The Methuselah Complex
Chapter 1

Caution: This Time Travel Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, mt/ft, mt/Fa, Fa/Fa, ft/ft, Fa/ft, Mult, Consensual, Fiction, Time Travel, DoOver, Incest, Spanking, Polygamy/Polyamory, First, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Cream Pie,

Desc: Time Travel Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Jacob Greene is given the gift of the Methuselah Complex by his Uncle. With it, when Jacob dies, he takes over the body of a different young man who just died, and who was born near the time Jacob reached puberty. Jacob learns things about the power of the Methuselah Complex that his Uncle hadn't figured out, things that makes his new life much more rewarding.

Oh, shit, my head hurt. Fred failed to mention this part of the deal. I just hoped that it would be worth it in the end.

“Jim, are you okay?” a terrified female voice next to me cried hysterically, making the pounding in my head that much worse.

“Yeah,” I answered quietly, doing a quick review of the memories flooding my consciousness.

I was now Jim Ladner, age fourteen, starting high school in the fall at Marcroft High School here in Anaheim. The female worrying about me was Jim’s, now my mother Donna. She had been taking Jim to the dentist this morning for his annual dental checkup. I remembered tires screeching, my mother screaming, a sickening crunch, and being jolted right before I blacked out.

Jim’s dad, Frank, was a soils engineer for LA County. His mom worked as a volunteer in the gift shop at the same hospital that I was probably about to visit as a patient.

Jim also had a 16-year-old sister Amy who was two grades ahead of him. She was pretty and popular, but eschewed the snobbish cliques. They got along well enough for siblings with no major points of contention between them, although both hung out with different crowds.

Prior to becoming Jim Ladner, I was born Jacob Greene. It was fourteen years earlier in a different time as fifty-seven year old Jacob Greene that all of this began for Jacob. Long before that, Jacob’s Uncle Fred had come back from WWII in Europe a changed man. He had lied about his age, enlisting at age sixteen. A year later, according to official reports, he nearly died when the bomber he crewed as a gunner was hit by anti-aircraft fire somewhere over Europe.

When he finally got home after the war, everyone commented about how much he had matured during his time in the military. For some unknown reason that Uncle Fred never bothered to explain to anyone, he took a shine to me and I became his favorite nephew. Everyone always teased me that I was the son he never had since he never had any children. There were many gorgeous women in his life—-usually two or more at the same time--but no children.

Four of those women taught me about sex. Unbeknownst to my parents, my fifteenth birthday present from my uncle was a weekend at his mansion with four women. Complete nudity was the order of the weekend, and all weekend, any time I got a hard-on, one or more of the women would immediately banish it for me. By the time Fred drove me to school Monday morning, I had fucked all four of the women--singly and in groups of two, three, or all four. I fucked their pussies, mouths, tits, and asses each more than once. They also taught me the basics of seduction, as well as how to keep a woman happy (in and out of bed) once I seduced her.

Fred rapidly became a multi-millionaire after the war, gradually drifting away from the rest of the family. In the end, I was the only one who stayed in contact with him. I was still surprised when he asked for me on his deathbed. I was even more surprised when he tried to explain what he called the Methuselah Complex.

Supposedly, it was a gift passed from person to person 11 times so far--literally starting with Methuselah. Whoever currently possessed the gift would be reborn when they died, usually into the body of someone between the ages of 11 and 14 who had been born around the time the dying bearer of the complex reached puberty. The reason a particular body was chosen was unknown, and occasionally the new body was slightly older, although never older than 17.

The previous occupant of the body would have just died--usually from drowning, head injury, electrical shock, or something else the gift could heal physically. When the transfer took place, the previous inhabitant’s memories remained, allowing the new occupant to ease into their new life.

Fred offered the gift to me, explaining that eventually, everyone grew tired of living. This had been his fifth re-embodiment and he had lived almost 300 years. The first 250 had been fun, but this last lifetime had finally gotten to him. Each lifetime had been much the same as the previous one, enough so that he had become bored. He was ready for the ultimate gamble, to see if there really was an afterlife.

I jumped at the chance he offered me--but only after he convinced me that he wasn’t pulling my leg. The fact that Fred had never been much of a prankster and that he had shown an uncanny ability to pick stocks and the winners of sporting events also helped convince me. Who wouldn’t want the chance to do it all over again?

The transfer was quick and uneventful. I held the palm of Fred’s right hand against my forehead while he mumbled a prayer of some kind. At first, I thought he’d pulled a fast one on me, but suddenly found that I understood the words he’d just spoken. “Congratulations, Jake. I suggest that you memorize facts starting in 1961. Know who wins all of the major sporting events, and pick a few stocks each year that do exceptionally well. Learn when the stock market collapses and surges, and when the prices of precious metals, oil, and other commodities move up and down.

When I commented about being worried about remembering what to say to transfer the gift when the time came, he told me not to worry, I would remember every word of it. He explained how the best friend of his original embodiment had passed the gift on to him for much the same reason.

