Abby and the After Party Pt. 02

The early morning shower was just what I needed. The steam cleared my head while I methodically washed my hair and scrubbed my body. I was surprised that I never ran out of hot water. The aroma of the soap and shampoo my mom had selected reminded me of a spa treatment.

The hallway bathroom, which I used for a few years during my first eighteen years of existence, had been given an upgrade, recently, and it looked much better than what I remembered.

My mom had good taste in remodeling finishes... almost as good as her taste in men. I was still trying to place her fairy tale code-names from our earlier conversation with the faces - and dicks - from a few hours ago. Based on what she said about a few of them taking their secrets to the grave, I guessed that a few of the participants in the previous night's activities must have had a different set of fairy tale code-names that she hadn't told me, yet. A few of the men were still remarkably handsome, even if they were twenty-some-odd years older than me, and maybe thirty-some-odd years older, in some cases. Back in their prime, though, several of them certainly could have been Prince Charming.

When my mom had said there were plenty of towels in the house, she wasn't kidding. Each shelf of the hallway linen closet was stacked with more towels than a couple in their fifties could go through in several weeks. It was already after seven o'clock in the morning, but I was mentally and physically exhausted. I needed a few hours of sleep before doing anything else. Even eating.

Having sobered up thanks to the shower, I started having second thoughts about participating in any more of my parent's debauchery. Yes, my mom managed to get her thirty-four year old daughter drunk on fine wine. And, yes, my mom and dad seemed to have coincidentally invited my once-regular "fuck buddies" from the bar to their home, as well as a few of my mom's former lovers she had while she was pregnant with me. And, yes, men from both groups indulged in me as I had indulged in them. But how much longer could they keep the mood going?

I stepped out of the bathroom, expecting to hear the now-familiar sounds of my mom being pleasured a few rooms down the hall. Instead, the house was quiet. When I walked into my old bedroom, the bed had been made with a fresh set of sheets and a different comforter. My shower must have lasted longer than I thought.

The curtains were positioned to block out most of the sunlight, as if someone knew I'd be interested in getting some rest.

They were right.

Without even bothering to look for panties or pajamas, I let the towels drop to the floor, and I slid between the clean, soft sheets. I was asleep within seconds.

I woke up around noon, fully rested, somewhat disoriented, naked, and a little hungry. I brushed, then braided my hair, tying off the end with a little hair band. I then wrapped myself in a new set of fluffy towels and walked barefoot downstairs to find my mother tastefully dressed, sitting at the kitchen island, drinking coffee and scrolling through her cellphone.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," my mother said. "Want some coffee?"

I ignored the offer, looking around the kitchen as if searching for clues.

"Looking for something?" my mom asked.

"Where did everyone go?" I asked.

"Who, dear?" my mom asked, before taking another sip of coffee.

"You know who," I answered. "Grumpy, Dopey, Happy, Doc, and the rest. Seriously?"

I knew I hadn't dreamed the events of the previous twenty-four hours.

I went over to my parent's house, halfway across town, the day before. For some reason, my mom wanted "to talk." And talk, she did. Over the course of a few hours, she divulged her secret affairs she had while in the early stages of pregnancy with me, and all the pet names she gave to her suitors which happened to be very similar to names used for dwarfs in an old Germanic fairy tale. We drank. We got drunk. And then, I'm pretty sure we were both getting fucked a few hours later.

Now, I just wanted to know by whom.

I could always tell when my mom was trying to hold back a smile, and this was definitely one of those times.

"Are you going to tell me the names of those men from last night?" I asked.

"And this morning?" my mom added.

"Yes, and this morning?" I said.

She looked at me for a moment, grinning, then stepped off the breakfast bar stool and removed a yogurt parfait topped with fresh kiwi, blueberries, and strawberries from the refrigerator. She slid the tall cup in front of me, pulled a spoon from a drawer, and reached into a cabinet for a glass.

"Grapefruit juice okay?" my mom asked. "It's the sweet kind. Not too sour."

I just looked at her as she filled the glass and placed it in front of me.

"Where's dad?" I asked, taking a sip of the juice.

"Picking up a few of our friends," my mom answered. "What? You didn't think we'd have them sleep on the floor or tripled-up in the few beds we have in this house, did you? They're staying at a few different hotels in town."

"What are you all dressed up for?" I asked.

"I have a few errands to run," my mom said with a grin. "I wanted to make sure you were okay and had something to eat before I left."

"I'm okay, but I'd still like to know who everyone was last night," I said.

"And this morning?" my mom added.

"Yes, and this morning," I said. "I think Mort is the one you referred to as Doc, am I right?"

"Yes, Abby," my mom admitted. "Mort is Doc. He's a doctor, as if you didn't know."

I didn't.

"The really handsome guy had to be Happy, but he didn't tell me his real name," I said.

"Why didn't you ask him?" my mom asked.

"And the really big guy must have been Grumpy," I said.

"That he was, Abby," my mom said.

"What's his real name?" I asked.

"Well, if you didn't ask, and he didn't tell, I'm not going to be the one to break that level of secrecy," my mom said, smiling. "Not that it matters; he could only be here for one night. Maybe you can ask him next time."

"Next time? You mean this is a thing?" I asked, not realizing I had been stuffing my face with yogurt and berries.

"Why yes, dear," my mom smiled even brighter. "We've been doing this almost every year for the past several years. Before that, I think we had a get-together in one form or another about every two or three years... after you moved out. Things picked up after you were married and less likely to move back home with us."

"Is Happy local?" I asked.

"I knew you'd like him," my mom said, as if proud of herself. "His real name is Henry, and yes, he lives just outside of town. And, he'll be back this afternoon, lucky you."

"What about Dopey?" I asked.

"Dopey's real name is Dennis, and no, he's not local. He's one of the friends your father went to pick up," my mom said. A clothes dryer buzzed from somewhere between the garage and the kitchen. "That would be the sheets. I've already washed and dried your clothes, and they're folded on the rack in the laundry room, just in case you changed your mind about sticking around a little longer. Would you return the favor and put the clean sheets on my bed while I'm out?"

"What about everyone else? What are their real names?" I asked.

"Ask them, yourself, silly," my mom said. "Maybe that's something you should get in the habit of doing BEFORE you let a man put himself inside you." She didn't seem angry. But she did speak to me like a parent scolding her child.

