Chapter 8: Doing the Deed

Friday, September 14 (continued)

Lois parked, and followed Arlene, into the house. Terry, Arlene’s mother, greeted us. She was a striking woman a little above medium height -- perhaps 5’7” -- but is rarely out of heels, today being five-inch ankle-strapped “come fuck me” pumps over off black, very sheer hose. She wore a tightly tailored business suit, in a light blue that set off her matching eyes. Its skirt came to mid-thigh when she was standing. Under it, she had what appeared to be a filmy gray blouse. Terry’s slightly wavy, shoulder-length blonde hair crowned the outfit. For the moment, she could be that marketing representative who makes use of her sexuality as one more technique. If it were needful to get by hotel or event security, she’d get appreciative looks, but no particular suspicion, at least as she stood and walked normally. If, however, she issued a sexual suggestion, it would immediately be credible.

I mused pleasantly on her appearance. If you saw her next to her daughter, you’d not assume them to be related. Terry and Vivian, however, did resemble one another in body type. I wish there were more standard words, but there are many attractive kinds of legs, thighs, and ankles. These two were of a kind that, with some frustration, I call sculptured: tapering but not overly thin, with slim ankles connecting to slim but distinctly curved calves, thighs that clearly were well-muscled, would be warm and soft in the hand, yet thin enough that there would be a thigh gap. Arlene’s thighs, in contrast, were heavier but those of a strength athlete, without a thigh gap but an equally attractive place for my head.

Terry spoke, gracefully welcoming but also establishing her as a powerful person. “Let’s go sit down for a little while. Nothing dramatic and only loosely for ground rules -- the rules are that Lois and I trust you two. I suggest you two sit on a couch over there and snuggle all you want. As did Lois in her office, I’m going to pose a little to make sure you realize that it’s quite OK to be provocative, and that I’m utterly sex-positive. Before you sit down, though...” Walking over to me, Terry gently took my hands into hers. They were very nicely warm.

“Harold, your mother approves of your staying with Lois and me. Yes, she knows, more or less, what you’ll be doing. While she may have hesitated about giving you a free hand at home, there’s going to be enough guidance here to keep you out of trouble.”

An orange presence leaped to her lap. How, I wondered, did James Bong, last seen in my mother’s apartment, get there? “Harold, even a regular cat has some abilities to teleport. I am a hypercat, and I approve Terry’s message.”

“I want you and my daughter to have all the time that you like to explore. That being said, neither of you are ready for committed relationships. Arlene is already learning from my Companion practice, and will enjoy both male and female partners, perhaps with you and other times on her own. Harold, after Arlene, I’d like to be the first, followed by Lois. We’ll probably have some other opportunities this weekend.” She gestured them toward the couch, and herself swept into a dramatic seat on another one.

“Feel absolutely free to look at me, and indeed ask me to pose for you. It won’t be long until we do more. I’m not sure why I’m saying that, but I’m sure of it.” When she crossed her legs in Basic Insight style, I could see that she wore no panties, and that Terry was not a natural blonde. I impressed myself with how much information I got from a quick glance between her thighs, noting a well-trimmed landing strip of light brown, even red-brown, pubic hair and what might well be vaginal lips engorged with excitement.

“I’ve put snacks in Arlene’s room. We have a hot tub, and I have more of a buffet around that. You two might want to enjoy one another a bit before dinner, but it’s very likely at least Harold will need a shower. If you don’t mind, I’ve asked a completely trustworthy friend of Lois’ and mine, Paul, to join us later.” She giggled. “If nothing else, Paul may be a teaching aid for us to you two.” Lois sat next to Terry, reached down, and removed her own panties. She looked thoughtful for a moment, and then continued to strip down to corset, hose, and heels. Her bust, bigger than Terry’s, was barely restrained. Lois and Terry shared a brief but passionate kiss, making their duel of tongues obvious.

“Damn,” observed Arlene. “Well, Harold, a good girl like me will follow her mother’s example, right?” She slid next to him on the couch, wiggling her hips so that her skirt rose to just below her waist. Arlene moved my willing hand to the warm skin above her stocking, framed by leather of skirt and boots. “Remember, this is my school outfit. Over the weekend, I’ll get wilder.” She was, however, pushing erotic buttons that I had developed in my first puberty.

