Chapter 2

When the door closed, I sat dazed for several minutes, then got up and moved to the bedroom. I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes. Some indeterminate time later I woke up and looked at the clock. It was after seven. I hoped that was seven pm., and a closer look confirmed that it was. I got up, wondering about the strange dream I had just had, and stepped into the shower. The sharp tingle of the spray soon brought me around and the edges of the dream became more clearly defined. It had not been a dream. As I dried myself, I wondered how many hours of freedom I was going to have. I put on pajamas and walked into the living room. There on an end table was an oily bag of cookies. I supposed that if I was going to do a review, I had better get started.

While I had never aspired to be a food critic, I had been given the assignment. If they wanted a review, I would give them one. A cookie review, at least (It suddenly occurred to me that Jen might have meant something else; I put that thought quickly from my mind.) I made some coffee, poured a glass of milk, and set the coffee, milk, and the cookies on my desk. I took a cookie from the bag and placed it on a paper towel, then began to jot down some notes on my pad. I assessed the look, feel, and smell of the cookie in question, then took a small bite. Trying to adopt the proper persona, I held the bite in my mouth to test the texture and tried to separate out the various flavors. I then repeated the procedure after taking a sip of coffee, and again after a sip of milk. The thought struck me that I could be good at this.

There appeared to be three or four cookies each of four different batches in the bag, which made sense. I went through the routine with one cookie from each batch, then closed the bag, finished off the glass of milk and the cup of coffee, and then sat back to review my notes and start putting together a mental draft of my critique. I had soon completed a couple of real drafts and was feeling fairly satisfied with my work.

Writing the cookie review had given me a jump start. I went back to work on my bill-paying article and by three AM. had finished it off. I was on a roll, so I pulled out my current short story, threw out the last half-dozen pages and replaced them with a dozen fresh ones. Really fresh ones. In a few hours I had gotten more real work done than I had in the previous week. When my alarm went off at 7:30, I went to bed.

I woke up a couple of hours later in a cold sweat. The reality of the day before had begun pounding on my mind. There was another brief moment when I had hoped it was only a spectacularly good dream, but then I saw the cookie bag where I had left it on the desk. I got up, walked into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. I felt as though I had some kind of monstrous hangover. I couldn’t go back to bed, so I went to the living room and sat down on the sofa. Desperate thoughts kept running through my head. I had the feeling that any minute there would be a knock at the door.

There was a knock at the door. Startled, I jumped up and realized that I was still in my pajamas. I thought briefly that it would be particularly ignominious to be either arrested or shot by an irate parent while in my pajamas, and was considering retreating to the bedroom to get dressed when the knock came again, more insistently. My knees were shaking as I walked to the door. I peered anxiously through the fish-eye and saw neither a blue uniform nor a hulking father, but a small figure in torn jeans, sweatshirt, and cap. I didn’t recognize him, but thought that it could be the new paper boy, and if it was, I owed him money. I opened the door. It took a few moments for my eyes to focus, and then I recognized Jen. She stepped quickly through the door, almost pushing me aside.

“I’m really sorry about yesterday, Mr. Marshall,” she said. “Really I am, but I want to ask you a favor anyway, OK? Has my Mom called yet?”

“Sorry about what, Jen? I don’t understand. Your Mom hasn’t called. Did she say she was going to?” I had the feeling I was losing it again.

“Yeah. She was gonna talk to the other Moms first, though. You know what I mean. About spitting that stuff out and chickening out at the end and all.” I supposed she meant the Moms were going to discuss the Class. At least I hoped that was what she meant.

“Listen, Jen,” I said, “that’s perfectly all right. Lots of people don’t like to swallow, and it really makes no difference at all, you know. And don’t let the others push you into anything you don’t want to do.”

“But I really, really, really wanted to do it! Honest! But I got scared after I saw Karen and Sam. I didn’t know what I might do. I’m usually a lot more excitable than they are and they kinda freaked, so I was really scared. Especially when I thought about how it felt when you took my bra off and kissed me. I never once in my whole life even imagined anything like that. I just didn’t want them to see me go really crazy or anything, and I was afraid I would. But I’ll still be scared next week if I don’t do it first, so that’s what I wanted to ask. Could I have my turn today, please? I know you’re busy, and we took up a lot of time yesterday, but it really wouldn’t take long, and I could help you out somehow to make up for it. Clean your house for you while you work or something, whatever you say.”

She was so serious I could barely keep from laughing. I had never really believed in hysteria, but I had the feeling I might be about to experience it. I took a deep breath, then another, then said thoughtfully, “Jen, I would truly love to do it, but are you sure it’s really a good idea? With just the two of us?”

“It’s OK, Mr. Marshall, really it is. I trust you. Will you do it for me? Please?”

I thought, what the hell, they can only hang me once, and agreed.

“Oh, great!” she squealed. “Should I get undressed, or do you want to do it again?”

“It’s up to you, Jen. Whatever you want. After all, it’s your party.” I could be magnanimous in times like these.