"Yeah... good idea, mom," I said. "Mind if I borrow some of your clothes for this afternoon? I don't think what I wore yesterday really fits the vibe."

"If you can find something that fits you, have at it. I doubt either of us will be dressed for long. The pool water may still be too cold for a swim, but feel free to work on your all-over tan for as long as the sun is shining. As for anything else, you know where everything is, mostly," my mom said. "We've done a few more upgrades in the house, recently. You know about the hall bathroom and laundry room next to the garage. But, we just finished with the basement a few weeks ago. I think you'll like it. Oh... and there are more enema boxes in my linen closet. Lubricant, and flavor gel, too. We should be back in a few hours."

She didn't wait for me to respond. She grabbed her car keys and headed for the garage door.

"A few hours?" I thought to myself.

"Everything okay?" Ron asked after the second ring.

"Yeah, everything's fine," I said.

"Your mom said the two of you had a lot to drink and she didn't think you were in any shape to drive home," my husband added.

"Yeah, we drank a lot," I said, pondering telling him more. "And then, my mom had a bit of a reunion with some old friends."

"Just out of the blue?" Ron asked.

"I don't think so," I said. "The reunion seemed to be more of an annual event, and... by reunion... I mean..." I really wasn't sure how he was going to react. "More of a gangbang with a bunch of old guys."

There was a long pause, and then Ron finally said, "Are you coming home, now?"

"Do you need me to?" I asked. He normally handled this sort of thing better when he knew about it ahead of time. "Really, this was a surprise to me, too. I had no idea my mom and dad were into this kind of thing," I said.

"Is the reunion... still going on?" Ron asked.

"I think they're on pause for the moment," I said. "The house is empty, but I can lock up if you need me to come home right now."

"Did you... you know?" Ron asked. "Participate in the reunion?"

"Yeah," I answered softly.

"Fun?" my husband asked.

"Yeah," I said.

"Do you want to stay a little longer? The kids wanted to go over to my parent's house today, anyway, so there's not much going on, here," Ron said.

"If you're okay with it..." I started.

"Just tell me all about it when you get home. Promise?" he asked.

"Promise," I said, knowing that he knew I rarely told him everything. I was actually a little surprised that he hadn't asked for pictures or video to be taken as masturbation material for later. Our mutual MILF friend Jean must have really been rocking his world, lately. Good for him. And, good for me, I supposed.

My cellphone buzzed within seconds of ending the call with Ron, and for a moment, I thought he was calling back with a change of heart.

"Abby?" the voice said. I recognized the voice immediately. Not Ron.

"Michael," I answered. "I wasn't sure I'd be hearing from you again. It's been so long."

"About that," Michael said. "I was wondering if you wanted to make up for lost time."

"If you're talking about the little bar parties, I think they beat you to it." I said. "They actually brought the party to me last night, or more specifically, to my parent's house. Did you know anything about that?"

"Not at all," Michael said. "I haven't spoken to Little John in weeks. After that thing with Barker, I figured it'd be best to cool it for a while and maybe rethink the whole thing with that bunch."

"I figured as much," I admitted. Nothing kills the mood more than having someone have a heart attack while in the middle of fucking you. "I wasn't sure if I'd want to keep... you know... partying after that."

"Understandable," Michael said. "But Mort seemed to think your time in Cancun proved otherwise."

"Did he, now?" I asked.

"He did," Michael answered. "I wish I could have been there to see it."

"Just see?" I asked.

He didn't answer, so I decided to cut to the chase.

"What did you have in mind, Michael? More bar parties with older gentlemen?"

"If that's what you want," Michael chuckled to himself. "But I was thinking a little younger. And a little more frequent."

"Younger than the fine gentlemen at the VFW bar?" I asked.

"Younger than you," Michael said. "Think eighteen- to twenty-two-year-olds. Maybe some guys your age. Maybe older, too, if that's more your thing."

"How frequently?" I asked. "I still have responsibilities at home, Michael. A husband. Kids. I can't just drop everything and disappear with no explanation."

"I was thinking once or twice a week," Michael said. "Maybe more."

"Michael, I'm not Linda. That's a lot of sex, you know!" I said, forgetting his former lover, talent, and personal sex toy had moved on to a bull of a man that fucked her more than her husband or anyone else ever had. When she stopped participating in Michael's "parties", she ended things with Michael, too.

"I know," Michael said.

We waited over a minute before saying anything.

"I can make it worth your while," Michael said.

"You mean you'd pay me? Like a whore?" I asked, calmly.

"If that's what it takes," Michael said. "But not like a prostitute. More like a model, or an actress."

"An actress with several dicks inside her, you mean. You want me to do more porn for pay?" I asked, actually intrigued.

"Up to you, Abby," Michael said. "I gotta go."

The call ended without either of us saying goodbye.

I wanted to call Linda, next, but I knew she wouldn't answer. It was Saturday after noon, and that meant she was most likely with her bull with her phone turned off. So, I called Jean, instead.

"I wouldn't," Jean said. "Payrolls tend to leave paper trails, and you don't need that."

Jean's was always the voice of reason. She was very worldly. She taught me how to give a blowjob the right way, among other things.

"If someone wants to tip in cash or something along those lines, then have at it. But don't make it an actual job. You'll get burned out, and it'll stop being fun really quick."

"Speaking from experience?" I asked.

"I helped sell lingerie in college for a short time," Jean said.

"Retail? You?" I asked.

"Not exactly. I'd model outfits at a few bars near where I went to college for a short stint. If the bar patrons liked what they saw, they could buy the outfit. Some offered a lot more than the price of the outfit if I'd let them take it off me," Jean confided.

"Was that legal?" I asked, only half serious.

"It was... until business started booming. My supplier actually ran out of outfits after a while, leaving me with nothing to wear after the first hour on the clock," Jean said. "That left the bar patrons propositioning me for sex with cash."

"And?" I asked.

"And that was the end of that," Jean said. "I met my future ex-husband shortly after, got pregnant, got passed around to his friends, and ten years later, got divorced."Jean had more in common with my mom than I thought, in that regard. Although, my mom and dad still managed to remain married all this time.

"I don't want to be paid for sex," I said. "I want to do it because it's fun."

"Then do it for fun," Jean said.