“With a little work and lots of thought, you’ll end up this rich, too. Just don’t get too greedy. If you make too much money on gambling, you’ll piss off someone with hired guns. If you get too obvious with the stock market, the SEC will investigate you. Make enough to live on comfortably but don’t get too greedy. Other than that, just enjoy life, and don’t take it too seriously,” he wheezed.

Fred died a three days later with me at his bedside. He spent as much time as his condition allowed telling me of his adventures and misadventures. The thing that ate at him the most was suffering through the deaths of loved ones for the first 250 years. That was why he never married this time, and changed the beautiful women in his life frequently enough that he formed no strong emotional attachments to any of them. Personally, I thought that was a bit harsh, but the old adage about not judging someone until you walked a mile in his shoes came to mind. I realized that, if this thing actually worked, I would be walking in his shoes someday.

His sister and I were the only relatives at the funeral. He left me $250,000, and left everything else to his surprised sister. She and the rest of the family were sure I’d inherit everything. I didn’t tell her that he’d given me something far more valuable. She was just as surprised that I wasn’t upset about her inheriting most of his millions. “He gave me his friendship, his trust, and was someone I could ask about the vagaries and mysteries of life a young teenager faces. His honesty and advice kept me out of serious trouble and made me a better person,” I told her emotionally. I honestly felt that way about him even before his parting gift.

For the next fourteen years, my hobby was compiling and memorizing lists. Melody, my wife, thought it an odd hobby. Since I never neglected her or the kids because of my new hobby, the hobby was relatively inexpensive (thanks to the internet), and I did most of my research at home, she was content. Thank God, I didn’t end up with Alzheimer’s. My beloved Melody passed away four years before me from cancer. I was lost for over a year without her and, if I hadn’t had my lists to keep me occupied, I might have followed her much sooner than I did.

I spent a little money to hire a college student majoring in economics to do the stock market research for me. I explained that I wanted to write a story about time travel and wanted to know the best way to utilize prior knowledge of the markets to my best advantage. His lengthy report was significantly different from mine. Many of the individual stocks he recommended buying and holding long-term were the same ones my own research suggested. In addition, he explained about buying on margin to multiply my gains from the same amount of cash. He also covered short-selling, put options, call options, and how the rules varied in each of the worldwide markets.

While I read his suggestions several times, I realized that I would never be able to remember even a tenth of what he suggested, so I stuck with memorizing lists of what stocks to buy, when to buy them, and when to sell. His research and explanations made me more nervous about using the stock market than comfortable, realizing just how much I DIDN’T know or understand about it. I did memorize the list of commodities of which he suggested that I buy futures. That much I already understood about investing.

Upon my death, my two sons inherited everything that Fred left to me. The accumulated interest had just doubled the amount shortly before I died. They also inherited our house and everything Melody and I managed to accumulate during our life together. Both boys had good jobs and stable families and I was sure their wives wouldn’t let them squander the money.

Sirens pulled me from my musings back to my headache. A short time later, the ambulance was rushing me to the hospital for treatment. My worried mother clung anxiously to my hand the entire time, except when she had to let go so they could take my blood pressure.

The doctor poked, prodded, and X-rayed me for an hour before he pronounced me surprisingly fit enough to go home, although I did have a minor concussion. He did manage to sneak in a few stitches on my arm, but assured me that I would be healthy enough to play football when school started. That was something Jim had planned on doing. He loved sports and I was thankful that he was in decent physical shape. Football was also something I wanted to do since I excelled in football as Jacob Greene. I knew it would help get me into top physical shape, as well as attract cute high school girls.

Dad picked us up from the hospital after taking off from work early. After picking up a very worried Amy from home, he took us all out to dinner explaining that he didn’t expect his wife to fix dinner after the rough day she’d had. While we were eating, I asked if I could get a morning paper route to earn some money. “I thought you wanted to play football,” Dad commented.

I realized how quickly I had come to accept this family as my own, and myself as Jim Ladner. I also realized that I would have a slightly different relationship with them due to my previous life experiences than Jim had with his family.

“I want to do both,” I answered. Mom and Dad looked back and forth at each other, weighing the balance between work, school, and football. “I’ll make you a deal. If my GPA drops below 3.0 at any time, I’ll quit the paper route AND football,” I offered.

That raised eyebrows. “You’ve never gotten a 3.0 before,” Dad reminded me.

“I guess that’ll be my problem, won’t it,” I answered boldly.

Surprised by my answer, Mom shrugged at Dad. “Deal,” Dad answered, “but what’s the rush to get a job?” he asked.

“I’m going to want a car in a couple of years so that I can get a real job to help earn money for college,” I explained.

Dad’s eyebrows shot up again, and he looked at me appraisingly. “That’s the first time you’ve ever mentioned college unless your mother or I brought it up,” he observed.

I shrugged. “Maybe that accident today knocked some sense into me,” I offered, getting a chuckle from everyone at the table and a blush of embarrassment from my mother.

