Student Housing

To Part I -- Bartholomew

It started innocently enough with Alexis. She was a chemistry major nearing the end of her sophomore year at the University.

One of her professors, Nicholas Manfred, was a former fraternity brother of mine who remained one of my good friends. Nick called me one night early in June with a request. He said he had this student who was a bit of a loner and was looking for a place to live while she took classes and helped in his laboratory that summer.

"Geez, Nick, I'd like to help," I said, "but I met with my property managers last week and I don't think we have any vacancies."

I was one of the premier owners of off-campus housing, as well as market-rate housing and commercial properties throughout the county. I took pride in providing quality digs at reasonable prices for responsible students. Leases contained strict noise, cleanliness and other clauses intended to make living in one of my units pleasant and conducive to learning.

I was not a snob or a prude. I didn't care what genders, races, economic classes or other cohorts shared quarters. They just had to do so without causing damage or disturbing neighbors. Oh, and paying rent on time. If the rent payment wasn't made on the first of the month, an eviction notice was issued on the second.

It's not that I needed the money. I was the heir to a fortune that my great-grandfather started to build during the Gilded Age. He wasn't a robber baron. He was a gofer for a minor multi-millionaire who associated with the barons. As such, he had occasion to come close to rubbing shoulders with the likes of Rockefeller, Carnegie, Vanderbilt, Gould and Morgan.

He listened intently, started small and slow. But through wise, careful, secure investments he was able in his advanced middle age to break free of the chains of servitude and become a wealthy family man.

My job was to guard the wealth, make it grow at a healthy pace and spend my share of it frugally.

"Well, Bart, what about your place?"

"I'm talking about my places, Nick."

"No, I mean that big old barn of a place you call home."

My abode is anything but humble. It is one of several mansions that the family had owned for two or three generations. It features two large sitting or living rooms, formal and family dining rooms, a commercial-size kitchen, an extensive library, an office, billiards and game rooms, a small gym, a family room and one open porch and two enclosed porches. Besides my suite of sitting room, bedroom, dressing room and bath, it has six other expansive bedrooms with ensuite baths. And, of course, there are half baths scattered throughout. And acres of closet and storage space.

I have a four-car garage. The grounds include well-manicured gardens, a gazebo, a swimming pool and a tennis court, with a bathhouse with bar and galley kitchen between the pool and court.

I lived alone.

"You could put her up at your place for the summer and never set eyes on her," Nick suggested.

"Would that be a plus? Never setting eyes on her?"

"Definitely not," he said. "Besides being one of the most accomplished undergrads I've ever had, she's really kind of cute. And sexy. She just doesn't want you to know it."

"How's that?"

"The way she dresses, mainly. I think all of her clothes are off the pile, not even the rack, at the thrift store. And nothing she wears accentuates her looks in any way. She's kind of a bag lady in that regard. But even when she's hard at work in a lab coat and clothes that won't accidentally catch on fire, I can see her hidden attractiveness."

"Why do you suppose she's that way?"

"My guess? To fend off the boys. She might even be a lesbian."

"Still another reason not to have guys drooling all over her."

"Exactly. Listen, Bart, she's a really super kid. She's just had it with the hubbub, the chaos of dorm life and doesn't fit in with the sorority sisterhood crap. If Shelly and I had any extra space at our place I'd be perfectly fine having her living with us for the summer. You'd be doing me -- and Alex and the University -- a real favor if you gave her a chance with you."

I sighed. Nick was a good friend. He and I had not shared academic interests when students. He was into science, I stuck with the humanities. We bonded as frat brothers and over our extra-curricular interests in sports, music, politics and girls.

We were students during the height of the anti-war, civil rights and women's lib movements, though we weren't active with any groups or protests. We joked that when Nixon cited the Silent Majority, he was referring to us, though nothing could be further from the truth.