Try as I might to steer the conversation toward "normal" topics, Jean managed to bring it back to sex. Specifically, sex with my husband.

"I'm really glad that he followed my diet suggestions of pineapple and grapefruit. His come tastes so much better," Jean said.

"Really?" I asked. "I hadn't noticed." I admitted.

"Heavens, yes," Jean said. "But, then again, his dick is probably spending a lot more time in my mouth than yours, lately. He's even warmed up to sharing."

"Sharing your mouth?" I asked, knowing he warmed up to sharing his dick months ago.

"My mouth. My pussy. My ass," Jean said. "Terry didn't mind if I didn't mind, and you know how I feel about having more than one man inside me at the same time."

I knew. Jean liked it even more than I did, but I think that was just because she had done it more often than I had. I was catching up, though.

"Well... good for Ron, and good for you, I guess," I said.

"Why, thank you, Abby," Jean said. "He seemed particularly pent up when he called a little while ago. It's a good thing I won't have to do much walking tomorrow. The last time you stirred him up like this, he did me up the butt for nearly an hour."

"He's coming over to your place tonight?" I asked.

"This afternoon, right after he drops off your kids at his parent's house," Jean said.

"Well, that explains why he wasn't in a hurry for me to come home," I said.

"If I were you, I'd fuck all of those gorgeous old farts hard enough to give them all heart attacks," Jean laughed. "If this is an annual event, give them something to think about until next year. Also, if it really bothers you on some level that your parents are totally comfortable with your current lifestyle choices, maybe do something to make them less comfortable."

"Such as?" I asked, intrigued.

"You've watched enough porn with me and Linda, and heard half our stories. You've been in the video booths and watched a variety of movies out there. You have a naughty imagination, too. You'll think of something," Jean said. I heard her doorbell in the background. "Your hubby's early. I'm gonna have to let you go, Abby. I have a dick to suck," Jean said with a giggle.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel just a touch of jealousy. I can still remember the days when Ron would rush home from work, knowing I'd drop to my knees to suck his gorgeous cock as soon as he walked through the door. He wouldn't even have time to drop his car keys before I pulled his pants and boxers down to his knees and welcomed him with a very enthusiastic blowjob. Sometimes, I'd already be naked, loving the look of his surprised and grateful face, and that was before I knew how to really give good head. I had no doubt that was how Jean was greeting him at her place this very moment. Good for him, and good for her.

I cleaned up the kitchen out of habit, then tossed the towels I had been wearing in a hamper in the relocated laundry room. No stranger to walking around and doing chores naked, I put the clean sheets on my parent's bed, per my mom's request, and stepped into their walk-in closet. I rifled through my mom's clothes, not sure what, if anything, might fit me. She had the usual outfits expected of a woman in her late forties and early fifties. But, she also had a few that were completely unexpected. I decided to start there.

She had a nice collection of little black dresses, more suited for a girl in her late teens or early twenties instead of a woman in her thirties or fifties. I picked a sexy-but-comfortable stretchy-dress - if one could call it that - and then found a pair of heels that looked like they might match. Luckily for me, we were the same shoe size. There didn't seem to be any point in putting on the shoes just yet, so I set them aside and remained barefoot for the time being. A garter and stockings might have worked, given how short the stretchy-dress was, but I couldn't find any. Her bras and panties would have been too big for me, had I thought to borrow those, too. The little dress-like thing would be enough, not that I'd be wearing it very long, anyway, according to my mom.

I wasn't sure what the afternoon would entail, so I went back to my old room, took off the barely-there dress, and prepped myself for sex. A lot of sex. And, of course, anal sex. The enema couldn't be rushed, so I wasted no time getting back in the shower. More steam from the hot shower added the finishing touches to clearing my head, but I knew I couldn't stay in there all day. I was already clean everywhere else, so after a modest application of lubricant in my butt, I dried off and decided to work on my hair and makeup. The hair was easy, as the braid seemed to work for most men whether at a bar, a video booth, or the grocery store. But, the makeup was another story. My mom used higher-end products, but nothing I would have chosen. I opted to try just a little eye shadow and lipstick, resulting in a "pretty" instead of "overly sexy" appearance. I looked presentable and not nearly the slut I had become. If the afternoon barbecue included significant others, I didn't want to make it too obvious that I was also on the menu for their husbands. Better to make them wonder, and maybe squirm a little. A touch of cologne on my neck and inner thighs, and I was done.

Satisfied with my efforts, I carefully slipped the dress-thing back on. Looking in the full-length mirror, I realized the material was so thin, it would be obvious to anyone looking in my direction that I wasn't wearing anything underneath. Maybe it wasn't really a dress. Perhaps it was meant as lingerie? It felt - and now looked - like a body stocking, practically painted onto my body. It was actually more see-through than I had originally thought, too. Not an unusual choice, given the anticipated company, I supposed. For anyone meeting me for the first time, I thought I definitely looked and smelled fuckable. It might be a little too revealing for the significant others. For the time being, though, I thought I could still make it work.

To fill the time until either of my parent's returned, I decided to walk through the house and do a little reminiscing. Some things hadn't changed in over twenty years. Some things looked completely different. The basement, nothing but a cement floor with an exposed ceiling and a washer and dryer for as long as I could remember, was now completely finished with half of it being a work-out area, and the other half a home theater with a bar and popcorn machine. I walked over to the cabinet on the home theater side and looked at the rows of DVDs and Blu-rays in their collection. A lot of classics. Some recent movies. And... porn?

Of the seven shelves, it looked like one of them held nothing but porn, and of those, some were obviously bootleg with generic packaging and letters and numbers being their only description. I pulled the first one out and after a few minutes, figured out where the disc player had been hidden.

I almost had a heart attack seeing myself on such a big screen, being fucked by Ron while deepthroating a very realistic-looking black dildo in a video booth. I'd seen it before, but never on a screen so big. In the video booths, the screens were a lot smaller, but seeing it on a large 80-inch television, there was no doubt it was me. And the sound... I couldn't find the volume controls to turn it down fast enough. I could actually hear the squishing noises of my pussy as Ron pounded into me. I had to admit, it was still hot.

"How long had they known?" I said to no one in particular.

I removed the first disc and inserted another, then another. A lot of amateur porn. A few featured me as the center of attention. And then, I found the ones with my mom.

