When Mom and Dad announced Friday at dinner that they'd be leaving in the morning, and staying overnight out of town, I knew I had to scramble. Dad worked for this dream company where if you had a big presentation to give, they'd round up other big presentations, and, like, rent out a wing of a spa a state away.

I knew I had to scramble even before my sister told me so. When you have an older sister like Bethany, you learn to anticipate.

"Listen," she quickly cornered me after dinner. "I have plans. I'm going out with my friends Saturday night. If I wind up getting stuck home with you, I guarantee it will be painful. So go call up one of your stupid little friends and arrange one of your circle jerk sleepovers. At his house."

It was so stupid. Since she was 17, Bethany was allowed to stay home overnight alone, except she'd be going out with her friends. I'd promise to go nowhere but my bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, and the livingroom, but since I was still 14, I needed supervision.

Mike agreed. We weren't really that good of friends, but he lived a few streets over. And he too had a bitchy older sister. In fact, he owed me one. He'd asked the same favor, for near exact reasons, just a month or so ago.

I wasn't really all that eager to go over to Mike's. He was low on the list of the friends I'd called. He was an okay guy and all, but last time, after the video games and t.v. and snacks, as we lay in my room in the dark, teeth-brushed and yakking, me in my bed and him on the floor in his sleeping bag ... well. That was when he started talking about how hot my sister was, how just looking at her got him so hard, and how hard it must be for me, and did I ever jack-off thinking about Bethany? because he sure would. And he did. I could hear him.

I'd started getting real hard, but then it melted, listening to Mike going at it. I didn't blame him, though. In truth, his sister, as with all her friends, was malformed and homely.

Bethany's friends Tracy and Stacy were super hot; ergo, I guessed, my sister was hot too. My tormentor did come with great tits.

I kind of had a fantasy where Bethany had to go on a sleepover at Mike's, while I got to go out with Tracy and Stacy. But then I was ringing Mike's doorbell.

His mom made us some frozen snacks, which we ate while watching a movie. After that, we went to his room and played video games for awhile. Then Mike started looking seriously green. He ran off to the bathroom and was gone so long I got bored and left his room. I could hear him in the bathroom. He sounded like he was throwing up all the alien beings that'd been silently gestating inside his body since his birth. I found his mom in the kitchen, and she wasn't looking too well either. She said something about how Mike's dad was just now recovering from a bitter week's bout with a stomach bug.

Why hadn't they said something beforehand? I grabbed my gear and fled that house of pestilence. His mom said something about giving me a ride, but that was like a zombie asking you to slow down, because your brain smelled so good.

"That's okay," I shouted over my shoulder, "it's just a few blocks, and I know my way."

When I got back my house was dark, as I expected. It was barely ten o'clock, so no doubt Bethany wasn't home yet by a long shot. The front door was locked, and I didn't have a key. I was too young to be entrusted with a key. Or, actually, I'd been given my own key, but I'd lost it months ago.

So I circled the house. We had a walk-out basement because of the terrain. The door down there, I'd learned a few years ago, had one of those cheap locks you could jimmy with a driver's license. I didn't have one of those, of course, but anything slim but stiff yet flexible plastic worked. Like an old store credit card my mom had thrown out that I'd snatched and stuck under a nearby stone, just in case I ever needed to get in the house without admitting I'd lost my key.

The door let into the functional half of the basement. The washer and dryer and utility sink, some shelves and stuff for storage. To the left, past the storage, was another doorway that led to Dad's workshop, with all his cool tools, and always the smell of sawdust because he was too lazy to sweep. There was a door proper to that area, but it wouldn't stay closed. Dad had subdivided the basement himself, and done a great job with the walls, but he wasn't very good at hanging doors.

So even though I was getting older, I could never shake off the shudders at being in that part of the basement. It'd scared the shit out of me my whole life having to be there alone. Because past Dad's area was another doorway, where I guessed he'd given up on doors, leaving just the framing. In that final darkest corner of the basement lived the furnace and water heater, and no telling what sort of monsters! Every horror film I'd ever seen was likely to come rushing out from that room.

I moved quickly towards the door that also would never stay closed, leading into the fun side of the basement. The rec room with the old soft sofas and the old t.v. and the old rugs and the old fridge full of sodas. You could play ping-pong, or pool, or bumper pool or foosball. The stairs led down into there.

That the lights were clearly blazing in there was a sign of only that we were a family who often forgot to turn out lights. Though Mom and Dad were always on me and my sister about it, they were just as bad.

I was just glad that someone had forgotten, because I started getting really scared. I knew, intellectually, that there weren't any monsters or psychos in our basement, but then I was hearing noises I'd never heard before. They sounded sort of human, but also very animal. It wasn't until I got right to the vertical bar of light that I realized I was in the quiet half of the basement.