While I was satisfied with a B. A. in literature and an MBA, Nick cruised through to a Ph. D. and had become one of the leading chemistry professors at the University. Somehow he also managed to court and marry one of the most brilliant and beautiful women I've ever known, Shelly, whose doctorate was in biology. You can imagine how attractive and intelligent their son and daughter are.

But here we were in the final year of the Reagan administration. I was sitting on a heap of Benjamins and had nobody to spend it on or share it with. I had been privileged to date several fine women over the years and was even engaged to one of them for almost three years before she broke it off in frustration with my fear of commitment.

"Well, okay, Nick," I surrendered. "Send her around."

Alex arrived after classes the next afternoon, a Tuesday. I saw immediately what Nick had been getting at. She wore a faded, tattered baseball cap, a baggy Cubs jersey, sweat pants that were stained and several sizes too big and grungy high-top sneakers.

When I opened the front door, she kept her eyes focused on the floor several feet behind me and stuck out her hand.

"I'm Alexis Alexander. Professor Manfred sent me."

I shook her small, delicate hand. "Hi, Alex. I'm Bartholomew Winchester Junior. You can call me Bart."

I ushered her into the sitting room to the left of the grand foyer.

"Would you like anything to drink?"

"Maybe just a glass of water."

I poured water into glasses for both of us, motioned her to sit on the couch and I took a seat in an easy chair across the coffee table from her. She left her hat on her head. If I'd waited for her to start, we'd be sitting there still.

"So, you're looking for a place to stay this summer."

"Professor Manfred said you might have a room available." She glanced around to indicate the expanse of the house but didn't comment on it.

"It's a possibility. I've never rented to anyone before, but Nick, Professor Manfred, called in a favor." I tried to soften the sound of that a bit. "He said you were an ace student and a good person. That I'd be happy to have you around." Even if I might not be bothered by actually seeing you, I didn't add.

"I don't have a lot of money, and this joint looks expensive."

"Looks can be deceiving, Alex." I set my glass on an end table and rose. "Come, let me show you around."

I took her through the downstairs. She showed interest only in the piano in the sitting room to the right -- "You play?" "A bit" -- and the library, where she seemed a little dismayed by the near lack of science books.

"I have many of the classics and almost all of the recent major literary prize winners. Pulitzers, National Book Award, Nobel Prize authors. If there's anything else you need and can't get elsewhere, I can order it."

She appeared to be impressed by that.

But she was more than impressed when I showed her what would be her quarters. A previous owner, one of my great uncles, had also been a literary freak. He named the upstairs suites after 18th century authors: Austen, Cooper, Dickens, Hawthorne, Melville and Twain.

I showed her into the Austen rooms, which, at 1,000 square feet, were the size of a small house. They featured a queen-size bed, a five-foot wide dresser and two chests of drawers, two easy chairs with an end table between them, a credenza with a television, a desk and swivel chair, a bookcase, 30 feet of closet and a full bath.

She was breathing a little heavy and her eyes were wide when I asked if she liked it.

"Uh, yeah, sure."

I sweetened the deal. "I have a maid service in twice a week, Mondays and Thursdays. They clean and do laundry. I have a woman, Margaret, who cooks dinners five nights per week, Sunday through Thursday. We're on our own for breakfast and lunch, but I can have Margaret buy whatever you want for those. I either go out on Friday and Saturday nights, order in or heat up something the cook has left for me."

I waited for her response. She looked at me like I was telling tall tales.

"You're shittin' me, right?" she said.

"No shitting involved, Alex. It's all included." I had suddenly felt the necessity of closing the deal.

"So, how much?"

I really hadn't thought about that. As I've said, money was not an issue. So I just blurted out the first number that came to mind.

"How about a hundred per week?"

"Dollars?"

"Yes, dollars."

"That's all?"

"Yep. Payable on, say, each Sunday for the following week. No lease, no long-term commitment."

She stuck out her hand again. Looked me in the eye this time. "Deal," she said. This time, she also had a firm handshake.

Turns out she came prepared too. Before ringing the front doorbell, she had ditched her beaten suitcase on the driveway outside. It contained mostly books. She started to calculate the rate for the first partial week, but I told her we'd consider it a trial period and start payments the following Sunday.

