Chapter 3

"Hi, Vickey," Debbie said. "Daddy, this is my rommmate, Vickey; we work for the same company."

Sitting all crouched together, trying to pull my pants up and cover myself, I somehow focused on one thing. "Debbie, PLEASE stop calling me 'Daddy'," I said.

Standing up in the wreckage of her schoolgirl costume, apparently not minding that her tits were hanging out in front of me and her roommate, or that cum was dribbling down her thighs from her pussy and ass, she stretched languidly, then shrugged the blouse completely off and pulled the ties from her hair, shaking her head till it fell in a single shining auburn cascade to her shoulders. As she did, the schoolgirl persona dropped away, and she seemed to magically change from an awkward, coltish seventeen-year-old to a tall, slender young woman in her mid-twenties.

With cum dribbling down her thighs from her pussy and ass.

"Vickey," she said, "this is my Uncle Jimmy."

The blonde looked at me with interest, which I couldn't help returning. Several inches taller than Debbie -- maybe even six feet plus in her stocking feet, but wearing high spikes that would have made her taller than me if I were standing up instead of carefully re-zipping my pants, trying not to catch something important in the zipper -- she looked like a princess out of a Russian fairy tale.

Her pale, smooth white skin made her generous crimson lips, surprisingly dark eyebrows and huge blue eyes even more striking, and her white-blonde hair was piled on top of her head in an elaborate knot. She wore a simple but elegant gown in what looked like midnight-blue silk, cut so low in the back that it just missed revealing the top of her rear cleavage, and in the front so low that virtually the entire upper slopes of her large, perfectly-shaped breasts showed. A slit from her right ankle most of the way to the hip showed flashes as she walked of thigh-high ice-blue sheer hose that I realised were held up by an old-fashioned garter belt. Her shoes were a shade of blue that matched the gown, and she had a small warp that looked as it if might be sable draped around her.

It should have looked ridiculous, maybe even a little tawdry, but it didn't; on her it looked right. As I said, she looked so much like a princess that it worked; that one almost expected to see a coronet of some sort holding her hair in place.

Irrelevantly, I found myself seeing the princess resemblance -- I was thinking "If Diana had looked like THAT, Charles wouldn't be marrying that cow, Camilla next month..."

She looked at me with interest, then, with an impish urchin grin, she looked over at Debbie and said "Uncle Jimmy? You mean the one who... ?" and she held up her hands, about eighteen inches apart. I felt myself huddling even more embarrassedly in the chair where I sat, and looked over to Debbie for... what? Help? Reassurance? Protection?

Not hardly.

Debbie looked embarrassed herself, and, looking a bit shamefacedly downward, she shook her head slowly and said "No... I was wrong..."

Vickey looked at her, then at me, and raised an eyebrow, still holding her hands a foot and a half apart in the air.

"No," Debbie mumbled. "You know I was only about fifteen, and I only got a short look, and I wasn't able to judge accurately..."

"You mean it's NOT... ?" Vickey said, still holding her hands up, even gesturing to draw the eye to where they still measured off that length in the air.

"No," she answered. "I was wrong... It's..." and with a sudden evil grin, she held up her own hands, almost TWO FEET apart.

Both women reacted to my strangled blurt of embarrassed outrage by bursting into laughter, and Debbie took a couple of steps my way and, with a neat little hop, plopped her hot naked bottom right in my lap and flung her arms around my neck.

"Oh, Uncle Jimmy, I love you. You were my favourite of Mom's boyfriends, and you always made time to joke and play with me as if you really cared about who I was, not just as if being nice to me was going to help them fuck my mother.

"But you were an awful teaser, and you used to make me so MAD at the same time I loved you, so when I got the chance to embarrass you a little, I decided to take it."

"You mean... all of that was just to embarrass me?" I choked out.

"What? Oh. no! No -- I've wanted to fuck your brains out since I was about fifteen, and tonight just gave me a chance to do that."

Another quick snort of suppressed laughter from Vickey brought my eyes back to the tall blonde, who didn't seem the slightest put out or embarrassed to find her roommate fucking a total stranger in their living room.

Then I remembered that Debbie had said that Vickey worked for the same company, and I thought back to how I'd encountered Vickey for the first time in almost eight years, earlier this evening, and my conclusions must have shown on my face, because Vickey grinned evilly at me and said "Yep -- I am -- I do -- and I'm just back from a weekend with a client and we did -- several times a day. And now I want to put on grubbies and go out for a drink."

