Betting On My Family
Chapter 1: Won't You Be My Neighbor?

Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft, mt/Fa, ft/ft, Mult, Teenagers, Blackmail, Coercion, Drunk/Drugged, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Humor, Incest, Group Sex, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, First, Oral Sex, Prostitution,

Desc: Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 1: Won't You Be My Neighbor? - Ben is out of sorts after moving to idyllic Orange County with his family and is coerced into the illegal and dangerous sex trade. As a crisis at home ensues and difficulties at work intensify, Ben’s family and a motley crew of co-workers are forced to make difficult choices before their new fairy-tale existence comes crashing down around them.

"Mmm, that feels so good," she said. "You've really got a knack for this. You have no idea what you're doing to me."

"Thanks," I said, for lack of a better response. To be honest, I really didn't have any idea what I was doing to her. I'd simply squirted some of the coconut-smelling cream into my palms and massaged it into the tanned flesh of her shoulders. I'd even been about to ask her if I was doing it right when her moans convinced me that I was, and I became even more sure when she murmured "That's nice, now go a little lower."

It was the summer of 2015. I was fifteen years old and hard as a rock.

I allowed my lotion-covered fingers to drift farther down her back, brushing against the spaghetti strap of her bikini top. "Derek wasn't lying," she said. "You really do have have magic fingers." Magic fingers? The lie was so ludicrous that it made me smile, but I quickly corrected myself, remembering Derek's words. "Never smile," he said, "it makes you look like a clown. A serious expression makes you seem dangerous, and women like to fuck dangerous."

But maybe my fingers were magic. Who knows? I had no other way to explain how I was doing so well. I'd never helped a woman apply suntan lotion, let alone given a massage, and Derek knew that. I moved my hands lower and started working the oil into her tanned lower back. I spread my magic fingers wide and swept upward, starting from the arch of her butt and kneading my way upwards until my fingertips again grazed the strap of her top.

"Here," she said. "Let me help you. She reached backward to grasp one of the ends and gave it a tug, the knot unspooling. The straps fell down her sides as Derek's words came to me again. "It's important not to rush things but these women know why you're here and it's not to clean their fucking pool. If she gives you a signal, seize it."

The only problem was that I was only fifteen and had no idea what constituted a signal. I was glad that she lay face down and so couldn't see the indecision cross my face. Was this a signal? Should I do something or just keep oiling her back? Derek's words: "It's 90% confidence, kid. Never hesitate." I took my chances. A woman untying her bikini sent me a pretty strong signal whether she had intended to or not. I seized the opportunity, or rather, I seized them.

I slid my hands down her sides and underneath the cups of her top. She stiffened as she felt my inexperienced hands clasp around her very lovely very fake tits and then I heard the most ego-damaging sound a young lover will ever hear - a giggle. She was laughing at me. "Slow down there, Casanova," she said. "You young men are always so eager." Her hands found mine and she gently pulled them away before coming to her elbows and looking over her shoulder to me. She smiled kindly through her sunglasses but I didn't detect any sign of the raging sexual inferno that I'd hoped to be inspiring in her.

She tilted her shades down with a finger and I saw her eyes go wide noticing how much my cargo shorts were tented out. The raging sexual inferno in me was very evident and pointed right at her. "So eager," she repeated before laying back down. She arched her back and stuck her butt up in the air.

"Take this off," she commanded, and I dutifully peeled the slim triangle of fabric over the bronzed humps of her ass and down her thighs. She lifted her knees so I could complete her undressing. "Now finish what you started." Slowly, so as not to appear too eager, I settled my hands on the back of her waist before moving lower and rounding the curves. Eager doesn't begin to describe how I felt on the inside, and my heart was beating so fast that I was becoming light-headed. I firmly gripped a handful of butt flesh, squeezing and pulling the cheeks apart so that her glistening sex peeked out at me.