I told Margaret about my new boarder. She looked at me like I'd grown a third foot out of my head, but then went right into cooking-for-two mode.

Having seen frumpy Alex on the house tour, I got my first look at the cute Alex that Nick had said existed below the bag lady disguise. She came to dinner dressed casually, as I had assured her she should, in a blouse and slacks that were almost the right size for her frame. She had ditched the hat and let her hair down.

I saw a very attractive young lady. Her skin appeared to be a pleasing light brown all over, most likely the product of mixed-race heritage. Her facial features were more tomboy than beauty queen, hinting at impish when the mood struck. Her two front teeth were a tad too large, but that just made her smile more intriguing. Even with her loose-fitting clothes, I could tell that her body presented a lot to be desired.

Oh, to be 20 years younger, I thought.

Dinner conversation began slowly. I introduced her to Margaret, who asked her what kind of meals she preferred and then gave me a warning look: You keep your hands to yourself, mister. I tried, with little success, to get Alex to talk about her background, her family. She opened up only when I asked about her work in Professor Manfred's lab. She was excited, animated. I understood about a tenth of what she said.

After dinner, she tried to help Margaret clean up in the kitchen but was shooed away. She complimented Margaret on her cooking, thanked me for the meal and excused herself to go upstairs to read before bedtime.

I also adjourned to my sitting room, where I sat with a book on my lap -- Tom Clancy's "Patriot Games" -- but thought only about how my life might change with the arrival of Alex. A lot, some, a little, not at all?

It began as a little. Alex rose early, grabbed a quick breakfast -- often just coffee and a piece of toast -- and hustled off to the campus for classes and lab work. She returned home just in time for dinner, which Margaret typically served at 7 p. m. We had amiable chats over the food Margaret prepared. I tried to soften her up to talk about her family by detailing my own clan's history. She seemed interested enough, asked probing follow-up questions, but declined to reveal any information of her own.

We fell into this comfortable routine for the first two weeks. I was pleased that she seemed more relaxed around me, the mansion. We had a good time one Friday night downing a pizza we had delivered, a couple of Old Style beers apiece and watching a black-and-white movie on TV. She actually gave me a quick peck on the cheek before she headed upstairs for the night.

The evolution of change to a lot occurred the following Tuesday, exactly three weeks after she had moved in. I was reading in bed -- Barbara Kingsolver's "The Bean Trees" -- when I heard a soft knock on my bedroom door and looked up to see Alex pushing through it. She wore one of the short robes I left in closets for use by any house guests I might have.

She looked at me rather blankly. I set the book aside and smiled back at her. She hesitated, loosened the belt around her waist, let the robe fall open in the front and then wiggled it off her shoulders. It dropped to the floor, my chin dropped to my chest.

Naked, Alex was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. One of the sexiest, hottest women I'd ever seen or dreamed of seeing. Her long, reddish blonde hair fell neatly over her shoulders. Her breasts were perfect cones, healthy handfuls capped by large, light brown nipples. Her waist was taut, her hips a tad wider than my ideal -- she still teases me about my bias against her "big, fat ass" when fishing for compliments. Her pubic hair was neatly trimmed, her camel toe labia clearly visible. Her legs were trim, her feet petite.

I detest air conditioning. So on warm, rather than scorching hot, nights, I prefer to have windows open, the ceiling fan slowly revolving and me lying in bed naked. This was a warm night. As she took small steps toward me -- her breasts and hips swaying enticingly -- I cast aside the sheet that was covering my legs and pelvis. She finally broke her stolid gaze and smiled when she saw my beaming face and burgeoning penis.

Alex climbed onto the bed and lowered her face to mine. We looked into each other's eyes, inches apart, for half a minute or so. Then I reached up, lightly touched her cheek and brought her lips down to mine. Our soft, tender kiss became hard, passionate. Our hands began to move in desperation. I cupped her tits in my palms, she walked her fingers down my belly to my rock-hard cock.

