have got off in the shower. Instead I had a cold one to dampen it down, it worked until I got downstairs and then their bare legs and slipping towels and thigh views all made a pointy bit in my towel which all the girls studiously ignored with barely disguised smirks.

We had a few more practices and got good. Our teacher was convinced it was her coaching; who were we to disagree?

"Hi, Andreeea" We all called her that after what Magda had said "are your Mum and Dad coming tomorrow?"

"No, Daddy is in Zurich for the Opec conference. Mummy is negotiating a takeover of International Platinum by Platinum International or something" At least she could make jokes about it, albeit that the pain of another event missed by her parents was evident.

We all agreed we should stay over with her after. The show went well, very well actually. The audience gasped at each of our lifts. Whether the mothers were thinking "glad he hasn't got his hand up MY daughter's arse like that" or the fathers were thinking "you lucky bastard", who knows. They clapped and applauded but then after Marie's mother said, no, on no account was she staying over when Andrea's parents weren't there, au-pair or no au-pair. And that was before she realised I would have been there too (that never came up).

I prayed the night before for a Grandma-turn ... and God came through! Grandma evidently needed someone to put up the Christmas decorations. So, distracted again, my parents agreed to me staying over with my friend. I didn't lie! I even pointed towards Andrea, knowing that they would not see her because they were looking for a boy. They zoomed off into the night and Magda drove the three of us home in her rust bucket car. Did it have road tax? No because it was Polish; did it have an MOT? No because the DVLA didn't know about it because it was Polish.

She dropped us off and went off to meet Zachary – a new month meant a new man for Magda. I'd grown to like her; she didn't ask questions she didn't want answers to, unlike so many adults who ask a question and then get horrified at the answer.

We sat up late, consciously not having brought night bags to replicate the same as the first time. And we drank wine and talked. Marie rang and said sorry she couldn't come and we said we were sorry too; then we hung up and had another glass with some rip-off Pringle-alikes. Two glasses, enough to relax after the sort of day most people will never know, what if I'd dropped one of them?

As we talked we got onto things we'd do differently and I said "so, anything you'd change? Anything that you regret?"

As one the two girls looked down at the small bosoms and sighed.

"You both look great" I said wanly

"Got no titties like Meredith or Charlie"

" ... or Caley" I added

"See, you notice too"

"Come on, Caley's are impossible to ignore, she arrives several seconds before her face does"

They thought about that and then laughed.

"You can't be that bad, I always thought the leotard flattened them"

"It does a bit, but..." Sarah just sighed again, did that cross-armed thing girls do and pulled off her tee-shirt. Andrea gulped, I saw her, and then undid the buttons on her shirt and slipped it off. It was true, their busts did look small. Their bras were the smallest cup size there was I should think.

I was staring, you'd think after where my hands had been I would be used to female bodies; but that had turned into a genuine professional-like dedication; this was two girls inviting me to see them as sexual objects and I was happy to oblige.

"If you want more, you gotta give us something" This was Sarah again.

"Yes, take off your shirt"

"I haven't got a bra to hide my chest" I limply protested.

"Neither will we have if you take off your shirt" Whizz, it could have caught fire the speed it came off.

The two girls reached round and undid their bras. What would have made it perfect would have been if they had taken each other's off, but this was no soft porn internet ripoff.

And still I had to agree, their fifteen year old breasts were smaller than some of the first years at school (or so I'd guessed when we'd eyed up the new comers to see who would be worth watching as they ripened. Sexist I know, but the second years definitely played up to the older boys for the same reasons), not even a handful. But their nipples were still nipples and their tits were still tits and my erection was still rock hard.

"Now what girls?"

"What would you suggest?" Sounds like they aren't wanting to stop yet.

One of the girls suggested a game of scrabble. That wasn't what I was expecting. "Strip scrabble"

Ah, that sounded distinctly more interesting. "How do we play? What are the rules?"

"No idea, I've just made it up"

We thought for a while and agreed, any double word score the other players have to take off an item of clothing. Any triple word score and the other two had to take off two things. Since we were already half undressed this wouldn't take long.

"What if someone lands on a triple word and a player only has their underpants on? They can't take any more off?"