Arlene turned to me. “Let’s show them that we have a basic understanding. No, that’s not Basic Instinct, which is Mom’s department.” Taking her chin between two fingers, I turned her face to mine, and moved our lips lightly together. Arlene grumbled a bit, and raised one of his hands to her breast. She shook her head, realizing that she wasn’t wearing a top ideal for her purposes. Arlene grasped the bottom of her sweater, pulled it over her filmy bra, and returned his hand. I laughed a little, and, rather than squeezing at first, began to flick her nipples with his fingertips, and then slightly pinching them. She moaned, putting her hand on his thigh, and moving toward his groin. He moaned back.

In an exaggerated tone, she inquired, “Mother, Ms. Kallas, may we be excused?”

“Go and sin happily, my daughter. Seriously, Harold, I think you know that Arlene is studying the Companion profession with me. One of the skills she is learning is joyful correction of the temporary state of virginity, and introducing people to a happy sexual future.”

Off for the Change

Arlene had a large room with both a huge bed and dressing area, but also her desk and library. “Let’s not be silly about clothing. Harold, you heard what Mom said. I’ve been learning how to initiate people. One of the things I’ve learned is that the experience should be fun, with no pressure. In particular, too many guys think they have to perform perfectly. Part of this is letting you learn and experiment at your own pace.

“With you, though, I have a weird sense of you in two parts. I think you’re a physical virgin, but I also sense that you have a profound connection to sex.

“She’s right.” James Bong perched on the back of a comfortable chair. Where did you come from? You weren’t there a moment ago.

Would you, Harold, really expect an ordinary cat to tell you how he came or went? I am a hypercat, traversing time and space. Learn to live with it, person whom I own most lovingly.

“You’re going to be the first person that I’ve initiated by myself, so please, please, talk to me about anything that either appeals to you or scares you. I’ll try to do the same. If there’s one lesson to be learned, it’s less how to fuck than how to talk.” She stopped for a moment, thinking. “Initiate is a weird term. Especially for men, I don’t really understand that fucking is some magic boundary if you’re already had orgasms with your partner.

“No one can argue that men especially are visual. I flashed you in Lois’ office, but what I suggest is that before I strip, I let you explore me while I’m clothed. Learn what the differences are among what you see, what you feel through clothes, and what you later feel without them. Feel free to use your hands and mouth anywhere. Look at the way my top molds itself to my chest. Stand behind me and cup my tits with your hands. I’m wearing a lightweight bra just for a little shaping and opacity.” I complied happily, putting my 14-year-old self, admittedly with calm, in control. “Rub your crotch against my butt, with the skirt down for now. It’s thin leather, so you will feel its texture as much as me.” She moved so he could watch the two of them in a full-length mirror.

Starting with the visual

“Arlene? Before I enjoy feeling you, could I ask you to do something?”

“Sure. Please, please, ask for what you want. It’s your time to explore.”

“OK. I’d like you to recreate some poses that I remember very hotly, both yours and some other girls. First, I’d like you to sit and let your skirt rise high, as if you weren’t noticing. I’m not sure if it was deliberate, but I have intense memories of seeing you at your desk in class, and your skirt rising above your stocking tops. I kept stealing glances but you didn’t say anything. I don’t know if you noticed, but I certainly used those memories for quite a few masturbation sessions.

“Usually, tits don’t excite me that much. There was a time, though, when you were writing at the desk, leaned forward, and they were lifted up by the desktop, sort of as if they were being offered on a tray. That day, you were wearing a tank top, not a sweater, and I really wanted to reach inside.

“Wonderful, Harold! Let me do those poses. Truly, I’d like feeling your eyes hotly on me, appreciating me. You can masturbate if you’d like.” She paused. “Would you like to masturbate at each other? I’ve done that a few times on talking to someone over the phone, but never in person. Even that was very, very hot.”

“Sure!”

“Harold, when you finish, would you let me lick the cum off your hand?” Arlene shuddered. “That’s such a delightfully nasty idea. I never understood girls that think it’s icky.”

