2 comments/ 31415 views/ 1 favorites Open to Possibilities By: peterpecker Despite putting up with my taunting him occasionally about his unusual first name, Rolf has been my best friend since we were young. He's a great guy and I've always admired – almost hero-worshipped him. {Okay, what does it matter that his name sounds like a dog's bark?) He's an accomplished fencer in both epee and foil and usually scores even better at high school academic tests than I do. Also, he got to second base I think Americans call it (stroking boobs), and third base (fingering cunt) a long time before I did. In fact, by the time I was getting to second base with Sophie he had hit home runs (vaginal intercourse) with more than one girl. {If I got that wrong I'm sure someone will correct me.) Rolf, Sophie, and me are all high school seniors in the same class. I've been going steady with Sophie for two years, ever since we were sixteen. Rolf seems more inclined towards casual relationships, but I don't envy his popularity with girls. Made in the mould of Paris Hilton, Sophie is a rather petite gamin blonde with fine features, short hair, and slender limbs. I don't need to describe how I feel about her; you can imagine that for yourself. We went all the way after six months of going steady, and still make love whenever we get the opportunity – that being somewhat limited because parents tend to be protective of their dependent daughters. Like Paris, Sophie doesn't come from a poor family – not that they're millionaires in the same league as the Hiltons. Her parents are just partners in a small law firm, but more comfortably off than my parents. My father is in advertising and my mother is a senior nurse at the main hospital. When I'm at Sophie's place I sometimes get the impression her parents think she could do better in the boyfriend stakes. I guess the saving grace is that they not only accept her choice for the time being but like me as a person. Not, I suspect, that they would lose any sleep if Sophie switched her affections to someone from a family that was among their circle of friends. Rolf, on the other hand, lives in a solo-parent situation with his "divorced" mother. Only she isn't actually divorced, he's confided in me. Rolf is illegitimate – a politer word than some would use if they knew. He has no idea who his father is, and his mother is certainly from the wrong side of the tracks in relation to Sophie's family. Fortunately, my parents are liberal enough to accept my ongoing friendship with Rolf, and have helped his mother financially over the years. Sophie gets on well with him, like he's my twin brother, and we sometimes double date, though not with her parents' knowledge. Sophie's an angel about him, really, and isn't jealous of our long-standing friendship. We always have fun when we're together, even when Rolf doesn't have a date. Like me, Rolf thinks Sophie looks like Paris Hilton, and she kind of accepts she does but doesn't like anyone making too much of it. I guess she feels she's her own woman. It was Rolf who suggested I should make a personal porn video with Sophie – an idea he put to me in private, prompted by my parents buying me a DVD camera for my eighteenth birthday. I can't say his idea didn't appeal to me – not that I thought Sophie would be a party to anything like the infamous video that Paris Hilton starred in. (I only know about that by reputation, of course). If Sophie was also familiar with it, I didn't ascertain, but she specifically declined to have any sex acts included. What she did do – and quite eagerly to my surprise – was perform a cheeky striptease on camera and cavort about our house in the nude after school one day, letting me fill up a whole tape of delightfully captured memories, some of very lurid poses. Naturally, Rolf kept asking if I had put the proposition to Sophie yet, and I made excuses for a week after the filming had taken place. "You're too yellow to ask her," he finally said in exasperation. "I respect her too much," I tried another excuse. "It's not like you're gonna put it out on the Web or anything. If she loves you she'd be happy to give a private show. She wouldn't be the first girl to let her boyfriend film her nude." "That doesn't mean all girls are the same. Sophie's modest," I smugly procrastinated over telling him the truth. "Sophie's never struck me as being that much of a prude." "What would you know?" "I know you're a lucky prick having her." "I wouldn't if I asked her to do something like that." Actually, I hadn't thought about the risk of losing Sophie until after I'd asked her, willing to take a refusal but never doubting our relationship would survive either way. "Then you can't really believe she loves you," Rolf accused. That stung. "Oh yeah?" "Yeah!" "What if I said I'd already filmed her?" "I wouldn't believe you." "Yeah?" I challenged. "Yeah." "Well, I have." "Prove it." "You're kidding me." "Show me the video," he was as relentless as usual when he wanted his own way. "I'm not going to show you something that private!" "I thought we were best friends." "If we were you wouldn't ask me." "Then I don't believe you." That crack, in its context, was the severest challenge our friendship had faced since we became teenagers. I was struck dumb. "So are you going to prove it or not?" I said, "I'll only let you watch the first couple of minutes." "That sounds fair enough." Trusting him, I went upstairs and retrieved the edited and lurid amateur movie from its hiding place, and brought it back to the living room. "So there really is one," he said. I turned on the television and inserted the disc in the player. Taking the remote, I sat on the sofa beside him again. Sophie appeared on screen, dressed of course, looking gorgeous, fooling around, and play-acting sexy. Then I pressed the stop button on the remote. "Believe me now?" "Nope," he said. "Every guy has a video like that of his girlfriend. It doesn't prove anything." "I'm not showing her to you with her clothes off." "That's because you couldn't get her to do it." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah." Angrily, I re-started the DVD and let it run until Sophie had taken off her shirt and, on the big screen, had just unhooked her bra at the back. Then I stopped it. "Hey! That was just getting interesting." "You've seen enough to prove my point," I countered. He could have denied it but he was too clever for another test of wills. "Okay," he said, "you're a lucky bastard having someone that loves you like Sophie does. I just wish I'd been able to get close enough to a girl to have her do something like that for me." He was my best pal and I felt sorry for him, but not in proportion to how pleased I felt with myself. "Your turn will come." He grinned. "Until it does, what say you show me the rest of it?" "Sophie would kill me." "Who says she has to know?" I knew he could be trusted, but there was still a natural jealousy over the idea of showing another guy (best friend or not) what Sophie looked like nude, let alone in some of the provocative positions she'd assumed for my visual stimulation during the shoot. "It's personal," I said. "It's bad enough I let you see her in her bra." "Hey, I've seen her in a bikini, so it's hardly more revealing." "The rest of the DVD is." "No kidding." We stopped talking, waiting each other out, and stared at the blue screen with the word "Resume" at the top corner. "Be a pal," he wheedled. "If she was your girlfriend I wouldn't ask." "If she was my girlfriend you wouldn't need to." He had a point there. Rolf had always been prepared to share his more meagre possessions with me, and his experiences. Though, to me, this request was more like asking to share a girlfriend. Even so, I didn't want to appear the mean-spirited one. "Okay," I said, "but you don't mention it to anyone." Pressing the play button reluctantly I let the recording resume its run. We both watched the moving images with avid interest, Rolf adding comments like, "Wow! She's got tits to rival Hilton's too ... She's quite the stripper ... Man! Look how her nipples have grown." Then, in an awed voice, "Wouldn't she look even more great if she shaved her pussy? ...Shit that looks tight. How do you get it in her?" Not that he really wanted answers. "Now I see ..." On the screen Sophie was holding herself open for a frontal close-up. "Fuck! She's even gone wet ... must enjoy showing it off as much as she looks like she is ... Can you beat that cheeky smile! ...Can't see her clit yet ... Oops, there it is." Sophie's fingers had teased it out of its sheath. "Gawd, how did you hold back from jumping her on the spot ..." Then, "Wow! She's quite the dancer. I haven't seen anything better at one of the local strip joints. The girl has career prospects..." I resented that last comment but kept it to myself, just like I had noticing the erection in his pants. I could hardly object since I had a boner of my own, a natural reaction to seeing Sophie without a stitch on. When the DVD finished, Rolf's final comment was, "Man you'll have to get her to shave and make another video!" "I could hardly ask her do that!" "Has she seen it yet?" "Only on the camera screen." "I guess you've jerked off to it a few times," he chuckled. I didn't confirm or deny. "Why don't you ring Sophie and invite her round to watch it on the big screen while I'm here?" I was derisive. "You're kidding. Anyhow, I thought we were going to spend the rest of the afternoon by ourselves?" "I wouldn't mind if Sophie joined us." Actually, I was aching to see her, but I wasn't going to admit it or agree to Rolf's crazy idea. "I'll get her round," I said, "but not to embarrass her like that." Rolf grinned, " She might get a kick out of it." I didn't take him seriously so dialled her number on my cell phone. She accepted the invitation even after I'd told her Rolf was with me. When the front door chimed I went to answer it. If I hadn't trusted him so implicitly I guess I could have anticipated what Rolf would do. Sophie's intimate DVD was re-playing when we entered the living room together. The remote control was in Rolf's hand. "Hi," he said cheerfully to Sophie, as if everything was normal, turning his head away from the screen for a moment. Sophie stopped dead. My face turned red and I hurried past her towards the TV. "Don't," I heard her call, guessing my intention. I turned round, dumfounded. She stood still for a moment, watching her image on the screen then, keeping her eyes on it, moved over to the sofa and sat next to Rolf in front of the TV set. My mind was trying to figure out what was going on. Was it as simple as it looked, Sophie just being vain and wanting to see herself on the big screen? But how could she be comfortable with Rolf seeing it? Why didn't she throw a tantrum about my letting him know about the DVD? Had she expected I would show someone else? Did that stoke her vanity? Feeling like a fool just standing there, I moved back wordlessly and sat on the other side of Sophie. The three of us were close together, hips touching. I soon got caught up, as much as they were, in the erotic scenes. Enthralled by a particularly revealing backward arch Sophie was performing on screen, I did not notice Rolf undoing his flies and taking out his cock. It was already exposed and standing to attention when I saw it from the corner of my eye. Sophie was staring at it with a mixture of shocked surprise and reproachful lust. Trouble was, I couldn't tell if she was reproaching him for taking it out or herself for taking such a fascinated interest in it. Rolf, meantime, had gripped the middle of his shaft with one hand, still watching the screen and, as if he was alone, started jerking off. I'd well and truly lost my tongue even before Sophie's right hand slid over his and took its place on his swollen member. Believe it or not, my first thought was that she felt sorry for Rolf. Then a darker part of me started whispering in my ear. Did she have the hots for him all along? Or was she just turned on by seeing another guy get a stiffie from watching her video? For two years we'd been exclusive, or I had. No reason she gave, my heart told me, could excuse what she was doing right in front of me. I started to wonder if Sophie led a secret life with other guys. My heart didn't want to believe it, and I doubted such infidelities, if they'd happened, would have been kept from me since I knew there had to be other guys who fancied having Sophie all to themselves. Yet, even if she was innocent until now, it certainly didn't stop her casually jerking off another guy right beside me as if it was the most natural thing in the world for a girlfriend to do. I couldn't figure her out. Then again, I never had over so many things, like her agreeing to make the DVD for instance. Maybe her sexuality was just more advanced than mine. Not that I really believed it justified her acting in the flesh like a willing porn star. I half blamed Rolf, but he hadn't put her hand on his cock or forced her to keep the DVD playing, but he was enjoying both, and I didn't know which one watch to be less embarrassed by her behaviour. Out in the open, Sophie was looking down intently at what she was doing, and there was no way her gaze was going to meet mine. I could have said something, but for the life of me I didn't know what. Rolf, despite the scurrilous thing he was letting Sophie do to him, was still my best friend, and I wasn't going to jump him, and throttle him, not while Sophie was the one taking