Our tongues, our bodies entwined. She raised up so that I could suck her puckered nipples. I dug my fingers into her generous ass. She purred in pleasure. I rolled her over onto her back. I dipped my head to her chest, wedged my hand between her thighs. I sucked her tits, fingered her pussy. She wrapped her fingers around my dick, massaged my balls.

She squirmed and moaned softly as I eased two, three fingers into her snatch. I abandoned her marvelous mounds to plant kisses all over her cute face -- nose, eyes, cheeks, lips. She squeezed my cock with one hand and held my head tight to hers with the other.

I swung on top of her. She spread her legs. I held my dick steady, pushed it between her moist pussy lips, rubbed it up and down, tweaking her clit, teasing he slit. She lifted her hips, searching for me, begging my cock to slide into her cunt. I popped the head of my dick past her labia and glided the shaft all the way into her warm, wet pussy.

She wrapped her arms around me. I stayed still for a good minute as we savored the thrill of our connection. We kissed. I began to rock back and forth, picking up pace with every slide into her snatch. She responded by lifting her hips off the bed to meet my increasingly rapid and powerful thrusts.

We threw tenderness out the window and succumbed to pure animal lust. I pounded her harder and harder. She held me tight, her warm breath on my neck, her quaking body beneath me telling me she was soaring as high as I was. My whole world came down -- expanded to? -- this girl and me. Our coupling was all that mattered. My cock, her pussy. Her arms around me. Our lips touching.

All my senses concentrated on pleasing her, sharing my desire, my joy. So when she shook and cried out in orgasm I could surrender myself to the glory of climax. I fired blasts of cum into her cunt.

I lay on top of her for several minutes as we recovered normal breathing. We kissed again. I rolled over beside her. She raised up on one elbow. She stared down at me. She kissed me on the mouth and then began to work her way down my body. She sucked my own sensitive nipples, tickled my belly with her tongue. She wrapped her fingers around my balls and her lips around the tip of my cum- and cunt juice-soaked dick.

I was fully aroused again immediately. She took one, two, three inches of my rod into her mouth. She rose up and eased down, sucking my dick until she felt my balls tighten, my pelvic muscles contract. She popped my cock out of her mouth, planted herself on hands and knees and waved that marvelous ass in invitation.

I lurched up behind her. She reached between her legs, gripped my cock and guided it back into her pussy. I wasted no time. I pounded her from behind. She braced herself to meet my thrusts. I leaned over, reached around and bounced her jiggling tits in my hands. She giggled with delight.

I fucked her doggie-style for five, ten minutes, relishing the staying power of the second ride toward orgasm. She tossed her head side to side. In out, in out. I straightened to drive my dick deep into her cunt. Leaned over to once again play with those magnificent tits. We had rhythm, we had melody, two-part harmony. The Song of Solomon never sounded this good.

At last, I could hold out no longer. I clutched the sides of her hips. She pushed back to absorb the drilling I was giving her. I grimaced, groaned and shot a second massive load of jizz into her pussy.

I sprawled on my back. Alex nestled beside me, my arm around her, her head on my shoulder. "That was nice. Thank you," she said, the first words either of us had spoken since she entered my lair. I kissed the top of her head. She lifted one leg over mine, idly traced her index finger through my chest hair.

"All thanks is mine, Alex. You're a super girl. You just made me feel young again."

She giggled. "Fountain of Youth's between my legs, huh?"

I laughed, squeezed her tight. "Your whole body, head to toe, is the Holy fucking Grail. I'm not just blowing smoke up your skirt --"

"I'm not wearing a skirt," she interjected, playfully.

"-- but I feel really blessed right now to have you in my house, my bed, my arms. You're even more special than Nick, Professor Manfred, said you were."

"Oh, Jesus, Bart, give me a fucking break. You're just flying high now because you just fucked me. Twice. Let's see how you feel about me tomorrow."