Nudging the door open a tiny bit more, I caught sight of something that made my jaw drop, and my dick rise.

There were rumors floating around high school among us freshmen boys about how the upperclassmen had wild sex parties, but I'd always written that off as wishful thinking. The girls our age would barely tongue-kiss. It seemed absurd that a couple of years would change any of that dramatically. Sure, the juniors and seniors paired off and became couples, and no doubt real sex began for some of them. But surely all the rest was lies and conjectures and outright fantasies.

Except that was exactly what I was witnessing, through the slightly opened door.

There were six people, all totally naked. The three boys looked sort of familiar, but I couldn't name them--I was always much more interested in the girls my sister hung out with. One of the guys was lying on the floor while Stacy rode his cock and Tracy rode his face. Another of the guys was sitting on a sofa while Bethany was on her knees sucking him off. The other guy was banging my sister from behind. Then the noises in the room shed their human element and became pure animal as everyone seemed to orgasm at once.

The guy behind my sister joined his buddy on the couch, as did the other guy, once Tracy and Stacy moved off and let him up.

It wasn't but a few minutes before my sister attacked the sofa. She had one limp dick in her mouth, the other two in her tugging hands. "C'mon guys, I need more cock!"

"Maybe you shouldn't have wasted my last load in your mouth," the one quipped.

"But that was so hot," she moaned.

"True that," he replied, and all the guys high-fived.

She was sucking the one who'd just fucked her. "Babe," he said, caressing her bobbing head, "we've all blown twice. Which isn't to say you shouldn't stay on your knees and pray for a miracle. Maybe we should call in a pizza and rest for awhile." The other guys concurred.

"Too horny for food," she resumed.

The other two girls resolved the problem. Stacy remained upright, on her knees, from where she'd risen off the shrinking cock. Tracy rolled onto her back and slipped her head underneath. Stacy lowered down onto her face, then leaned forward and down to reciprocate the pussy licking.

"Maybe you should join Tracy and Stacy. That would be real hot to watch."

"But I want cock right not, not tongue."

"Just saying..."

Mike had a secret cache of a couple battered copies of skin mags, so I'd seen photos of stuff like this. But they were staged photos, with like, fake Grecian columns in the background. This was like watching a porn movie, except it wasn't scripted, it wasn't even a movie--it was real life!

Stacy, for some reason, rose upright from Tracy's pussy, gave her long blonde hair a voluptuous toss as she ground down on Tracy's face. And then Stacy saw me. Her eyes grew real wide as she shuddered on top of Tracy

"Oh, sweet Jesus," she exclaimed, "fresh meat for the party."

Bethany looked over from her bank of limp boys. "Brian," she shouted, "what the hell are you doing here?!!"

I quavered before her fury. "Mike, Mike started getting sick, like from a stomach bug, so I came home. The front door was locked and I didn't have my key and I knew I could get in through the basement door. I thought you were out with your friends having fun."

Stacy moved off Tracy and began crawling towards me on all fours. "The rest of us are out, and we're all having fun. Care to join us?"

"Stacy, that's not even funny." Bethany informed her. "He's my little brother, for fuck's sake."

"For the sake of fucking, who cares?" she growled. Tracy rolled off her back and began stalking me on all fours as well. I felt like I was in Africa, they way their eyes glinted as they moved in for the kill.

Ever since they'd become Bethany's best friends a few years ago, I always had trouble telling them apart. But in name only. One was a fireplug of olive skin with a mane of black curls, a sticking-out pinch-me butt, and tits so big they were almost scary. I'd finally sorted it out that she was Tracy, as in T is for Tits. Stacy was taller, willowier, with generous but less imposing breasts, the nipples more like candy kisses than Tracy's silver dollars. As well, from the glimpses I'd seen of her hair down there, Stacy was genetically blonde.

I was shocked and amazed and loving every second of it. Two naked girls crawling towards you, their breasts hanging low--who wouldn't? The only breasts I'd ever seen were in those couple of issues of Mike's dirty magazines. After all, I was just a boy. I was thrilled a few weeks ago when Michelle Jackson stopped me on the walk home from the school bus to make out. But it was first she lightly kissed my lips, and then that was all I was allowed to do back. We traded back and forth, and then she let me feel her up. But it was chilly and she was wearing a big puffy coat, so it was more like I was in a store flipping through a rack of puffy coats than feeling an actual boob.

And then two pairs of real boobs were crawling towards me, while Bethany continued her protests, "C'mon, that's little Brian we're talking about."

I was stiff as steel before either of them reached me. "Or not-so-little Brian," Stacy cooed, rubbing the front of my pants. I had to gulp back just to keep from shooting off from her well-clad touch. I could hardly be faulted if I did--I'd never had a girl's hand down there, even through denim.