the initiative. If anyone's relationship was at risk it was hers with me. I got back to thinking charitably that she was just kindly helping him out of pity because he was such a close friend. Then my darker side set me wondering if it was her way of punishing me for letting Rolf see the DVD. By that stage Rolf was groaning rapturously and I knew from experience how he felt in the intimate clasp of Sophie's hand. She increased her pace enthusiastically and, quickly thereafter, produced a gusher that ended up subsiding over her fingers. Sophie looked around for something to wipe her hand on, and I produced a handkerchief. She used it then let it drop to the carpet beside the sofa, guessing rightly that I didn't want to take it back. There should have been an aftermath of guilt for Rolf and Sophie, but she diverted it by asking me if I wanted "relief" too. At my age, that's not an offer you can pass up lightly, whatever the circumstances. Sophie sweetened her offer by pulling off her T-shirt and unhooking her bra. She shed it before she knelt between my feet in just her Jeans. I wasn't happy about Rolf seeing her cute tits in the flesh but I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity myself just to prevent it, rationalizing that he had already seen them on screen, and more. After all, I was crazy in love with her! Sophie, with a bit of help from me, undid my belt and zipper and pulled my pants, under with outer, down to my knees. In our early teens Rolf and I weren't shy about showing off our erections to each other, or even masturbating and, after seeing Sophie openly give him "relief", I certainly wasn't going to feel embarrassed about her doing the same for me while he watched – and he definitely seemed intent on sticking around. I didn't anticipate why. When he knelt behind her and took hold of her tits with both hands Sophie's small fingers already had me in the thrills of sexual delight. I didn't want her to let go of my cock, but I did expect her to shake off and rebuff Rolf's amorous attentions, even if being nice about it. Despite that, all I witnessed happening was an increase in the rate of her breathing as she pretended nonchalance about what was going on between her and Rolf. If she hadn't kept concentrating, just as hard as ever, on manual stimulation of my cock I might have had the sense to call a halt. As it was, I was the only one with a frontal view of the TV and, what with the images playing on it, the sight of Rolf fondling Sophie's perky tits, and her hand stroking the shaft and head of my cock, sense wasn't what I had a lot of. On the other hand, I had plenty of raw sensitivity of the physical kind, and mental stimulation to go with it. In the end, when Sophie had my cum at the boil, Rolf instinctively let go of her breasts so she could squirt my ejaculate on them. It erupted like water from an electric kettle when its automatic off-switch fails, as mine certainly had, surging out of the spout. Sophie found the handkerchief again and brazenly cleaned off her breasts right in front of us. No one was looking at the TV screen anymore. Sophie glanced at her watch. "What time do your parents get home?" I checked the time anxiously, having lost track. "Not for another couple of hours," I told her, relieved. "That gives us plenty of time then," she said matter-of-factly, rising to her feet. With the TV images flickering behind her, and partly obscured, she undid the waistband of her Jeans. Kicking off her sandals she lowered the last substantial garment she had on and lifted one leg after the other out of it, not as a striptease but with purpose. She confirmed it by asking, "How long will it take you two to recover?" Rolf was quick off the mark, saying, "With the right sort of foreplay it shouldn't take me long." If I hadn't already been dumbfounded by her asking the question I would have been by the realization she wanted to make love to both of us. "You don't mind sharing me with your best friend, do you?" she asked coyly. Hell! What can I guy say without seeming selfish? But what had happened to monogamous love? Is polygamy what girls did these days? I'd been going out for so long only with Sophie that maybe I didn't know the score. Other girls, I recalled, openly changed partners as regularly as the boys. Was this a compromise Sophie had reached instead of splitting up? Was it preferable to losing her? That was quite a dilemma, especially with Sophie standing there in just a white thong. I vocalised a thought that seemed relevant to share, "You mean just this once?" Sophie and Rolf exchanged a look. She turned her head back to me and I saw the familiar fondness for me in her expression. "I don't know about Rolf, but I'd like it to be ongoing." I looked at Rolf. He said, "Then it's really up to you, mate." "But what does that mean for us?" I asked Sophie, feeling hurt and puzzled. "It means I'd love you both, and sometimes you'll love me together, like now, and sometimes by yourself, and Rolf likewise. I'll make sure neither of you misses out." "That sounds like a good arrangement to me, mate," Rolf jumped in. My thoughts whined at Sophie: What about fidelity? What about all your promises to love only me? I felt betrayed. "And we both stay faithful to you?" I heard my own voice ask. "That would be essential for a harmonious relationship," Sophie said. "I don't want to catch any STD." "That arrangement's okay with me," Rolf said, but why Sophie looked like she trusted him to change his spots I didn't know. "You two haven't already done it have you?" I looked at them suspiciously. Sophie said immediately, "I wouldn't do something like that behind your back, darling." Rolf shook his head with his own confirmation. "When did you decide you wanted to?" I hadn't seen it coming. "I've always liked Rolf as a friend," Sophie said, "and this afternoon I realised it went deeper than that." Somehow it didn't seem so bad that it had just happened. "So will you share me with Rolf?" Sophie was looking at me with big blue eyes. Considering I was willing to die for her it didn't seem too big an ask. I folded, qualifying, "Provided no one else finds out. You can't go out in public with him on a date unless I'm with you." Open to Possibilities: The Sequels Part 1 had three possible endings, though not universally popular with readers. I hope I make up for that in Part 2 by providing a different sequel matching each ending in Part 1. The first sequel is from Martin's point of view, the second from that of Sophie, and the third from Rolf's. If you want explicit sex then jump to the continuation of the second story in Sequel 2. Enjoy. _____________ Sequel 1: [The story so far – Martin is sharing his girlfriend with his best friend, Rolf.] A boy in my class, a