I wanted to mount her right there. I wanted to straddle her waist and sink every last inch of me into that slick hotness. I wanted to push her against the towel and hold her there while I pounded her senseless. I wanted to make her body mine, and to make it ache, and then I wanted to fill her up with my cum so as to claim my property. It sounds barbaric - and it is - but if you ever see a fifteen year old boy staring at a woman and wonder what he was thinking, it is this, more or less. We're animals.

I would never act on any of these urges, of course. I was still trying to understand them. I had only ever kissed a few girls before, let alone mounted them, and while the thought of doing so filled me with desire, it also filled me with anxiety. I wasn't completely without a clue, but sex was still a big mystery to me. It was a mystery that I wanted to pursue, of course, but still a mystery.

I was trying to learn though, and so took her advice. "Not so eager." I massaged past her bottom and reoiled my palms to begin on her thighs. She moaned appreciatively. "Once you're done with my back, I'll flip over. Then you can oil my front." My heart, impossibly, started beating even faster. "And once I'm all oiled up, we'll see if your dick is as magic as your fingers." I grinned and didn't care if she noticed.

"It is," I assured her, and she laughed again, only instead of bruising my ego, this time she stoked it.

"Well then get to it, young stud. I have a lot of tension to deal with before my 3 o'clock. You've got a lot of work ahead of you."

"Yes ma'am," I replied and put my hands to purpose. This was turning out to be the best job ever.

If I was to examine all the years of my life up to now and choose the best one of all, the one in which I had experienced the most unadulterated joy, I would not choose the year I met my wife, or even the year we had our beautiful twin girls. These were pinnacles in my life, incredible moments that I cherish and will never forget, But I would still have to say that 2015 was the winner. That summer was like a perfect storm of good fortune for me.

Three big things happened that year. The first is that my father, my sister, and I moved from the suburbs around Pittsburgh to a sunny and affluent neighborhood in Orange County, California. My father, a mild-mannered IT director for our school district had started a software company with his old college buddies in the hopes of striking it rich in the apps market. Their first creation "Gadzooks!" - a relatively mundane indie space sim - ended up bombing commercially, but an astute investor noticed that the physics engine they designed for the game was incredibly robust, revolutionary even. It was the result of talented passion, focused effectively. Only a year after founding his company, he and his co-owners sold it to a larger game manufacturer for seven figures and a job. His new offices were in California, so we moved out there as soon as school was out. Naturally, as a fifteen-year-old, I was pissed. I bitched considerably:

"What's so fucking important in California? All my friends are here! They don't even have seasons in SoCal! I'm a Steelers fan, damn it!" All arguments considered, that was the gist of it. Unfortunately for me, all of my complaints were all of the juvenile high school variety, and the fact that southern California doesn't have seasons could not dissuade my father from accepting the life-changing offer of employment.

The second event of 2015 was that my family got a little bit bigger. In early May, before the move, my father Clarence Fairchild married Babette Franklin, his long-time girlfriend. They married quickly because of the sudden unexpected job offer, but both my twin sister Kaitlyn and I knew it was coming. They were adorable together, and Mr. Fairchild was simply a better man when she was around. Katie and I liked her.

Like my father, Babs was a divorcee and had three children of her own. Sylvia, her eldest, was already in her freshman year at Stanford, but the other two girls -- Lexi and Bridget -- would both be moving into our new house in California with us, which I was assured would be big enough for the entire newly-extended family.

The third major development in 2015 was that I finally got lucky, in spectacular fashion. I know that ranking the loss of my virginity on par with these life-changers may seem a little prurient, but I was fifteen and sex was and is a big deal to me.

Now, the loss of one's virginity is usually a disappointing affair. One or both participants have no idea what goes where, how to act, how to move; things of that nature. It can be awkward or even painful sometimes, and guys tend to last all of two minutes before they're finished. In comparison, my experience was fucking awesome and the long sweaty months that followed were so momentous as to inspire this account, and turn 2015 into the best year of my life.

To be fair, this story isn't all sugarplums and bubblegum. I wasn't drowning in ass right off the bat, sad to say. There were more than a few obstacles to get around and plenty of hoops to jump through like any other time in my life, but a chance encounter at a welcoming party shortly after our arrival in Cali brought into motion a chain of events that would drop into my lap all the sex that I could handle, and I was fifteen; we're talking a lot of sex, here.