"Holy shit," I said, feeling my sex swell.

I guess the gatherings with her past lovers were worth remembering, as there seemed to be at least a dozen discs labeled with the year followed by the word 'reunion.' I put in the first one, which was made the first year I went to college. It started with a few of the faces I had seen a few hours ago, as well as their wives or significant others, fully clothed. It looked like an elaborate dinner party. And then, it cut to scenes of my mom being kissed, groped, and disrobed by several of the men - though not all of them - and with none of the other women present. Hearing my mom tell the stories of her affairs while pregnant with me was one thing. Actually seeing her in action took things to a whole new level. I skipped ahead through the first disc and then moved onto the second.

At first, I didn't know how they'd feel about me viewing their personal library. They'd probably be okay with it, and then the videographer - presumably my dad - would probably offer to make a movie of me in action. For all I knew, they already had. They just hadn't burned it to disc, yet. Or, maybe they didn't need to, as everything was transferred to digits in the cloud these days, according to Ron.

From the disc collection, though, it appeared that the reunions didn't happen every year, and it wasn't always maximum participation when it came to the sex. There also seemed to be newcomers in some of the scenes. There were younger guys, older guys, even a disc full of scenes with nothing but black guys which could have been an entire professional basketball team each having their way with my mom, and sometimes at the same time.

Disc after disc showed me sides of my mother that I never would have thought possible. I didn't see one, but if there had been a scene of my mom getting fucked by a donkey, I wouldn't have been surprised. I only watched a few minutes of each disc, and I thought I might ask to borrow a few for Ron to enjoy, too.

The quality seemed to improve over time. I could tell the early discs must have been transfers from camcorder tapes, but the last few were really high definition. Ron and I did our first few homemade porn movies with our cellphones, but when we used GoPros for multiple angle shots, it really turned things up in the quality department. My mom and dad must have realized the same thing, or maybe followed our lead?

I didn't think Jean's idea of doing something that would make my mom or dad uncomfortable would even be possible. I wasn't even sure I wanted to make them uncomfortable at this point. They had found a lifestyle that was as wild as anything I would have imagined, and they kept it a secret for decades. They probably would have kept it a secret, longer, if it hadn't been for Mr. Barker, our neighbor, boasting about fucking my mom while pounding away at my pussy. He let that little secret out, and it almost cost him his life. My sex swelled while thinking about that night, but I resisted the urge to rub or finger myself.

As I removed the last disc from the player, I tucked it neatly back into place and turned everything off. I had a feeling I'd be watching that disc again with my mom, if not the whole collection, some time in the not-too-distant future.

I walked to the other side of the basement, and admired all the workout equipment my parents had acquired. Mirror panels lined one wall, and I wondered how often they actually worked out. They were both still in great shape, but I thought that just came to them naturally.

For late April, I would understand why my mom would think the pool water was too cold for swimming, but I decided to see for myself. After making sure I wouldn't lock myself out of the house, I carefully stepped along the side of the in-ground pool and dipped a few toes in. It wasn't bad. Brisk, yes, but not freezing. I bent my left leg and let my right swing my right foot through the water to make an arced splash.

"If only I had brought my bathing suit," I laughed to myself.

The rest of the yard was how I remembered it, although looking toward Mr. Barker's house, I was able to picture him undressing my mom with his eyes all those years ago, and her letting him. I imagined her sucking his cock right where I was standing, and my sex throbbed again.

The sun was actually getting hot on the see-through stretchy dress, so I decided to go back inside.

I heard the garage door opening and my heart raced.

I couldn't believe how excited I was for my parents to get home. I wondered if my mom had put something in the grapefruit juice, because by the time I turned the corner to enter the kitchen, my mouth was watering for a cock to suck. Any cock. Even my dad's. I was pretty sure I hadn't blown him, yet. Would that make them uncomfortable at this point? I doubted it. Whatever taboo walls had been in place, yesterday, were all but gone, now. Without wanting it to, my imagination was running wild with all the afternoon's possibilities.

A month ago, I would have been hopeful that it had been Mort coming home with either of my parents, as my infatuation with him had been overwhelming. Maybe seeing my mom blow Mort as good as I ever did, toned down that desire for just one man in particular.

Why was I suddenly focused on sucking dick? Sure, I liked doing it, but I think that was only because I knew it wouldn't take long for that same cock I'd been sucking to start fucking me, and that's what I really wanted - to be fucked. Now, though, I felt as if something would be missing if I were getting fucked without also having a cock in my mouth, too. I wondered how long it would be before I felt that way about also needing someone in my butt. I was starting to wonder if Happy - or Henry - ruined me.

When my mom placed her keys on the kitchen counter, she wasn't followed by Mort, though. The man that followed her into the house was much older, yet somewhat familiar. Black pants. Black shirt. White collar?

"Abby? Good, you're... dressed," my mom said, informing me with that last word that I hadn't actually found what would be considered adequate clothing in this situation. "You remember Father Flanagan, don't you?"

Of course, my first thought was "Am I going to suck off a priest?" And, of course, all I could do was nod.

"Little Abigail?" Father Flanagan said, seeming to ignore my see-through attire. "My, how you've grown! I don't think I've seen you in what, fifteen years?"

"About that," I said, not sure if my mom expected me to suck his cock right away, or wait until after she had her turn with him. "How did I turn out?" I asked, taking a seat on one of the kitchen bar stools and slowly crossing my legs.

He looked at my mom, confused.

I was about to uncross my legs, and really spread them so he could get a good look at my hairless pussy when my mom interrupted.

"Abby, Father Flanagan is collecting things for the White Elephant Sale at the church next week," my mom started, walking between me and the old gentleman. "We bumped into each other at the grocery store, and after catching up, he asked if I might have anything to donate."

"Oh... right," I said, quickly crossing my legs again. It was too late, though. From the bulge and wet spot forming in the front of his polyester trousers, I could see that he was still a man like any other. My mom noticed, too, but her mouth wasn't watering as much as mine was.

"I think there might be a few things in my old room from before I moved out," I said, winking at my mom. She didn't wink back. "Mom, didn't you have something in the basement that you could show Father Flanagan?"

My mom gave me a look that I was pushing my luck, and I winked at her again.

