Chapter 5
One would have thought she was viewing a bloody massacre. Mrs. Brody clung to the door, wailing and moaning, but not in the manner we had wailed and moaned while getting our rocks off.
She almost went into a state of shock, and the look of utter disbelief probably matched the look of utter disbelief on our faces as well. Mrs. Brody surveyed the entire scene in front of her several times. Her eyes kept roaming from one naked body to the other, as she rambled on and on. She could have been a stereotype Jewish mother, doing all the talking with no one answering her, and not really wanting an answer.
"Oh my God! Oh my God! I don't believe it. How could you do this?"
If I had the presence of mind that I do as I'm telling this story, I sure could have given her an answer. But, none of us could believe it either; she was actually standing there.
"like animals. Yes, like animals. That's what you are, animals!" she screamed.
"Ohhh, I don't believe it, I don't believe it!"
While she was bemoaning the visual sight before her eyes, we were trying to cover up. Mark had drawn his knees up and was sitting in a fetal-like position. Sheila turned her back on Mrs. Brody, and was pawing at the pile of clothes on the floor. I tried unsuccessfully to cover my two tits with one hand full of paper towels, and my snatch with the other.
"Just wait until your father gets home," she threatened.
"Ohh my God, my dear God.
"You pigs couldn't wait for me to leave the house, could you?"
Half of her sentence was true, but I certainly didn't agree with the "pig" part.
"Get dressed immediately," she commanded. Then for some dumb reason she added, "all of you."
We scrambled around, found our clothing, and obeyed her command, as if the clothing would afford us some protection from her anger and fury. It didn't very long to accomplish our mission. We probably got dressed faster than we had gotten undressed.
"I want you young pigs out of my house now! Go on, get out, and don't you ever return. Leave my son alone, do you hear me!" She stepped into the kitchen and pointed to the door.
We didn't bother to answer her. We quickly departed, and ran all the way home.
For some reason we went directly to our own bedroom and locked the door, even though no one was home. Maybe we were unconsciously afraid that she would follow us. But, our main fear was our own parents. Mom and Dad would have a fit that would make Mrs. Brody's seem mild.
"What are we going to do now?" I questioned Sheila.
"Nothing, except claim rape."
"We can't do that! We didn't get fucked!"
"No one knows that except us," Sheila pouted.
""Are you suggesting that we tell Mom & Dad that Mark fucked us? That he forced us? You wouldn't do that to Mark, would you Sheila?"
"No, I guess not. I don't know, I just don't know."
"If we stress the fact that we're still virgins, they won't take it so bad." This statement of mine seemed to cheer her up a little.
"Yea, maybe you're right. All Mrs. Brody saw, was you standing there with a handful of paper towels, and me sitting on Mark's stomach. I don't think she saw us doing it."
Then I started to giggle. We were frightened almost out of our wits, yet the mental picture of Mrs. Brody standing in that doorway, and seeing what she did, all of a sudden became hysterical. "She saw his hard-on," I said in between my giggling. "I noticed it didn't go down when he shot his load. She can't honestly think he was unwilling."
"Yea, and she must have seen his load of jism all over my ass, too." Sheila had a little smirk on her face as she reached back and felt the dried cum. "I wonder if she was including Mark, when she called us 'pigs'. "
We spent roughly fifteen minutes discussing how our parents might react, and the actions they would take, and possible punishment. We were also wondering what was happening, and what would happen at the Brody household when Mark's father heard the news, when our telephone rang.
The telephone was at the foot of the stairs, and we could hear it faintly through our closed door. It rang many times before Sheila jumped up and ran down to answer it. I didn't know who it was until Sheila returned.
"Guess who?"
"Mom? Dad?"
"Nope, guess again."
"Come on, don't play games. Who was it?" I pleaded.
"One more try."
"Not Mark?" I asked, half hoping it was, in order to find out what was going on over at his house.
"Close, but no cigar. Try Mrs. Brody."
"Your kidding! She called here?" For some reason, the idea hadn't occurred to me that she would call. But then I thought of course she would, in order to inform our parents of what she had seen.
Sheila was sitting on the bed with me, and for the first time since the shock of being seen nude by Mark's mother, her face had a relaxed look
"Calm down, calm down. We might be in the dear." She reached out and held my hands in hers as she continued.
"She went on and on, telling me how shocked she is at our sinful actions. She was very, very calm. She also wanted to know how long we had been doing such things."