“Girls worry about that? It freaks out most guys, from what I know, but I can’t understand how a guy would expect to be sucked off but then think her mouth became gross.”

“Let me remove my bra. That’s a bit tricky, especially if it’s a first time and you’re excited.” She did so, and her breasts popped free. They were impressively large but shapely, pressing forward with minimum sag. Her nipples and areolae were a dark pink, and already engorged. “Want me to leave on my stockings? I think I look even more naked with them, especially after...” she whisked off her translucent panties. “Hang on just a moment. Boots may get in the way.” She sat briefly on a couch and changed shoes. “High heel but not super-fetish for now. I don’t want to impress you into needing fetishes, but just treating them as spice.”

Arlene stood and posed, fondling her breasts and groin, and then sat back down. “This is posing. Feel me up, but that’s probably even better to explore when I’m stripped naked. Remember, I know this is new and I want us to concentrate on your experience.”

Sometimes when we touch

“Can I help you undress, or would my touching you be too much at the moment? Nothing to feel ashamed about if you cum quickly, because you’ll recover very quickly. When you feel it about to happen, put it where would be the most exciting for you -- in my mouth, on my breasts, or tell me to jerk you off. It’s all good. We’ll move to fondling each other and using our mouths...” I groaned, happily. “ ... before we fuck all sorts of ways.”

“Feel my thigh pressing against you?” Oh, I did. Music of the future sounded in my brain. It was an interesting theme, suggesting a depth of emotional connection that did not yet exist between us. On the other hand, we had moved incredibly far from faggot-slut

You ask me if I love you

And I choke on my reply

I’d rather hurt you honestly

Than mislead you with a lie

And who am I to judge you

In what you say or do

I’m only just beginning

To see the real you

And sometimes when we touch

The honesty’s too much

And I have to close my eyes and hide

I want to hold you till I die

Till we both break down and cry

I want to hold you till the fear in me subsides

Romance and all it’s strategy

Leaves me battling with my pride

But through all the insecurity

Some tenderness survives

I’m just another writer

Still trapped within my truth

A hesitant prize fighter

Still trapped within my youth

And sometimes when we touch

The honesty’s too much

And I have to close my eyes and hide

I want to hold you till I die

Till we both break down and cry

Sometimes When We Touch

Rod Stewart

“Drop a hand to it and explore, while you pull me to you with your other arm. Use that hand to explore my tits.”

I caressed her legs and chest. “Yeah, help me undress, Arlene. I feel clumsy.” I really did feel clumsy. My body clashed with my memories.

She moved gracefully, first gently removing his shirt. She unbuckled my pants and slipped them off. My shorts were already protruding into a tent.

Arlene smiled at the sight and touched the covered tip. I jerked, although did not yet ejaculate. “Harold, maybe you should take off your own shorts. It might be too much if I did it.

Welcoming the cream

“I’m going to kneel in front of you, and open my mouth. Or would you like me to take your rod between my tits?” She lifted her breasts and squeezed them together, as I yanked down my shorts and thrust into the valley of her bosom. I uttered something between a scream and a groan, and spattered her chest. I was a little embarrassed that my 14-year-old body had completely taken over from my experienced 67-year-old mind.

Arlene looked down, and realized her valley wasn’t fully available. She went to the mirror, and examined it with obvious pleasure.

“Looks yummy.” She scooped up some of my cum and licked it off her finger. “Hope that doesn’t bother you--some guys freak out when a girl plays with cum; they only think it’s ok for her to suck, and then to spit or swallow. They aren’t sure about the swallowing part, which makes them think it somehow might be gay.”

“First, is ‘gay’ a bad thing? Seems like many men like it. Second, if you take my cum and enjoy it, wouldn’t it degrade you if I was too good for doing so? Does it taste bad?”

“No, strong but not bad at all. More and more, I like it!”

“I’ve heard that it really gets great when mixed with your juices from below.” She shuddered and moaned, hungrily.

