0 comments/ 75237 views/ 2 favorites One Saturday Night By: Lillyflower72 It was Saturday night and the young couple was going out, it was a relief for the both of them, having two babies it was hard for them to have a night alone. They were discussing where they were going to eat when the flashing lights of a patrol car came up quickly on them. "Shit Becca, I have warrants and this asshole cop is going to take me straight to jail!" Said Mark as he began to pull off to the side of the road. "Don't worry about it Hon, we have enough money with us and if he takes you then I'll just bail you out and we will be able to still go out okay?" Becca always had a soothing effect on Mark, no matter how stressed he was she could calm him with her soft low voice or just by looking at her. She was a beautiful woman and he was always amazed on how such an average looking chap such as himself had gotten a girl so stunningly pretty. She was tall standing around 5'8 with long blonde hair coming down to rest just above her tight round ass. Though she had had two children her figure looked pretty much the same as it had the day they met. Her tummy, arms, and legs toned from the exercises she did religiously every day. Her D cup sized breasts were not as perky as they had been but still held their nice round shape and he had to admit they were the best pair of boobs he'd ever seen. He would sit and imagine how they looked when she was sitting on top of him, riding his cock. The way they laid against her body or how they would bounce as he pumped his hips underneath her, how her large pink nipples would become erect at the slightest touch of his finger or tongue. After thinking on that he would have to go into the bathroom at work and jack off or he couldn't concentrate on what he had been doing. There was a sharp knock on the window bringing Mark out of his thoughts of his wife. He was a little embarrassed now handing the officer his information; his cock was so obviously hard. He hoped now that the cop would let him go or that the raging hard on he had would leave. The officer went back to his car to check out Mark's information and Becca began to laugh. "What?!" "You'd better put the monster away before he comes back." Said Becca still giggling. "It's your fault!" "I know it is, I can't help it." Even at times like these Becca had a sense of humor and Mark loved that so much about her. He wouldn't know what he'd do without her and he hoped she felt the same way with him. Becca could never show her emotions very well and did it mainly through her actions than her words but that was just another thing to love about her. The officer came slowly back up to the car and asked Mark to step out, informing him he had warrants and that he was going to need to take him in. Mark got out not saying a word or putting up any kind of fight at all while the policeman cuffed him and put him in the car. Afterwards he came back and asked Becca for her license to check it and make sure she didn't have anything against her too. Becca handed it to him, thinking there was nothing wrong with her driving record. She had had some tickets a while back but she had thought she had paid them all off. It took quite awhile for the officer to come back and when he did he informed Becca that she too had a warrant out and she was going to need to come with him also. Becca thought great we definitely don't have the money on us to bail she and us both out went down the list of who she could call to come get them out. Becca thought it kind of strange that the officer didn't call another patrol car, he only had one set of cuffs and that when to Mark. Then when they got to the car he put her in the front seat with him instead of in the back with her husband. She didn't say anything just sat there quietly until she felt the officers hand rest on her leg. He began to move it back and forth, slowly massaging her skin. "What the hell are you doing?" Becca asked surprisingly. "I tell you what lady, you give me some head right here I'll lesson the charges against your husband. Make it look like he never had three of those warrants and you all can get out earlier and head to where ever it was you were going." Becca's eyes grew larger as she looked back at her husband. Mark was shaking his head and mouthing the words no. "What about my warrant?" Will you still keep that one?" "Lady, that one is for 100 buck you could swing that easy so, no yours still stays." Though she knew Mark would probably divorce her for this she bent down and unzipped the patrolman's pants. She took his cock into her mouth and began to give him the best head job he'd ever received. Mark was stunned into silence. He wanted to start yelling and screaming as he watched his beautiful wife give this asshole a blowjob. He couldn't believe that she was doing it, he wanted to slap her, call her a no good whore, he was so pissed off but through his anger he felt a stirring in his groin. He was beginning to get horny watching the head of his wife bob up and down on the cop’s dick. He could hear the wetness of her mouth, hear her own moans of pleasure from having her mouth stuffed with cock and he could almost feel her mouth around him and not the jerk in the front seat. He heard the patrol