It all started with a summer job.

"You know Katie, I know you don't want to hear this, but our sisters are kinda hot."

"You're right. I don't want to hear this."

"I mean, I kinda thought so before the wedding too, but tonight, they look amazing."

"You're not allowed to think they're hot anymore. It's gross. For Christ's sake Ben, they're your sisters!" My twin Katie and I stood with our backs against the wall of The Hilton's ballroom. My dad's new employers was having a celebratory meet and greet in honor of his arrival and the acquisition of his company. It was quite the swanky event and the whole family, all seven of us minus Sylvia - who was summering at school - had to unpack our best duds and get our hair did so Reckless Games could see what an upstanding WASPy family my father had. Five minutes into hors d'oeuvres saw Katie and I against the wall with little plates of nibbles doing what we liked to do best: people-watching.

"I can't stop thinking they're hot just because dad decided to put a ring on it. I mean damn, are you seeing this dress Lexi is wearing?"

"Shut up, you're disgusting." I knew talking about our new sisters irritated Katie and that's part of why I did it. The other part was that Lexie was sporting a sprayed-on backless cocktail dress that accentuated her already impressive cleavage and full creamy thighs. Lexi had lately become my greatest source of boner inspiration, and billions upon billions of little Bens were sacrificed in her honor almost every night. I couldn't stop fantasizing about her, but then again, I couldn't stop fantasizing about anyone. You would never guess by looking at her that she was only 16. Many of the suits casting her lascivious looks from across the room would check themselves if they did.

"You're just jealous," I said. Her eyes narrowed at me but her smile was amused.

"Jealous? Why should I care which skanks you find attractive?"

"It's OK, Katie." I grinned at her and sipped my punch. "I think you're pretty too."

"Oh Jesus. Just shut up, Ben. SHUT UP!" She stomped off in a huff towards the open bar and I couldn't help but stare as I watched her leave.Though she was my twin, and though I felt super creepy admitting it, Katie was turning into quite the fox herself. She didn't have the curves to match Lexi due to her athletic Tom-boy nature, but long hours on the stair-climber and three years of track had graced her with an ass that deserved to be cast into bronze. But, she's my sister, so just ... eww.

There's something nasty and morally repugnant about considering a blood relative in that way, but there was power in that ass. I had once gotten hard just watching her do lunges, and I'd wanted to throw up afterwards from the guilt. Sometimes, I wished she grow an extra head or gain a hundred pounds so I could stop feeling lustful towards her, but I knew she wouldn't. She was a natural athlete, just like dad, and just like me.

"Hey Ben! Come over here for a second. I'd like you to meet someone." My dad was gesturing to me from across the room. I walked over and stood at his side as he finished explaining his future projects. He rapped me on the shoulders as he turned the conversation to me. "Ben, I want you to meet Dana Ordon. She's an investor and was one of the deciding votes in acquiring my engine. I extended my hand and was surprised when she greeted me with a strong brisk handshake.

From her appearance, I had expected a more dainty response. She was wearing a deep scarlet dress that matched both her auburn hair and crimson lips, in addition to her spiky heels that made her appear only a few inches shorter than my 6'3". She was tall but had a thin delicate nature to her, like she could be blown away by a sharp breeze.

"Hello Ben," she said, and then "Wow. You're a lot bigger than I thought you'd be."

"I get that a lot," I said, because it was true. Puberty had struck me later than usual but with the force of a thousand suns. Over the past year and a half, I'd been growing so freakishly fast that my bones ached. My voice had lowered almost overnight into a deep uneven timbre, I started growing hair in really weird places, and I crested six feet by my fifteenth birthday. I was still growing, too.

I had been weight-training since I was twelve, and playing sports since before I can remember, and I'd ended up gaining over eighty pounds in less than two years. In baggy clothing, I could almost pass for a man grown, and only my boyish face with it's peach fuzz and high dimples betrayed my true age. She looked me up and down with a clinical eye.

