Chapter 8
No normal female likes to share her man with other women and Betty was really no exception. Although she had gotten a certain vicarious thrill out of watching George launch some of her girl friends into a life of sex, she was happy for the next five nights to have him all to herself again. She trotted over every day after school and stayed until eleven o'clock at night. Monday through Friday of this schedule allowed them to more than make up for lost time. By Friday night, they had done everything but tattoo each other.
Saturday night Betty had arranged for the three other girls to join them in a real sexual Round Robin. Since George was pretty broke, the girls had chipped in to bring food and drink. It bore promise of developing into a gala evening, indeed.
Sally and Margo arrived first bringing three large, well-chilled bottles of wine. Cathy arrived a short time later carrying a huge paper bucket of fried chicken. Betty had brought over a mysterious paper sack which she smuggled into the kitchen. It looked like they were preparing for an annual church picnic but it developed into a more interesting affair than any church picnic George had ever been to.
Everyone stripped down and sat around the living room naked as Betty served glasses of wine and Cathy got ready to do her thing with the fried chicken.
"All of the drumsticks are for George," she announced to the others. "It's all part of a little contest in which he will judge which girl can make the best sauce for fried chicken."
As if to answer the question before they had a chance to ask it, Cathy selected a plump drumstick and blew on it until it was just proper eating temperature. Then she spread her thighs and worked the chicken leg in and out of her snatch like some crazy dildo. When it was well-coated with her pussy juice she removed it and passed it to George.
"Try my sauce first," she announced. The other girls were delighted with the unique idea and anxious to get in on the contest.
"Now, that's what I call 'finger lickin' good'!" George raved. "If we can figure out a way to franchise this we can put the old Colonel and his secret recipe of herbs and spices right out of business. Imagine a coast-to-coast chain of stands selling nothing but fried chicken that tastes like cunt. Every man in the country would eat there three times a day. Why, that could be the greatest thing since grass. We'd start the biggest fad diet in history. Later, we could expand our menu to include something for the women and the faggots. Did you ever watch a woman at an amusement park eating one of those hot dogs on a stick that has been dipped in corn meal and deep-fat-fried? What did it make you think of? Maybe we could start something like that and then develop a heavy white cream sauce to dip it in and come up with a sort of cocksickle on a stick. Your whole concept is fraught with possibilities," he grinned happily. These were fun girls and George felt like a teen-ager again himself when he was with them.
Each girl took a turn at coating a drumstick with her own highly individual "sauce". Although the bouquet and flavor varied from one to the next, George was hard pressed to determine that any one was actually better than the rest.
"I can only describe each and all as being superb," he announced diplomatically.
Sally and Margo went to the kitchen and returned with an opened bottle of wine and four glasses with which they served the girls.
"Where's my glass?" George asked, feeling left out of this part of the indoor picnic.
There was a brief round of giggling and then Margo announced, "Since you're the King Farouk of our little group we felt it only appropriate that you should drink your wine from the Queen's goblet."
"I don't see anything that looks like a Queen's goblet," George objected as he searched the room with his eyes.
"You will, my boy, you will," Sally smiled as she laid down flat on her back in the middle of the floor and rolled back spreading her legs wide until they touched the floor a foot out from each side of her head. In this position her open gash was raised up until the opening was perfectly horizontal. Margo approached with the bottle of wine and opened her friend's pussy wide with her fingers and poured in the wine until it came up to the level of the spread lips.
"Behold, the Queen's goblet-offered up for his Majesty's wining pleasure. Drink hearty!"
George fell into the spirit of things immediately. He bent over the girl's open crotch and began to lick and lap and sip at the crimson chalice of her sex like a kitten at a bowl of milk. The others were greatly amused by the sight but none so much as Sally who broke into uncontrollable laughter as he carefully licked the very dregs of the wine from the even-sweeter container.
"What's so damned funny?" Margo demanded.
"You'll find out. Just wait till you feel how those bubbles tickle your uterus while George is licking the wine off your clit. Like wow!"
Each of the girls happily took her turn at playing the Queen's goblet game.
"Gee, this is real crazy," George commented, wiping wine from his chin and nose. "What a wonderful idea. Wine-flavored cunt!"
"Yeah," Cathy commented thoughtfully, "interesting but not too commercial. I have a better idea. If we could get some smart vintner to develop a cunt-flavored wine we'd make a million."
"I don't think George is playing quite fair with us, girls," Betty announced suddenly. "We're doing all the giving and he's just taking and not reciprocating. Why, he hasn't even come up with a sauce for the chicken, yet."
"Yeah, that's right!" the others joined in excitedly. "C'mon George. We want to taste your cream sauce on fried chicken. Tell you what, girls. We all know that friend George has a fetish about big tits so let's find the largest breast in the barrel for him to cream."
Eating all the pussy-coated chicken and then drinking wine from the hairy cunts had already given George a roaring hard-on so he was quite prepared for the next action. The nutty young nymphos seated him on the very edge of the center of the couch. Sally and Margo took their places on each side of him and Betty and Cathy seated themselves on the floor between his spread legs. Cathy held the large chicken breast in place while Sally and Margo tickled the head of his cock and stroked the shaft of it while Betty tickled and squeezed his balls. It was a fantastic new experience for old George to find himself being beautifully masturbated by three lovely young girls at once. They giggled and commented at the way his cock twitched and throbbed at the triple header it was receiving. It didn't take long before they saw the purplish head puff up and Cathy held the chicken breast directly in front of the gaping slit as he let go and ejaculated blast after blast of the frothy white sauce of his privately distilled ball brandy over the golden brown surface of the still-warm fried poultry. Using his cock as a spatula Betty rubbed the semen sauce smoothly over the surface of the breast of chicken. Then the girls passed it around until they had eaten it all.