"What did you tell her?"' I interrupted
"I said something about nothing really happened, that we just played around a little, and that were still virgins. I don't recall my exact words.
"Anyway, she went on to say that because Mark is the oldest, she blames him just as much as us."
"Big deal," I said sarcastically. "Who gives a fuck who she blames?"
"Listen to me a minute will you?
"Okay, okay, go ahead."
"Get this," she squeezed my hands tighter in her excitement, "she's not going to tell Mom or Dad!"
"Your shitting? Really."
"That's right, really. But, there are strings attached ... "
She didn't get a chance to finish before I broke in sarcastically. "She probably saw you eating me out. and now wants her box cleaned out too."
"Ellen! Don't be so crude. Just listen, will you?'
But I didn't follow her advice. I guess I was so angry at being caught I just had to strike hack at Mrs. Brody. "Okay, I won't be crude. How about Mrs. Prim and Proper, who is married to Mr. Missionary Position, desires some oral sex to break up her otherwise dull existence, and exchange for your services, she will remain silent about the sinful way you seduced her poor boy, and ravaged your own sister?"
"Sheila was laughing. "You're too much. "You really are crazy, you know that?" No. seriously, listen to this.
"She feels it would serve no advantage to either household by telling her husband, or our parents. In fact, she thinks Reverend Brody couldn't handle it, and would come down on Mark much too harshly. And, she said although she doesn't know how our parents would handle it, she suspects it would be devastating news for months, and maybe years to come. So, she's not going to tell! Can you believe it?"
"Come on, what are the strings?"
"Oh, I had to promise her that neither of us would see Mark again, that we'd stay away from him."
"We've got to see him in school this year," I pointed out.
"You know what she means. Besides, we're all in different grades, so there's no real socializing to speak of. Anyway, I made the promise. For the both of us. Come on. Look happy will you?"
My sister had such a big smile of happiness on her face, that I had to return it, although I didn't like the idea of staying away from Mark. Hell, I was just starting to get turned on by him, and now as I think back on it, I truly believe I was just a little in love with him.
Sitting there hearing the news that I would now have to refrain from seeing Mark, made me more than a little sorry that I didn't dive on his cock, and suck every drop of his manly juices. I was sorry just then that I had been so afraid to do what he had asked, and obviously wanted done so much. But, considering the severity of the situation, and knowing that all hell would break loose if our parents learned of our affair in the Brody's kitchen, I knew it was best to agree to Mrs. Brody's wishes. But, my inborn stubbornness just forced me to ask another question.
"What if we don't stop seeing Mark, and she finds out?"
"She made it plain that she would immediately inform our parents if we broke our promise, even if Mark himself is the one to make contact with us.
"She says, when we're all eighteen, we can do as we see fit, but until then, she doesn't want us near him."
I shrugged, saying, "Well, it was nice while it lasted."
"Come on Ellen, there are more cocks around for us to play with. We'll just have to be more careful next time."
"Was his tongue better than mine?"
She answered me by kissing me firmly on the lips. Our arms wrapped around each other, and we tumbled back on the bed, and were just starting to get passionately involved, when we heard the faint ringing of the telephone again. Reluctantly we broke apart, but this time it was I who went to answer it.
It was only Pete, the bartender, Dad's best friend, calling to speak to Mother. He probably felt he had to explain the reason he was calling once I informed him that Mom wouldn't be home until dinner. It was something about wanting to throw a surprise birthday party for our father, and he would get back to Mother, and would I not mention the fact he called.
Pete wasn't just a bartender. He also taught Physical Education over at Lincoln High, the next town over. Tending bar was his summer job, and night job during school season. Mom didn't particularly like Pete, we knew that. As I listened to his deep baritone voice, I recalled what I had heard about Pete having poor control of his sexual impulses. Mom had told Father once, that she thought Pete was a wolf in sheep's clothing. That made my Father laugh, and admit it was probably true. Mom also thought Pete should have been married years ago, with children of his own, instead of being a playboy.
I liked Pete, in spite of the fact that he was old. He was around thirty-five or so, my Father's age, and being a Phys. Ed. teacher, he was in pretty good shape. He was tall and beefy, with sharp angular features, and had great hair. I always noticed his hair when Dad brought him around. It was thick and wavy with just a hint of gray, and always well groomed. He was quite reserved for a such a big guy, and I sensed an unusual sensitivity about him that appealed to me. As I listened to Pete, I wondered for the first time, what he had between his legs, and mentally undressed him. I pictured him with a little bigger version of Mark's cock, only because he was taller than Mark. I wondered if Pete liked having his prick sucked. I must have unconsciously relayed my sensual thoughts to him.