Amy outdid herself taking care of me at dinner, as well as later when we got home. She refused to let me get up for anything at all--well, except to go to the bathroom. She even deferred to me, letting me choose the TV program we watched. I snickered inwardly, surprised at how vividly I remembered this episode of ‘Man From U.N.C.L.E.’ from nearly half a century earlier. “I’ve seen this one. Go ahead and watch your show, sis,” I told her. She beamed, flipping to Dr. Kildare, followed by Gomer Pyle.

I couldn’t stand the shows the first time and couldn’t stand them now, either, but suffered silently through her shows until I couldn’t keep my eyes open. “G’night, sis,” I said, giving her a quick hug.

She surprised me, giving an emotional hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was so worried when Mom called,” she said, the emotion evident in her voice.

It felt odd sleeping in a strange bed, but I was tired enough that sleep found me quickly, even in the different surroundings.

My new mother woke me the next morning to check on me, only leaving when she was satisfied that I was going to live. Obviously, I didn’t explain that the Methuselah complex had completely healed the head injury last night while I slept. She told me that she was driving Dad to work and then heading for her volunteer job. She would also be going to the insurance office on her lunch break to see what they found out about the car. My guess was that the car was totaled since the whole passenger side of the car was concave, which I was sure bent the frame.

I took a couple of minutes before showering to examine my new body in the bathroom mirror. Sandy brown hair, decent looking, hazel eyes, good physique--albeit perhaps a bit thin--a little taller that Jacob at the same age, and the important part, a good seven inches of cock already promised even better things for the future. I gave those seven inches a test run in the shower and was glad to find out that they worked quite well, thank you.

After dressing, I went down to find something to eat. Amy still wasn’t up yet, so I decided to repay her kindness of yesterday and fix her breakfast. Rummaging through Jim’s memories, I learned that Amy loved omelets; good, so did I.

Twenty minutes later, I knocked on her bedroom door. Getting no response I cracked the door open. “Is it safe to come in?” I asked. “Amy?” I called out quietly when she didn’t answer. I peeked in slowly. She was still asleep, and as the door opened, I could see that the sheet covered everything except the top of her shoulders. Too bad, I was hoping a little for a quick peek at her.

For too many years now, I had considered anything younger than 40 to be scandalous and wouldn’t even consider seriously checking out a teenager. Jim had only just begun to discover the opposite sex. He was still checking out the pictures of women in underwear in the department store catalogs his mother kept in the house. Spying on his sister hadn’t occurred to him yet.

I set up the TV tray (when did we stop using those?) next to her bed and put her breakfast on it. “Wake up lazy,” I said quietly.

Amy startled when she saw me next to her bed. “What are you doing in here?” she gasped.

“I made breakfast for you to repay you for being so nice to me yesterday,” I explained.

“I take it Mom is still home,” she yawned after looking the food over.

“Nope, she left an hour ago,” I replied.

She looked at the food again. “Yeah, right, the only thing you’ve ever cooked is toast--and I remember you burned that,” she teased.

“Hey, you’ve cooked omelets before so I figured that if you could do it, anybody could,” I retorted.

She looked skeptically at it, opening it carefully with the fork as if she was opening a letter bomb. “You really made that?” she asked. I nodded. She cut a small bite and tasted it, worried just how bad it would taste. “Hey, this is really good, Jim. Thanks,” she said before reaching for another bite.

As she stretched, the carefully held sheet slipped, revealing a bra-encased breast. I turned my head as she scrambled for the covers. “Now I know why you did this--you were hoping I wasn’t under the covers,” she accused playfully.

“Relax, sis, I took Polaroids before I covered you back up,” I teased.

“What?” she yelped, jumping up enough that both bra-encased breasts came out from under the sheet again.

“Relax, I was just kidding,” I laughed. “I made sure you were covered up before I came in.”

“How did you know?” she challenged.

“I peeked, of course,” I teased, still laughing as I left her room and closed the door.

Half an hour later, she made it downstairs. “You didn’t really take Polaroids, did you?” she asked nervously.

I hugged her. “You’re my sister. I can tease you and fight with you all I want, but I’d never do anything to hurt you,” I said solemnly. She hugged me back emotionally.

When she went to do her chores, I reviewed Jim’s memories of the chores he had to do. Jim ignored the lawn last weekend, and Amy usually had one or more friends over to tan out by the pool by late morning or early afternoon--the excuse Jim used last weekend not to mow the lawn.

Deciding to skim the pool and check the chemicals first, I got out everything I would need, and after chasing the floating bees, leaves, and other detritus with the skimmer, checked the pH and added chemicals so that Amy and her friends could use it in a couple of hours.

I chuckled inwardly as I pushed the ‘old-fashioned’ reel mower around the yard. There were so many things to look forward to, like the prevalence of power mowers, weed eaters, and leaf blowers. For now, I donned gloves and pushed the mower and the edger by hand, raking and sweeping up the mess the edger left. I even weeded Mom’s flower garden.