"I certainly don't remember boys your size when I was fifteen," she said.

"Yeah," my dad replied, beaming with pride. "He takes after his old man." Clarence had played football for Notre Dame, is 6'5", and must be one of only a few programmers in the country that can bench-press over 450 lbs. Dude's a beast. He's not your typical code monkey, unless your typical code monkey likes to unwind from a hard coding session with a round of power cleans.

"Dana might be able to help you with a job, Ben."

"Oh..." I said, caught off guard. "That's ... that's great." Only, it wasn't. My dad had a thing about hard work, due diligence, competition, and excellence, but I didn't share his commitment wholeheartedly. My sister and I had strict rules about study time, homework time, chores time, and fitness time, and I barely had time for friends as it was, with all my extra-curriculars. My sister and I sometimes felt like we were being raised like race-horses instead of real people. But still, dad felt it was important for me to hold down a part-time job so I could learn the plight of the working man, despite the fact that I wasn't even old enough to work in most states.

"I guess I could use the money," I added. Even though dad had scored some cash from selling his company, Orange County was expensive as shit and the house he found for us cost him so much that he refused to tell us exactly how much. Besides, he was tight-fisted when it came to allowances as it was. Dana smiled at that, and then looked me up and down again. It struck me as odd that she was inspecting me like a commodity. "What's the job?"

"I own a number of commercial entities around the area," she explained, "but with the economy the way it is, there is only one position I can offer to a boy of fifteen." My father was nodding attentively, more interested than I was. " ... but I actually think you'll be perfect for it. Tell me, do you know anything about cleaning pools?" And that was how I landed the best job of my life.

It didn't strike me as all that great from the start, though. The majority of the work was outdoors and Southern California is a pretty hot place to work outdoors. It also seemed to me a form of torture to endlessly work around clean pools of cool refreshing water without ever being afforded the chance to jump in and cool off. During the interview, the manager also seemed intent on frightening me by telling me how difficult the job was. "You gotta be here by 8 o'clock sharp," he would say, "and you gotta make sure the store-front is clean and the chemicals are stocked before you head to your first house, and you have to make it there by 9!" Everything he mentioned sounded ridiculously easy, so I wondered what the difficult part was.

"This job is cake," one of the other stockboys assured me. "Plus, you'll get to roll around with Derek and Drew. They're cool peoples."

I was to report for work at 8am the following Monday and I hadn't even been in California a whole week yet. I didn't have a driver's license yet, but the place was only a few miles away so I could walk or jog there without issue. It was while I was walking home that first day, in fact, that I first met Diana, the lady from across the street.

Like most other afternoons, I had women on my mind, and walking through the suburbs of Orange County was not helping matters. People dressed differently here. I was used to a jeans and T-shirt crowd but women here wore practically nothing at all. Because it was an upscale neighborhood, there were legions of joggers, and most were clad in varying amounts of Spandex accentuated by tight sports bras.

Dudes were running around wearing nothing but shorts. Girls would be seen playing in the streets wearing tank tops and bikini bottoms and glimpses into backyards revealed pool after pool after pool, many ringed with bronzed skinned goddesses worshipping the sun in skimpy swimwear. Everywhere I looked was flesh and sex, and my already giant libido grew with each jiggling breast I saw bounce down the road.

I was just about to turn into my driveway when a shiny black Lexus swerved into the driveway opposite mine. It was moving way too fast to make the turn and the front bumper smacked off the curb as the tires squealed and it came to a stop. It wasn't a cool maneuver. It was just shitty driving. Still, it made me pause for a moment, curious.

The car door opened and two girls spilled out of the front seats, big goofy movie-star sunglasses screening their eyes. They were both wearing short black dresses and heels, and because it was Saturday morning in the suburbs and not happy hour, I figured they must have been dressed from the night before. They stumbled drunkenly toward the trunk of the car, laughing hysterically.

