Chapter 3: My New Best Friend

The twins called me two days later, wanting very much to get together again. Knowing they were still seventeen made me cautious and I told them I wanted to get together with both of them as soon as possible, but my aunt had called me and sent me a plane ticket to attend her wedding. I would be gone a week or more.

"You don't want us!" they howled in tandem.

"That's nonsense!" I replied sounding wounded. "I want the both of you, repeatedly and then some!"

That seemed to perk them up. "Really?" One of them said, and I assured her I meant what I said. "I want to film the two of you with me," I said, hoping they would rise to the bait.

"Really, you want us in a ménage a trois?"

"I certainly do. Maybe I'll have some other college guys drop by."

"A gang bang, you want to tape us being gang banged?"

"Why not?"

"When, when, when?" they shouted in sync.

"How about Wednesday?" That was the day after their eighteenth birthday.

"Perfect!" they agreed together. And we left it like that. Now all I had to do was to find a camera and a cameraman. But fate was about to step in and lend a helping hand.

It was a typical Friday night beer party with plenty of girls to go around. I had a pert blonde named Cheyenne sitting on my lap kissing me off and on while I nursed my beer. She appealed to me mainly because she was dressed in the famous Mick Jagger long tongued T-shirt and a pair of baggy overalls. But I realized that I was more interested in this tall, lean guy whose name I later learned was Dan DeLeon or Dandy to most people, conversing with two girls that I had admired earlier but had not met.

It was the ease with which he commanded their rapt attention and persuaded them to follow him upstairs that caused me to give him a five minute head start before taking Cheyenne by the hand, and telling her we were going to be using the bathroom upstairs for a while. Here again, I took it for granted that Cheyenne would come with me. When we reached the top of the landing I paused to listen. I heard the muffled sounds that I expected to hear coming from the second bedroom, which happened to be directly across the hall from the bathroom.

Signaling Cheyenne to be quiet, I nudged the bedroom door, opening it several inches, and then peeked inside. One girl was already lying on her back across the bed, her dress up around her waist. Dandy was going down on her. The other girl was kneeling on the floor, cupping his balls with one hand while the other supported his thick cock as she kissed its tip.

I closed the door after assuring myself that Cheyenne had had an opportunity to see what was happing in the bedroom. As we entered the bathroom Cheyenne whispered in my ear, "Jesus, I never saw a guy take on two girls before."

Easing the straps of her overalls from her shoulders, I inquired, "So tell me what you have seen." She never hesitated. "Erma Radwanski, back in my sophomore year in high school did the basketball team. I mean she did all of them, even the Junior Varsity players."

"Did she fuck every one of them?"

"I'm not sure."

"What do you mean?"

"I only saw her with the big black guy, Adonis Long. He sure fucked her."

My hand snaked its way under her Mick Jagger t-shirt and grazed the right nipple of a pear shaped breast. It was rock hard. "How do you know she did the whole team?"

"Cause they were ... like all lined up, waiting their turn. Oh, you're sneaky naughty!"

"What?"

"You know ... what your hand is doing under my shirt." Ignoring her, I moved to the other breast and tweaked that nipple. "So you didn't see her do the team?"

"What?" she appeared distracted.

"Did you see her do the other players?"

"Well, I didn't want to hang around..."

"Afraid the team would want you to take part?"

"Um, I guess," Cheyenne said with a pout. "But it was all over school the next day."

"Do you want to see it?"

"Huh ... see what?"

"My dick."

"Oh, you are the naughtiest..." I was already releasing my tool. Cheyenne's jaw dropped as I let it all hang out. "My goodness! How big is it?"

"Touch it," I said, ignoring the question. She reached out and daintily took hold of it. "Like this?"

"It won't break, Cheyenne, give it a squeeze." She gave it a half-hearted squeeze and I knew she lacked experience. "Are you a virgin, Cheyenne?"

"No!" she bleated and I put a finger to her lips to quiet her. "I was only asking."

"Well, I did it with Jerry Fenton, senior year!"

"And how did that work out?"

"He was a gentleman," she said, trying to salvage her chagrin at being put on the spot.

"I suppose you've had dozens of girls," she countered.

"As a matter of fact, I have."

"You have?"

"And I'm going to have you in about a minute."

Her voice and her legs went weak. "You are?"

I was already working her overalls down. When they reached her knees, Cheyenne realized what was happening, and whispered, "No!"

"You're holding my dick; doesn't that mean you want me to do something with it other than put it back in my pants?"

"I ... I don't..."

I slipped my hand down the front of her panties. She was about as wet as a girl can get.

"OH!"

My finger slipped inside her.

"OH!"

"Hop up on the sink." Cheyenne gave a little jump and found herself perched on the sink.

The fingers of both hands took hold of the waistband of her panties; they were Carolina blue, by the way.

"Lift up!" She did, and I had her panties down to her knees before she sat back down with her legs spread-eagled in expectation of my throbbing dick entering her little oyster.

"I'm going to make you cum, Cheyenne. Try not to scream, you might startle the folks in the bedroom across from us." To my surprise my comment made her laugh. It had a pleasing tinkle to it. I placed a hand on each of her thighs then leaned in and licked her from bottom to top, flicking my tongue over her emerging clit three times before returning to the starting point.

"Oh, my God!"

"It gets better," I called out, sotto-voice.

"Does it?" she responded weakly.

"Relax, let me do the work," I said, and she didn't utter another word until I pulled my tool from her steaming pussy after dumping about a quart of cum in her squiggly sheath.

"How do you feel now?"

"Wonderful. I don't think my legs are working though."

"Is that so?" I said and lifted her up so that she sat on the edge of the sink again.

"What are you doing?"

"I can't let you leave here with all that stuff inside you." Before she could rely, I was between her legs again lapping up my sperm and her juices, sending Cheyenne off to Disney World with about three or four more orgasms.

When my face left her snatch, I looked in the mirror and saw my face covered with our commingled fluids. Just then the bathroom door opened and Dandy stood there, dick in hand, obviously needing to take a leak. Just behind him, peeking over his shoulder was the girl I had seen quaffing his dick.

"Sorry about that," Dandy said, but obviously didn't mean a word of it, as he strode past us, straddled the toilet letting loose a long stream of urine that had both girls watching with a mix of horror and excitement.

Shaking the last few drops from his appendage, Dandy turned to the girl he'd brought with him and told her to relieve herself, and with almost no hesitation, she sat down and emptied her very full bladder, wiped her cunt off and flushed the toilet.

Cheyenne had both hands over her eyes as if trying to deny what was going on in front of her. Sticking his hand out to me, he introduced himself to me. "Dandy," he said. "This pretty young thing is Olga."

I reciprocated, accepting his hand and saying, "Aubrey, and Cheyenne."

"You the Morgenthall was in the papers about two years ago?"

"I might be. What did you read?"

"Oh, it was about a terrific quarterback got mixed up in a movie venture."

The girls were following this attentively, but at the mention of my "movie venture," a quizzical expression found its way to both their faces. They didn't understand what Dandy's point was. He glanced at them and said, "Oh Aubrey here was in a movie with Sharon Stone a couple years ago. He played a high school football player in love with his teacher. Did you girls see it?"

Cheyenne shrugged her shoulders, signing that she had not. Olga nodded vigorously, "Oh, yeah, I remember now. You got to kiss her at the end."

Not wanting her to trip her up in a lie, I smiled and said, "No, I didn't kiss her. I played a crazy drug addict. She killed me. Shot me three times in the next to last scene. But I have to tell you, the film bombed. It wasn't even released in the states. It got good reviews in Taiwan though."