Heading in just as Amy and her friends Dawn and Joyce came out to use the pool, the girls stopped me. Joyce wanted to see the stitches and make sure I really was okay and Dawn teased me about having a concrete skull.

After brushing off all of the dirt and grass that was stuck in the sweat on my body, I downed a big glass of water and went out running. I figured that I didn’t have as much time to get in shape before football practice began as I wished I did. Memories etched indelibly in Jacob’s mind of the pain and agony of the first weeks of football practice each year pushed me past the first mile and through the second before finally calling it quits.

“What are you doing?” Amy asked, concerned, coming into the house when she heard me return.

“Getting in shape for football season--it’s not too far away,” I panted.

“Take it easy,” she cautioned. “We saw you run past the side gate at least 4 times.” I’m sure her 2-piece swimsuit was quite daring for 1965, but it had enough material for at least two dozen thong bikinis--probably more.

The girls eventually came in to escape the heat outside, so I went out and started swimming laps--well, mini-laps since the pool wasn’t that big. When my arms finally refused to carry me any further, I went back inside to shower and collapse. As I walked past Amy’s room, I overheard Joyce talking in hushed tones. “Brad wanted me to suck on his thing.”

“Did you?” Amy asked, slightly breathlessly.

“No, but he said that if I won’t to do it, he’ll dump me and find a girlfriend who will,” Joyce whispered anxiously.

I’d heard enough to know what was going on, took my shower, and changed clothes. The girls were doing their nails at the kitchen table when I came out. I made sandwiches and cut up fruit for everyone, then took it to the surprised occupants of the table.

“Joyce, as one of Amy’s friends, I need to warn you about something,” I said seriously enough to get everyone’s attention. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, and I apologize ahead of time, but I want to warn you about Brad,” I said.

The three girls blushed, pretty sure what I’d overheard. “Just what did you hear?” Amy insisted angrily.

“That doesn’t matter, and I promise that it will never pass my lips. Brad’s brother, David, and I hang out together all of the time. I’ve heard enough of the stories Brad tells his friends about the girls he dates to know that he pressures them to do things they don’t want to. All of his friends know the next day about everything he makes his girlfriends do. He starts by pressuring them to perform oral sex.”

The girls were blushing seriously and fidgeting by now. “Then he pressures them into going all the way, physically forcing them if they won’t do it voluntarily. So far, his parents have had to pay for two abortions that I know of. Then, after a month or so, he dumps them and looks for a new girl. I get mad hearing him brag about forcing the girls. I just wanted to warn you what you were getting into,” I said resignedly.

By now, tears were running down Joyce’s face so I went back to my room to let Amy and Dawn comfort her. Half an hour later, there was a timid knock on my door. I scooted the top half of my body out from under my bed where I’d been cleaning and was surprised to see all three girls. “Come on in, it’s almost clean in here,” I said, motioning towards the bed as I crawled out from underneath and stood to greet the three girls.

To say that I was surprised when Joyce hugged me would be an understatement. “Thank you for warning me. I know it must have been embarrassing,” she said in barely more than a loud whisper. “I wondered why he was interested in me,” she said dejectedly as she sat on my bed, Amy and Dawn bracketing her for emotional support.

“Brad likes the girls he dates to be ... uhhhmmm ... well endowed,” I said finally, blushing as I cupped my hands over my chest imitating a large pair of boobs. Of the three girls, Joyce definitely had biggest boobs. Dawn was taller, thinner, and had the smallest breasts. Her slender figure and pale blond hair told me she would probably always be that way. Amy’s tits were a happy medium between the two girls, and like me, she had sandy brown hair. Joyce’s hair was dishwater blonde.

The girls were blushing and fidgeting again. “We called Amber. She dated Brad last year. She says that everything you told us was the truth, and wishes that someone had warned her. Basically, you saved me from being raped,” Joyce said emotionally, standing up and walking over to where I was sitting. My cock lurched when she straddled my lap, sat down, and then kissed me. Out of habit, my tongue pressed between her lips and I gently explored her mouth. She was moaning into my mouth as she responded, her tongue dueling with mine until she finally pulled back, breathless and flushed.

“Wow!” she gasped, “Where did you learn to kiss like that?” I just shrugged, not really in a position to explain.

“That was a thank-you. I want to give you a reward, too,” she said, still breathing heavily.

As she crossed her arms and grabbed the bottom of her shirt, I stopped her. “That’s not why I did it,” I said. “I didn’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all.”

“I know,” she replied, still struggling to pull the shirt off anyway. From the way her nipples were tenting the material, I knew she’d lost her bra somewhere. “I just wanted to give you a minute to see and touch my breasts.”

“If we’re going to do this, can I make a suggestion?” I asked. I had her stand up and turn with her back to me before sitting back down. She wiggled seductively on the lump she sat on.

“But you can’t see them now,” she protested.

“Oh,” she giggled when I motioned to the mirror on my dresser directly across the room from us.

“Still want to do this?” I whispered right in her ear. She shuddered and nodded, again reaching for the hem of her shirt.