"Are you okay Ellen?" he asked.
"Of course." I purred, "why do you ask?"
"I don't know, uhh, you just sound a little different, that's all."
"What do you mean by. "a little different', Pete?"
"I'm not sure Ellen. Maybe just a little more grown up, that's all. Your voice seems to be," he gave a long pause before finishing with, "rather mature today."
"Well Pete. I am almost fifteen, you know."
"Yea, that's probably it. You're growing up."
That was the extent of our conversation, and we said goodbye, and I promised again not to mention to Dad that he called. I do remember thinking that perhaps I was turning into a slut, because all I was thinking about for the last couple of days was sex. Here I was, mentally undressing my father's best friend, and wondering what kind of equipment he had, and how he liked to use it. And, I knew full well that I had cooed like a sex goddess on the phone.
When I returned to the bedroom. I didn't confess to Sheila my innermost thoughts about Pete. I just told here the gist of the conversation, and Pete was quickly forgotten when we agreed to wash off the foam from our bodies, and head for the mall.
The mall was about two miles from our home. and we had to walk. We had done it hundreds of times. What made the walk unusual that day, was our conversation.
"I almost put my mouth on Mark's cock today," I confessed. "You did?"
"I probably would have too, except we all came together, practically."
"You know something Ellen, I thought about doing the same thing! At one point, I wanted to turn around into a sixty-nine position, and replace my hand with my mouth. But, I didn't want to stop pleasing you either. I wonder what it's like to have a mouth full of hot meat?"
"I think I would have loved seeing you suck his prick." I was telling her the truth. "He is a stud, isn't he."
"You can say that again. I don't know which is more beautiful, his face or his dick." She rolled her eyes as she spoke.
"You said, 'there are more cocks around for us to play with', " I reminded her. "Did you have any particular one in mind when you said that?"
My sister thought the question was hysterical. She started laughing hard, threw a playful punch at me, and said, "No, but we could have any guy we wanted to. That's the advantage of being female. Guys are always hot, and all they think about is getting their rocks off. We're the ones in control of our bodies, not them. You never hear of a guy getting raped, they're always willing."
"Yea, I guess you're right."
As we walked along the heavy residential neighborhood, we continued talking about sex. Sheila waved at Mr. Pinkerton, and old retired Army officer mowing his lawn. Mr. Pinkerton's belly was like the Goodyear blimp, so it struck us as unusually comical when Sheila said, "I bet even he would like to have the two of us play with his dong. That is, if we could find it."
We were thoroughly enjoying our raunchy moods, and the bond of sexual awareness. We were coming out of our closets, so to speak, when we approached the Whitman house. It was one of the biggest houses in Canterville, and belonged to Doctor Whitman. He needed such a big house, because he had eleven kids, ranging from around six to twenty years old. His wife had one almost every year. Brad Whitman, the oldest, was in the driveway, washing his new Mustang. Because we were so much younger than Brad, we didn't know him very well, but as we approached, Sheila stunned me by suggesting that we should see if we could turn him on.
"Yea, let's see if we can make him hot," Sheila said. "Wouldn't it be fun to tease him? He is kind of cute."
"He won't look twice at us," I suggested. "Remember what I said about all guys just think about? Let's prove it."
"I'm game, but you do the talking."
Brad was only about five feet eight inches tall, with brown hair and brown eyes. He was cute, as my sister had said, but he wasn't someone that would stand out in a crowd. We knew he was very intelligent though, because he had won a scholarship at Yale Medical School, and was going to follow in his father's footsteps and become a doctor.
My sister waved and shouted, "Hi, Brad!" as we drew closer. He looked up, smiled, and returned the greeting. "Nice looking set of wheels, can we take a look?"
"Sure, come on over." His pride in the car was obvious.
We walked over, just as he turned off the hose, having finished rinsing off the soap. My eyes went immediately to his blue jeans. Nothing was showing. Not even a slight hump. What a disappointment. I recalled hearing from my girl friends at school, that there are two types of cocks. Some hang down, and swing up when they get hard; some are extremely short, but grow straight out when excited. I quickly determined that Brad must possess the periscope type.