I kissed the top of her head again. "I'm pretty sure I'll want to fuck you again tomorrow. And the next day, and the day after that ..."

She silenced me with a kiss on the lips. She settled back down with her head on my shoulder, her leg draped over my thighs, her hand resting on my pelvis, dangerously close to my semi-hard cock.

"I'm sleepy now," she said. "We can deal with tomorrow tomorrow, okay?"

"Whatever you say."

"Ah, that's what I like to here." She patted my dick. "Good night, Bart."

"Good night, Alex."

She was gone when I awoke in the morning. Not just from my bed, but from my house. She had not left a note. The shower stall in her bathroom was still wet, but there was no sign in the kitchen of her having had breakfast. It was as if our frolic the night before had just been a wet dream.

I dressed, drank some coffee and warmed up a blueberry muffin. I often worked at home, but I also had an office downtown that I staffed with a receptionist/secretary and an administrative assistant. I drove to city center and met briefly with my AA, Stephanie, and checked in with my stockbroker. Remember, this was before the internet became integral to our lives, so all communication was in person or analog. I miss those days.

As was her habit, Alex rushed into the family dining room that night just as Margaret was laying dinner on the table. She plopped down on her seat across the table from me. There was no welcome home, missed you all day kiss. No sly look to indicate that the joy of the night before lingered between us, bound us in anything more than a landlord-tenant relationship.

She launched into a description of the work that she and the good Professor Manfred had engaged in that day. Apparently it was quite successful and satisfying. I still had no clue what she was talking about. But she carried on through entrée and dessert before excusing herself and hustling upstairs to study for an exam she faced the next day.

We reprised that scene the next night, Thursday, when I learned that the test had been all too easy and she wished the professor in that course presented as rigorous a challenge as Professor Manfred did in his. I was getting a little tired of hearing just how wonderful old Nicholas was.

After another night of lying in bed alone -- not unusual, but unwelcome since I had shared the bed with Alex -- I took the initiative Friday morning. Catching her just as she was hustling out the door, I asked if she would like to have dinner out with me that evening. She gave me a quizzical look -- why would I want to have what amounted to a date with my boarder? But then she shrugged, smiled and said, "Sure. Why not?" And was off to the greater pleasure of life on a university campus.

I am not a fan of what's called fine dining. To me, it's just food with fancy names and overpriced menus. Nor am I inclined to patronize chain restaurants that specialize in making America fat. I have a favorite establishment, locally owned, modestly priced food served in modest portions at reasonable prices.

Alex came home earlier than usual that night. She freshened up, changed into the only dress she owned and took my arm as we walked from car to restaurant door. We were seated at a small table facing each other in a quiet corner of the dining room. She usually drank water with her meals but agreed to a glass of wine to go with her fish.

I raised my glass in a toast. "To a pleasant evening." She clicked her glass with mine, smiled slyly and took a sip.

Our conversation flowed smoothly. There was no talk of chemistry or lame professors. She asked about books I was reading. I'd finished Kingsolver and moved on to Scott Turow's "Presumed Innocent." She told me that Michael Jackson was creepy but she loved his music, that she couldn't get enough of "your music," meaning, I guessed, the Beatles and the Stones, Dylan, Simon and Garfunkel, Joan Baez. I had no idea she had any interest in rock music. She said she loved movies but didn't have a lot of money to spend on them. Would I take her to see "Big" with Tom Hanks? Yes, yes I would.

She cautiously asked my politics, assuming because of my wealth that I would support patrician George Bush in that fall's presidential election.

"On the contrary," I said, "I was crushed by losses by the likes of Gene McCarthy and George McGovern. I'm not particularly excited about Dukakis, but I expect I'll vote for him, though I doubt he stands a chance of winning."

That opened up the floodgates. Alex launched a jeremiad on what is still her favorite topic: universal health care, or, as we know it today, Medicare for All. As a scientist, she said, she considered affordable, accessible health care to be a basic human right. She has been consistent throughout her life. Whenever, say, Bernis Sanders or AOC or, recently, Zohran Mamdani appear on the radio or TV, we must stop what we're doing and listen carefully. On pain of a kick in the balls.