“Let me,” I breathed into her ear, causing her to shiver.

I skimmed the shirt up, running my hands along her bare sides. I could feel goose bumps on her arms and on the bare skin of her sides. The small, nearly invisible blonde hairs on her arms were as erect as her nipples and my cock. After gently cupping and caressing her firm breasts, I pulled the shirt over her head. My lips found the sensitive spot at the back of her neck and I covered it with warm kisses, nipping gently at those spots I knew should be most sensitive, sending her goose bump making into overdrive before working my way to the right side of her neck.

I watched in the mirror as my hands cupped her naked breasts again, palming them, and feeling their weight. My fingertips grazed the sensitive underside, and then spiraled in ever-smaller circles around the pale skin of her breasts until they were circling the silver-dollar-sized pink areola. By now, the areola had hardened, creating a raised ridge with her pinkish brown nipple standing proudly in the center. Her nipple was slightly larger and longer than a pencil eraser.

I caught both nipples at the same time that my tongue slid into her ear, and when I squeezed her nipples gently, rolling them between thumb and forefinger Joyce’s body trembled as she came.

When she collapsed back into my lap, breathing heavily, I draped her shirt across her breasts, holding it there with one arm across her upper chest while the other rested on her still bare stomach. “Where did you learn that?” she gasped finally.

“Lots of practice,” I answered.

“With whom?” she insisted.

“A gentleman never kisses and tells,” I whispered in reply.

When she had recovered, she turned her head as far as she could and craned her neck backwards, pulling my head forward to kiss again. When she finally broke the kiss, she got up quickly and returned to the bed, flopping between Amy and Dawn, oblivious to the fact that her shirt was on the floor between us. “If I hadn’t gotten up right then, I probably would have raped your brother,” Joyce sighed to Amy.

“What did he do to you?” Dawn asked. I could tell from the way their faces and necks were flushed and from their hard nipples that Dawn and Amy were both aroused.

“After my date with Brad the other night, I thought I was going to have bruises all over my boobs from the way he pawed me. The way Jim touched me, though...” she sighed, drifting back into the pleasurable memory. “And the way he kisses and knows where to kiss my neck...” she sighed again.

Amy gave me a questioning look as she got up to get Joyce’s shirt and cover her. Joyce pushed it off. “Too hot and I don’t care if he sees me,” she sighed.

“What did you do?” Amy insisted.

“Guys like Brad think that by squeezing a girl’s breasts hard and rubbing her hard between the legs they can get her horny enough to give in. The real way seduce a woman is to make her feel safe and to touch her gently and slowly. Kissing and nibbling sensitive areas and slowly building her up is the best way, but it takes time and effort, something guys like Brad aren’t willing to spend. Their dream date would be to walk you out to their car, do it right there in the back seat, and ten minutes later, walk you back up to your house.”

“So, since you seduced her, why didn’t you do it?” Amy asked insistently, although not angrily.

“One reason is that I didn’t want to take advantage of her. Another is that I’m not ready to be a father. The big reason, though, is that I figured you’d get my baseball bat and beat me with it if I tried,” I said, grinning.

“What if I want more?” Joyce asked, still lying topless on my bed.

“Are you on birth control pills?” I asked.

“No,” she replied.

“Then only the week before your period is relatively safe. Otherwise we could end up as parents,” I answered.

“But I want more,” she whined.

Amy and Dawn were both looking at her stunned. While they were watching her, I stood up and turned my back to them long enough to rearrange myself. Amy raised her eyebrow when I turned back around. “It was getting a little crowded in there,” I unabashedly answered her unasked question. I saw Amy and Dawn’s eyes checking the remaining bulge.

I wedged myself between Amy and Joyce. “I can give you more, but we still aren’t going all the way,” I warned.

“Do anything you want to do,” she hissed, pulling me down on top of her and kissing me.

When she finally let me go, I got up and handed a surprised Amy my baseball bat. “Whack me with this if I so much as reach for my zipper,” I instructed.

While she hefted and tested the bat, I stood up, took my shirt off, and lay back down next to Joyce. She returned my kiss eagerly and was almost upset when I stopped--at least until she realized where my mouth was headed. Instead, her hands grabbed the back of my head and she pressed her breast into my mouth. I almost had to fight her off to get my head far enough away to run my tongue around the nipple and gently nip the sensitive skin of the lower slope of her breasts.

She was already moaning and writhing when I unsnapped her jeans and slowly lowered the zipper. She lifted her hips to make it easier for me, so I slid off the bed and pulled on the pant legs. Once the jeans were out of the way, I slowly licked and kissed my way up the inside of her thighs. By the time I got to the apex, she was so far gone I could have fucked her and she couldn’t have even thought to stop me--not that she would have complained.

She lifted her hips again when I tugged at her panties. I left them wrapped around one ankle, too eager to bury my tongue in this young, virgin pussy and taste her feminine nectar. She climaxed, babbling incomprehensibly as I twirled my tongue around her clit.