man's breath become faster, he could see the sit rocking back as the man fucked his wife's mouth, and he knew it wouldn't be long before the guy came. He watched as the dude went tense in the front sit and heard his wife's muffled moans of delighted as he could only imagine that the guy was cumming down Becca's throat. The more he witnessed this act the harder his own cock got, he felt like whipping it out and jacking off all over the backseat of the car but his hands were cuffed behind him which just pissed him off more. He thought to himself that his lovely wife will now have to pay him back big time for this one, he figured becoming his undying sex slave would suffice and just the thought made his mood lighten a little. As they pulled into the station, Becca got out of the car herself as the officer got Mark out of the backseat. He let Mark know how good his wife was at sucking cock and since she had done such a good job then there would only be two warrants out on him both only for $100 on traffic violations and they'd be free to go in no time. Mark said nothing though he felt like throwing his head right into the prick's nose instead he looked over at Becca and she cast her eyes down feeling ashamed for what she had done. He could see even in the dimly lit parking lot how flushed she was, it had made her hot to suck this guys cock, this just made Mark pissed off more but he shook it off and followed the officer into the building. Once in they were put in the holding cells waiting to be booked after the initial discussion of each warrant, how much, and if they were bonding out or not. They had agreed to bond out and had already called the bondsman to be ready for when they were booked so they could leave as soon as possible. Since the highest warrants had been dropped, due to Becca's slutty act, they'd only have to spend all of $90 to get out. A wall blocked the cells so Becca and Mark could not see each other. Becca was glad of that, she knew Mark was pissed at her but she saw no other way out and besides she really enjoyed it, only thing she wished is that she had gotten something in return. She was damn hot now and needed some relief quickly. She thought about masturbating right there in the cell but thought that wouldn't be a good idea, she didn't want to get caught. She began to move from side to side letting her jeans ride up into her cunt, it might take awhile to cum this way but something was better than nothing she thought it had to be done. Surprisingly to her she felt the beginnings of an orgasm just minutes after she started, just then the guard came to her door and told her she'd be booked then. Dammit I'm never going to get this done she thought as she followed the man to where she needed to sit. He started by asking her all the normal questions and was interrupted by the other guard in attendance, a woman that had been mugging Becca since they got there. She whispered to her co-worker and the more they talked the more flushed they both became. Becca took a glance at the male guards groin area and saw him standing at attention. She really wanted to know what they were talking about but sat there quietly waiting for the guards to stop speaking. After minutes of speaking the guards looked at her and the male guard asked her to stand up they needed to search her again. She didn't understand why but complied with their demands. He came up behind her standing so close she could feel his hard member against her butt, she quivered letting out a small uncontrollable moan as he rubbed himself up against her. He brought his hands up her sides, sliding them across her tits and down her belly, stopping at her pussy for a second before moving on. Becca looked over at the cell Mark was in, he could see all that was happening but at this time she really didn't care. She knew this guard was going to fuck her and she needed it badly. He whispered in her ear that the arresting officer had told Jenny, the woman guard, what she had done and now she was going to be their whore as her husband watched. "Take me." Becca whispered back. "I'll be the best slut you ever had." Mark watched this all knowing what was going to happen. He couldn't believe the woman he had married and loved for so long was such a little tramp. "I'll divorce your ass Becca, by God I will leave you on the street with nothing if you fuck either one of them! Don't think I won't you fucking no good whore!" Becca ignored all he was saying as she dropped to her knees and began to suck the guard off. Jenny went to the door and made sure it was looked, coming back she undressed Becca as she deep throated the male guard, moaning loudly, loving the way his cock felt so deep into her throat. Jenny undressed herself and got down on the floor with Becca, she took out her baton stick and shoved it deep into Becca's cunt. Becca screamed as the cold long stick began to probe her dripping cunt. It felt so good to finally have her hot snatch filled and she began to cum in second, her juices flowing down all over the baton and Jenny's hand. After she came the male guard pushed her away from his cock and made her get down on her hands and knees. He thrust his cock into her cunt fucking her so hard she could hardly breathe. Mark was still