Watching the spectacle, I could see that they were both total hotties, and hotties of similar proportions. Long tanned legs led to tight perky butts, then to slim figures adorned with unnaturally firm-looking breasts the size and shape of grapefruits. Even their hair was similar, both having shoulder length straight locks tied back into pony tails. Their only difference lie in the color: One had hair the color of dark chocolate while the other was platinum pornstar blonde.

"Holy shit," I mumbled. My neighbors back in PA had been an elderly man who never remembered to zip up his fly and a middle-aged lesbian couple. The blonde saw me staring and waved at me before popping the trunk. It was just a friendly wave, but I wasn't used to female attention from such beautiful creatures, so I jogged across the street to introduce myself.

I had butterflies in my stomach at the prospect of even talking to them, and they made matters worse by bending over to inspect the full trunk. Their trunks weren't quite so full, but bubbly enough to make me wish I had chosen briefs over boxers that morning. I was at a quarter chub before I even opened my mouth.

"Hi. I'm Ben. I live across the street. I just moved here."

In my eagerness, the words all tumbled from my lips before I could from them into complex sentences. The blonde slowly unbended from the trunk and turned to me, brushing some loose strands from her eyes and wearing a mischievous smile full of secrets.

"Oh ... umm, hi!" She had obviously not expected me to run across the street for introductions, but she recovered quickly. "I'm Diana," she said, extending a hand, "It's a pleasure." The other girl leaned even further into the trunk so that her itsy-bitsy dress rose perilously close to her cheeks. She repositioned her legs to reach even further, and then the hem actually did pop up and over her asscheeks, enough for me to see that she wasn't wearing panties. I froze on the spot and my eyes must have gone wide because Diana followed my gaze right to her partner's ass.

"Oh stop that!" she chided with a swift slap to said rump. "You're doing that on purpose." The other woman slowly uncoiled from the trunk before fixing me with a gaze both predatory and inebriated. She produced the object of her search - a baby carrot - and took a bite.

"Sorry," she said sloppily, "I couldn't reach." Her dress was still raised half up her rear end, and though she was facing me now, I could see almost all the way up the front of her thighs. I could think of nothing else but bending her back over that trunk and having my way with her, right here in the street. After allowing the moment to ripen, she balanced the carrot between her teeth and began to laboriously tug the hem of her dress down into a more modest position. What she didn't seem to realize in her state was that as the hem was pulled lower, so was the neckline, and I unconsciously held my breath and she pulled down a little too far, allowing her sequestered tits to spill from their confines and gloriously burst free into the world.

My virgin eyes had never beheld a breast in real life before, let alone magic breasts like hers that held a perfect near-spherical shape and seemed to defy gravity. In less that twenty seconds, this woman had shown me my first pussy lips, and my first bare breasts, and from the flirtatious glimmer in her eyes, she knew it and had done it on purpose.

"Oh my God, Triss! Cover yourself!" Diana stepped between us, shielding the errant boobies from view, and adjusted her friend's cleavage so that when she again stepped to the side, all breasts were once again in their proper place. Triss took the carrot from her teeth before fixing her eyes upon me. She smiled at what must have been an expression of absolute bewilderment.

"Sorry," she said again. "hope I didn't scare you too much." Or maybe my expression was one of abject fear, which I also felt in equal measure. They were young petite women and I could probably bench press both of them at once, but their attractiveness made them terrifyingly intimidating.

"This is my partner Beatrice," Diana said, staring daggers at the girl. "She's delighted to meet you." I extended my hand and she took it with a slight squeeze. She held on slightly longer than usual and brushed her thumb across mine. My heart was already pounding from the flashing though, so I probably imagined it. "Don't mind her," Diana continued. "She's just still drunk from last night." Triss rolled her eyes.

"I'm fine, mom," she said, and polished off the carrot. She turned and bent over the trunk again, but not nearly as far, and hoisting a paper bag full of groceries, started up the pathway to the house. Her ass traced figure-eights in the air as she strode, and I watched like a rabid dog as my brain struggled to process all of the sensory data. Diana caught me staring.

"Ahem," she said, shattering my reverie. She had also hefted a large paper bag from the trunk and flicked her head toward the remaining two. "Give a girl a hand?"