neighbour, came up behind me in the street when I was walking home from high school. Sophie had gone home to study, and Rolf to fencing practice. "Hey." "Hey," I responded. Ben fell in step, and got straight to what was on his mind, "Don't you find it weird the way Rolf is always hanging out with you and Sophie? He's being a third wheel isn't he? Don't you ever get sick of him?" I stopped in my tracks. "We're just all good friends," I said lamely. "If it was me, I'd be thinking he was out to steal my girl." Ben had hit a raw spot in my adjustment to sharing Sophie with Rolf. Deep down, I'd had the same suspicion, and had been anxious about it. "He wouldn't do that," I said. Ben shrugged. "Sure looks to me like he's trying." We started walking again. Ben glanced at me. "At school, sometimes it looks like Sophie encouraging him too, and she doesn't come round to your place as much as she used to." I didn't know Ben had been taking such an interest. At least Sophie had kept to our bargain and not gone out by herself with Rolf publicly. Othwise Ben would have had cause to mention that too. "It's getting close to finals," I said defensively, "she's studying more." "Just thought I'd give you a friendly heads-up," Ben said, backing off on the path to his door. "Thanks," I told him, "but I don't have to worry about Sophie... See ya." When I got inside I phoned Sophie. I said to her, as I went upstairs to my room, "Kids at school are talking about how we're always hanging out with Rolf. They think he's making a play for you." There was silence at the other end. "Did you hear me?" my voice sounded as agitated as I felt. "Yes... You know you have nothing to worry about over sharing me with Rolf. I love you both." "What if Rolf gets it into his head to write me out of the picture? Kids at school think he's trying." Sophie response was unsympathetic, "Don't be silly. He wouldn't do that. He's your best friend." "It still feels weird sharing you with him." "You still get your fair share, don't you?" It was true. Sophie was being as sexually generous to me as before, but I still missed having her exclusively. "I don't see as much of you as I used to." The voice in my ear pointed out reasonably, "I have to be with Rolf some of the time now." "I liked it better before," I said petulantly. "Even better than when the three of us are together in private?" Her mentioning it brought to mind some of the occasions when Rolf and I had both made love to Sophie in my bedroom. "That's better isn't it?" Sophie persisted. "I guess." "You like joining in now," she reminded me. In my mind's eye I could see her lying naked, Rolf bent over between her legs licking her clit while at the same time I was lying beside her and we were kissing passionately. "What say I come over and make things better for you?" "I'd like that," I said, my cock starting to rise as I thought about the pleasure of making love to her again. Sequel 2: [The story so far – Under the influence of a drug, Martin has fantasised about letting his girlfriend, Sophie, be fucked by his best friend, Rolf, and also noticed his father's interest in her.] "Would you like a ride home, Sophie?" Martin's father asked me. Martin was recuperating from the flu and I was visiting, having had dinner at his place. We'd been watching television together until Martin, dressed in his pyjamas and dressing gown, announced he was going back to bed. I knew he really wanted me to go upstairs with him, and his mother had already left the house to go to a nightshift at the hospital, but his father, it seemed, thought it was better Martin get some rest. "You don't have to bother," I told him. "I can call my mother or father to come and get me." "It's no bother," Martin's father insisted. He wasn't a bad looking guy for someone his age, and I didn't mind being seen in public with him. He was even rather cute, like Martin, and if I were into older guys he would have been the sort of one I'd choose. Since I wasn't, and as if he was my own father, I simply trusted him. The most direct route to my home was through a large tree-clad urban park. I didn't have anything to feel anxious about until the car slowed and turned off onto a secluded track that, once the headlights were off, swallowed us in darkness. The motor stopped. Like any girl would, I'd already figured it out, though I could not help asking, "What are you doing?" An older man having amorous intentions towards me was scary but, to my surprise, kind of flattering too. After all, at school Martin and I were accepted as an item after two years of going steady, and I didn't even get the satisfaction of turning down offers of other dates. Only Rolf still hung around like he thought he had a chance. Not that he did. I'd experimented with other guys before I went out with Martin, letting them touch me, but he was the first one I let go all the way. Now, as if I had given a wrong signal, it seemed his father wanted a turn. He hadn't said anything, but was staring at me in an intent sort of way that left me in no doubt. He reached out and caressed my hair, slipping strands back behind my ear. "You're very beautiful, Sophie," he said, his hand tracking down the side of my neck then across under my chin. He took control of my jaw with one finger and turned my head so that I was looking at him directly. I didn't know what to say. "I'm very fond of you, Sophie," he said meaningfully, which translated into letting me know he wanted to fuck me. I wasn't born yesterday, and he wasn't my father. His hand fell to my right thigh, just resting over the top of my skirt. He asked without any shame, "Do you have similar feelings for me?" I should have had feelings of disgust or outrage, but I didn't. I should have found the idea of cheating on Martin with his father quite ridiculous, and I did in a way. The situation was bizarre. Here I was, sitting in a car in a secluded place at night with an older man and hoping he was aware of the consequences if he decided to rape me. "I've only ever been with Martin," I said, hoping he would realise I wasn't that sort of girl. "I was rather hoping..." "I know," I said, feeling sorry for him. I put my hand over his then wished I hadn't because he seemed encouraged by the simple gesture of kindness. His fingers squeezed my thigh. Despite myself, I felt roused by it, a warm glow sneaking up between my legs. Given the way I was reacting you'd think I was the same age as he was. Wasn't he taking advantage of me? He was supposed to be driving me home, not molesting me along the way. His son was my boyfriend for crying out loud! His hand, with mine over it, was kneading my thigh and I was doing nothing to stop him even though I still couldn't think of anything I'd done to provoke what was happening. "We