Tracy had caught up and joined Stacy. And then the two were undoing my belt, and everything else so they could pull my pants down. I stood there in total shock. When their hands went to the straining waist of my underpants, I started to get embarrassed. Sure, I had the hardest hard-on of my life, but still, I wasn't even fifteen. I doubted that I'd grown up much more in the month since I'd actually measured my meager 7-1/2 inches. And from all the hot letters I'd ever read at Mike's, the authors' barely-above-normal 10 inches of man-meat were still enough to satisfy the women they were writing about.

"Well, won't you look at that," Tracy said when they finally got me unhooked from the elastic and totally unveiled. I felt so small that it started wilting under the disdaining glares of their eyes. Until Stacy wrapped both hands around it and started jacking me with reverence.

"What a monster cock!" she exclaimed.

Tracy licked her lips. "Really!" She lent a hand, and then turned to the guys on the sofa. "What's up with you guys?" A couple of them were jacking it, trying to get hard again, but the more they looked, the more they were the ones who were wilting.

"God, Bethany," Stacy demanded, "why didn't you tell us your brother had a tiger in his tank? Keeping it all for yourself, you greedy bitch?"

Bethany was staring at me, but nowhere near my face. "I ... had ... no... fucking idea."

Stacy moved away from me, and then lay down on her back, right there on the floor, spreading her legs.

Tracy placed her hands on my shoulders, and pressed me to my knees. Then she playfully spanked my ass until I'd scooted up between Stacy's open thighs. Nature took over then, as I lowered myself down to cover her. Tracy helped, holding my stiffness and guiding me to the gates of Stacy's depth. She gave a long low groan as I sank slowly all the way into her pussy. Stacy took over, clasping me against her with her arms and legs. "Fuck me hard and fast," she huffed in my ear, "you sweet little boy."

Well, ten minutes before, I'd once felt up a puffy coat, and done a little kissing. I didn't know any other gear. Two minutes of hard and fast and I was over the edge. I knew that was kind of bad sex, at least for the girl, but then Stacy squealed, "Oh my god, it's getting even bigger." And then, as I shuddered into her, she was shuddering right back. Shooting my stuff into a pussy instead of a tissue was great enough, but the way her pussy was squeezing me consigned my own hand to amateur status for the rest of my life.

I didn't know that girls like to keep you inside afterwards until you get so soft you plop out on your own accord. All I knew was that I was done, so I pulled out still fairly stiff and sat back on my heels. Stacy gave a little disappointed sigh, then looked at me with stars in her eyes, her pout broadening into a smile.

Stacy kept her legs spread, just to show me. Her pussy lips were still flushed and fat, but not enough to seal off all of my stuff that started leaking out.

"God, look at all that sperm," Tracy muttered. Then she crawled closer, and gave my cock a sniff and an exploratory lick. She got a grin. "Boy juice and girl juice--two great tastes that taste great together!" she declared. And then she took me in her mouth for earnest. It didn't take but a few minutes of sucking before my cock backtracked and got hard again. I'd just emptied my balls, but I could feel them filling right back up.

"How about that, you guys?"

The sofa section sort of grumbled. "He's 14. All guys at that age can recover that fast, and blow 3-4 wads a day."

I knew from the hot letters that that was a fairly conservative estimate. Most guys could get it on like ten times a day, on a poor day.

Tracy took me out of her mouth. She smiled up at me, and continued with her hand. "Such a wonderful cock," she cooed, "I bet you like to jack it off a lot."

I blushed as red as a celebrity carpet. "That's okay," she offered. "Everyone, boys and girls, love to masturbate. I know guys get hot thinking about girls fingering their own pussies. But here's the truth: girls get just as hot thinking about guys jacking it. That's how hand-jobs got invented."

With that, her hand left my cock, found my hand, and replaced it on my shaft. Her hand continued to cover mine, as she made me start jacking. "If I had such a beautiful cock," she cooed, "I just know I'd jack it off all the time, every chance I got. So what's your personal best? Hmm?"

By my knowledge, I was pretty low on the ladder. There was that Sunday a month ago where I took an extra nap. And if you took the start of the 24 hours from 10 a.m. on Sunday when I first started fisting, then by the same hour on Monday, in school, I stopped between classes to pee. I chose a stall, and since no one else was in the bathroom, and I'd spent the last period drooling over one of the cheerleaders, I got to shout out my final answer of eight.

"Eight?"

"Well, usually it's more like six."

"Six?"

"Six! You hear that?" Bethany barked at the boys.

They just sort of rolled their collective eyes.

Meanwhile, Tracy backed away from me. She moved between, then spread Stacy's legs, revealing her leaking cunt. "Oh look, more boy/girl juice to lap up." She lowered her face down to it, leaving her round ass even more pointed up at me. I moved forward, and took just one poke to sink into Tracy's very ready pussy.