"Of course," I said loudly, and made a show of effortlessly lifting the bags because I was a big strong man with big strong muscles. I held them low too, to prevent her from seeing something else that was big and strong at the moment. She smiled at the display and I followed her inside.

Their house was a large fenced-in four bedroom pseudo-mansion that would have struck me as impressive if the entire neighborhood hadn't been full of them. We had lived in a duplex back in Pittsburgh, which I'd never had a problem with, but it seemed like everyone in Orange County was either rich or pretending to be. Diana's house had a similar floor plan to our new home, and I followed her through the front door, into the kitchen.

"Where are you moving from?" she asked, placing her bag on the counter and taking out a carton of milk. I was sure she'd notice my erection if I lowered my bags so I stood nearby, clutching the bags to my chest.

"Pittsburgh," I told her, " ... in Pennsylvania." She nodded slowly at me.

"Yeah," she said. "I know where Pittsburgh is."

"Oh," I said. "Sorry."

She walked across the room to the fridge and opened the door, squatting to place the milk carton in the back. This had the consequence of nearly flashing me again, the top halves of each breast pressed snugly together inside her tight dress. They strained against their confines and seemed to be angled directly at me. I was beginning to get the idea that these girls were messing with me on purpose. At the same time, I didn't care.

"How are you liking California?"

"It's pretty cool, I guess." I averted my eyes as she stood back up so I wouldn't be caught in the act again. "It's just different though. People and everything."

"Yeah, people around here are a little crazy. I remember how shocked I was when I first came from Dallas. Took a while to settle in." She finished unloading the bag and popped a strawberry into her mouth. "That's in Texas," she said smiling.

"I know," I stammered. I blushed hard and she winked at me.

"Here, let me take those." She reached around the paper bags to scoop them up and I swear I felt her fingers brushing down my ribs before she took the bags. It gave me goose bumps. As she moved to place the bags on the counter, I quickly maneuvered behind the kitchen island to hide my pelvis. I was rigid, and the dress that she wore was small and cute enough to only make matters worse.

"What do you do?" she asked. At fifteen, I'd never been asked the question before. Everyone usually assumed I was a student, but then I had grown considerably over the past two years.

"I'm a pool guy ... er ... technician." I said brightly, remembering that I actually did have a job.

"Oh, that's great actually. We need a new pool guy." I looked across the room through the glass windows to the pool in the back. It looked pristine.

"We had a guy until about a week ago," she explained, "but he and Triss started hooking up, and it became this thing, and it started to get awkward, and..." She trailed off while searching through the bags. "Triss!" she called out, "did you bring in the whipped cream?" She stood at the counter, facing the wall.

"Yeah babe, it's back here," a distant voice returned.

"Anyway, Triss tried to break it off with this guy and it became this whole fiasco. We had to call the cops, and it started to..." While she was talking, Triss rounded the corner to the kitchen. She had untied her ponytail to let her hair frame her face, and had apparently changed into more relaxing attire. She wore nothing but a smile.

In a flash, time seemed to slow down around her. The kitchen, the fridge, and the countertop disappeared, and all that remained was Triss, beautiful naked Triss with her beautiful naked tits. She didn't notice me initially, and glanced quizzically toward Diana, wondering who she was talking to. Then she glanced across the island and saw me, paralyzed in awe. A shadow of a blush crossed her face at being caught nude by a strange boy, but it was quickly replaced by a grin, a devious expression full of mischief.

She stopped, but made no move to cover up. She cocked her head to the side instead, seeming to consider what to do about me. I had no idea how to react to the situation and her being naked was like throwing gasoline on an already raging bonfire. Beneath that countertop was a monster of an erection and Triss' figure would be sure to keep it growing. My mouth opened and closed at a loss for words and Diana, oblivious, kept telling the saga of the former pool guy and unloading her bags.