raising hell in his cell, he still couldn't believe it, this was not the woman he married but God watching her fuck the guard was making him more horny than he already was. His cock was throbbing and he had to free it from his pants. He began to jack off all his anger going into his strokes, making his cock red as he fucked himself. Jenny looked over then and slowly came his way, without saying a word she dropped to her knees and took his cock into her mouth. She sucked it slowly bringing every inch of his cock down her throat. He kept his eyes on Becca, watching every move she made, watching her orgasm one after the other as this woman sucked him off. He had to admit that she wasn't as good as his wife but she was doing a splendid job. She lifted up and stroked him looking up into his face she asked if he enjoyed watching his wife being fucked by another man. "Shut up and make me cum Bitch! Don't talk to me." Jenny shrugged her shoulders and went back to his cock. "You know this would be much easier if you let me out. I want to fuck you." Without a word Jenny stood up and went to retrieve the keys, she let Mark out and he went straight to Becca. Jenny held him back and told him to fuck her and not worry about his slut wife at the moment. Becca had been repositioned and was on her back with the guard still fucking her as hard as he did when they started. Jenny got down on her hands and knees and began to lick Becca's clit as Mark plunged his cock into her pussy. He really enjoyed watching Jenny lap at his wife's cunt and he knew he wouldn't last long. He tried to control himself but with in minutes he shot his load deep into Jenny's pussy. He pulled out then and Jenny moved positioning herself over Becca's face, Mark watched as his cum dripped from Jenny's snatch onto wife's pretty face. Becca brought her tongue out and began to lick Jenny's cunt, catching all the cum that should could in her mouth. Mark grew hard again watching this but he didn't want to use Jenny right now. He picked up the same baton stick that Jenny had used before and straddling Becca's stomach moved it up inside her pussy with the guard’s cock. Becca whimpered with pain as her opening began to stretch out to take both. The male guard never stopped with the rhythm he was at; Marked loved watching his wife's cunt take both the stick and the guys cock. He watched as Becca began to cum and her juices shot out all over soaking the guard, stick, and Marks hand. Mark left the stick in her cunt but let the guard take over controlling it as he moved and went to Jenny. He stood in front of her and she eagerly took his dick into her mouth. Sucking it harder and faster then before, Becca's tongue on Jenny's clit was going to make her cum in seconds, and Mark started pumping his hips hard into Jenny's mouth, holding her head firmly with his hand. He heard the baton fall to the floor and could only figure that the guard was going to cum also but to his surprise the he told everyone that he wanted to switch positions again. He made Becca stand up and asked Mark if he wanted to get on the floor, he did so not really knowing what was going to happen. The guard commanded Becca to straddle her husband and then he came up behind her shoving his cock into Becca's virgin asshole. She screamed out in pain and Mark told her that was what she got for being such a whore. The guard and Mark started fucking her as Jenny came up close enough to Becca so that she could continue to eat her. Jenny had grabbed the nightstick and had all ready begun to fuck herself when Becca started to lap at her again. The guard and Mark fell into rhythm together working out Becca good, fucking her so hard that she could hardly lick Jenny's pussy. Both girls began to cum at the same time; Jenny ramming the nightstick hard into her pussy as Becca sucked in Jenny's hard bud. Becca let go of Jenny as her orgasm hit hard, she was paralyzed with ecstasy. In a few seconds both men began to grunt and Becca knew they would fill her up with their hot cum. She felt the guard's spunk shot into her ass first shortly followed by Mark's exploding in her pussy. She orgasmed once more to the feel of their jizm filling her completely. They all broke free of one another, Becca and Jenny cleaned off both Mark and the male guard then went to the bathroom to clean themselves. As they were waiting for the girls the guard told Mark they were free to go. They would drop the rest of the warrants and it would never go on record that they were taken in. Mark let out a weak thanks as Becca came out fully clothed again. They walked to the car not saying a word, once sat and the car started Mark turned to Becca, "Where do you want to go eat Hon?" Becca was taken back she thought for sure he'd be down her throat. She thought a minute and answered, "How about Italian? That sounds good." "All right Italian it is." They drove out and down the road, they never spoke of that night again but their sex life became much more exciting after that. One Saturday Night in 1959 Ah, the fabulous fifties. Dwight Eisenhower was in the White House, gays were in the closet, tail fins were all the rage and "good" girls didn't go all the way until marriage. Boys did, but only if they could find a "bad" girl willing