Arlene helped me to the bed. I needed the help. “That was lovely, my dear. Trust me. Even if I don’t help you, and I will, you’ll quickly be ready for a second and more rounds.” Harold wasn’t sure he was ready to be touched yet. “I know you’re probably painfully sensitive right now. Let’s kiss and stroke for now, stretched out on the bed, but move my hand to your cock when it feels like being touched again. If you want to nap for a while, that’s cool.” She cuddled next to me, and I drifted off, vaguely thinking an adult should be able to stay awake...

I opened my eyes, to see a happy Arlene. “Now that you’re watching, I’m going to strip and give you access to my naked body to explore. When you’re ready, I’ll explore yours as well.” She stood and quickly removed her clothes, and then slid next to him on the bed. “Let me encourage you to go anywhere.” She put one hand on her mound, and began to rub his fingers between her lips. He felt warm moistness, and was inspired to bring his fingers to his lips as he made eye contact. “Oh, yeah. You’re a natural. Give me your hand.”

I put my hand in hers. She bent it so it was palm up, and moved it to her opening again. “Slide it in. Curve the finger so you go against the front wall of my vagina. Feel for a slightly rough area. That’s the G-spot. Go back and forth. OH!”

“Damn, Harold. That’s one orgasm for you and one for me. Now, time for my clit. Want to lick it?”

“Yeah!”

“Now, I want to suck you off before you Do It.” Arlene took him deep, and then declaimed, in her Scarlett voice, “As God is my witness; I’ll never be hungry again. I shall fill up on sausage”. Harold laughed loudly, and then moaned with her movements.

We relaxed. “Let me get on top, dear.” She straddled me, and rubbing her clit and lips with the head of my penis. “Oh gawd, I’m turning into a fountain.”

“I can feel you dripping on me. It’s wonderful.” It was the world’s most natural feeling for him simply to slip into her. She paused as I filled her, holding him down for a moment, and then beginning to pump up and down. Neither one of them could last long.

This body was no longer formally virginal.

“You said something about mixed juices?”

“Yeah.” She shifted and put her pussy over my eager mouth.

They showered. “Harold, I’m more experienced than you are, although you seem to have a mighty talent about which you are comfortable. I hope we’ll continue, not being exclusive.” She gave an evil laugh. “I’m sufficiently one of the popular girls that when others see me paying attention, and they will, you won’t lack for female companionship. Of our peers, though, few will be as hot as I am. Got anyone in mind? I’ll help -- hey, we might do it together. I’m not monogamous and don’t expect you to be.”

“Classmates? Start with Shelley and Vivian. Still thinking about Joan and Suki, who are more ethereal artists.”

“Mom did tell me, though, that I should make sure that I convey that there are few if any limits, going into the outrageous. She’s going to introduce you to some. As a first naughty thing, though, I need to pee. She tells me that many guys wonder how women do it, so if you want, come here while I sit on the pot and watch, or put your hand down there and fondle. Hell, while I’ve never done it, she tells me that healthy fresh pee has little taste but can be very hot -- in both senses of the word -- to sample.”

She talked faster and faster. “Maybe the golden shower part can wait until we both are in the shower. I have fantasies of getting that...” She coughed. “Myself.”

Gently, I took her into my arms. “Take it at whatever pace works.

After the change

When we exited the shower, she pulled large, plush towels from one of the more sensual household accessories. In my previous life, I had first encountered towel warmers in Europe. After we were dry, she pulled thick, warm, robes from the warmer. We slipped into them, and then she led him to the hot tub room. Lois and Terry already were there, stretched out on the edge, their wet skin gleaming from a previous dip.

I wondered how fast things would go. I wondered about the dress code, if any, for the hot tub. When we arrived, it was clear that the dress code was wearing none. Both women were in the tub, with the water at neck height, but Terry rose slightly to raise her chest and preen at us. While the term MILF wasn’t yet in common use, she certainly fit it. I’m not fixated on breasts, but hers were notable, substantial, a little smaller than her daughter’s, but even more pointedly prominent. “Please look, Harold. I know I’m good-looking and like to be admired.” I slipped out of my robe and put a toe in the water, and, with exquisite care for the heat, slipped in. Next to me, Arlene did the same.