"Man, talk about Chicken Delight!" Betty exclaimed. "That has to be the greatest. Up till now I never really cared that much for chicken. Guess it's because I never had it served with the right sauce."
"Can you imagine the furor this would cause if this were served as 'Chicken Surprise' at the Gay Liberation Ball when the boys are electing their Queen for a Day!" Cathy remarked.
"Yeah, it makes any creamed white wine sauce I've ever had before taste like sour owl shit in comparison," Sally giggled.
"It's the greatest, all right. George, do you think you could produce enough of that that we could can it commercially?" Margo asked.
The wine and the general fun had them all in high spirits. After a while Sally and Margo got curious and tried the Queen's goblet action with each other. They must have thought it had merit because after a while they didn't even bother with the wine, anymore. The sight of the lesbian-type act brought George back to life again.
It was nearly ten thirty when Cathy suddenly asked, "Hey, what's for dessert?"
Betty hopped to her feet. "Gee, it's a good thing you asked. I had almost forgotten it." She trotted off to the kitchen, pleased with some inner secret she shared only with herself.
Moments later she returned shaking a large spray can.
"This is no damn time to spray your hair or apply underarm deodorant," Margo scolded.
"Far from it. Girls, tonight you brought the chicken and the wine. I want to announce that the dessert is on George." Betty looked at the astonished man as she spoke.
As Betty led poor dumbfounded George to the cocktail table, she signaled Cathy to clear it off and then directed him to lie down on it while the girls knelt around him. Now she produced the spray can which turned out to be Redi-Whip. Pressing the nozzle she coated his cock and balls with a heavy layer of the pressurized whipped cream. The cool aerated liquid tickled and George's hidden pecker twitched beneath the gob of white. Next, Betty produced a large cherry and planted it in the gooey mess.
"For desert tonight we have a sex sundae. Now you can see what I meant when I said that the dessert was on George." The girls all laughed, anxious to get on with the game.
"What's with the cherry?" Sally asked.
"Just a little touch of turn-about. George got all of your cherries. Now one of you will get his." She buried the cherry out of sight in the whipped cream that rose above his twitching crotch. "All right, girls, dig into the dessert!"
They leaned over the prone man and four anxious young tongues began licking at the whipped cream. Margo found the cherry much to the delight of her friends. They licked until the whipped cream was gone and then they licked at George. Some of them sucked on his parts, anxious to get the last of the sweet coating. Betty had to practically pull Sally off of him, physically, in order to spray on another layer. This time she lifted his balls and applied it beneath them and all over the hairs that surrounded his rigid cock. When he was well-coated they put aside the can and again proceeded to tongue off the soft, fluffy fluid. They started around his stomach and worked their way down to his balls. George could feel the sensational soft touch of the four tongues and periodically he could hear them swallowing the whipped cream as they would soon be swallowing his cream when he was thoroughly whipped by their tongues and lips. The effect of the erotic game was utterly galvanizing upon the dirty old man. By the time those tongues reached the base of his trembling prick he was in seventh heaven.
Spiraling upward over his throbbing cock now like it was a barber pole, Betty and Cathy, one from each side, licked and sucked off every drop of the soft, sweet aerated whipped cream while Sally and Margo concentrated on licking it all from his quivering balls. The entire effect was superbly torturous. By the time Cathy's tongue got the last drop off of the weeping head of his swollen prick, George was about to scream. He grabbed her head and forced it down over the full length of his turgid cock while the other girls rolled back his legs and tongued and licked and sucked at his balls and asshole. Cathy's tongue kept working along the veins and nerve endings of his near-bursting sex as she traveled up and down the full length of it from tip to base. She was on her fourth deep gulp clear down to his balls which the others were still licking when he exploded like a Roman candle in her mouth. She kept licking and sucking on the long-tortured staff until the last fraction of a drop had trickled down her throat. All the while he was aiming in her mouth. She kept up a series of appreciative little moans and groans while her friends' tongues kept urging his balls to disgorge ever more of their ambrosia. When he could stand it no longer he forced her wanton mouth from his now-limp cock and shooed the others from his fully drained balls. Cathy smiled down at him as she swallowed deeply and admitted that his cum was even sweeter than the whipped cream.
It seemed only fair that George reciprocate now. He -lined up the girls on the edge of the long couch and filled their fur-fringed trenches with the pressurized whipped cream. When he got through they looked like four banana splits in a row on an ice cream counter.
Working from left to right he lapped the airy white cream from one pink trough after another and concentrated on the even-sweeter cream beneath it and on the little cherry-like tips of their pink-and-white clitorises until his tongue was nearly paralyzed by the time he brought the fourth member of his sexy quartet to final orgasm.
When the girls dressed and left and George straightened up the house he knew that this night of nights was one that would stand out vividly in his memory if he lived to be a hundred.
His life had certainly done a complete about-face since he had discovered the delights of pedophilia. A bevy of young beautiful girls like these could pump more life back into a dirty old man than all of the plasma and penicillin in the world. It was a wonder that the geriatrics specialists didn't prescribe this treatment more universally.