Pressing her legs up to separate them even further, I slid my tongue between the slick petals of her feminine flower, tasting the light, piquant flavor of her arousal. Hands splayed to her sides, Joyce gripped the sheet on my bed and thrashed her head back and forth, sweat-soaked hair flailing wildly about.

“Yyyyyeeeeesssss,” she gasped when I slid a fingertip across her virginal opening. I sucked her clit between my lips and flicked my tongue rapidly across the sensitive bud until she arched her hips and grunted another climax. I was reasonably certain that I would have my cock buried in here in the very near future. When she arched her hips off the bed again I quickly pressed a finger through the membrane and found her G-spot. That did it. She came non-stop until she pushed my face away, unable to take any more stimulation.

I grabbed a dark T-shirt from my dresser and wiped my girl-goo covered face and bloody finger on it before pushing it under Joyce’s butt to keep any blood off my sheets. I definitely didn’t want to have to explain that to Mom. Then I lay next to her and cuddled her while she came down from her emotional and climactic plateau.

Once she finally regained full control of her senses, she pulled me over so that my face was barely an inch from hers. “You do know that we will be finishing this dance at the first opportunity?” she asked threateningly.

“All you have to do is get my baseball bat away from my sister before then,” I joked.

“Isn’t it gross to lick there?” Dawn asked timidly, breaking the sexual tension in the air.

“Actually, I enjoy it a lot,” I answered.

“I guess it’s my turn?” Joyce asked nervously, looking from my eyes to my lap.

“Only if you want to; otherwise, I can take care of the problem myself,” I assured her, flexing my right hand where all three girls could see it.

Joyce’s naked breasts swayed provocatively as she crawled across the bed until her face was even with my zipper. “I’ve never done this before,” she said in a sultry voice while looking up at me nervously. I smiled encouragingly at her while she unsnapped and unzipped my pants.

There was a collective gasp from the three girls when she pulled my cock free of its confines. “My body makes a lubricant just like yours does when it’s excited,” I explained when she examined the slime on the head, testing its slipperiness.

“Now what?” she asked hesitantly.

“Now you choose. Either make a fist around it and stroke it up and down, or lick it and take it into your mouth.” I put my hand on hers and guided her unsure movements when she started jacking me off. “Ooooohhhhh, that feels good,” I moaned when she looked at me, worried about my possible disapproval of the way she chose to finish me.

Finding none, she continued. “Uuuuunnnnnggggghhhhh,” I groaned as the first spurt shot almost three feet straight up. Joyce instinctively jumped back a little. Unfortunately, for her, she forgot to let go of me and redirected the second spurt towards herself, splattering her right breast. I reacted faster than she did and grabbed the T-shirt, geysering the rest of my load into it.

“Wow,” Dawn commented as she watched cum drip down Joyce’s breast and head towards her stomach. “Is it always like that?”

“Pretty much” I answered.

“You’re not upset that I didn’t ... you know ... with my mouth?” Joyce asked timidly.

“No, if you hadn’t done what you did, I would have had to do it myself; it’s much more fun when someone else does it for you,” I explained.

“It sure is,” she answered dreamily.

While I cleaned up my mess and Joyce started dressing, I could see that Dawn had something on her mind. “You okay?” I asked her, startling her from her reverie. She nodded, but quickly looked away. I took her hand in mine and asked again. “Whatcha thinking about?” I asked. She quickly averted her eyes and shook her head.

“Nothing,” she said meekly.

“Are you upset about something, Dawn?” I asked. I persisted, kneeling so I could look into her eyes.

She actually smiled, but quickly looked away again. “I won’t keep bothering you, but please talk to me if something’s wrong, okay?” She nodded, and I finally let go of her hand. When I tried to pull my hand from hers, though, she grasped it and wouldn’t let go. Obviously, she wanted to say something, so I waited ... and waited.

It was a good five minutes before she looked up at me, blushing badly. After looking quickly at Amy and Joyce, she looked back to me. “I know I’m not as big as Joyce,” she started, looking down at her breasts, “but I was wondering if you would do the same thing to me as you did to Joyce?” she said, rushing her words to make her plea before she lost her nerve.

Taking both of her hands in mine, I waited silently for her to look back up at me. “Dawn, you are a beautiful young woman. Your breasts are perfectly proportional with the rest of your body and I would love to show you the exquisite feelings your body can experience. First, though, I want the three of you to talk about it. I don’t want Amy or Joyce upset with me if I do. I’ll be in the kitchen when you decide,” I told her, getting up and heading for the bedroom door.

It was a quick meeting and less than five minutes later Amy came out to the kitchen and flopped into a chair next to me. “Explain something to me. How is it that last week I had to explain a dirty joke to you and this week you’re giving sex lessons to my friends?” she challenged.

“Maybe I was pretending to be dense so you wouldn’t realize how much I knew,” I offered. She didn’t argue, but her skeptical look let me know she wasn’t sold.

“Whatever; Dawn’s waiting,” she said.

“Are you sure that you’re okay with this?” I asked.