The restaurant was on a block with art and music stores that stayed open late on Friday nights. She held my hand, whispered snide comments in my ear, her breasts pressed against my arm, as we perused the collections available for sale. I struggled not to have my growing hard-on visible to other patrons.

On the drive home, she let the hem of her dress ride up her legs and rested he hand on my thigh. Have you ever had one of those moments when you felt that everything in your life was just fucking perfect? I have. That was one of them.

We scurried directly from garage to my bedroom. She turned so I could unbutton the back of her dress. She let it fall to the floor. She had kicked off her shoes at my bedroom door and stood now dressed in only her panties. She refused to wear a bra -- "These girls need to breathe, to roam free," she explained, cupping them in her palms -- but told me later than she had one buried in a dresser drawer for safe keeping -- "C cups," she said with a smile, knowing how much I cherished, practically worshipped, her tits.

Alex helped me out of my shirt, slacks and briefs. She stooped to yank off my socks. My cock was stiff and pointed directly at her face.

"I'm sorry," she said, frowning, "but I have my period. It came on me Wednesday morning, thankfully not the day before." Sly grin, sweet memories. "So you can't fuck me tonight. You'll have to be satisfied with a blowjob."

I detected no sign of satire in her concession speech. But I had never since my earliest days as a non-virgin experienced anything resembling "just a blowjob." I let her lead her disappointed lover over to his bed and push him down on his back. She kissed and licked all around my raging boner. Pelvis, thighs, balls. My cock bobbed and weaved, trying to attract her attention.

I jerked violently when her tongue finally touched my dick. Shivered with euphoria as her lips wrapped around the tip and slowly slid down the shaft. She had given me just a preview, a teaser of her cock-sucking prowess Tuesday night. She went full Linda Lovelace on me, stroking me to the edge of the promised land, backing off, licking the tip of my dick, sucking one ball, then the other into her mouth.

She kept at it for what seemed like hours, what flew by in seconds. I didn't want her to stop. I couldn't wait to explode. My dick was harder than it had ever been, I was sure of it. My nuts shouted for relief. My body was one big, tight muscle battling to withhold, preparing to release. She bobbed up and down, faster, harder, taking the tip of my dick into her throat.

I could hold out no longer. I clutched her head in my hands. She nodded to encourage me to let go. I shot stream after stream of thick cum into her throat. She gulped down each gooey string, milking my dick with her lips and tongue, sucking and sucking until my well was dry. And then sucking some more.

I pulled her up to me. I kissed her on the mouth, tasted my spunk on her tongue. I wanted to tell her I loved her but knew that it was much too soon, our age difference much too great for such a rushed confession. But I felt it nonetheless. I was in love. And I held that love in my arms, tight to my body and soul, all through the night.

We made breakfast together in the morning. Well, she made French toast, I brewed coffee and poured juice. I dipped her finger in the maple syrup on her plate, sucked it off. She forked a piece of my toast, raised it to my lips, fed me like a baby. We showered together. I knew we'd reached a point of no return in our relationship when she brazenly sat on the john and peed while I brushed my teeth.

We played a spirited game of tennis after lunch. She chastised me for calling in one of her forehands that clearly landed out. "Don't patronize me, Bart. I'm not a woman who needs to be coddled." I fired an ace on my next serve. She screamed with delight. "That's my man," she said. If only, I agonized.

I was reminded that afternoon as we lounged by the pool why I had fallen so hard for her. The way she studied the scientific magazines she read, underlining passages, making notes in the margins. I read barely a full page Anne Tyler's "Breathing Lessons," so locked in was my gaze upon her. The way she looked in her floppy hat and a ratty old one-piece swimsuit -- I really needed to get her to a store to buy some new clothes. There was no disguising the sex appeal of that lustrous body.