Andrea thought for a while and then said "the other two players have to kiss for 30 seconds, a minute for a full triple word. I mean if they are already, you know, have nothing to take off"

Sarah then asked "what's the prize for winning?"

Andrea with a grin "whatever the winner wants?"

Sarah : "so the triple and double word scores still count points too?"

"Of course" I said. I could see the other two were beginning to plan to play to win. The prize sounded well worth it.

Scrabble may not seem like a spectator sport, but this one would have been. Two topless girls wearing, I guessed, 5 or 6 pieces of clothing. I'd taken my boots off earlier, so I had on even less; that seemed unfair but then it also brought closer the prospect of full, mouth open, tongue entangling kisses. Okay I won't moan about the shoes I thought.

Damn, they were actually pretty good! Sarah got 'parallel' (added to 'par') and Andrea got 'extant'. I was luckier though. There is an element of luck in scrabble, obviously. I was in a position to get a double word with 'bugger' (ger onto bug) and then later a triple word for 'rat'. Not high scoring, but it got Andrea down to her knickers and Sarah beyond. We agreed that she owed one pair of pants and let her keep them on for the while. Then I got 'barnacle' on a double word! Sarah had nothing left to take off so the forfeit kicked in and I watched open mouthed these two went into a lesbian clinch for 30 seconds (I was timing to get my money's worth). I could see they really were getting down and dirty with it. Maybe I stood less chance that I thought. I had the opportunity to get another triple word a few goes later but deliberately missed it. When Sarah took it with 'tea' it wasn't a high score but, being also down to pants, I had the opportunity to test the possibility of same-gender love. My impression of Andrea at least was she was definitely not kissing under duress. She was up for it, and then some. That was the only round I threw. Other than that I had to fight to keep ahead.

Final score was 230, 217, 209. I had the 230. Definitely more luck than skill, but I wasn't complaining.

"So?" said Andrea

"Hmm" me trying to play it cool

"What's your prize?" She could barely hide the smirk that was spreading across her face, her eyes were on my crotch which was pointing the way in literal as well as metaphorical ways.

"I think we should all pay the debts we made during the game first"

So the two of us that had lost our pants removed said articles, then we turned on Andrea and chased her round the room until, me holding her down, getting a faceful of tits in the process, Sarah pulled off her knickers too. Sarah threw them in my face and said "knickers and knockers, what more could you want?"

Well, that was a bit of an open question. What did I want? My cock made it obvious I know, but did I really want to take these girls who were definitely my friends and turn them into lovers? Oh hell, yes, yes I did. I reckoned I would never get a chance like this again.

We sat and talked for a while, I wanted to be sure they were up for this. I know you'd think they must be given they'd just played strip scrabble but stripping off and fucking are two different things, and the fucking things I was contemplating were getting more disgusting by the minute.


"So, you're sure?"

"It could depend on what you want to do; but you won and as long as it isn't what the 'Shear Killer' did with his garden shears then that's fine" The Shear Killer was a horror film, the famous scene where he cuts of a girl's nipples with – well you get the picture.

"Shall we go upstairs? You can describe the details on the way if you like"

I made the girls go first. I have that view cut into granite in my head, I had to hold my dick, it was painfully stiff as it waved around now.

In Andrea's bed it was a squeeze.

"Would you suck me?"

"You'll have to be more descriptive than that. Just tell us what to do"

I moved the pillow a little "Andrea, slide down and suck my cock, lick it, suck it, but don't, DON'T make me come" (that would be hard given how, umm, hard I was). "Sarah sit astride me, no, up on my face"

So the threesome began, they were both pretty wet, a few fingery fondles had found that out, now I wanted to taste girl juice is all its wet, slimy, sexiness. Sarah tasted like cream cakes should taste, I might like them more if the cream was girl cream. Andrea's lips encircled me with an enthusiasm that surprised me. I thought girls generally had to be made to take a man's penis; but she was well up for it. Actually she was well up for bringing me all the way. She wanted to taste me as much as I wanted to taste her! Thing is I knew I would produce a load of cum and she'd gag on it. She was still learning.