“You helped Joyce forget all about Brad and left her on cloud nine. Dawn’s been overly curious about what it’s like to have a guy touch her like that. After watching you and Joyce, she doesn’t want to wait any longer.”

I kissed her on the forehead as I stood up to go to Dawn. “That’s the best you can do?” she teased. The shock on her face when I turned to give her a real kiss was priceless. Still expecting just a teasing kiss, her eyes widened in surprise when my tongue pressed between her lips.

“Better?” I asked after tasting and exploring her sexy young mouth.

“Oh, yeah,” she sighed as I helped her stand. She giggled delightfully when I stopped to rearrange myself again.

Dawn was waiting impatiently when we got to my room, with a bashful grin, and an embarrassed flush spread across her face in spite of her best attempt to hide it. My lap, the apparent seat of honor, was claimed quickly, almost before I was finished sitting down myself.

Rather than waste time, I slipped my hands under her shirt and gently caressed the smooth, naked skin of her stomach. Dawn simply leaned back against me and let me do the driving, satisfied with wherever I took her. The trip quickly found my hands caressing her naked, conical, small, pointy breasts and making her writhe under my ministrations. Unlike Joyce, there was no real way to heft them and feel their weight. Her areolae were light brown, about the size of a quarter. Her dime-sized nipples were slightly darker and apparently more sensitive than Joyce’s were.

I loved her long, elegant, and apparently extremely sensitive neck as I licked, kissed, and nibbled it, causing her to shiver and moan simultaneously. Her hair smelled freshly washed with baby shampoo. Like Joyce before her, Dawn experienced her first orgasm at the hands of a male when I gently squeezed and pulled on her nipples while kissing her neck.

I felt a brief moment of nostalgia, remembering the last time I held a youthful pair of breasts shaped like these; they were on my wife Melody shortly after we started dating.

I continued teasing her hard nipples for a couple of minutes, rolling and pulling on them, pulling harder when her increased moans indicated that she enjoyed it. I reveled in the exhilarating feel of her youthful body and soft, taut skin under my hands. The hair on her arms was even finer and harder to see that Joyce’s had been. If not for a single shaft of sunlight coming through the window and falling on her arm, I wouldn’t have seen them.

Finally, though, we stood up and walked towards the bed. I knelt in front of her and teased her ticklish stomach with my tongue before undoing her pants and directing them and her underwear to the floor. My tongue followed their progress downwards, parting her sparse blonde thatch before pressing between her muscular thighs as deeply as it could go. When Dawn lifted her foot to pull it out of the pant leg, my tongue took advantage of the opening (literally) and pressed forward.

She nearly lost her balance, having to grab me by the hair to steady herself when I found her hooded but still sensitive nub. Lifting her leg even more, my tongue continued its journey to the fountain of her female essence, celebrating the discovery by licking the area thoroughly to gather all of her feminine nectar it could find.

Dawn collapsed backwards onto the bed when she came the second time--taking a handful of my hair with her. Lying down next to her, I was quickly pulled on top of her and kissed deeply while Dawn pulled me between her legs and began humping frantically against me. Glad that I’d cum recently, I enjoyed the carnal abandon of the 16-year-old writhing frenetically beneath me. Hoping to satisfy her temporarily, I pressed the bulge in the front of my jeans against her mound and assaulted her nipples with my mouth and my free hand. Dawn arched her hips off the bed to direct the pressure to where she wanted it. Gasping and clutching the covers of my bed, a small, guttural wail proclaimed the arrival of another orgasm.

Taking the opportunity afforded by her currently diminished mental capacity, I slid down her body and buried my face in her honey pot. I was surprised to find that her hymen was missing, and took advantage of the fact by attacking her G-spot with my fingers while my tongue circled her clit. While her slender body arched and spasmed yet again, I found myself wondering how many years it would be before the G-spot was officially discovered.

After her fourth orgasm, Dawn pushed my face away, too sensitive to continue. I crawled up next to her and held her while the mini quakes subsided. “Oh my God,” she gasped, still out of breath and sprawled like a rag doll on my bed. Minutes later, she turned to me, pulled my face to hers, and kissed me again. This time she realized that my face was still covered with her sex juices. “Is that from me?” she asked, touching a finger to the dampness next to my mouth.

“Every delicious drop,” I answered, licking my lips.

She thought about it for a few seconds before leaning forward and tasting herself on my face. Her tongue swirled inside of her mouth like a wine connoisseur tasting a rare wine. Then she leaned forward for a more thorough taste. “Interesting,” she commented after the second taste.

“What does it taste like?” Amy asked.

“Sort of tangy,” Dawn answered. Joyce leaned in, boldly sampling Dawn’s essence from my cheek.

“Eeeeeewwwww,” Amy squealed.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it,” I chided her.

“But it was from Dawn,” she protested.

“C’mon chicken,” Joyce challenged. Amy didn’t look happy about it.

