Chapter 11

It was Sunday, just after lunch. I had eaten by myself in my room, still recuperating after the blowout the night before. I was laying back on my bed, when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I called.

Phyllis opened the door. “I hope I am not intruding,” she said.

“Not at all, Sis.”

My cock instantly sprang to life,

She stood just inside the door. “I just came to say goodbye. I’m heading back to college.”

“We didn’t spend much time together. Sorry about that.”

My sister bowed her head. “I know. And you were right to send me back to our old house. I had a lot of classwork to do, and if I had hung around you here, I would be in big trouble tomorrow.”

I sat up. “Would you mind doing something, for me. I want to confirm something Connie told me.”

“Of course, Mikey.”

“And could you go get our mother?”

“Right away, Master.”

In two minutes, she was back with our Mom. “I was finishing up the dishes. Can I help you, Michael?”

I climbed off the bed. “Like I told Phyllis, I want confirm something Connie told me. You two get on the bed, kneeling and facing me.”

The two got on the king-sized bed, facing towards me, sideways. They knelt with their knees spread.

I stood before them. My cock was hard, of course, but knowing what was coming got me extra hard.

Seeing my member darken and swell, got my female relatives extra excited as well. “Now, I want you to start beating off. Don’t stop until I tell you.”

I don’t think I had to tell them. They started masturbating before I even finished my instructions.

In a matter of minutes their pussies were gushing all over my sheets. Their moans and cries got louder with each orgasm. Together, without looking, they reached out a hand for the other.

“No touching each other,” I ordered.

They pulled apart like they had shocked each other.

My mother’s and sister’s cries became louder and more shrill. “Oh, God! Master! I think I’m losing my mind! Please ... Please ... Master!”

Finally, I said, “If you want, you two can touch each other.”

Before I even finished the sentence they were in each other’s arms, kissing and rubbing their breasts together. They moved their pelvises so they could grind their clits together.

They continued to moan and groan, but their tone was different. Their cries were that of relief and release, not escalating torment.

I don’t know how they did it, but Phyllis and my mom managed to shift into a sixty-nine, without missing a beat of ecstasy. They both vigorously lapped at each other clits and vaginas, like they were made of vanilla ice cream.

Finally, I called them off of each other.

Reluctantly, they disengaged, and returned to their original kneeling position.

“So, you both had two different sexual experiences. How were they different?”

That stymied each other for about a minute. Finally, my sister started. “Well, the first part, masturbating alone, was very intense...”

My mom cut in, “It kept building and building, to the point that it became almost painful.”

Phyllis nodded, “But when we could touch each other, it was so different. It was still hot and sexy, but it was also comforting and nice.”

Mom said, “It was not delayed and just building, it felt fun and comfortable.”

Phyllis shrugged, “I don’t think we can put it into words.”

I shook my head. “No, you are saying about the same thing Connie told me yesterday.

“I think I understand now, how all you former straight girls could suddenly get turned on by lesbian sex.”

They both nodded in agreement.

“Of course, no sex of any type holds a candle to fucking you, Michael,” my mom gushed.

I reached out my hand, guided them both off the bed. “You are both as sticky, sweaty mess. Let’s go get you cleaned in the big tub.”

They both blushed and giggled like little schoolgirls, as I led them into the bathroom.

I had only been in first period English on Monday about fifteen minutes, when a note was delivered for me to report to the principal’s office. A murmur went through the room. Usually being summoned to the principal was a bad thing, but not this time. I knew why I had been called.

Dr. Cindy Phelps’ office was across the hall from the main office. It was a half-sized classroom. I don’t know what it had been used for originally. This high school was almost 100 years old.

Connie was waiting for me outside the office. “Are you ready?” she asked.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Just sit there, and look interested. You are supposed to be my protege.”

She knocked on the door, and was responded to with “Enter.”

We went in and saw our principal sitting behind her desk.

Some principals are the type who walk down the hall and know all the students by name. Dr. Phelps was not that kind. She was more of an administrator. Sure, she would smile and greet you if you saw her in the hall, but the disciplining and interacting with the student body was the vice-principal’s, Mr. Dunning, responsibility. She dealt with the parents, the school board, and the overall running of the school.

She looked a little like a young Hillary Clinton. She had the same haircut and a similar body type. But her hair was black, with gray eyes, a rounder face, and a softer, less shrill, voice. She was wearing a conservative brown suit, with a knee-length skirt.

Connie introduced me to Principal Phelps. “This is Mike Wilson. He is a sophomore, and I am showing him the ropes of student council.”

A light went off in the administrator’s brain, “I know you! You’re the guy that all the girls are crazy about.”

“That’s me,” I said.

She looked me up and down, non-judgmentally. “Well, good for you for getting involved in

student government.”

Then the two got to work on coordinating the senior prom and graduation. I zoned out of most of it. I just don’t have the mind that can organize that much minutia. It was one of the reasons that I am glad Connie runs my harem.

Occasionally, Dr. Phelps would look over at me, and see if I was following everything. I tried to look interested.

After about an hour, after second period, and Connie’s and my Chemistry class had started, they finally finished. Dr. Phelps said that it was nice to meet me, and ushered us out.

As we walked back to class, Connie said, “Boy, you really aren’t into school activities, are you?”