And with a challenging grin in my direction, she shrugged the dress's thin straps from her shoulders and let it fall in a shining blue puddle at her feet.

She stood there for a moment, like a statue of perfection made from snow, and I realised that under the dress she had been braless; her high, large breasts didn't need support yet, standing proud and high on her chest. She did, indeed, wear a simple white lace garter belt to support the ice-blue sheer thigh high hose she wore. The only other undergarment she wore was a black velvet g-string that contrasted strikingly with the milky whiteness of her skin and her white-blonde hair.

I couldn't help but stare, and, despite the weirdness of the situation, I felt the beginnings of a stirring in my crotch.

Stepping out of the fallen dress, she turned, then glanced back over her shoulder, and said "When you get tired of Little Debbie and want something a little more solid, my room's right over here, Uncle Jimmy...", and, with a stripper's strut, leaving the fallen dress where it lay, she crossed to the door, looked back once, and steped inside and shut it behind her.

"Well, that bitch," Debbie laughed. "She's still upset that she came in and caught her last boyfriend sneaking out of my room one time too many."

She picked up the blue dress, stepped over to Vickey's door, opened it and tossed the crumpled material inside, saying "Take care of this or Josie'll take it out of your end of the action!"

Then she turned to me, reached out and grabbed my hand, and pulled me toward the other bedroom door.

"C'mon, let's get a shower, and then Vickey and I can show you around town!"

Debbie's bedroom resembled what I remembered of her bedroom when she'd been fifteen, back in Atlanta, except that the girl-junk scattered around was at least partly adult girl-junk. Sure, there were stuffed animals -- "Is that Mr. Muffles?" I asked, pointing at a rather battered rabbit. "Oh, yeah -- he's my favourite; you gave him to me when I was thirteen and I've had him ever since," she said -- and posters of movie stars and pop singers on the wall, but there were also bras and thongs among the litter of jeans and dresses and blouses that waited for laundry between the bed and the wall, and I noticed a rather large vibrator sitting on the makeup table with her cosmetics and music boxes.

She shed the remains of her schoolgirl outfit as she crossed to another door, tossing the garments more or less toward the laundry pile, and, standing there nude, tall and slender and incredibly sensual, turned to me and said "Well, c'mon -- get undressed and let's shower."

I was still suffering from partial brainlock; the events of this evening since the knock on my hotel door a couple of hours ago were just too surreal to process. She "tsk"'d impatiently, stepped up to me, and, in two expert passes, had my shirt off and into the laundry pile, and my pants and shorts down around my ankles.

And then she reached down, grabbed me firmly by my half-erect cock, and began pulling me gently but irresistably toward the bathroom door; in self-defence I had to step out of my shorts and pants and follow.

Once in the bathroom, she pointed to the closed toilet lid next to the huge tub, and said "Sit", as if I were a puppy. I sat, trying to figure out just when this girl half my age had taken over the evening. Kneeling in front of me, she whipped my socks off my feet, and then, as she stood, leaned forward and briefly pressed my face between her grapefruit-sized tits.

Then she stood, exaggeratedly leaning toward the huge tub to adjust the water temperature, and pushed her fine ass cheeks into my face, looking back over her shoulder with a giggle, saying "See anything you like?", then, with a frankly evil grin, continued "Oh, yeah -- you liked all of that, didn't you?" and she cocked one leg so as to flash her pouty pussy lips at me.

Water temp right, she turned on the shower heads, and then stepped behind the translucent white curtain. All I could see through the curtain was her vague outline, and I relaxed a bit, feeling that I'd be able to catch my breath while she showered.

Or I thought so until a slim, wet arm suddenly shot out through the quick-rising steam, and two fingers took a vice-like grip on my left ear.

"C'mon -- get in here!" she said. "I'm not tired yet, and I bet you're not really tired, either."

"Help," I said, conversationally, "Rape." But I stepped over the high edge and down into the huge semi-sunken tub, where streams of hot, steaming water shot in from three directions, and Debbie stood in the middle like a statue of a naiad in a Greek fountain.

The hot water began to revive me almost immediately, and I couldn't avoid a fresh showing of what is known as "the gallant reflex". Looking down, Debbie grinned, then reached out with the soap in one hand and a cloth in the other and began to lather and stroke my cock and balls.