to go there. I wasn't one of those boys, and neither were most of my horny, sex-starved high school buddies. We were all from upper-middleclass, church going families and the girls we dated—and I use the verb dated loosely—might let us cop a feel or two in the backseat of a car or on the sofa when parents were away. Being a socially awkward, shy, nerdy lad, I rarely got that far. In truth, I rarely had a date. More often than not, Saturday nights found me lounging in front of the TV watching Have Gun Will Travel, Gunsmoke and a late night horror movie. So you can imagine from the following why one specific Saturday night in late spring of 1959 is forever etched in my memory. My parents had gone to a party, leaving me, my sister Beth and Marla Sue, her sleepover guest, in the house. The girls were in their second year of college. I had just turned eighteen, looking forward to my own college experience. Unlike me, they were socially precocious and sexy as all get out. Marla Sue was Sandra Dee to Beth's Natalie Wood, or so people said. Marla had the blond, blue-eyed, girl-next-door looks, with her cute turned-up nose and perfect little bod. Beth, in contrast, was a tall, athletic brunette. She had pouty lips and beautiful eyes—big, brown and seductive. "I wouldn't mind humping your sister," was a common refrain I heard from my friends who couldn't take their eyes off her long shapely legs and a face that did indeed bare a subtle likeness to the iconic Natalie. In truth, I'd have humped her too if we weren't related, not to mention the blond Marla Sue. Well, on that Saturday in question, I was in my room, doing nothing in particular. Sis was in her room with Marla Sue playing records. Buddy Holly's voice mixed with shrieks of laughter. I sang softly to myself, adding a slightly different lyric: "I love you, Marla Sue, with a love so rare and true, oh Marla, my Marla Sue..." To this day, Beth denies she heard me. Even so, not a minute later, she and Marla Sue popped open their door, came down the hall and barged in without knocking. Both girls were barefoot and in short-shorts, influenced perhaps, by the 1957 song of the same name. Beth said they were bored playing records, and Leave It To Beaver, a show we all watched, didn't come on for another half hour. She then suggested we play spin the bottle, a game I was just vaguely familiar with, having never played it before. From what little I knew, it involved spinning a bottle and then kissing the person the bottle pointed to. "Come on, it'll be fun," Beth said, seeing my hesitation. "Besides, you might learn something other than what they teach you in school." "She's right, Jonathan," Marla Sue chimed in, "you wouldn't mind kissing me, would you?" Kissing Marla Sue was an exciting prospect, exciting but also scary. She had experience; I didn't, and anyway, Beth's presence would surely be an inhibiting factor. "Well, I don't know," I said. "Oh, don't be a party pooper," Beth argued. "It's just a game. You aren't afraid to kiss a girl, are you?" Beth was pushing the right buttons. She sensed that I'd be hard pressed to turn down her challenge no matter how tentative I felt, and she was right. In fact, for the past few months, I'd been lifting weights to pack meat on my bony frame, working hard to shed my nerdy image. "Of course I'm not afraid," I insisted, flexing my budding biceps against the sleeves of my tight-fitting T-shirt. "Let's play," I said finally, knowing that refusing would subject me to more teasing. Beth smiled triumphantly. "That's the spirit. We can play in the den while watching Perry Mason until the Beaver comes on." The den was my family's favorite room in the house. It held the big Zenith TV we got the previous year, plus my dad's new stereo. Wood paneling lined the walls and squares of a cork material covered all floor space. A huge picture window, facing east, let in bursts of sunlight during morning hours. Built-in bookshelves over the Zenith held volumes of the World Book Encyclopedia, classics like The Great Gatsby and Gone With The Wind and some of my dad's medical journals (he was a pediatrician). There were just two pieces of furniture, a new sofa upholstered in tangerine orange that sat against the wall opposite the big window and, in a corner next to the window, a black leather armchair. A spider clock, a turquoise and black thing that used turquoise balls dabbed with black dots in place of numbers, hung on the wall above the sofa. "Tacky," my dad once called it. "Sometimes in marriage you have to make concessions," he told me when I asked why he kept it and the pole lamp he also wasn't too crazy about. Perry Mason and his secretary Della Street were discussing a case in Perry's office as we sat cross-legged on the floor with an empty Pepsi bottle in front of us. Beth's first spin landed directly in front of me. Showing no inhibition whatsoever, she leaned over, pulled my head forward and planted a kiss right on my lips. I brushed the back of my hand across my mouth. Beth laughed. "Oh, come on, that wasn't so bad, was it?" I shrugged and smiled, trying not to appear too embarrassed. "Your turn," Marla Sue said, pointing at me. "We're going clockwise." My spin landed directly in front of Marla Sue. Our kiss was brief