I cooked cheeseburgers on the grill on the patio. She dished up some macaroni salad Margaret had left for us, brought s couple Old Styles out on a tray. We sat next to each other in chaise longues, balancing plates on our laps, holding hands between bites.

"Oh," she said, "there's something I have to tell you."

"Oh," redundantly, warily. "What's that?"

"The curse is over."

"Huh?"

She slapped at my hand as I reached for hers. "The curse, silly boy. The monthlies. Men-strew-ayshon. Gone, abolished, cast upon the waters. My pussy is clean for the taking."

I set my half-eaten burger aside. I grabbed her hand, picked her up and carried her inside. She ran her fingers through my hair, kissed me on the cheek as I hustled us through the kitchen, down the hall and into my bedroom. I set her down. She stood still as a statue as I ripped the swimsuit off her. I pushed her back onto the bed and dove between her spread thighs.

I teased her as she had teased me the night before, kissing, nibbling, licking all around her pussy as the sweet smell of her desire tickled my nose. In desperation, she grabbed my head and forced my lips to her labia. They were soft, warm, wet. I lapped at her pussy lips, spread them with my tongue, probed the entrance to her cunt, flicked her hard little clit, sending waves of pleasure through her. Giving me a huge dose of satisfaction.

I wouldn't, couldn't tell her I loved her. But I could show her.

I licked and sucked her for minutes on end as she squirmed in response. She clasped her thighs against my head. I drove my tongue as far into her as I could. I licked and sucked, licked and sucked. I breathed in her aroma, tasted her essence. She dug her fingers into my head and cried out in orgasm.

"Oh, Bart, take me please. If you don't fuck me now I'll never forgive you."

I shoved her farther on the bed, squeezed between her legs and rammed my dick into her cunt. She gripped my ass and yanked me inside to the hilt. This was what she cried out for. Fucking. We weren't having sex, we certainly weren't making love. This was pure, unadulterated lust.

I drilled her with all my might. She breathed rapidly, swung her head to and fro, caught up in the frenzy of desire. Slam, slam, slam. We were a fury of motion, a blur on the bed. We rolled over, she rode me like a cowgirl. I tossed her off onto her hands and knees, I fucked her like a dog. In intervals between positions, I dove between her legs again for another taste of her passion.

We were back in the missionary position. She was grinning up at me, her eyes wide, unblinking, not missing a second of the euphoria written on my face. She added to it.

"You gonna give it to me? You gonna give me a big load of your cum? I wanna feel your cock pulse in my pussy. Fuck me, Bart, fuck me."

I exploded inside her, practically ripped the skin off my dick. I blasted cum into her with spurt after spurt. She moaned, "That's it. Yes, that's it." It felt like I was sending a year's supply of semen into her. I was momentarily afraid I might be crushing her, but her continued murmurs of "yes, yes, yes" assured me otherwise.

We lay in a sweaty, motionless heap when I was finally done climaxing. My cheek pressed to hers, my nose buried in a pillow. Her arms and legs clasped around me. My dick still semi-hard inside her.

"Now that," she whispered, "is what makes a girl feel wanted."

The approbation stirred my cock inside her. I started languidly sliding in and out of her again. "Oh, boy, here we go again," she said, happily. That time, we made love. Slow, steady, tenderly kissing, staring longingly into each other's eyes. When I came a second time, it was with a profound joy, an acknowledgement of all that is good, a celebration of life.

We were hungry after our half-eaten meal and wholehearted exertions. We padded naked to the kitchen, found a pint of ice cream in the freezer and fed it to each other until the carton was empty.

Our lives changed dramatically after that weekend. We shared a bed -- usually mine, sometimes hers -- most nights. Two or three times per week we'd meet at a deli across the street from the campus and enjoy lunch in a nearby park. I tied her up, threw her in the trunk of my car and carried her into a hip women's clothing store. We bought items that I thought showed off how sexy she was, that she thought were loose and comfortable and that were, most important in her words, "things you can get off me in a hurry."