“OK, I’ll do it, but can I do you first? I only had a chance to do a little bit yesterday.”

“Sure. If you like. But I’m only wearing pajamas, so it’ll only be a little bit today, too.”

“Yeah,” she said slyly, “but it’s the little bit that counts.” She moved to me and unbuttoned my top, then pulled it down from my shoulders and pitched it aside. With a huge grin she began unsnapping my pants, revealing my condition (which had hardly been concealed, anyway.) She pulled them down, and I stepped out of them. “Well, hello, there!” she said to my bobbing cock. She bent over and kissed it lightly on the tip, then stood up straight and took a couple of steps backward. She bent over, untied her shoes, slipped them off, and pulled off her socks. Then she stood up, flipped her cap onto a nearby chair, and pulled her sweatshirt over her head. She began to slowly unbutton her jeans. My mouth was getting dry. She dropped her jeans and kicked them aside. She stood quietly for a moment, then reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. She shrugged it off and hung it over my cock, then slipped out of her panties and hung them up as well. Then she put her hands on her hips, looked me in the eye, and said, “Well. Here we are.”

“Yes, indeed,” I replied, sitting down on the floor, “and we have work to do.” I extended my hand to her and she sat next to me. I put my arm around her and lowered her to the floor.

“Nobody will hear me if I yell, will they?” she asked me.

“Nope,” I said, “let it all hang out. Yell, scream, whatever you like. If you want me to do something or stop something, just tell me.”

“Do something,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. And I did. I began kissing her face as I stroked her body.

“That feeling is starting to come back already,” she commented quietly. “I might get pretty wild if it keeps up.”

“Get as wild as you like, Jen,” I said. “There’s no one to hear but me, and I can handle it.”

“OK,” she said clearly. “It feels like my nipples are getting really hard already, and I’m starting to get wet, too.”

She was right. Lying down as she was, she hardly had any breasts, but her nipples were rock hard. I moved my fingers back and forth across one of them, flicking it with each one. She began lifting her body from the floor, pressing against my hand. I kissed the hollow of her throat, and began moving lower. I let my hand slide below her nipple and rest on the bottom of her breast. I kissed the top of her breast, then worked my way around it, letting my lips brush her nipple but without kissing it. I raised my head slightly and flicked my tongue across her nipple, and when I did she crushed my head to her, saying, “Yes, that’s it that’s it” I didn’t pull away, but allowed her to direct my kisses while my hand slid down along her side to rest on her hip, with my thumb lying in the crease of her thigh. My lips and tongue played with her nipple while my hand slid across to her inner thigh. It might have been my imagination, but I was sure that I felt heat coming from her crotch. I slid my hand up until my forefinger was lying in the crease of her cunt, and my thumb was sliding along the side of her clit. Her hips began to move, lifting against my hand. She gasped slightly and said matter-of-factually, but in a husky voice, “Mr. Marshall, I’m going to scream.” In answer I sucked in her nipple and flicked it with my tongue, and at the same time let the tip of my finger enter her. She screamed. She crushed my head into her breast again, and screamed again.

Her hips were beginning to buck completely off the floor. I moved my hand away and caressed her thigh, working slowly down to her knee. I began to kiss my way down from her breast, working my way slowly, and letting my lips trace every inch. Her hands stayed on my head, but she didn’t try to lead. She was breathing very deeply and noisily, and her body was writhing slightly. My lips crossed her belly and moved further down. I felt the soft wisps of her sparse pubic hair against my cheek, but let my lips move over to the outside of her thigh. I slid one of my hands beneath her leg and, with my fingers sliding down her inner thigh, kissed my way all the down her leg, behind her knee, and down to her foot. Then I rolled over and began working my way back up the inside of her leg. When I reached the point that my cheek was resting on her mound, I turned over again and began moving down her other leg. She started making crying sounds, sobbing sounds. She tried to speak, but got no further than, “Mr. Marshall” As I moved down, she turned her leg to accommodate me. When I got to the back of her knee this time, I kissed it once, and then licked it, and then slid my tongue quickly back up her thigh all the way to her clit. I flicked my tongue around and across it, then let my lip press against it as I thrust my tongue into her. A gargling scream came out of her. Her body began to tremble and shake. As I continued probing her with my tongue the tremble became a shudder, and then an earthquake. Her hips bucked violently against me. Her hands pressed against my head again, but there was no strength in them. A low moan came from her that grew in intensity. By now I had my hands cradling her buttocks as I lapped at her. A scream that dwarfed all the previous ones came pouring from her, and suddenly she shuddered violently again, and then went limp, so limp that I thought that she had fainted. I dipped my tongue deeply into her again to taste the mucous that was flowing from her, and then moved back up to hold her in my arms. I kissed her eyelids and tasted salty tears. She pulled my lips to hers and kissed me violently. Then she threw her arms around my neck, put her lips to my ear, and giggling madly, said simply, “See?”

