Chapter 10
Clay did not avail himself of the offer to turn the tables on Alexandra. He didn't know if she was disappointed or not. He didn't care. As a matter-of-fact, on the day after she had jacked off the bound young man, he did not emerge from his room. Neither did Alison. Fucked out by ten pm, having pumped out more orgasms in one day than ever in his life in such a short time, he slept the clock around.
Alison never made objection or complaint, though she walked carefully for several days thereafter. She did tell him, later, that he had taken her cherry; the warm clasping ass-hole he had invaded late in the afternoon of that day-the fourth time his cock had run up her-had never been opened by a man.
That was nice, he told her.
He learned that her younger sister was a virgin, too. (He also learned that she was a liar-she was sixteen, not seventeen, and she'd been twelve, not eleven, when her brother Edmund first breached her ass.) Melanie was a virgin in reverse of her sister. Buggered more times than she could hope to count, she had preserved the hit of skin in her vagina that branded her virgin, despite the open condition of her anus.
"She's a pervert," Monica said, the night she and Clay played, out in the barn, with Tony's bound wife.
That broke Clay up.
After a while he asked, "Because she-likes it in the back, Monny?"
"Because she insists on preserving her silly hymen! There's nothing wrong with buggery. Hey-I've got a thought. How about if I make a suggestion?"
Clay agreed.
Monica explained. She would turn the bound Debbie up, here on the floor of her own cozy little apartment in the former barn. The lights would be turned off. Clay would come over when Monica invited. Debbie would be on her hands and knees, ass up. Clay was not to touch her. Monica would be seated astride the girl's back, facing rearward. She would hold Debbie's pretty, round cheeks open. The idea was for Clay to fuck Debbie's ass-hole without ever touching her; instead, he would have Monica's bare tits to occupy his hands.
He agreed.
Debbie liked the idea, too, but with her hands tied and the gag in, she wasn't able to say much, or hope to participate other than as an object, an open hole.
Monica carried the concept further, making a little scenario. Debbie was her virgin roommate, and she was tricking her. She'd get her bound, and in position, the shrinking little virgin. Then, with the room very dark, she'd sneak over and call in Clay, who would be waiting outside.
"OK," Clay said, and went outside.
He waited, thinking. He had a lot to think about, these days. And nights. For one thing, he'd have to be going back to town, back to work. That was going to be hard! , Then Monica opened the door and hissed. "Pssst! Psst-hey you, Mister anal rapist. Come on in-the virgin victim is prepared on the altar. Get that sacrificial knife of yours out and up and bring it in here!"
Grinning, he went into the dark room and let Monica lead him to where the "sacrificial victim" knelt on the carpet. Monica told him when she was astride; he reached out in the darkness and found her bare breasts.
Monica reached out in the darkness and found his cock, which was high and hard. She commented that, while she guided it forward between an upturned pair of nice warm, round buttocks. When his glans pressed against the hot little pit, she released his staff, and used her hands to peel the cheeks well back on either side of it.
Slowly, clinging to Monica's tits, Clay pushed his cock into that reluctant rectal entry. He felt the grip of straining, muscular anal ring, the radiant heat from within that colonic canal.
He kept pushing, ever slowly, until he was over halfway inside. Debbie hadn't made a sound. He assumed Monica had left the bondage-loving blonde gagged. Holding his prick in place, he toyed with Monica's nipples, making her moan and gasp.
Then he pulled his cock out, slowly, sent it in again, slowly. This time he sank it a little deeper in that invisible anal fissure. And held it, while he cupped Monica's equally invisible tits from beneath and jiggled them up and down. And again he pulled his cock back, and back, and let it slide slowly back in again.
The third time he repeated that gentle enculade, the way was smooth and clear and easy, and he sank in every long thick inch of his prick.
"She has it all," he said quietly. "God, but it feels good!"
"Lovely," Monica murmured. "Squeeze, will you?"
He heard some little juicy sounds. "While you diddle yourself?"
There was a smile in her voice: "Yes!"
With his cock deeply ass-encapsulated, his fingers traced over the curving sides of Monica's tits, "seeing" the smooth, plump struts in the darkness with his hands, which he let creep beneath to cup their bulging under hang.
A little wiggle of his hips made his prick move about in its hot, clasping prison. He began tightening his hands, fingers sinking into titsy flesh-balls, ever tightening about those sumptuously rounded gourds.
Monica sat wide-legged and jiggled her clit while Clay hung onto her Spencer-big tits, and snapped his pelvis back and forth, back and forth. He plugged clasping-tail hole with long, thick cock and squirmed his hips to dilate the tight canal to its limits. Invisible in the darkness of the room, all lights off and the drapes pulled tightly together, his face wore an expression of carnal craving as he punched in, and in.