Realizing Diana's cluelessness at her presence, Triss took two steps to stand across the island from me and silently placed the can of whipped cream on the top. Then she put her palms on the counter and leaned far over it, letting her tits hang off of her chest and hover in the open air. Her nipples were pink little eraser tips topping-silver dollar-sized areolas and I felt like I was dreaming as she rocked side-to-side, intentionally causing her tits to sway like dangling fruit that refused to fall from the branch. My dick had moved from desperately curious to legitimately angry at being toyed with, and it took all of my resolve not to jump across the island and start humping her like a confused chihuahua.

Triss giggled at my helplessness but covered her mouth to mask any sound, then she blew me a kiss and turned around to leave, having had her fun at my expense. Just to ice the cake though, she arched her back suggestively and bounced a few times on her heels, her hefty butt cheeks bouncing at me, fucking with my mind. She twerked then with such skill and ability that it would make Miley Cyrus weep at her own ineptitude. She twerked with such hands-free agility that American Ninja Warrior contestants would be impressed. She twerked for me, and I bit my bottom lip to not cum in my shorts.

Then she flashed me a satisfied smile and quickly scampered around the corner as Diana finished. " ... and long story short, we just need a new pool guy." It took me a second to pick up the shattered pieces of my composure but it thankfully only took a few seconds for me to realize that she was done speaking and that a response was warranted.

"Uhh ... yeah. I'm just getting started because of the move and stuff, but you should call my company. It's the one on Fairbanks." Diana turned around at last and noticed the whipped cream on the island. She did a double take at it before considering that she had made a mistake before.

"Oh," she said. "It's right there." She walked over and picked up the can, looking at me conspiratorially and lowering her voice. "I'll tell you what. I'll hire you if you promise not to mess around with Triss. Between you and me, she's kind of a slut, and she bores easily and then never wants to see the guy again. You wouldn't believe how many gardeners we went through last year alone." She suddenly seemed to realize that she had been talking for some time, and checked herself.

"Wow," she said. "I probably shouldn't be so candid with someone I just met. I apologize." She pulled some loose hairs behind her ears and took a seat on of the stools that circled the island. "Just keep that stuff between us," she added.

"I won't tell," I said, eager to change the topic, "So, uh ... What do you guys do?"

"We're actresses," she replied.

"Oh cool, like on TV?"

"Actually most of our stuff is straight to DVD." Now, I'm not as stupid as I act most of the time, and somewhere deep inside my mind, I am certain that I knew she was talking about porn. I mean, the only other type of film I knew that went directly to DVD was Disney sequels, and there was nothing kid-friendly about this girl. She was the perfect combination of sexy and congenial, with just enough trashy to get your blood pumping. I could remember no character in "Simba's Pride" that matched that description.

Thing was, I was so occupied with hiding my boner that I was only half-listening to her words. "Oh that's cool," I said. "Would I recognize you from anything?"

"Oh, sweet Jesus. I hope not," she said, sighing, but then she seemed to recall that she was speaking to a young man. "But probably. I've been in a lot of films."

"No kidding. What was the last film you did?" She smiled awkwardly and seemed to run out of lies. She raised her hands in a sort of exasperated shrug.

"Well," she began, "last night, I scored the starring role in a movie called "Anally Challenged." I thought I misheard so I simply nodded. "It was a thinkpiece concerning racial relations." She snickered. "And just last week, Triss and I wrapped on our zombie parody, "The Fucking Dead."

"Oh ... wow," I said, the gear in my head finally clicking into place. I suddenly became aware that the girl sitting across from me, my own neighbor, was a real live pornstar. The blonde vixen demurely perched atop this stool fucked on camera, and did it so well that she was paid for it. Somehow, it made her seem almost supernatural, and she transformed before me from a sexy young girl into the goddess of my dreams. "I didn't mean to ... It's just that ... I'm ... I'm sorry." She furrowed her brow?

"Sorry for what?"

"Nothing," I stammered. "I uh ... didn't mean to make you, uhh ... tell me something that you ... didn't want to?" I was blubbering like an idiot. She stared.

"You didn't make me do anything," she said. "Why wouldn't I want to tell you that?"