"Come on, Father," I said, taking his hand as I stepped off the bar stool. The stretchy dress-thing inched up my legs and exposed the bottom of my butt cheeks. I made no effort to pull it back down as I led him to my old bedroom. We were already halfway down the hall before my mother could object.

"Now, where was it?" I asked myself. Father Flanagan just stood in the doorway, watching quietly. He had to have been in his late sixties, close to Mr. Barker's age. He had the look of someone that might have been a runner when he was younger. Very lean, and now, very wrinkly. He might have stood taller decades ago, but now we was only an inch or two taller than me. He was still somewhat attractive, though. And, he was still a man. A man with a dick that could still get hard, and still produce come. And those things were in high demand at the moment.

I pretended to look through a few drawers in the dresser.

"No, not there," I said, slamming the drawers closed harder than expected, and making Father Flanagan jump just a little.

I looked in the closet, starting low and then pretending to look on a shelf, flexing my calves as I stood on my toes. From the corner of my eye, I could see Father Flanagan noticing my legs, and I had a hard time hiding my grin. The dress-thing, which I now realized wasn't really a dress at all, worked it's way up higher, slowly showing more of my butt, but not yet all of it.

"Can you help me, Father?" I asked, pointing to the top shelf in the closet. "I think there's a box up there with something inside it."

Father Flanagan instinctively stepped into the room to offer assistance, and looked confused when he didn't see a box on the shelf.

"Silly me," I said. "It must be under the bed."

I let the stretchy fabric slide up to my waist as I got down on all fours and pretended to reach under the bed; my entire butt and hairless pussy in clear view. And then, I waited.

I couldn't figure out what was taking him so long.

I reached left and right, doing my best to look like I was actually looking for something. And again, I waited.

Was he exercising his willpower? Did he like boys, instead? What was I thinking?

Finally, just when I thought I had made a complete fool of myself... he touched me.

I froze.

So did he.

His hand rested on my thigh, but then started to pull away. I reached back and held it where it was.

He brought his other hand to my other thigh, and slowly moved them onto my butt cheeks, squeezing them gently. He was being extra gentle, as if handling fine China, and didn't want to do break anything. I released his hand and moved backwards towards him. I felt his breath on the crack of my butt an instant before I felt his kiss, and I almost came right there.

"I think we found it," I said, reaching back and spreading my cheeks for him. There was a long pause, as if he wasn't sure what to do, next.

His tongue barely touched my butt hole for a second and then he pulled back.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..." Father Flanagan said, carefully getting to his feet.

"It's okay," I said, quickly turning around and standing to face him. "It's my fault. I'm the one that should be sorry."

He stood motionless as I pressed myself against him, letting my hand glide across the wet bulge of his crotch.

"We should do something about this before my mom sees it, don't you think?" I asked, unzipping his fly.

"Abby, I..." Father Flanagan stuttered. I had his belt undone and trousers pulled down to his ankles before he could finish.

When I bent over to pull down his boxers, his cock sprung out and unexpectedly hit me in the face.

He wasn't very long, or very thick, but he was incredibly hard.

"I'm so sorry, I, I, I..." Father Flanagan stammered. His body froze in place as if he couldn't comprehend what was happening.

He stopped trying to speak when I put his cock in my mouth.

"Finally!" I thought, savoring the taste of his pre-come. It wasn't delicious like Cecil's, but it was come, and it was what I had been craving since finishing that grapefruit juice a few hours earlier.

"Mmmm," I moaned around his shaft, and looked up at him. He looked scared.

I let his cock pop out of my mouth for a moment so I could swallow my saliva, and he immediately began fumbling for his trousers.

"Not yet, Father," I said, pushing his shaking hands to his sides.

I pulled off the stretchy dress like I was pulling off a t-shirt. I didn't see the point in getting come all over it, just yet. It collapsed into a bundle of fabric so small, I could hold it in the palm of my hand. I made a point of remembering to find more dress-things like that, whatever they were, then tossed it on the bed.

I stood up and gently stroked his swollen cock, looking up into his eyes, and smiling.

"Would you like to kiss me, Father?" I said, innocently.

He seemed to calm down, just a little, and bent down to kiss me on the cheek. I turned my head to make sure his lips landed on mine, and then giggled. He looked at me, confused, and scared, again.

"Lower?" I asked.

He kissed my chin.

"Lower?" I asked.

He carefully bent down, ensuring I could still stroke his cock, and kissed a nipple. The areola hardened instantly.

"And the other one?" I asked.

He kissed, and then lightly sucked the other nipple.

"Would you like to kiss me even lower?" I asked, pulling him by his cock toward the bed.

He could barely walk, his legs were shaking so much. He was doing his best to not trip with his trousers down around his ankles, and I did my best not to laugh.

I had him lay on the bed, moving him in a comfortable position so I could straddle his face with my pussy while I continued to stroke his cock. His shaky hands, which had been at his sides the whole time I had been sucking him, found their way to my feet, my calves, my thighs, and finally, my butt.

He was no expert at licking pussy, but what he lacked in experience, he made up for in enthusiasm. I let him lick me for his benefit more than mine, and then I leaned forward to take him back in my mouth.

I could feel him shifting beneath me, and it seemed as if he were listening for my mom to walk through the door at any minute. I tried to distract him by rotating my hips in front of him. That may have worked too well, as I felt both of his thumbs enter my butt hole as he tightened his grip on my butt cheeks.

His enthusiasm triggered mine, and I took his shaft down my throat until my nose pressed into his large, hairy balls. I wrapped my arms around his hips and worked my hands under his butt until I could pull his cheeks apart. I carefully pressed one of my considerably smaller fingers into his butt hole.

That's all it took.

His warm come filled my mouth. I swallowed, burped, and then kept sucking for more. I watched as his balls drew up and another spurt of his thick come went straight down my throat. And then another. Father Flanagan definitely had potential. All he needed was a slight change of diet.

"Abby? Everything okay?" I heard my mom call from the kitchen.

"Yeah, mom," I said before swallowing again, and then pulled myself off Father Flanagan's heaving body. I had a flashback of Mr. Barker fucking me for all he was worth one minute, and then one of the other men at the bar doing chest compressions on him the next. Father Flanagan, old as he was, wasn't having a heart attack, though. He was just coming down from a very intense orgasm.