shouldn't," I said. "It drives me crazy to think of you up in Martin's room with your clothes off," he admitted, breathing heavily. I guess he would have had to have come from another planet not to have guessed what Martin and I got up to when we were alone in a bedroom – even mine on rare occasions. Even so, hearing him refer to it struck me dumb. I knew it was only a matter of time before he'd try his luck by shifting his hand under my skirt, so I attempted to divert him by touching his crotch, and, though startled by the feel of the coiled spring in his pants, offering, "I could give you relief manually if you wanted me to." He had his zipper down and cock showing without uttering a word. His manhood was bigger than Martin's. I hadn't seen very many. When I was fourteen a boy showed me his while we were in the pool and my parents were in the house. I didn't reciprocate. A different boy let me touch his on a date. I was fifteen then. Also, before I met Martin, I had manually brought a boy a year younger than me to a climax in the cloakroom at a school dance. So, when in the moonlight shining through the windscreen I ambitiously gripped the genital pole Martin's father had presented, I knew what I was doing, but my fingers couldn't close around it, and my clit tingled. His eagerness should have set off warning bells in my head, and I should have backed out, turning all shy and girlish so that he took pity on me. But I didn't – all because I had this older guy's thick penis in my hand and was getting sexual shivers down my spine. I started pumping his cock gently, not sure what sort of self-control a guy his age would have, and not wanting him to come right away. If I'd known his stamina I would have gone for broke before I got caught up in it. As it was, I had to keep switching hands as the other one tired. I was in no doubt about the virility of his external sex organs, or that he was enjoying what I was doing to him, but I was starting to wonder if he'd had a vasectomy or something. To stimulate him more I unbuttoned my shirt with my free hand and let him see my white bra. "Would you consider taking it off?" he asked as if he knew what a big favour he wanted. I stopped pumping with my hand and stared at him. "It would be so much more stimulating if I could see your tits bare," he said. I think my toes curled when I heard him refer to my 'tits', but I was more certain about the sensation I felt around the entrance of my vagina. Only Martin had ever made me feel quite like that before. I took my hand off his cock and slipped out of my shirt. Unhooking the bra I pulled it down my arms and let it fall to the car floor on top of the shirt. The night was warm, though I shivered as I heard the intake of breath from the direction of the driver's seat. Martin's father was staring goggle-eyed at my chest. "I didn't know they were so beautiful," he enthused. "They're gorgeous." I felt pleased. "Would you like to feel your cock on them?" "Oh, yes!" I bent across the handbrake, took his organ in my hand again, and placed it where I'd promised. I think we both closed our eyes for a moment. "They're so soft!" I rewarded him by rubbing the head of his cock around my nipples, knowing I was behaving like a slut. When pre-cum leaked out on my skin I just about wet my pants. "I want to go all the way," I heard him say. "So do I," a girl's voice came back in a reply that I hardly recognised as my own. It didn't occur to me that he would want us to do it outside, but he opened his door then came round and opened mine, shedding his pants on the way. Our bare skin looked white in the moonlight, and our remaining clothes had lost their colour. After I undid my skirt and clawed it down with my pantyhose and briefs Martin's father turned me round to face him. He used his foot, still in a shoe, to pull everything from around my ankles. My sandals came off in the process. Now I was as naked as he'd probably thought about more times than I wanted to know. My cunt was aching from my eagerness to undress and from the thrill of everything taboo I was doing. "Can I tie you up?" "What?" "I'd like to fuck you with your wrists tied," he said, his eyes bright with desire, so much like Martin's. I knew some older guys got off on bondage but I didn't think I'd ever get in that sort of situation. I guess it was something he couldn't ask his wife to take a role in. "Okay," I said, feeling as if I had no willpower. He stooped and picked up my pantyhose then tied my wrists behind my back. My cunt started quivering and I almost came. Hell, I thought, I'm only eighteen; this can't be happening! I wanted to pinch myself but my arms weren't free. I watched Martin's father come round to my side, admire my breasts again, then lay my shirt across the bonnet of the car. When he bent me forward I expected it. My breasts flattened, and I could sense the touch of the warm metal under the cloth. I didn't start feeling defenceless until he nudged one ankle then the other with his foot to indicate I should move my legs apart. Cooler air hit my butt crack and pussy as my thighs and cheeks split. I'd heard about guys wanting anal and I just hoped it wasn't on his mind. Martin had never shown any inclination. 'I wish I could stop thinking about Martin!' I told myself. The tip of his father's cock was suddenly at my door – the place I'd hoped I'd one-day birth Martin's children from. Not that it seemed so likely anymore after what I was doing with his father. How could I ever become his daughter knowing what I did? My little pussy flaps were rolling back, the puffy outer ones squeezed to each side by the big thing I'd held in my hand before. It was entering my hole from behind. I marvelled at how easily it was plunging up into my body, and at how gentle its owner was being. Then the first slap landed on my buttocks, towards my right hip. I leapt, but his cock held me pinned against the car bonnet, and was so rigid it hurt me when I tried to straighten up. Another slap landed, sharp but not quite so forceful. My butt cheek burned and, strangely, the sensation worked across between my legs. "Oh yes, smack me," the less than familiar female voice begged. "I've been a very bad girl." There was an instant response, the fingers now spread. My over-stimulated cunt went into a spasm but the short orgasm did not satisfy me. The man's voice said from behind me, "That's very naughty of you." "I'm a very wicked girl and I'll keep doing it unless I'm punished severely." "Is that what you deserve?" He tapped me lightly on the place that was already sore. "Oh much more than that!" I felt his cock withdraw, and then a resounding slap landed low on my butt and across the tops of my thighs. Tears sprang to my eyes. After a moment I could feel my cunt