Overpowering sensations of bliss swelled up deep within his lust-wracked body. He listened to the sounds of cock into ass, ever juicier ass, and fingers slopping about in an even juicier cunt, and to Monica's grunts and moans as she tossed herself off, and he surged and ground in.
Now he was lewdly plowing with his broad club of flesh, burying it up tight distended back-hole. Tightly clinging membranes seemed to be scalding his sexual staff with intense inner heat. Groaning, his hips bucking and writhing, he rocked rhythmically back and forth against trembling buttocks, up their fiery central slot and back.
"Uh-uggggghhhhhhh," Monica grunted, a long drawn-out sound, trembling with emotion as she came.
As if her orgasm were a signal, Clay's cock swelled still more seeming to be gathering itself like a predatory beast.
The contents of his balls exploded up a suddenly quivering, jerking ass, spewing out of him into the hot anal chamber. He groaned aloud and ground in.
It was when half-erect tool was just plopping noisily out of steamy, semen-packed ass-hole that the pair of hands slid around him from behind, and a pair of hot round tits crushed themselves against his back.
Monica switched on the lights, grinning.
Behind Clay and pressed against him was Debbie, crooning and sighing, rubbing her vulva against his bare butt. And before him knelt her naked husband.
"Son of a bitch," Clay said.
Monica laughed, a clear happy sound, not a triumphant laugh at all. "Tricked again," she said. Clay had little time to think about what he'd just been tricked into doing. He was soon enthralled, watching sexy little blonde Debbie on her hands and knees behind her husband, sucking Clay's semen out of Tony's anus.
Monica accompanied him up to the house, and spent the night with him.
In the morning Alexandra came in, and then Alison, and then Edmund, and a little later, Melanie also joined them. The bed became very crowded. Clay had two fingers of each hand thrust up a juicy wet slippery cunt. A mouth worked on his cock. For all he knew, it was Edmund's mouth, and Clay found that he didn't give a damn. Alexandra's tits hung over his face, with her kneeling behind him while she used both hands on his nipples. He sucked and tongue-lashed her swollen fat red nipples.
He was never sure who had mouthed his cock.
Monica sat on it and jogged up and down for awhile.
Then Alison took her place.
Then Melanie did, and Clay was amazed at the youngster's ability to shove her lovely hot little ass-hole down the big upward spearing staff of his groin. After a time, Alexandra took her place, and Clay saw that Monica and Alison were curled and coiled in a very pretty 69 while Melanie was on her knees sucking her big brother's prick-with one of Alison's fingers up her back hole.
"I feel like a-an OUTSIDER!" Clay practically shouted. "I'm the only non-family person here!"
Sex was temporarily sidetracked while everyone laughed. Then they began again.
That evening there was the official announcement. Clay had to go back to town and that damned, dull office. Alison had to begin the new semester. And-next weekend, on Saturday night officially, was the once-a-mouth Spencer Orgy Night.
"Jesus Christ! Clay McConnel burst out. "An orgy-what the hell have we BEEN doing?"
Once again, he had broken them all up.
Much later that evening, Brian laid a hand on Clay's shoulder.
"My daughter has just advised me that she damned well intends to spend the week with you."
"Great," Clay said, though Alison hadn't mentioned it to him. He supposed that was part of the strange code of the Spencers; she had first cleared with her parents her intention of moving in with him. He supposed she'd broach the subject to him tomorrow morning, on their way back to the city.
"I agreed to her sinful desires," Brian said, with a little smile.
"I'm glad," Clay told him. "After this fantastic vacation, the week to come is going to be a bitch! Alison's being there with me will make it...bearable."
Brian nodded, still smiling. Then his face went serious.
"I see no reason for her to have to come home Wednesday as usual, unless she wants to, Clay. You know now that this visit with us was a test-of you. We aren't like other people."
Clay grinned broadly at that. It was like saying horses had manes, or sugar was sweet.
"Any of us would be miserable with...normal people. Monica tried. She was in love, or whatever it was. But she couldn't stand it."
"So you've been testing me to see if I was a fit husband for Alison."
"That's right," Brian said, without the hint of apology. "And we're all delighted with you. You passed with flying...cock. Alison belongs with a man like you-with you. You belong with her. And with us, Clay."
Clay didn't say thanks. He had mixed emotions about being tested, without his knowing until the test was under way, and about the tricks that had been played on him.
Brian's hand had come back onto his shoulder again, and the man's face had once more gone all serious. Clay knew he was about to get something heavy laid on him.
"So-as I said, Alison needn't come home, Wednesday night, as she has every Wednesday night of her college years. Take care of her, Clay. The corset is to come off after dinner, and she's to take a long bath and be well massaged. She'll wash the corset. And it's to be laced on her again before she leaves for classes on Thursday morning."
Clay felt no mirth-but he was aware of a surge of emotion.
My God, he thought in elation and with a deep growing sense of responsibility, it's the same as if a medieval lord were handing over the key to his daughter's chastity beltl