"I don't know." I shrugged helplessly. I wanted to say, "The issue is contentious, dear madam, and while society seems to have come to grips with the production of pornopgraphic media, the majority religious base in America still clings to archaic and perhaps unfair stereotypes concerning purity and sexuality that cast undue shame upon your chosen profession," but I was fifteen and hard, so I what said was, "Some people think it's something to be ashamed of."

"You mean like you?" she countered. "You think what I do is shameful?"

"No!" I said, backpedaling, "Absolutely not! I have no problems with porn. I love porn."

"So you're a pervert, then?"

"Whaaat? No!" I totally was, as my current rigidity attested. "How can you even..."

"Relax, Ben," she said smiling. "I'm just messing with you." I sighed heavily but my heart was still racing. I had even started to sweat.

"I really thought you guys were pornstars for a second."

"Oh no honey, we really are pornstars. I was talking about all the stuff after that." My dick felt like it would explode. I was starting to worry. I needed to extricate myself from the situation. "Do you want something to drink?" she asked.

"Umm, I need to go."

She nodded. "OK."

I started to make my way around the island. "I've got a lot of things to do..."

"Sure," she said. "Well, it was nice meeting you. We'll have to have you over for dinner sometime."

"Great," I said, approaching the edge. She stood up.

"Here, let me walk you out."

"Not necessary!" I called and then bolted for the door before she could see my absurdly obvious erection. It probably looked like I'd shoved a tube of tennis balls down my shorts, but that was being generous. Crossing the foyer, I adjusted myself as best I could, but it was no use. I quickly pushed through the front door, and pulled it shut behind me, breathing heavily. So much for meeting the neighbors. Sheesh.

I raced home, desperate to relieve myself. I burst through the front door, intending to make for the stairs, but I never got the chance. To get to the stairs, I needed to cross the den, and the way was perilous. All three Franklin women were bent over in downward dog, eyes turned up to the TV. All three Franklin asses, pretty heart-shaped butts all, were thrust to the heavens and all three sets of Franklin jubblies reposed behind tight Lycra sports bras. It was yoga time at the Fairchild house, a time that I had come to dread.

I've previously mentioned how important fitness was to my father, and so it was that he found a wife with similar interests. We were a hiking, biking, camping, sporty family before the marriage, and now it seemed that we had become a yoga family as well. There were still boxes lying all over the house, but the Franklin girls had already found their yoga mats and the latest Tony Horton or Jillian Michaels was on the tube, helping the ladies to tighten their butts and tone their abs. They'd tried to get me to participate on multiple occasions but I'd always refused; my penis couldn't handle the pressure.

I muttered something terse as a greeting and shuffled to the staircase while their butts were still turned to me. I almost made it too, but just as I reached the base of the stairs, Katie appeared at the top, coming down. She had her yoga mat with her as well, though she was dressed more conservatively in basketball shorts and a T-shirt. She was smaller and leaner than her new step-sisters, and even though I thought her body was every bit as attractive, she lacked the confidence of her big-tittied peers. As a bonding attempt, Babs had begun to buy her more feminine attire, but Katie was a true Tom-boy and progress was slow.

"Hi Ben, how'd the interview go?"She started skipping down the stairs and I quickly changed course to swerve into the dining room. The lump at the front of my pants was throbbing and there was a wet spot where the head had been drooling pre-cum for the last twenty minutes. I needed to escape!

"Fine," I yelled and scampered into the next room where my father sat at the table, reading the morning paper. I quickly sat down across from him and thanked the gods for the 6-foot mahogany dick shield of a dining room table. My father raised his eyes and peered at me over the paper, obviously puzzled over why I was flustered and breathing heavy. "You OK buddy?"

No dad, I am not OK.

I wanted to tell him that I would only be OK after I whacked off a dozen times, and that there were far too many great tits and asses in our house to get anything done, and that our neighbors were heartbreakingly sexy and I'd seen one naked, and that a fifteen-year-old boy should never have to be confronted by so much temptation. I'd wanted to say all these things, but I settled for "Yeah dad. I'm OK."

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