James Bong walked along the edge of the tub, shaking his head about the idea, alien to his species, of voluntarily getting wet. “You question me. Admittedly, I have a colleague, named Dorian, who enjoys leaping into full Jacuzzis, raising his tail from the whirlpool as a snorkel or periscope, and leaping out as it suits him. I may need to consult him.”

Terry, as mistress of ceremonies, made a grand gesture. “Now, admire Lois.” Lois had a different but very attractive and curvy body type, heavier than Terry and Arlene but still lovely. I had a Monroe flashback, remembering that Marilyn had a surprisingly tiny waist, as did Lois, although I could see it only for the moment when she raised herself out of the water. Lois gestured for me to sit between the two older women. “Arlene, sit on my far side, and I’m sure you can find something nice to feel. It’s time, though, for the old ladies to get their first crack at Harold.”

“Old?” My snicker turned to a full belly laugh. I wondered how well Lois would sense the reason: that I had the memories of a 67-year-old. In any event, I moved to taste Terry’s lips.

Terry looked at me seriously. “Get just a little taste of my mouth, and I promise it will get even hotter. Harold, let me tell you more about myself, which, in turn, will tell you more about Arlene. She knows some of this, but probably more by osmosis that explicitly.

“Early on, I was a stripper and escort. Yes, I put myself through college that way. I found out that being a prodomme was more lucrative, but my bottom line ... umm, no pun intended there ... was that I didn’t enjoy humiliating people, or giving more than symbolic pain, and not receiving it at all. Yes, I do enjoy what I guess I’d call erotic trance, certainly for others and, when it feels safe, for me personally. By trance, I mean my awareness being overcome by sensuality and sexuality. Tantra is one way to get there, but it’s not my only path.

“Anybody read Michael Harner’s The Way of the Shaman?” Everyone nodded. “Good. He writes about a shamanic state of consciousness, or what he calls a nonordinary reality. That fits better than trance.

“I learned that I’m decidedly exhibitionistic, particularly when my acts can draw people into what I think of as nonordinary reality. Arlene, you inherited this, and certainly are an exhibitionist. Forgive me if this is embarrassing, but from what I’ve heard from Lois, you sometimes turned the power of your exhibitionism into putting people down. I was so happy to hear that she was able to turn around that slut and faggot exchange. From now on, let “slut” be only a term of respect.

“Apropos of the shamanism, I sense that nonordinary reality, related to psychic abilities, are growing among us. While I can’t yet explain it, Harold, I get the sense of Others from you. I have my own set of spirit guides, led by a white panther and a great owl.

“I’m aware that what my tradition calls a geas has been present. That is magick, or perhaps psychic power, that prevents something. In this case, it prevents some of us from disclosing things that Harold does not want disclosed.

She looked especially serious. “We’re playing with governments. I’d personally like to have protections that means that I can’t talk even in the hands of the FBI, CIA, or some random Men in Black.”

“Soon, Paul will join us. He’s a trusted friend-with-benefits of Lois and myself. After dinner, we’re going to be joined by Greta, who will be living and working with us for a while. Apparently, for her, it isn’t just interesting to go into that non-ordinary reality, but it’s necessary for her to keep her sanity. In the meantime, let me give you some images and ideas.

“As I said, I didn’t enjoy the part of being a prodomme that involved humiliating people. That didn’t mean, however, that I didn’t learn things, and didn’t turn some dominance techniques into sensual things. Without further context, spitting is usually humiliating. But when two people decide to share saliva as part of play, in a mutual way, it can get very hot. A fair number of lesbians, I’ve found, do that.” I breathed hard, having had a few playmates that were into that. “Let me demonstrate. Open your mouth.” Her eyes opened wide as I growled happily at the entrance of her tongue, and then her giving me spit, which I promptly and sensually reciprocated. “Impressive. You got right into that.”

She excited me with even more kink. “There are other lesbian things that shouldn’t be limited to women alone. Humping and tribbing aren’t dominance things, and lots of fun between women. As long as we’re careful not to squish balls, can be quite a lot of fun between men and women, with male thighs grinding female mounds and cocks sliding against female thighs.” I confirmed my appreciation, moving my hand to her inner thigh, probing.

Lois tapped me on the shoulder. “Hey, what am I, chopped liver?”