Sarah was shaved, she said it made dancing easier, sometimes her leotard rubbed the hairs uncomfortably, smooth skin and no escaping hairs was a better feel. My tongue found its way deep inside her lovely folds of skin. I had no idea what I was meant to do but then this was meant to be my prize, not hers. Still, I was doing something right, she was producing a steady trickle of her fluids now, she was moaning gently and her fingers reached down to just above my nose and started rubbing herself. I pulled Andrea off my cock so I could concentrate on Sarah, my fingers followed hers, then moved round behind her and my tongue started alternating between her slit and the little raise mound that she had been stroking. Meanwhile my fingers found her arse crack, and then her arse, she was tight and bony, there was no flabby buttock to peel away from her little brown hole. A finger slide tightly and dryly in. It was not a good fit, I pulled it out and (surprising her and myself) licked it and tried again, still not really sliding well. She took my fingers and pushed my face out the way gently but firmly. Then she coated my fingers in her fanny juice and let my tongue back in. My fingers moved back and a finger from each hand began to delve. First left hand, then right. Left, right, tongue, tongue. She came a few minutes after. I thought I was hurting her at first. Her gentle moans became near cries of anguish as she got higher and higher on that ecstatic plain. "I can't ... oh, OH! OHHHH!! I, ahh! It, OHH! YES! DON't STOP! YES!" Incoherent or what? How was a guy expected to know what to do? A small flood of virginal cum was flowing out over my face.

"Andrea, come up here" I rolled Sarah over so she was sitting on the pillow beside me, and positioned Andrea to lick her dry. I figured after the kiss I'd witnessed that these two wouldn't find that as gross as I'd find having to lick off a boy. I soon saw I was right. As Andrea caressed and stroked and licked and, yes, and nibbled (I hadn't thought of doing that), Sarah's noise levels starting to go up again.

"Please, I don't think I can take this againnnnn, oh my Gnaaaaw! Yes! Oh! Yes!" Then she suddenly, and very unexpectedly turned into a foul-mouthed slut, it was great. "Yes, fuck me you wanking bitch, lick my cunt clean and make me come all over your cunt shaped mouth you arse loving fucker! YES!!!!, DON'T STOP UNTIL I Saaaaaayyyyy!! OH yes! Oh, oh, " she started to come down again "oh, thank you, I, oh I, ummmmmm, oh mmmmmmm" Like I said, incoherent, but plainly appreciative. Then "I must say, I really am most grateful" She was back to normal. "I'm really embarrassed about the language earlier, did I really call you an 'a' loving 'f'? Orgasms make me totally out of control. It's lovely"

Andrea of course was head down and arse in the air. A dream come true. You might wish for more flesh on a girl, but you really couldn't complain at the musculature that came into play. She slid up Sarah a little and then started kissing, fondling and nipping her nipples; left, right, right, left. Sarah's hand crept down to her groin again. Another thing about baller dancers – stamina. Andrea gave me an invitatory look; I was supposed to be in charge here, I was the winner, but I was definitely being pulled along in the slipstream of two girls' overwhelming levels of hormones. I was okay on the theory but not the practice but I managed to kneel behind this lovely bottom and, with some guidance from Andrea, slid into her delightfully lubricated vagina. Her hymen (like most dancers) had long gone of course, there was no obstruction and I was able to just kind of slip all the way until I was holding her hips and gently pushing. Her pelvic muscles came into play as they had done in the lifts, tightening, creating hard surrounding around the soft spongy inner. As I began to get excited I felt Sarah slide down the bed a little, her legs pushed between mine and her hand touched me as she started to caress Andrea's mons.

I'm a dancer too, fit, healthy and in control. I held out longer than most in a threesome of virgins. Andrea came first, more coherently, more clearly and more obviously – she screamed at the end. We found out later it was her first time, she had never felt herself, never masturbated. It took her by surprise. As soon as she came I increased my thrusting and came soon after. I felt like an Olympic god fucking some Greek maiden as of right. I actually think part of me wanted Andrea to resist so I could take her by force; but I'm not complaining, it was superb. I felt that I filled her tight, little pussy with my cum; seemed like I could produce more when I was fucking a girl. When I did a one-man job it was a small knob sometimes. This felt like a pint mug. Andrea made all the right noises about me filling her up etc. She was really very diplomatic.

