Chapter 3

'Dear Abby; Is it okay if I fuck my cousin if she doesn't know she's my cousin?'

"Umm ... she could watch..."

The girls turned and looked at me. I told them how she'd gotten turned on by watching that documentary of animals mating.

"uhhh ... yeah, I guess that could work. She just can play along."

"Right! We'd tell her what we did, anyway and then she would play with herself and make herself come. This way we don't have to tell her. She can make her own jilling-off story."

"Why don't we just call her and see what she wants to do?"

While Gwen made the call, I asked Phyllis a question that had been bugging me all night.

"You girls seem to have some pretty ... ummm ... unusual ideas on what a date is, and what goes on in a date. Where did you get that?"

"We get it the same place we get all our life-wisdom. From Miss Primhurst."

"Miss Primhurst says that a boy expects sex if he takes you to someplace like Olive Garden."

"Yes, " Margaret piped in, "Miss Primhurst has a Powerpoint presentation that tells everything a girl needs to know about boys and dating in fifteen minutes."

"As boys become men, they form attachments to four different things:" Margaret trumpeted in a deep authoritative voice, which I supposed was a mimic of Miss Primhurst.

{Bullet: Sports and contests of skill and daring.

Bullet: Fast machines - Cars and Planes

Bullet: Beer

Bullet: Food

Men's interest in women is contingent on association with those.

That is why we have Cheerleaders, Bikini Models on car hoods, Buxom Barmaids and women with nearly naked breasts and behinds serving up a beer or a double cheeseburger.}

"So that's why we're cheerleaders, we decided we like boys."

"Yeah ... we're not stupid, we knew all boys' penises couldn't have sores, scabs and oozing green stuff, like she had on that slideshow. And we were right, yours doesn't."

"Yours is beautiful ... and huge!"

"And your dick was hard when you looked at us so we knew you wanted to have sex with us."

"And that's why we knew you wanted to take us to Olive Garden because we could tell you wanted to have sex with your girlfriends, and we're your girlfriends."

Gwen snapped her phone shut.

"Okay, Abigail wants to join us, even if she can't fuck Leroy till after ten."

I bit. "Why 'after ten'?"

"Because dates are over at ten. Miss Primhurst's rules."

We'd been sitting under LeRoi Arms' marquee for a couple minutes while we hashed all that out. I got the girls out of the limo and sent James on to pick up Abigail.

Once we figured out how to get the girls through the door in their ball gowns ... or rather the concierge did, he unlocked the second of the double doors after Margaret almost got stuck in the revolving one ... the bellman escorted us to the elevator and handed me the key to the penthouse.

I started in after the girls but told them I would wait and to send the car back down.

"Why aren't you coming with us?"

I pointed to the bronze plaque on the car wall.

Limit 9 Occupants or 3 Ball Gowns per Car, Please

Then, of course, the 'Penthouse' button didn't work until I remembered to insert the card key. That sure made me feel dumb. At least the elevator was fast and I got there just as the girls were stepping out of their taffeta and crinoline.

Well, hell! I'd been hoping to see them in old fashion underthings, Bustiers, corset, pantaloons ... the kind you see in old late 1800's drawings, not push-up bikini bras and thongs. I guess my disappointment showed.

"We have to wear all that old-timey stuff everyday, Leroy. We ain't wearing 'em when we're partying."

I nodded my understanding. At least they still wore the white lacy garter belts.

"Maybe we should have, though ... that taffeta sure is scratchy."

The girls scampered off to find that famous round bed. I followed, enjoying the sights of the asses and titties bouncing. I'd have showed them the way but I didn't have a clue.

"Oh, look," Margaret screamed. "It's just like a movie set!"

I looked around. Sure enough, it looked really old and out of date. That round bed was something, alright. Looked cheap. But I guess it was well built, in a flash the girls were jumping up and down on it giggling and screaming.

Hah! On the wall was an old movie poster with a picture of some old guy in a wavy haired Toup wearing a dickey, gold chain and a sport jacket and underneath, a bronze plaque: 'Dean Martin Slept Here'. And, under that, scrawled in magic marker:

'So did I. Best Wishes, Burt Reynolds.'

And under that... ' Ditto! Big Bill from Little Rock'

"Ooohh, Oooh, let's find the bathroom so we can get ready for bed."

The girls scampered off and I figured I'd get ready too. I shucked off the tux very willingly, especially that stiff shirt. So I walked around in a wife-beater and boxers and checked out the rest of the place. Man, this should be in a museum ... or maybe it was a museum. The whole thing was like a movie or two I'd seen from the sixties. Usually old guys trying to bag young chicks. I bet the old guys were dead and the chicks were grannies.

And speaking of grannies and young chicks the girls came into the room with some really girly looking pastel colored foofy outfits that I'd last seen in some old teen magazines in my mom's closet. When mom caught me she said they had belonged to her mom from when she was a teenager. I think the outfits were called 'Baby Doll' because they came on Barbies or something. Mom wasnt pissed because I was looking at the pictures in them, they were pretty tame. She told me hands off because with my record, I'd probably ruin them.

Oh, and they had the most ridiculous big hair hairdo's I'd ever seen. I hoped they were wigs but they had to be. It would take hours to make hair that high and hard.

The girls were giddier than ever. They lined up and looked at me and did a little prancing jig.

"Hi, Leroy ... I'm Sandra Dee."

"And I'm Annette" crowed Gwendolyn.

"And I'm Ann-Margret." cooed Phyllis. "I'm a redhead, with carpet to match, and I've got a fire down below for you."

Whoever those chicks were, I guess they were pretty hot because my versions of them were. Except for that hair.

Then they did the cheerleader whoop, jump and clap. Pretty cool.

"Hey look at all those pillows on that bed. Let's pillow-fight!"

So they did. With all the usual giggles and girly screams.

Now that was kinda cool. I'd heard somewhere that girls in girly pj's having pillow fights was sexy. And it must be, because my boxers got a lot tighter, ol' johnson was back to full woody.

"Hey Girls! Anyone know what time it is?"

Phyllis reached down between her boobs and pulled out her phone.

"A little after nine, why?"

Margaret giggled and tossed her head. The blonde helmet of hair, sliding around a little but still 100% intact.

"He means it's time to get nasty and fuck. Well, we're ready to go. Look!"

She dropped on her ass on the bed, spread her legs and leaned back. Her cooch was in full view, crotchless frilly panties!

"That's sexy," I said. "But I still prefer naked. How about ditching those, if you want me to give you a really good fuck."

"Awww..." came the chorus.

"And the wigs!"

"Good! They're hot."

The girls tossed the wigs into the corner and shook out their billowing wavy tresses.

"Hey, girls, "yelled Gwendolyn. "We forgot something. Leroy hasn't kissed Margaret and me, yet. He can't fuck us without kissing us first. We're his girlfriends."

"Yeah, we're not his cousins."

Gwen grabbed me and really laid one on, lots of tongue and hunching my thigh like a coon hound just back home from a week lost in the woods. Hey ... where did that image come from?

Not to be outdone, Margaret grabbed my ass with both hands and really laid into me, and sucked my tongue halfway down her throat. Yes, that hurt! So much for any gash licking the rest of the evening.

"A cousin can't do that, Leroy-Boy!"

Hmmmm, I wondered if Margaret had some secret incest fetish.

"Wait!" said Phyllis. "Huddle up, girls."

The girls ran to about 10 feet away and put their heads together, arms around each others' shoulders. Whisper, giggle, whisper.