I coughed at that. “And if you are? I consider fine chopped liver to be an outstanding delicacy, as I’m sure you are. Arlene! Get a taste of that chopped liver while I share a bit more with your mother!” Lois laughed and went into lip lock with Arlene. They enjoyed mutual breast fondling, but I’m sure they made an intuitive effort for me to see it.

James Bong accepted pleasure, in the form of chopped liver.

For the next little while, we cuddled, teased, and giggled. Terry looked at the clock. “We need to dry off, as a friend is coming soon. Harold, honey, you’ll have lots more opportunities to look at Lois and I, not just look but play.”

I did realize that while I had had very intimate observations of a naked Lois, seeing her with another adult body made this an even more provocative view.

“She and I are going to slip into some tube dresses and high-heeled sandals, with nothing underneath. Arlene, want to do the same?” She nodded in agreement. “Arlene, if you’d go to the warmer, you’ll find some extra-soft lounge pants and a shirt for Harold. I think you’ll find them nice for the evening. At some point, I want to indulge myself and put you into a Scottish outfit, complete with most manly kilt.”

Arlene clung to me, in a nice, not overly dependent way. I was confident that she trusted me completely, and would back me up both in school and outside.

James Bong confirmed it. “We’ve given Arlene some limited telempathic ability, mostly so that she can be an amplifier and relay of your thoughts and Lois’. She doesn’t fully know she has the ability and can’t yet initiate it on her own.”

When Terry and Lois came back, Terry said “We have some time before Paul gets here. Lois and I can start getting caught up on what you and Arlene were doing. Oh, I’m going to have fun right now.” She made eye contact with me, and then carefully raised her skirt. Under her blue tube dress, Terry wore black stockings and a garter belt, with exceptionally high heels. She revealed a trimmed bush, black, not matching her golden hair. I noticed that her vaginal lips were swollen and rosy, but not gaping, suggesting that she had been masturbating or perhaps exchanging fingering with Lois.

“Don’t be shy.” My older mind responded to that. I moved forward and buried my face into her crotch, just breathing in the heady aroma at first. My arm went around her hips and pulled her close; I began to lick her, initially for my pleasure by tasting her rather than stimulating. Terry let out a happy sound, somewhere between growl and purr.

Next to us, I became aware of Lois, in a matching red tube dress, taking Arlene into her arms and cupping her breasts. Arlene ground backwards with her butt in Lois’ groin.

We heard the front door. Paul Asiago entered with an armful of packages, bearing the logo of the newly arrived Washington DC branch of the Second Avenue Deli. He was in his late thirties, trim, dark complected, and wore a crew cut, not quite military, but giving an overall sense of self-discipline. His speech was precise and continued that image. “Hello, friends. I’m delighted to meet you, Harold. Just consider me not the Greek, but the Italian bearing gifts. Perhaps there’s a new culinary dawn, as Jewish delis never seemed to last in DC, but now we have branches of both Second Avenue, and Russ and Daughters. I brought an assortment of sandwiches and other delights, not, of course, as delightful as you ladies.”

He embraced Lois and then Terry. They glanced in my direction, sensitive to signs of jealousy as their tongues touched. I grinned, for I simply found it exciting, and wondered about how we might share partners later.

The first of the other delights was Greta. Tall and slender, Greta reminded me of a fashion model with the sort of Swedish features that suggested, in the eyes, some Asian ancestry, she wore a very short-skirted suit, in bright Kelly green with a black blouse and black boots. Her hose also was green. The resulting look was more high fashion than frankly provocative. It occurred to me that simply changing to flesh-toned hose would take it into the provocative. In any event, I found her spectacular.

Arlene nudged me. “Look and lust all you want. I’m going to. She’s a different body type than mine--so?”

Lois took on a Jewish mother persona. “Everyone, this is Greta. Before she shares her story, we should all be comfortable. Eat, eat.”

Picking up one of my favorites, I shook my head sadly at those who thought “what am I, chopped liver?” as an insult. This sort of chopped liver, on rye with a sweet Bermuda onion, was a high point of a specialized cuisine. The potato salad, cole slaw, and pickle played an accompaniment.