but it was enough to stir my young cock, well hidden beneath my underwear and jeans. As the game progressed, I loosened up more, letting my lips linger longer on Marla Sue's with each turn. "Little brother is trying to French you," Beth teased. Marla Sue laughed. "I don't think he knows what that means." She was right, I didn't, but was too ashamed to admit it. Marla Sue looked at me sympathetically. "Do you, Jonathan? Do you know how to French kiss?" I shrugged and looked away. "Just as I thought. Here, I'll show you." Brushing the bottle away, she took my head in her hands. "Jonathan, you are about to learn the art of French kissing. She then proceeded with the confidence that could only come with experience. I couldn't help but wonder how many lessons she'd had under her belt, how many boys she'd done this with. In seconds, I learned that the process involved the tongue as well as the lips. It felt very weird, the slimy feel of someone else's tongue rubbing against mine, the exchange of saliva. At least she smelled good, like baby shampoo, and she tasted good too, like the popcorn she and Beth had munched on earlier. My cock was starting to press hard against my clothing. Glancing at the TV, I watched Perry Mason grilling some woman on the stand, breaking her down as he normally did to those whose guilt was finally exposed at the episode's climax. Meanwhile, Beth proposed to take our innocent little game to another level. Instead of being kissed, the player on the receiving end of the bottleneck must shed a piece of clothing. "Sort of like strip poker only you play with a bottle," she explained. "The first one brave enough to get totally naked wins." Beth claimed she'd played before but never with boys. Marla Sue said it was a first for her also. Of course, everything we had done thus far was a first for me. I was a virgin wading into virgin territory. My cock stiffened with the anticipation of seeing Marla Sue naked, though the thought of the girls seeing me that way tempered some of my enthusiasm. I relaxed a little knowing that the Beaver would soon be on, figuring the game would end by the time we got down to our skivvies. Beth got up and peered into the darkness through the picture window. "We don't want anyone spying on us," she said. She drew the curtains, then switched off three of the four globes on the pole lamp, leaving the room in a pallid glow. Marla Sue hit Beth on her next turn, prompting sis to slip off her blouse. Through the years, I had caught glimpses of my sister naked. But not lately, not since she entered junior high. So now I was staring at her in bra and shorts, getting turned on in the process and feeling somewhat guilty about it. Giving sis a brief peck on the lips was one thing; seeing her this way—and anticipating more—was something else. "Things are getting very interesting, little brother," Beth said, just as our show's theme music and voiceover came on. "...starring Barbara Billingsley, Hugh Beaumont, Tony Dow and Jerry Mathers as the Beaver..." "Aren't we going to watch this?" I asked. "Of course," she said, "while we finish what we started." Marla Sue nodded. "Relax. This is indeed getting interesting." I shrugged, then took my turn, hitting Marla Sue on my spin. Like Beth, she slipped off her blouse. Beth's rack was nothing to sneeze at, but she took a backseat to Marla Sue in that department. I tried to resist gawking at her deep cleavage, to no avail. Marla Sue smiled in satisfaction. Beth, up next, hit me on her spin. "Off with something, Jonathan," she ordered. Off came my T-shirt. I hardly looked like my hero Steve Reeves, though my pecs were starting to develop through endless sets of bench presses. "Nice chest," Marla Sue said, rubbing her hand over my growing mounds of pectoral muscle. If she was trying to make me feel more confident, she succeeded. Somehow during all this we managed to follow Beaver's exploits. "Boy, are we in trouble now!" Beth cried. She meant the Beaver and his friend Larry, not us. Tricked by two older boys, they were using a stolen rowboat while picnicking by a lake. Beth did find herself in trouble after Marla Sue took her spin. "Not me again," she groaned, facing the choice of either unsnapping her bra or peeling off her shorts. "Oh well, here goes," she said, and then proceeded to lean back, unsnap her shorts, and then flutter kick them down her legs and on to the floor. Down to her panties and bra, sis held the lead. "Okay, one of you has to catch up," Beth said with a hint of desperation. She then gave the bottle a hard spin. Once again it was my turn to shed something. "Come on, don't be chicken," Beth chided, "off with those pants." She pointed to herself. "I did it and so can you. Be daring." Be daring is right considering my boner was close to full staff, something I didn't want them to see. Still, I figured appearing cowardly was worse. Standing up, I stepped out of my jeans, leaving me naked except for a pair of white Fruit of the Loom briefs. Trying my best to be discreet, I clasped my hands over the bulge, hoping they wouldn't notice. They noticed. Beth reached up to pull my hands away. "Whatcha got there, brother?" "Yeah, don't be shy," Marla Sue said, reaching for my other hand. "It's not the first time