We collapsed on the bed and I lay with a massive smile on my face, female naked flesh seemed to surround me.

"Well, stud, you're halfway"


"You've fucked my little arse, but now you've got to fill Sarah too. Wouldn't be right not too"

"That's right lover-boy, I'd tell everyone you tried and failed" Sarah laughed. I knew neither would be bragging about any of this. Neither would I, this was between us.

"Give me half an hour"

"Ohhhhh, you're so strong and manly" Sarah slid down and took my flaccid cock into her mouth and made appreciative noises as she sucked off the spunk and Andrea's juices. It did take 30 minutes of her and then Sarah licking me and – bloody hell! – each other before I rose to the occasion again. I took Sarah on her back, felt a finger or two playing round my scrotum from behind, tickling my arse, felt lips licking my ears and felt the wonderful contractions of a penis ejaculating in time with a vagina reaching orgasm. Oh, man I was in seventh heaven with two delicious angels.

We all three drifted to sleep in a kind of bundle of bodies and sweat; only woken by Magda coming in with a tray of tea – for three! She didn't turn a hair that her charge was underage, having orgies and a naked man's (I was sure I was a man now) arse was sticking out of the bedclothes.

"Andreeea, you and your friends should be drezzed soon when Momma comes back"

I think Andrea would have let Momma find her in flagrante, but we realised that would end this story so we all showered (separately, girls like to wash themselves privately after sex I found, and boys happily pee in the shower which these two would have found disgusting) and dressed. Then the discussion turned to Marie. It seemed unfair that she should be left out. We started to hatch a plan to give her the pleasure fest of her life.

The plan became quite complex but definitely workable. We pooled resources – Andrea put up 50% of the money, she had more 'lying around'. I found a lovely little cottage for weekend rent about 50 miles away. Set in a wooded valley, it was close to a village with delightful pubs (we decided it would be easiest to get served in the country, less chance of police checks so less chance of pubs being too punctilious) and coffee shops; but no public footpaths nearby to disturb any outdoor activity. In short, it was perfect for our plans. Together we put together a letter with headed note paper from Marie's school (that was a challenge, it had to look genuine, but we didn't have a copy of Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception's letterhead. This was solved by the simple expedient of writing to them – their reply was on their paper which was in blue on white paper, a colour photocopier and a bored library assistant who didn't watch us photocopying the pictures from a book and we had a sheaf of headed paper).

"Dear Mr and Mrs O'Connell,

Marie has been invited to attend a colloquium on "Regional Development Attitudes in the Post-Industrial Age" next weekend. There were two places available for the school and she was on the waiting list; now Melinda McGrottat can not attend I am pleased to offer Marie the place.

Since others have also asked to attend, I would be grateful if you could respond quickly if she cannot attend, then I can offer the place elsewhere.

Sarah O'Dwyer (Mrs)"

We deliberately gave them short notice, no time to ring up or discuss it. Of course if Marie's mum said no then we'd lost the money on the cottage (unless we went anyway ... tempting). Melinda McGrottat had left recently (so could not accidentally be met with and quizzed), and the colloquium? It really did exist, it had offered places to schools, it looked deadly boring. We'd arranged to get some of the advertising and last year's papers so Marie could return with details. We even left a spelling mistake in for the parents to tut-tut about rather than asking more pertinent questions. Oh, we thought we were brilliant (and we were!).

We forged some letters to the schools from the dance teacher urging a Friday and Monday off for this 'big thing'. That was the riskiest bit, it would be obvious that all the people away (three schools) were working in collaboration because the letters were the same. But we were never found out.

I know Magda smelled a rat; she apparently said to Andrea on the Wednesday, "If you want to be a horny little bitch and hump your young body away, that's up to you" Or at least Andrea thought that's what she said, when Andrea said


"I said I think this morning I stitch the hump on the body the camel so it has two" She claimed she was making a stuffed camel! Yeah right.

There is more of this story...
The source of this story is Storiesonline

For the rest of this story you need to be logged in: Log In or Register for a Free account