“Jen,” I said, “I would say that you did rather spectacularly well. Really, I pushed you a lot farther than I did Karen or Sam, and you handled it at least as well as they did.”

“I’ll do better next time, Mr. Marshall. I know what it’s like now, and I can handle it next time. You watch. I’m ready to finish the rest of it now, too.” I must have looked puzzled, because she explained more carefully. “I want to suck you and take your cum in my mouth, just like the others did.”

“Jen, if you do it now, there’s going to be a lot. More even than Sue got yesterday, I’m sure. Maybe you ought to pass on this one and get the next one.”

“I’m going to get both of them, if it’s all right with you,” she said. As she spoke, she moved down to my cock and took it in her mouth.

I spoke again, “Wait, Jen.” She lifted her head and looked at me curiously. “About this swallowing business. Really, you should only do what’s comfortable for you and what you like to do. You shouldn’t worry about whether the other girls swallow or not: that has nothing to do with you and me.”

“But now I want to try it myself,” she said. “If I really don’t like it, I won’t do it anymore; I’ll spit it out just like I did last time. I promise.”

“OK. But remember, this first one might come at you pretty hard. If it bothers you at all, just quit and spit it out, and you can try again later.”

“All right, Mr. Marshall. Now will you please shut up? I’ve got stuff to do.” And with that, she went to it. She began slowly, seeming to savor every part of it. Then her jaw began to work, and her head began to bob. Her hand cradled my balls, and began to softly massage them. This was not going to take long at all. I held back as long as I could, then tried to warn her as my back rose from the floor and I pulled my elbows under me. I don’t know whether I succeeded or not, but she never flinched as I began to pump into her mouth. I began to moan as she sucked and squeezed, and sucked and squeezed, and then began to chew. I thought that I was about finished, when I felt another stream rising. As it spurted from me, I gasped loudly. Jen never missed a beat. My back was still arched up from the floor, and I began to tremble. She sucked deeply, and I went limp, dropping back to the floor. She sucked again, then let her mouth pull free. My vision was hazy, but I could see a huge grin on her face as she sat back on her heels. There was one tiny trickle from the corner of her mouth, and as I watched she flicked her tongue out to wipe it away. “Yeah. I think I like that,” she said. “But I’ll need to try it again a couple more times to make sure.” She grinned, got to her feet, and extended a hand to me. I took it gratefully, and she helped me up, then walked me to the sofa where we both dropped.

“Thanks a lot, Mr. Marshall,” she said, “I feel a lot better about everything now. I’m not gonna worry about anything anymore, I’m just gonna relax and have fun.”

“I’m glad you feel better, Jen,” I said cautiously, “but you really shouldn’t worry about what the others might think, anyway. Just be yourself, and don’t do anything just because they are doing it.”

“I won’t, Mr. Marshall, I promise. And besides, I told you before that this wasn’t like that at all. I really wanted to do it, they didn’t have anything to do with it. I don’t do stuff just because they do, or anybody else, either.”

“That’s good, Jen. I’m glad to hear you say that.”

“Can I ask you something, Mr. Marshall? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Go ahead and ask, Jen. I’ll try and answer.” After I said that, I thought that I might be letting myself in for it.

“Yesterday when we were playing strip poker, how come you took my clothes off instead of somebody else’s? I think most guys would take Sam’s clothes, or Sue’s. Why me?”

I thought for a couple of seconds. I wasn’t really sure myself, but I thought I could at least try to give an honest answer. “ I didn’t really think about it, Jen. I just did it. I’m not sure why. I guess because I kind of considered you the spokesman, or the leader, or something. I was just kind of focused on you, I guess. And besides” I paused, considering. “You’re a very cute girl, and “ I stopped.

“That’s okay, Mr. Marshall. I was just wondering. It’s not important.” She snuggled up against me and pulled her legs up beside her on the sofa. She held her hand out flat and stiff, rested her palm on what was left of my erection, and began to rotate it slowly. “Everybody thinks you’re a really nice guy.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Can I ask you a question now?”

“Sure. Go ahead.” She sounded pretty confident.

“How did you girls decide to come here? Really?” I was shocked to hear myself ask the question, somehow. Everything had a surreal feel about it by now.

“Oh, that’s easy. We’ve all been friends since grade school, and we’ve been talking about this kind of stuff for ever. You know, about boys and sex and stuff.” I nodded. “Well, anyway, a couple of weeks ago we were talking about it and we decided that we didn’t want to mess around with any boys our age, but that if we could find an older guy that we could get to cooperate, then that would be great. But it would have to be like a really older guy, not some creep. Somebody that we could trust and that wouldn’t get us in trouble or anything. Well, when you helped us out the other day, you seemed like a nice guy, and we started talking about really doing it. And we had your name and address, so we could do it if we wanted to. So for a couple of days we talked about how we could do it and what we would do if things went wrong and all. By yesterday we thought we were ready, so we did it. And I’m really glad we did. And the others are, too. So now we’re all set.”