I quickly got back on top of him, facing him this time, then bent over him and kissed his neck. His hands found my waist, and then slid down to my butt.

"Did you like that?" I whispered in his ear while reaching for his semi-deflated dick. I made sure he could smell his come on my breath.

He nodded.

"This can be our little secret, okay, Father?" I whispered.

He nodded, again, as I moved off to his side. We both watched as I stroked his old dick.

"But, just remember..." I said, feeling his manhood twitch and thicken again in my hand. "If you ever put your tongue in my butt again, I'm going to want your cock in more places than just my mouth."

The spurt of come that followed surprised both of us. It shot up about two feet and landed on the forearm and hand that had been holding his old prick. I immediately lapped up his come from my arm like a cat cleaning itself. That visual was for his benefit, too, as Jean would say.

Knowing that this was not what my mother had intended when bringing him to the house, I helped Father Flanagan pull up his boxers and trousers with determined urgency. I carefully tucked his tired dick into his pants, before looking for my stretchy dress. I knew exactly where it was, but I thought it'd be worth an extra few seconds to let him get another look at my naked body one last time before he left. His fear of being caught, though, was overriding any naughty desires he had left.

I wiggled into the flimsy material and began to look for something Father Flanagan could actually use for his White Elephant Sale. The whole time, he just stood by the doorway, frozen except for his eyes, which of course, were on me.

My parents had turned my room into a guest bedroom after I had gotten married, and most of my things from my teenage and early college years had been boxed up and moved somewhere else long ago. There were still a few old winter coats left in the closet that looked like nobody had worn in years.

"These will have to do," I said, handing them to Father Flanagan. "Hold them low, to cover the wet spot in your crotch."

Father Flanagan nodded quickly, and followed me out of the bedroom.

My mom walked Father Flanagan out to his car, carrying two boxes that he probably should have carried. When Father Flanagan had offered, my mom refused, saving him the indignity of revealing his wet spot. He avoided eye contact, especially with me, smiled nervously, and then Father Flanagan quickly drove away.

"Did you actually fuck a priest, Abby?" my mom said, closing the garage door a little harder than necessary. She seemed genuinely perturbed.

"Of course not, mom," I said. "What the hell?"

"Well, you had that look about you..." she started.

"Well, I didn't," I said, flatly. "I actually felt bad that I had the wrong idea about what was going on almost too late."

"You certainly gave him a show, though, didn't you?" my mom asked.

"And, I feel bad about it, okay?" I said. "Can you let it go?"

"Sure, Abby," my mom said, unconvinced. "You were in your room with him for ten or fifteen minutes, and the best you could come up with was a few coats?"

"I may have teased him, a little," I admitted. "But, that's it." It was really hard to conceal the grin that so desperately wanted to come out.

"Uh huh," my mom said, still unconvinced, but not seeing the point in continuing the subject. "You may want to fix the spandex lingerie, though. You have it on backwards."

Even though we had recently seen each other naked, I retreated to my old room to put the lingerie on the right way, straighten the bed, and touch up the little amount of make-up I was wearing. I also thought it might be a good time to put on the heels, and then headed back to the kitchen.

"Better," my mom said, more amused than angry. She was actually smiling at me, again.

"All is forgiven?" I asked.

"What's there to forgive, right?" my mom said as we both heard the garage door open. "Looks like they're back."

"Just in time," I said under my breath.

Two more cars pulled up in front of the house. Four men dressed in suits and sport coats stepped out of each, and three men accompanied my dad through the garage door leading to the kitchen.

"No spouses?" I asked my mom, moving to stand next to her while the men brought in catered food, booze, and what looked like little luggage cases.

"Disappointed?" my mom asked in return.

"Twelve men and just the two of us?" I asked, quietly.

"So far," my mom said, holding back a smile.

"So far?" I gasped. "You mean, there's going to be more?"

"Not likely," my mom said. "Someone's flight was cancelled his morning, so he may drop by if he doesn't catch another."

"Grumpy?" I asked.

My mom didn't answer.

My dad looked at me and then my mom, and then back to me again.

"Come on," she said to me. "Let's get you dressed in something a little better than that."

An hour later, we stepped out onto the patio area by the pool wearing matching little black dresses and matching shoes. While the spandex lingerie I had mistakenly picked out had been on the tacky side, the dress my mom picked out was much more classy, even if it was a little loose on top. She found make-up that was more my style, and even made the effort to do something with my hair. The red nail polish was her idea, too. She was going for a certain look, and she made sure we both had it.

As we walked along the edge of the pool, all eyes were on us. I liked the attention, but seeing everyone all dressed up felt too formal. They were impeccably dressed. Even my dad, whom I'd rarely ever seen in a suit outside of weddings and funerals, looked like he was modeling for a men's suit store advertisement.

Everyone seemed to be going out of their way to be on their best behavior. Even Mort bowed slightly while offering me a Mimosa.

"Really, Mort?" I asked.

That was about the time I noticed the cameras.

"Are you filming this?" I asked my mom.

"Of course, dear," my mom said. "Don't ruin it, okay? Just look natural."

I nodded, and then allowed my mom to escort me around to several of the men, making introductions, briefly holding hands while giving little kisses on cheeks. I knew several of them, not needing an introduction, but my mom introduced us, anyway. The ones I didn't know I must not have seen well enough, or didn't remember from the night before. Instead of name tags, though, they all wore black rubber bracelets.

"What are the wristbands for?" I asked my mom, noticing that my dad was also wearing one.

"It lets us know they've been checked for communicable diseases, recently. I'm vouching for you, so I hope you haven't brought something to the party that we'll all regret, later," my mom said quietly while putting on her own rubber bracelet.

"I'm clean," I said. "At least I was before yesterday."

Henry and Dennis were almost unrecognizable in suits, and my sex swelled knowing what they were hiding under all those clothes. The other men, all in their late fifties or early sixties, also behaved like perfect gentlemen, which made my mind race as to which ones would turn out to be the wild ones. Gary, Jay, Neil... their shoulders wider than average, all had potential. Russel definitely had a mischievous look about him. I knew I'd remember his name, later.

I was genuinely disappointed to not see Cecil standing among the well-dressed men. I was less disappointed to not see Jerry, doubting he even owned a suit. Little John, who was anything but little, looked surprisingly better in a suit than he looked naked. But, I didn't like him for his looks. I liked him for his ten inch dick and quick recovery time.