again, and it was hotter than ever. A second slap landed on the same spot and lifted me up on my toes. As I came down his cock entered me again. It was obvious what he now wanted and I gave it to him with all the enthusiasm I could muster. My vagina worked his cock with the crazy bucking gyrations of my hips until I became too sensitive to stand the friction anymore. I pulled off him midstream, the last of his ejaculate shooting down my bare thighs. "I'm sorry, Sophie! I'm so sorry!" I straightened with difficulty and turned round. "It's all right," I said. "I wanted you to." "You were incredible!" I giggled. "There were a lot of things I didn't know about you before." He looked embarrassed. "I hope they'll stay between us." "I wouldn't hurt Martin by letting him find out." "No," he said, a sad expression coming over his face. He started untying my wrists by reaching round me, his cock bumping against my belly. "I guess this won't ever happen again." I reached for my shirt because it was closest at hand, and put my arms into it. "Will it?" he asked hopefully. The answer I gave would later lead to a double-life. I got to know some of the fathers of other boys at my school, and the insides of a number of cheap motel rooms. By day, for another year, I remained Martin's teen princess. Then my parents found out about the older company I had been keeping. Sequel 3: [The story so far – In his bedroom, Martin is with his girlfriend, Sophie, and his best friend, Rolf.] "Oh I don't know," Sophie was grinning, teasing us now. "It doesn't seem such a bad idea to me." Martin was lying on his bed recovering from the effects of a drug Sophie had brought with her. She had suggested she go next, but Martin had been against it, and Sophie had reacted. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, with one knee raised on it and the other foot on the floor. Sophie was perched on the end with her legs crossed in front and her short skirt tucked modestly between her thighs, though not without having flashed a brief view of her white knickers as she settled. Her hand was resting in her lap and holding two pills. "Don't blame me if there are consequences," Martin said. "Party pooper," I said to him with a good-natured grin. Sophie ignored her boyfriend's concern, moistened her mouth with saliva, and popped one of the pills. "It's your funeral," Martin said. "You can talk," she said. "You won't like the hangover afterwards, and if my parents get home while you're stoned Rolf can take you down the fire-escape." "I'd be glad to," I said. Sophie smiled at me, annoying Martin. "Thank you, Rolf." It didn't take her long to start feeling woozy, and Martin let her lie beside him, on the same side I was sitting. "How do you feel?" I asked her. "Out of this world!" Martin looked like he couldn't understand why she didn't just pass out in the way he had. Maybe it affected girls differently, or wasn't the same drug. The pills weren't a matching shape. Sophie's cheeks and neck looked flushed, and her chest was more noticeably rising and falling. It would be just our luck for her to have a seizure, with everything ending disastrously. "You okay?" Martin checked. "It's cool! I couldn't feel better!" Her voice sounded unnaturally euphoric. She hugged herself. "I'm cuddly warm all over!" "You certainly look cuddly," I said. "Do you want to cuddle me?" She put out her arms. "I'll leave that to Martin." "Pretty please," she said. "He won't mind. Look at the kind of dreams he has when he's stoned." "I called them nightmares," Martin pointed out. Sophie giggled. "One man's nightmare is another man's..." She didn't know how to finish. "Besides," she said to me petulantly, "he's annoyed and doesn't want to cuddle me." "He just doesn't want you to have your wicked way with me," I teased her. Her big blue eyes lifted to look at Martin with a drug-induced innocence. "Is that the truth?" "That's the truth," he humoured us. "Not even a little way?" She brought her thumb and forefinger close together with difficulty. "He said he doesn't want to cuddle you." I corrected, "I actually said I'd leave that to you." "I bet he wouldn't refuse seeing my pussy," Sophie was still locked into the silly argument with Martin. "None of the other boys at school would turn down the chance." Martin placated her as if she was drunk, "I'm sure they wouldn't." Her eyelids drooped then lifted again. "You are a party pooper, like Rolf said." "I'm saving you from doing things you'll regret afterwards," Martin said reasonably. "You're spoiling all the fun," she retaliated pettishly. Then she wheedled, "You and Rolfy want to see my pussy don't you? I'll let you stroke it." I didn't expect to hear Martin say, "Okay, if that's what you want." I thought she'd back off, having had her bluff called, but she said, "Then make more room for me." Martin got up, looking the worse for wear. Sophie fumbled over to the middle of the bed, every movement seeming to be done in slow motion, like when she spread her knees. I thought maybe Martin was still under the influence of the drug when he bent over the bed and lifted the hem of Sophie's pleated skirt onto her belly. I watched even more intently as he pulled the crotch of her white panties to one side. She had the loveliest short golden hair over her mound and donut. Like Martin, I'd never seen the Paris Hilton video but, if I did, and it showed her cunt, I'm sure I would have thought Sophie's was as gorgeous. Open to Possibilities: The Sequels Her eyelids had drooped again, and she looked stupefied. Martin sat on the other side of the bed and started fingering her fur where it darkened in her slit. The latter just blossomed open into wet pinkness. There was a side to Martin I hadn't known about I decided as I heard him ask, "Do you want to feel her up?" Though he might just have been reacting to some after-effect of the drug he'd taken, I said nonchalantly, as if we were boys playing with a toy, "Sure." Waiting no longer, I dipped my forefinger into her slippery softness and ran it gently up one rim of her inner labia and back down the other side. Sophie groaned. "Slut," I thought I heard Martin say. I guessed how pissed off at her he might feel. "Maybe we should stop," I said, thinking it wasn't right and that he might turn on me. "She was begging for it." I didn't think she had been – just reacting to some aphrodisiac affect of the pill she'd taken. "Just stick them in the slut or I will," Martin said angrily. I squeezed two fingers, one over the other, and inserted them into her little pouting hole. Sophie wriggled, as if struggling against the intrusion, and Martin held her thighs down. She quietened. "Hush," he said, "my best friend Rolf wants to finger-fuck your pussy." Sophie groaned, as much