"What are you girls up to?"
"Nothing much, just going to the mall to buy a few things."
"like what for instance?"
"You don't really want to know," my sister said in a teasing manner.
"Yes I do. Come on, what are you going to buy?"
"Sanitary napkins."
Even I wasn't prepared for her answer. Brad's face turned red. He dropped his eyes, and merely said, "Oh."
Sheila wasn't about to give the guy a break. "Mom needs them. It's not our time of the month, not yet." I think she was putting the idea in his head that we were old enough to use them, plus the fact she was enjoying his discomfort.
"Brad, can I climb in?" I asked, trying to change the subject quickly. "It's a neat looking car."
"Sure, go ahead."
Sheila and I went through the motions of inspecting the Mustang, while Brad was wiping the car down with dry rags. Sheila called out, "Will you give us a ride in it Brad?"
"Sure, wait just a few minutes and I'll give you a spin."
When we pulled out of the driveway, all three of us were in the front seat. Sheila insisting on the middle. Brad drove around several blocks, proud as a peacock at the attention his car was getting. It was Sheila who suggested he take a spin out to Catfish Lake, which was about five miles out of town, and along wooded country roads. Brad agreed, and headed West, with the radio blaring.
I noticed Sheila's leg pressed against Brad's, and if he felt it, he didn't give any indication. When we went around a sharp turn a little too fast, we were tossed towards the driver's side, and Sheila planted her left hand firmly on Brad's leg, probably only about eight inches from the target zone.
"Sorry about that girls," he said without really sounding sorry.
Sheila didn't remove her hand when we were back on a straight stretch of road. Brad continued to pretend that he was unaware of her flesh against his. It wasn't working. We were not getting him worked up. Nothing showed. Maybe, I thought, he didn't like girls.
When an upbeat song came on the radio which we all liked, I glanced over and noticed Brad moving his leg to the rhythm, and Sheila's fingers were also tapping the same beat on his leg. She had moved her hand up even closer. She told me later, that she was also putting a lot of pressure on his leg with hers, and he didn't resist, or pull away. That was the reason she got so brave.
I didn't see her when she actually made her move and grabbed his prick. She said she wanted to find another radio station, leaned forward in the seat, and started spinning the dial. At the very same time she slid her hand directly into his crotch, and started groping him. Almost instantly she felt him respond to her probing fingers. When she sat back, she nudged me with her right elbow, and I looked over to see her with a handful of stiff meat beneath his jeans.
When Brad looked over nervously and knew that I was aware of what was happening, he said quickly, "Sheila, I don't think you should be doing that."
"Why not?" she asked, and continued to open and close her fist.
"It's not right, that's why?"
"You like it don't you Brad?"
"Yes, I like it, but you're too young, the both of you. It's just not right."
"Too young for what? To know what we want? Don't you like us?"
"Of course I like you, but there are laws against someone my age letting you do it." He pushed her hand down, and when he did, I could see the perfect outline of a six or seven inch piece of hard meat. Sheila's hand went right back to it, and hung on.
"Let's make a deal. If you don't tell, we won't either. No one has to know if you don't say anything."
"Why don't you fool around with guys your own age?" he asked. "God knows you could get any guy you wanted."
"Because they would tell everyone, and ruin our reputations." It was a good point. Brad wouldn't dare say anything.
Before Brad had a chance to respond to her answer, I quickly found out that not only wasn't he wearing a belt, he wasn't wearing underwear either. Sheila had reached over with both hands, and pulled at the top of his jeans, and every snap released, exposing his blood-red cock, as he drove.
Her hand wrapped around it. "Wow, your cock is beautiful Brad. Don't you think so Ellen."
"It sure is," I drooled.
He slowed the car, and said, "You kids are crazy, you know that? Do you do this sort of thing often?"
Instead of answering, Sheila told him to find a place to pull off the road, where we could have some privacy. She also took my hand and directed it to his balls. When he spread his legs apart as far as he could, I knew we had overcome any and all resistance Brad had thought of putting up.
A short distance later, he found a dirt road that led to an abandoned gravel pit, and drove down it. At the end, he turned off the engine, and asked, "Now what is your next command?"
"Let's take a walk into the woods," I suggested.
"Would you like for me to bring the blanket in my trunk?" he asked with a big smile of anticipation.
"Terrific idea!" Sheila said.