Yosh and Stanley, twin brothers with the only thing identical between them being their large, smooth, perfectly curved examples of manhood, were also there. I met them at Mort's estate near Cancun what felt like a lifetime ago. Seeing them sent a shiver down my spine and back up to my already-swollen clit. Having to wait to once again to experience what they were capable of felt like torture. Their "greeting kisses" were on my mouth, which almost made my knees weak.

Almost.

"So good to see... meet you, Abby," Stanley said, correcting himself. I smiled and allowed my mom to introduce me to the last gentleman.

Unlike everyone else, Tim was my age, or maybe a few years younger. At first, I tried to see if he looked like any of the other gentlemen at the party, thinking he might have been someone's son. But, my mom assured me he wasn't.

"We've known Tim for a few years, Abby," my mom started. "He's very good with cameras, video editing, and that sort of thing."

"What else is he good at?" I asked while looking at Tim more closely. Definitely younger than me.

"You'll see," my mom answered, and led me to the center of the patio.

"Gentlemen, thank you for coming," my mom giggled at the pun. "We've been doing this for a few years, but we never had the chance to appreciate the 'reason' we started doing this until now. If it hadn't been for Abby, I probably never would have explored the lifestyle before she was born, and definitely wouldn't have explored it after. So, please, show her how much you appreciate her... and don't forget to send some of that appreciation my way, too," my mom giggled, again.

Mort tapped his champagne glass.

"A toast!" Mort started. "To Cliff and Darcie, our friends for many years, and to Abby, the reason we've been able to enjoy parties like this in the first place!"

A lot of raised glasses, followed by a lot of sips.

My dad turned on some music, noticeable, but nothing that would get in the way of conversation. I wasn't sure what to expect at their barbecue pool party, but there wasn't any barbecue. At least, not of the usual variety my dad used to attempt. Instead, it was more like catering for the rich and famous. The food was probably expensive, as the presentation was impressive. I knew my mom and dad had money, but I had a feeling some of the guests helped out significantly. I couldn't remember the last time I ate really good caviar without worrying about the bill.

Unlike any of my times in the bar or video booths, each of the men spent a fair amount of time telling me who they were, what they did, and then acted like they were genuinely interested in anything I had to say in response. It was as if they were making it clear that I wouldn't be fucking total strangers when the time came. Maybe my mom was right, and I should get to know someone better before I let them inside me.

I worked on telling my life story. It became progressively shorter each time I told it, because I was more interested in who these men were and how they knew me or my mom.

Henry, or Happy, was, in fact, in real estate. He was a few years older than my dad, an Eagle Scout, and a pillar of the local community. He was also in a discreetly open marriage, had four kids, and two grandchildren. He had only found out about my naughty side, recently, thanks to finding my videos on the Internet. Having been to previous reunions, he reached out to past participants, and asked if I was the same girl in Cliff and Darcie's family portraits, all grown up. My regular bar patrons hadn't made the connection, yet, but admitted the middle-aged spinner housewife they'd been fucking at the bar bore a striking resemblance to the woman in the videos. Henry figured I was a meth junkie passing myself off as a desperate housewife, despite what Little John had told him about me. He was pleasantly surprised when he finally met me, though, and elated that I exceeded all his expectations. He had a gorgeous face, fit body, and a very pleasant dick which I knew I'd be enjoying many more times during and after this party.

Dennis, or Dopey, had been career military, and only recently retired. Currently single, but whenever he had a girlfriend, he was completely monogamous. He traveled on his retirement funds, and did contract work for the government whenever he became bored. More interestingly, his dick had been used for several dildo molds, and I had every intention of finding one of the finished products. I wanted to find out more about how that came to be, but I knew any additional time with Dennis was going to be spent fucking him. He was a fan of my homemade videos that I made with my husband, Ron, thanks to my mom and dad telling him about them. Boyish face, tall, wiry body, and a very big, very handsome dick.

Gary was a retired Navy man like my dad, and a recently retired assistant Midwest college football coach. Married, discreet, two kids, and was currently in town for a funeral, per the story he told his wife. He was also a fan of my videos thanks to my parents. Gary had a scrunched up, older face, but wide, muscled body. He was only a few inches taller than me, but his hands and feet were huge. I looked forward to seeing what the rest of him looked like.

Jay was a local businessman, and still working. He was married and divorced three times, and currently married to a naive woman - younger than me - that he'd been wanting to introduce to the swinger lifestyle. Which is to say, he was preparing for divorce number four. Jay had several grown kids. He had a plain face, but a bodybuilder's body. For being the same age as my parents, he looked ten years younger than either of them, and closer to my age. He was a self-proclaimed leg and butt man, with a weakness for pretty feet. Lucky me.

Neil was also a former Navy man, but he didn't make a career out of it. Instead, he chose to be a firefighter, and still maintained the physique even though he had retired a few years ago. Neil was married, no kids, liked old cars and sexy women. His wife had an affair early in their marriage, felt bad about getting caught, but they opted to not get a divorce. The outcome was more or less an open marriage, and her becoming bisexual. They'd been happily married ever since.

Mort, or Doc, was a semi-retired doctor, and was several years older than he looked. He had an open marriage, four gorgeous daughters - one of whom I'd met - and several properties around the world thanks to smart investing. He was the first millionaire I'd ever fucked, and I never even knew it. His wife traveled on her own, frequently, and found sex with strangers to be her favorite hobby. According to Mort, she'd been fucked by at least a thousand men since they were married. I wondered how many she'd fucked before they were married. He seemed relieved that I was no longer focusing only on him, and that seemed to put me at ease, too.

Little John served with my dad, although they didn't know it until this party. Widower. He never remarried. His wife died of cancer, suddenly, and he didn't handle it well. He'd started drinking a lot and his VFW bar buddies noticed, got him some help, and got him laid, occasionally. He managed to get the drinking under control, and started "dating" via online want ads. That led him to Michael, which led him to me. He was invited to this party as Mort's guest, and I knew my mom was going to enjoy fucking him, as she enjoyed fucking everyone Mort brought to these reunions as a guest.