we've seen a guy's boner." I didn't know whose boner or boners they saw, but up to tonight, it wasn't mine. I sat back down, keeping one hand over my crotch, spinning the bottle with the other. Beth sighed with relief when it landed in front of Marla Sue, who kicked off her shorts, pulling even with Beth. Technically, I was in the "lead" having nothing on but my briefs. However, this was one game I had no interest in winning. For me, winning would be the pleasure of seeing Marla Sue braless. But, after her spin, it was Beth's turn to finally bare her boobs. "You know, you two should declare me the winner if I do this," Beth said, her angst evident. She was folded up like a human accordion, her legs bent, her arms wrapped around her knees, her body moving in a slight rocking motion. Given the pressure she put on me, I couldn't help but enjoy her discomfort. Marla Sue pouted, fatuously it looked to me. "Quit now and you'll deny me the opportunity to strut my own stuff." She cupped her hands over her bra and swiveled from side to side. "Be my guest," Beth said, still in her tucked position. "I dare ya." "I will if you will. Let's give your kid brother an education." I shifted my eyes back and forth from my would-be "teachers" to the show's last scene where Beaver's dad was giving Beaver a lecture on something or other. For as long as I'd watched this show, I'd never once seen an episode where Beaver, Wally or any of their friends had engaged in anything like this. I figured that if old Hugh Beaumont could get that serious about Beaver playing in a stolen rowboat, he'd really go ape shit if he caught either of his sons doing what we were doing. Beth reached behind her back to unsnap her bra. "Are you okay with this, Jonathan?" She kept her fingers on the hooks, waiting for a response. I wasn't really, though I couldn't resist the opportunity to see Marla Sue follow suit. "If she joins you," I said. Beth waited until Marla Sue discarded her blouse. Then, in unison, they dropped their bras into their laps, baring all. Well, almost all. Their panties were still on, and I couldn't help wonder when or if they were the next to go. "Not a word of this to mom and dad," Beth warned me. I sat there, silent and staring. "You hear me, Jonathan? Not a word." "Right, not a word." "Promise?" "Promise." "You swear, cross your heart and hope to die?" "Yeah, all that." Marla Sue, sitting cross-legged, leaned back on her hands. "Well Jonathan, what do you think?" I thought my boner was about to burst though my underwear. Like I said, she was well endowed. Anyway, it wasn't just about the size of her boobs. Indeed, she could have been close to flat-chested and I still would have been aroused to the point of exploding, because it was more about her eroticism, this incredibly seductive quality she possessed, the sensuous way she moved, for example, and her voice, soft and enticing. Marla Sue shimmied from side to side, bouncing her boobs, waiting for a response. "No comment?" I sat there grinning, trying, unsuccessfully, to translate what I was feeling at that moment into words. Finally, I managed something: "Nice." "And I'd bet you wouldn't mind feeling as well as looking, would you?" I nodded. Marla Sue then turned to sis: "What do you think, Beth? Should we make this a hands-on lesson as well?" "Sure, why not? Learning by doing is the best education there is." Not sure what to do or how to do it, I began to reach for her chest, then pulled back. "Here, let me help," Marla Sue giggled, amused by my shyness. She then grabbed my hand and placed it square over the nipple of her left breast. "Stroke it. Gently. That's it. Like that. Oh, that feels really good. Keep going. You're learning fast." Aroused by the sight of her naive brother being seduced, Beth began to touch herself, stroking her boobs with one hand, rubbing her crotch with the other. Naïve or not, it didn't take me long to sense that our puerile little bottle game was over, supplanted by something I could barely imagine until tonight. The question was, how far did they intend to take this? Somehow I didn't think it included watching Lawrence Welk. His show had come on after Beaver, and from our young perspective he was an old man playing music for old fogies. One of his musicians, a smiling guy with curly hair, was playing the accordion, leading the band in a polka. Not that we were watching beyond a token look. Marla Sue now had me sucking on her boobs as she sat on the floor with her back resting against the sofa, her fingers inside her panties, rubbing her clit. Her verbal "instructions" had morphed into moans of delight. Almost unconsciously, I slipped my hand inside my briefs and began to masturbate. I was about to come when Beth said, "Here, let me help." The next thing I knew, my briefs were off and my own sister was giving me a blow job. As I lay on the floor, Marla Sue turned around and leaned over me so I could continue to suck on her boobs. In seconds, a fountain of sperm gushed forth. Marla Sue shrieked seeing her boobs catch much of the splatter. Beth grabbed a box of tissues. We shared the cleanup, wiping the sticky substance from Beth's hands, my stomach and Marla's chest. I was running on pure hedonistic, carnal lust at this point. In