“Ladies, if Amy doesn’t want to do it, please don’t push her. I don’t want anyone here doing anything they don’t want to do. You’re free to make suggestions or recommendations, but not to pressure anyone, okay?” Duly chastened, Dawn and Joyce nodded. Amy looked relieved and grateful.

With the minor disagreement settled, Dawn’s attention returned to sex. Once again, young female hands removed my pants and encircled my raging erection. This time, though, after a few strokes, Dawn raised her hand to her lips and tentatively licked at the copious amount of pre-cum she found there. The look on her face was neither positive nor negative and she tried a bigger sample. I waited anxiously to see what her decision would be. Satisfied that it would neither gag her nor kill her, she bowed her head and carefully licked the bulbous head of my cock. She jumped slightly when it twitched due to the contact from her tongue.

Only slightly reassured that my snake wouldn’t bite her, she tried again, carefully, grinning up at me when it twitched once more. “Does that mean that you like it?” she asked rhetorically before bowing her head to worship my cock.

“Mmmmm,” I moaned as her tongue circled the sensitive tip.

“You’ll have to tell me what to do. I’ve never done this before,” she explained.

“First you’re going to have to decide a couple of things,” I warned. Still licking carefully, she looked at me for clarification.

“When I get close to cumming, I’ll warn you. You should decide now whether to finish me off by hand like Joyce did, or have me cum in your mouth.”

“Which do you prefer?” she asked, and without waiting for an answer, resumed her tongue lapping my cock as though it was an ice cream cone.

“Like every other guy in the world, I’d prefer to cum in your mouth, but I don’t want you to do something you’d rather not,” I explained.

She stopped what she was doing to think about what I said. “I admit that it sounds nasty, but I always thought that doing what I was just doing would be nasty, too. I also thought that what you did seemed pretty nasty when you started, but you seemed to enjoy it and I know I sure did,” she said thoughtfully. “I guess I won’t know unless I try it at least once. Promise you won’t be upset if I stop half-way?” she asked.

“I promise,” I told her. “But that leaves you with another choice to make,” I said, handing her my well-used T-shirt. With her tongue now eagerly exploring my cock she again looked to me to continue. “Before I cum, you’ll need to decide whether to spit it out or swallow it.”

“Since I’m going to give it a try, I might as well try everything. I guess I can always spit it out if I chicken out or get grossed out,” she said. I took a minute and gave her a few pointers before weaving my fingers into her hair and enjoying her youthful, inexperienced, albeit enthusiastic attempt. She really was enthusiastic about it and watching her tiny, pointy tits jiggling enticingly as she bobbed her head up and down added to my pleasure.

She hesitated for a split second when I warned her of my impending release but quickly redoubled her efforts, even looking up at me with a lewd grin that let me know she was actually enjoying herself.

She startled when the first blast launched into her throat and she almost pulled off. However, being a trooper, she caught herself and I continued to pump my load into her offered mouth. When I finally finished, she squeezed her eyes closed and bravely swallowed. A second later, having discovered that she would neither die nor hurl, she grinned up at me proudly. “I did it! I did it!” she squealed like only an excited, teenage girl could.

Joyce and Amy were staring, open-mouthed at her, unable to believe that Dawn had not only given her first blowjob, but she’d enjoyed doing it. I pulled Dawn up to me and kissed her. “That’s something most guys won’t do afterwards,” I warned her. Still giddy, she pulled me over on top of her naked body and spread her legs enough that I was positioned properly for a good fuck. Both members of our audience gasped at her boldness.

“I’m due to start my period Saturday so we should be safe right now,” she offered suggestively. It took more willpower than I was aware I possessed to turn her down. I explained that we were caught up in the passion of the moment right now and I wanted her to think about it at least overnight. “I’d rather have you pissed off at me tomorrow for NOT doing it than for doing it. We can’t undo anything we did, but we can always do what we didn’t do,” I explained.

We compromised--I put my tongue and fingers to work again and left her a happy but exhausted young woman. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I need to shower before our parents get home. I don’t want to have to explain to Mom why I reek of sex,” I announced as I got up off the bed.

The girls’ handiwork was evident when I got back to my bedroom: my bed was neatly made, the T-shirt was gone, and the windows were open with the fan blowing. I also detected the scent of orange, noting a peeled orange and the peels on a plate sitting on my dresser. I squeezed the peels to release more of the aromatic oils from the peel, and broke the orange into several sections on my way to the kitchen.

My thanks to my editor, Himself, for his words of encouragement, as well as necessary criticism and corrections that, hopefully, made this a better story.

[Author’s note: I appreciate all e-mails regarding my stories, both complimentary and critical. I do have two requests, however.

First, please report any errors that you find. At the very bottom of each chapter is the “Feedback to Author.” I try to correct every error so future readers enjoy the story more.

Second, I appreciate knowing what you enjoyed most and least about the story. If you decide not to finish reading it, why.

I try to learn from each criticism and compliment to improve my writing skills. So far, I’ve learned so much that I can’t believe I passed English classes in high school and college.

Thanks. FantasyLover]

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