Previously taboo to ask about their professions, Yosh and Stanley admitted they were twin brothers, and both worked in fields of medicine. They were also very well-off, coming from a rich family. Yosh and Stanley even looked wealthy. Their practices of plastic surgery and internal medicine had been lucrative, but the family inheritance helped, too.

Neither had married, but they both had their share of conquests resulting in dozens of children - most of whom they'd never met but kept financially comfortable as part of the arrangements. They, too, were Mort's guests, and I was excited to see what they would do with me and my mom. If it was going to be anything like the Cancun trip, my mom was going to have quite the video to add to her porn collection.

Russell, or Sneezy, had apparently gotten over his allergies. He became a health food expert in his off time while working at a big box store decades ago. Since then, he traveled from the east coast to the west coast, and several places in between. He learned how to surf, make coffee, ink tattoos, and teach yoga. It sounded like a fairly adventurous life. Eventually, he returned to our town to teach at a local junior college. He stayed in amazing shape, had incredible stamina, and according to my mom, had incredible libido. He had a Jack Sparrow swagger about him, though, that made me wonder if he wasn't still bisexual as he had been with his no-longer-with-us friend, Sleepy. He was funnier than anyone else at the party, though, and whatever anxiety that had been building up inside me seemed to vanish just by talking to him. If he was still bisexual, the other men that had been coming to these reunions didn't seem to mind. I had never seen a man suck or fuck another man in person. But, if it was going to happen, Russell would be involved, and would probably make it look good. I had a feeling he was going to look a lot better with his clothes off, too.

Tim was the camera guy. And... Tim was a former porn star. He went to Hollywood specifically to fuck-on-film, and he did. He was athletically attractive, had a great body, a big dick, and could last for over an hour without a break. But, he also learned what went on behind the cameras well enough to fill in whenever the designated cameramen didn't show or otherwise needed time off. Producers liked some of Tim's techniques, both in camera work and in editing, and asked if he'd be interested in doing something more mainstream. Tim thought movies. The producers thought pharmaceutical commercials. So, he did a few commercials, made some money, and stepped away from the porn industry. He didn't, however, step away from porn entirely. He actually did the last four reunion videos for my parents. Single, straight, and twenty-eight. He had seen all of my home-made videos, and thought they were good... for being home-made. Without saying just how amateur he thought they had been, he politely said he'd be honored to professionally re-shoot all of the scenes under his direction... if Ron was interested.

"I could fill in, if Ron's not interested," Tim said with a grin.

"If you fuck me better than my husband, we could just leave Ron out of it," I said, innocently.

My dad, Cliff, sent mixed signals. He obviously enjoyed seeing his wife being fucked by other men. I didn't find that unusual at all, after my mom's conversation the day before. The fact that he enjoyed seeing his daughter being fucked - which he now openly admitted - made me wonder if he wanted to fuck me, too. He didn't fuck me the night before, although I may have jerked him off without knowing it was him. Group sex and gangbangs seemed to be the norm in this lifestyle, but incest? Sure, he was attractive, and yes, he was more well-endowed than I'd ever imagined - not that I spent much time thinking about his dick. But, now that I was thinking about it, would I suck it given the chance? Should I suck it? Should I let him fuck me? What if I ended up liking it? Would I have to wait for these reunions to take place, or could I come over any time? How would my mom feel about that?

The anxiety was returning, and luckily, Russell noticed. I forgot what he said, but it immediately made me laugh, as well as several of the other gentlemen standing next to me. The anxiety subsided, and was replaced with that inexplicable need to suck a cock. So many to choose from, I wondered who would be first.

One of the songs came on that I had previously danced to at the bar many months ago. Little John recognized it, too, and asked if I could do the dance again, like I had back then. It was just the distraction I needed, and I obliged, although I said I probably wouldn't be stripping just yet. Little John seemed only slightly disappointed, but everyone else's eyes and smiles let me know they were happy with me doing whatever I wanted.

So, I danced.

Another familiar song came on, and I danced to that one, too, this time inviting Mort to dance with me... mostly for old time's sake. Henry cut in, and showed that he knew how to dance, too. Then, someone else cut, in. Then another. I felt their hands barely tugging at my borrowed short dress, inching it up a little at a time. I let them, and pretended I didn't notice. They could have ripped the dress off, and other than needing to reimburse my mom for it later, I wouldn't have cared.

Five songs later, I had danced with everyone, even my dad, and decided to sit down and catch up on nursing my beverage. I made no effort to adjust my dress, which made anyone that hadn't been at last night's party very interested. From their smiles, I presumed they approved of the hairless pussy between my legs.

I also needed to get out of the heels before I developed blisters. Jay was quick to offer assistance, and knelt before me as if he were proposing marriage.

"Let me help you," Jay offered.

"Thanks," I said, and leaned back as he undid the tiny buckle of the high-heeled sandal. He massaged my foot for a second, and I was relieved there weren't any cuts or rough spots. He kissed the top of my foot, and then gently set it down. One shoe off, he offered to remove the other, and I let him, watching him look up my short dress the whole time.

"See anything you like?" I asked.

"Absolutely," Jay said.

Jay stood up, moved closer to me, and pulled his dick out through the fly of his trousers.

"Nice," I said, taking another sip of Mimosa, and trying not to seem as eager as I was. "Am I supposed to start blowing you, now?"

"If you want," Jay smiled cautiously.

"Oh, I definitely want," I said, setting down my drink. "But, right now, right here? Can we wait a bit, maybe until we go inside?"

"Whatever you prefer, Abby," Jay said, struggling to get his swollen monster back in his pants. He wasn't having much luck.

"Oh, come here," I gently tugged at his tool. I meant to just lick the pre-come dripping from his helmet. But he tasted so good, I ended up sucking the fat tip into my mouth.

"Fuck, you taste good!" I said, momentarily taking my mouth off his dick and looking up at him. My mouth started salivating uncontrollably.

I guessed I had timed things right. I looked past Jay and could see my mom bent over with her shoes off, her dress pulled up to her waist, sucking my dad's cock while Mort fucked her hard, from behind.

"So, we're starting, now?" I said, looking up at Jay.

As he nodded, two more men appeared on either side of him, pants down, dicks out and pointing straight at me.

"Well, aren't I the lucky one," I said.

And then, one of them reached behind me to unzip my dress.

To be continued...