of a protest as she could manage. With two fingers in her lovely cunt I'd overcome the temporary qualms I'd had, so I simply let them explore as far as they could reach. Sophie's groans changed in character. Martin released his hold on her legs and went and picked up his new DVD camera from the bureau. Turning it on, he focussed between Sophie's thighs. "Pull your fingers out then slide them in again," he directed. "Work them around..." Sophie's vagina made squishy sounds. "Now draw your fingers out slowly and hold her open..." Martin moved in for a close-up then panned to her face and her dulled eyes. "Shot of the week," he said nastily, and then asked me to lift her silk camisole top and pull her bra down off her breasts while he filmed. "Now make her nipples stiffen." I set about teasing them, caught up in the dirty deeds we were performing on a barely conscious Sophie. Her nipples were standing out, so I took my hands away. Martin focussed for more close-ups, while my attention was drawn back to Sophie's cunt. With moistened fingertips I played her clit like a delicate instrument, and she groaned even more urgently. "Listen to the cunt sing!" Martin exclaimed, and I could no longer recognise the behaviour of my best friend. "We're all going to regret this tomorrow," I said, letting up on what I was doing. Sophie's groin strained upwards, like a mouth seeking a mother's nipple. "No one more than Sophie," Martin said vindictively. For my part, I thought it was more likely to be him once he realised what a fool he had been; I'd just be richer for the experience of seeing and touching Sophie. For a second I wondered if, while Martin was still in his present mood, I could get a copy of the DVD for my private pleasure. Then again, asking might stretch our friendship too far. Martin was filming Sophie's cunt in anatomical detail and I hastily got my face out of the frame. "I hope you don't intend showing it to her afterwards," I said. "She'll remember won't she?" I looked up at her face. "When she comes round properly we could probably convince her she dreamed it all." "With her cunt looking like that?" He had a point. "If we stop now it might go back to normal in time." Martin seemed to sober a bit, and I saw some semblance of his old self returning. "You think?" "Yeah." I flipped the crotch of Sophie's panties back in place, copping one last feel with my knuckles. Then I took on myself the almost equally delightful task of tucking her soft tits back into their cups (no mean feat) and of arranging her outer clothing in its proper place. Martin was the one who brought her legs into a more decorous pose. Sophie was still groaning softly, her eyes closed, perhaps lost in her head in a sexual fantasy of her own. I hoped I was in it, and then felt guilty. She was Martin's girlfriend. She had to return to being that, no matter how hard for me it was going to be to let her. ________________ So, now you know the possible ways the story ended. Open to Possibilities "Okay," Rolf said agreeably. "That's fair. You were her boyfriend first." It was Sophie's turn to nod agreement, her tits jiggling with the movement of her head. Which left us all in a hiatus, Rolf fully clothed beside me on the sofa, me with my pants round my knees, and Sophie down to her knickers, standing in front of us while the TV screen showed images of the delightful parts she had yet to expose in the flesh. The DVD was coming to an end, and the trivial thought crossed my mind that I would have to make sure I hid the disc again before my parents got home. "So, it's all agreed then?" Sophie said cheerfully as if we'd just decided where we were going for a coffee, or something equally inconsequential. Neither Rolf nor I dissented. "Good." I think her bravado was masking shyness somehow, something I'd rather thought she would have lost under the circumstances. "Do you want me to go in another room?" I asked them considerately. Rolf left the decision to Sophie. "Do you want to?" I couldn't giver an answer without thinking hard about it first, and she was patient. I really didn't want to watch Sophie making love to somebody else. "I think so," I said. She looked almost disappointed, but said, "I understand." It seemed she genuinely did. "Maybe I'll get used to the idea another time," I said, sadly thinking ahead to the consequences of the strange new arrangement we'd made. Pulling up my pants, I made as dignified an exit as I could without tucking in my shirt and doing up my belt. Sophie came to me in my upstairs bedroom later, carrying all her clothes. I could smell she'd had sex. "Rolf's gone home," she said, placing her bundle on a chair. She walked towards the bed, self-aware of her youthful nakedness, and looking exquisitely beautiful. I told myself there was nothing to blame her for; she was mine again, and I could see in her expression, she still loved me. I knew her better as a consequence of what had happened, at least in her sexuality. If she wanted two guys then I was rewarded enough by being one of them. From the foot of the bed she bent over and unfastened my trousers again. As she dragged them off I shed my T-shirt. She slivered up my body, running her soft breasts over my thighs then my genitals and belly, and coming to rest on my chest. Her groin settled on me, her pubic hair damp. I blocked out any thoughts of what she would have done downstairs after I left. "I love you, Martin," she said, reaching behind and pulling my cock up between her legs at the back, the slippery wetness there making it stiffen more. She started riding my pubic bone, my cock bouncing around sometimes in contact with her hair-fringed vulva and sometimes not. I stroked her slender back and shoulders and strained to keep my cock not only upright but as much as possible in contact with the tantalising softness of her labia. "Do you love me?" she asked. "I love you," I said because my heart felt I had no choice. She added even more enthusiasm to her almost dry humping, bringing her cunt repeatedly back along my cock so that I could feel the lips splitting wetly over the shaft. Her belly lifted off mine. Then I felt her hand between my legs again, leading to that indescribably beautiful feeling of physical and emotional delight as my cock slid into her. This was the cunt of the girl I loved. Her desire to share it with two guys seemed just a foible compared to its loveliness. She was my Paris Hilton, lusted after by millions of men – or Sophie would be if she were a celebrity. I knew she could have had any one of the guys at school, but she had chosen me to be the first and stayed with me. She hadn't dropped me for my best friend, simply reached out and drawn him into polygamous intimacy. "Oh shit, your cock feels so beautiful!" I stopped