fact, we all were. To me, it felt as if we were in a car sans brakes, careening downhill, our speed accelerating by the second, headed for God knows where. Just minutes after the cleanup, my young cock sprang to life once again. Marla Sue beamed. "Wow, look at that, Beth," she gushed. "Your virgin stud brother is still all hot and bothered." Beth nodded, her face expressing a serious call to duty. "So I see. Guess we'll have to take care of him again. But this time..." She looked away, as if embarrassed, before continuing. "But this time we should go for the ultimate." "The ultimate?" I asked, though I had a feeling what she meant. "Well, little brother, believe it or not, we're still virgins also." Marla Sue caught my look of skepticism. "She's right, Jonathan. We've never gone beyond third base." "So I thought maybe you could help us rectify that," Beth said, "bring all of us across home plate, so to speak. If that's okay with you." Like I said, I understood why my friends thought Beth was so hot. Like them, I sometimes gawked at her long, shapely legs. Plus, her Natalie Wood image didn't hurt. Even so, the incest taboo kept me from fantasizing about a sexual relationship with her, much less actually suggesting one. Apparently, she didn't share the same hang-up. In fact, she volunteered to go first. Marla Sue plopped on the sofa and watched what Beth did next—pushed the crotch of her panties aside, then squatted down on my throbbing, rock-hard cock. She was tentative at first, taking in just the tip. Then, in increments, she squatted lower and lower until her wet pussy absorbed the whole thing. "Oh my god! I can't believe I'm being so naughty, screwing my own brother. This feels beyond incredible!" It did for me also, expressed more through grunts than words. For virgins, we seemed to be doing quite well for the short time we went at it. I played with her tits, ran my hands along her smooth thighs and breathed in her sweet scent when she bent down to kiss me. The taboo factor, far from being a turnoff, just seemed to heighten our excitement. Fearing pregnancy (the pill was not yet on the market and I didn't have a rubber to my name), Beth jumped off a couple minutes into it. Good thing, too, because it took her but seconds to finish me off with her mouth and hand. Marla Sue pouted looking down at my now flaccid penis. "Think you can get it up again for me?" She was all worked up from rubbing herself while watching us. "Sure, with a little help," I said, confident that my young, still eager cock could muster a third round. As I sat on the sofa, Marla Sue got on her knees, wedged herself between my legs and went to work with mouth and hand. "Come on, Jonathan," she pleaded, her hand working my cock like a well-tuned piston, "stiffen that member of yours so you can stuff my wet hot tinkle." Her use of tinkle to describe her pussy upped my desire even more, took it to another level. The word had an erotic, euphonious ring to it, produced in my perverted thinking images of hot piss soaking her panties and then running down her luscious thighs. "I think we're ready now," she said, gripping her hand around my stiff "member." Unlike Beth, she dropped her panties all the way off, then laid back on the sofa and spread her legs. She carefully guided me into her, then clasped her legs around my waist. "Just pull out before you come," she said. "I'm not ready to be a mom either." Because this was round number three, I was able to stay in longer, to absorb myself in the moment. The term out of body experience had not yet entered my vocabulary, but that's what this felt like, as if it was happening to someone else. I was living the fantasy, kissing and humping a Sandra Dee lookalike right in my own home. The image is still vivid all these years later—her pretty face, all flushed and eager, her wavy blond hair matted with sweat and her soft voice, encouraging and complimentary. I can't recall all she said, but I do remember this line: "Looks like the student has become the teacher." The teacher held out for as long as he could before pulling out and coming on her stomach. One Saturday Night in 1959 "Remember what we agreed to, Jonathan," Beth said, handing Marla Sue a tissue. "Not a word of this to mom and dad. Not a word of this to anybody, friends included." "I know, cross my heart and hope to—" The jangle of keys turning and then the thunk of the front door opening and closing stopped me in mid-sentence. "Oh my god!" Beth yelled. "They're home!" Marla Sue jumped off the sofa as if propelled by a spring that had shot up through the cushion. Mom's voice called out from the living room. "Anybody home?" Other than rushing out the backdoor naked, we had just seconds to put back on what we took off. We were a mass of bumping bodies and desperate arms and hands reaching out to grab our scattered clothing from the floor. My sight was reduced to a blur—Beth and Marla Sue hooking into their bras and throwing on their tops and shorts, me all but jumping into my pants, then slapping on my T-shirt, inside out. By the time my parents made their way through the dining room, just steps from the den, we were dressed, more or less. Reflexively, I grabbed the channel dial and turned it, catching the Ballad of Paladin: "Have gun will travel reads the card of a man/a knight without armor in a savage land..." Beth squeezed the snap on her white shorts just when mom got to the doorway. "I didn't expect you home so early. How was the dinner party?" Beth's breathing was labored, her face was flushed and strands of hair stuck to her sweating forehead. "A colossal bore, which is why we left. I can only talk politics for so long," mom said, thumbing the string of pearls that hung above her black cocktail dress. "Your father, on the other hand, could argue all night who would be tougher on the Russians, Nixon or Kennedy." Dad, wearing a green sports coat and khaki slacks, came up behind her and glanced at the TV. "Your mother wasn't really bored. She just used that as an excuse so she could be home in time for Paladin." Mom gave him a soft poke in the ribs with her elbow. Turning back to us, she said, "Are you all having fun? Look at them, Paul, all in one room enjoying the same program." Her smile faded. "Beth, have you been running? You look like you just did a few laps around the block. You too, Marla. And Jonathan, your shirt. It's inside out." I pulled at the exposed label of my shirt, shrugged and grinned. "Um, um, yeah, I think you're right." Marla Sue, sitting on the edge of the sofa, looked down, shook her head and giggled. I struggled not to laugh, but couldn't help it when Beth and I looked at each other. Then Beth laughed and mom said, "Am I missing something?" "It was that goofy looking accordion player on Lawrence Welk," I said. "You'd have laughed too." Beth's and Marla Sue's giggles melted into uninhibited laughter. "He really was a scream, mom," Beth insisted, red-faced and doubled over. Our parents looked at each other, incredulous. "Since when do you watch Lawrence Welk?" dad asked. "He's as square as they come in your book. Am I right?" As Beth hemmed and hawed, mom spotted the empty Pepsi bottle sticking out from beneath the sofa. Right after turning to Paladin, I had kicked it under there. But not far enough. "Looks like you all shared a Pepsi while watching," mom said. "Where are the glasses?" Beth struggled to get serious. "Ah, well, I washed them and put them back in the cabinet." She looked at me for confirmation, though it was all I could do to keep from breaking up again. Mom folded her arms against her chest. "So that's why you're perspiring. It's from all that hard work washing glasses, huh?" "I suppose so" was all Beth could manage, followed by more giggling. Mom's eyes drifted toward the sofa. "And what's that stain on my new sofa? Spilled Pepsi?" "And Kleenex on the floor too," dad chimed in. "Boogers belong in the trash, not on the floor." I nearly freaked as I quickly bent over and grabbed the sperm stained tissues. "Sorry dad, you're right. I missed the trash can. Basketball was never my strong suit." "No, I guess not," he said, frowning. Beth covered her mouth to stifle more giggling. "I'll get up that Pepsi stain right away," she said, before heading to the kitchen to fetch upholstery cleaner. My parents went upstairs while the three of us helped Beth clean the sofa as best we could. We tried, but knew that mom would have to call in a professional to get it all out. Our parents knew something was up, though they didn't press the issue any further. I'm not sure what they thought, but I doubted what we actually did that night was on their radar. It would be terribly disturbing to most parents today. Back then, in the so-called sexually repressed fifties, it was unthinkable. The three of us talked about having an encore. Yet as the months passed, we knew it would never happen. Our ingrained, middle-class sense of morality, lost in those wild, uninhibited hours, kicked back into place, and we filled our sexual/romantic needs more conventionally. Significant others came and went. The years flew by, then decades. And in all that time, we kept what happened to ourselves. Nobody knew. Or so I thought. One day, my dad, nearing the end of his life, took me aside. We joked about old times, mostly silly stuff that happened when Beth and I were growing up, including that Saturday night. Then he got serious. "Jonathan, we both know that wasn't a Pepsi stain on that orange sofa," he said. Taken aback, I didn't know how to respond. "No? Well, what do you think it was?" I said finally. "The cleaning man told me what it was. I kept it from your mother, couldn't get up the nerve to confront you with it. That is, until now." He paused, then said, "Not that I blame you. Marla Sue was a knockout, had been around the block a few times, and you weren't exactly Mr. Experience in high school. What I want to know is, where was your sister when you and Marla were doing your thing?" "Geez, dad, I can't recall," pleading my own version of the 5th. "That was over forty years ago. Up in her room, I imagine." He half closed his eyes and smiled sarcastically. "Really? Well, that's comforting to know. Only I don't believe it, not from the way she looked and carried on. Not that I really want to know, especially if what happened is what I think happened. But, I'll let it be. I always believed that skeletons should stay in the closet." "We're on the same page there," I said. Then we both dropped the subject.