thinking about her and Rolf and got swept away by pleasuring her and being pleasured. She raised herself on her arms and I lifted my mouth to her breasts, shifting it from one prominent pink nipple to the other. "Oh shit, Martin, that feels so good!" She was riding me vigorously, as I would have her if I had been on top. Either way, the base of my cock mashed her spongy labia each time she plunged me deep inside her lubricated sheath. Our flesh-covered pubic bones were grinding together, my balls nestling in her butt cheeks. Her breath came in and out in short gasps, breaking up her next exclamation, "Shoot it into me, Martin...fill my pussy with it!" I let go of the rising tide in my groin, and she squealed in ecstasy, arching her back for a moment and pushing her hips into mine. It was only then I had the thought that Rolf's cum had contributed some of the wetness I had been thrusting my cock into. A weird feeling came over me. Camaraderie? Rivalry? I didn't know. Emotionally spent as Sophie pulled off me, I just accepted she was carrying spunk in her vagina from two guys. That somehow made her seem sexier than ever. When she cuddled up nude in my arms I quit thinking about anything else but how much I loved her. Ending 1: I woke when the door banged closed downstairs. Realising I must have inadvertently drifted off to sleep, and that my parents were home, I leapt out of bed and hurriedly tugged on my Jeans and T-shirt. Sophie, her shoulders bare, slept on blissfully under the sheet, looking innocent and beautiful. I hauled loafers onto my bare feet as I hurried along the upstairs hallway, and was going downstairs when I heard my name called in my father's familiar voice. Did it sound disapproving? "This has to be yours," he said when I reached the living room, holding up a shiny disk on one finger. I tried to look as if I didn't know anything about it. "The DVD player was on when I came in," he said. Had Rolf left the Sophie-porn playing again when he left, or was it just the TV that had been on? "Best not to let your mother see it, I think," my father said, liberal as usual. "I hope you and Sophie are using protection." Blushing, I nodded dumbly, realising my father probably thought a girl who let herself be filmed in the buff, like he'd just seen, was promiscuous and putting me at risk of STDs. Actually, we weren't using condoms; Sophie was just on the Pill. I took the disc from him, gripping it at the edges. "Is she upstairs?" he interrupted my thoughts. "Yes," I told him. She came over after school." I wondered how much of the video he had watched. "Rolf was here too for a while." Implying Sophie and I had not spent the whole time together seemed the right thing to say. "Perhaps you should invite Sophie down before your mother gets home," he suggested tolerantly. I wondered what he would think of Sophie, and me, if he knew Rolf was now fucking her as well, and that I'd gone along with it. How far would his easy tolerance go, I wondered. Upstairs, Sophie was sitting in the bed with the sheet pulled up to her neck. Love was still in her eyes. Ending 2: "This has to be yours," my father said, holding up a shiny disc with his finger through the middle. I went over wordlessly and took it from him, recognising from the cover he had in his hand that it was the chic-flick Sophie had brought over after school. She and I had been watching it before we went upstairs. Needless to say I was glad it wasn't the sort of disc I had just been dreaming about, and relieved that my nightmare of Sophie wanting me to let her share her body with Rolf was nothing more than some Freudian perversion in my mind. I had no intention of confessing about it to her or Rolf. "Has Sophie gone home?" my father asked. "No. She's upstairs." "Your mother will be home soon." Even though she was as liberal as my father, he often seemed to want to protect her from the raw reality that I was sometimes having sex with Sophie in our home. I was really grateful neither of them ever mentioned it directly. It was just tacitly understood. "Okay," I said. "I'll go up and get Sophie to come down." "Let her freshen up first if she likes," he said, looking at my bare ankles as I retreated. I flushed, wondering if he had formed a picture in his head of her naked in our shower. He had that kind of look in his eye. Ending 3: I came round feeling groggy. Someone was shaking me by the shoulder. I was in my bedroom. Sophie and Rolf were sitting on the bed at my side. We were all fully clothed, unlike the situation in my wild imaginings. "What sort of trip was it, man?" Rolf was asking. "I was worried," Sophie said. "You were tossing and turning and muttering like a crazy after you passed out. I thought it was going to be a downer." She looked relived I seemed okay. "Was it kinky stuff you were dreaming?" Rolf wanted to know. Sophie threw him a reproachful look. "I thought you went home," I said to Rolf, confused by what was reality and what was not. "No. I've been here all the time. Don't you remember?" My eyes went back to Sophie, but Rolf urged, "So tell us about it." He was the one who suggested I be the first to experiment with the drug that Sophie had turned up at my house with, not that either of them had expected it to knock me out. I felt so groggy I still couldn't lift my head. "It was kinda crazy and unreal," I dismissed the experience as if it was unimportant. "Some sort of fantasy?" Rolf's tone and expression were lewd enough to let us know the type he wanted it to be. "There was a lot of sex in it," I confirmed, hoping it would shut him up. My eyesight was fuzzy and my head was aching. "What sort of sex?" he wanted to know. Sophie giggled at my discomfort. I paid her back by telling Rolf, "I imagined I'd made a video of Sophie dancing nude and that you persuaded me to let you watch it." Sophie flushed a deep pink. Rolf chuckled, "I wish!" Sophie punched him playfully on the arm. "I'll go next," Rolf said eagerly. "I might imagine watching it." Sophie's blush crept down her neck. Rolf wanted to know. "What else happened?" I said, "Sophie wanted to have sex with both of us." I guess, in a way, I was so traumatised by my drug-induced nightmare that I was testing Sophie's reaction to the very idea of it. She giggled and said to Rolf, "Then you definitely aren't taking a pill." "Maybe you should," he quipped lasciviously, a big grin on his face. "Shut up." Sophie wriggled on the bed uncomfortably. "You might be my best friend," I told Rolf, "but that isn't happening." "Oh, I don't know," Sophie was grinning, teasing us now. "It doesn't seem such a bad idea to me." _________________ In the next and final chapter of this story I will provide a sequel to each of the three endings written as possible scenarios above.