We alternately fucked and made love. The latter in bed, the former anywhere we happened to be -- sitting room, kitchen, library, bathhouse bar. She drew the line at poolside, concerned that some nosy neighbor with a telescope would spy on us. Let 'em, I thought. Let them be jealous of me for some reason other than my money.

"What's going on, buddy?" Nick asked when he called me at work one day. "All of a sudden Alex is showing up on campus in new, proper-fitting clothes, looking for all the world like a sexy girl with a sugar daddy on a string."

"I just helped her with a new wardrobe, that's all."

"Are you helping her take it off too? Did you buy her some sexy lingerie as well?"

"Now, Nick. That's unbecoming of you. Remember, she's one of your students. You mustn't be thinking about her that way. And remember this, too, you're the one who asked me to take her under my wing."

"Your roof, Bart. I asked you to take her under your roof."

"Roof, wing. Tow-may-toe, tow-mah-toe."

"Protégé, mistress."

I was silent for a few beats.

"You treating her well?" Nick had the temerity to ask.

"Jesus Christ, professor, just who do you think you're talking to? Have I ever not treated women -- hell, anyone, male or female -- with dignity and respect? Has she voiced any complaints to you, because she sure hasn't to me."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. It's just.. well, you know, I think she's something special."

"Well, I think she's beyond special. I think she's downright superb. And I'll do anything I can to make her happy and help her reach her greatest potential." I took a deep breath. "And that includes letting her go if that's what she wants."

Nick chuckled. "Well, I can't say I blame you for falling head or heels for her. And, yeah, I know you'll treat her right. But just be careful, pal. She's tough on the outside, tender on the inside. She might be hurt easily."

"I'll be as gentle as can be. And, hey, first sign of trouble, I'll come running to you for sage advice."

"Hah! That'll be the biggest mistake you've ever made."

"Yeah, just ask Shelly, right?"

"Yep. She'll tell you: stay away from my husband, he'll just lead you astray." He laughed again. "But speaking of her, how 'bout you and your young just-a-tenant-not-a-lover come over for dinner some night next week? I talk about Alex a lot at home. Shelly will be glad to know that someone else is banging her, not me."

"You're incorrigible."

"And I give bad advice as a bonus. Tuesday sound good?"

"We'll bring wine and whatever dessert Margaret thinks is appropriate."

We went out more and didn't hide the fact that, yes, indeed, we were lovers. Dinners, movies, concerts, plays. She dragged me to a political rally for a local progressive candidate for the state legislature. Made me write a sizeable check to demonstrate my support for the cause.

She asked me questions about money, whether I thought she should be investing the nickels and dimes she managed to save. I told her the best investment she made now was in her education but when she got her first job she should immediately open an employer-matching 401(k) account.

I didn't tell her -- it was to be a graduation surprise -- that I had already opened an account in both of our names and was depositing her weekly rent, $100, along with a matching amount from me and an opening stake of $1,000 of my own money. If it grew at just five percent per year, I figured she'd start grad school with at least $22,000. And if she was still hanging around and brightening up my life, I'd fund whatever she needed for her studies and keep the account growing.

In late August, I came home from a rough day at the office -- the Dow was down a disastrous quarter of a point at the closing bell -- to find Alex in the right sitting room with another young woman. She bounced to her feet when I walked in, gave me a big hug and sloppy kiss, took my hand and turned me toward our guest.

"Bart, this is my sister, Ashlyn. Ashlyn, this is Bart."

I was totally surprised. I didn't know Alex had a sister. I raised my hand but Ashlyn swept right past it and into my arms for another bear hug. Alex beamed her approval.

"Ash just graduated from high school in June," Alex explained. "She's been accepted at the University in the liberal arts school and starts her freshman year next month. She's going to live with us. In the Dickens rooms. He's her favorite nineteenth century author."

"'Bleak House' is my number one Dickens novel. What's yours, Bart?" Ashlyn said.

"Uh, well, I like them all, and the Jarndyce and Jarndyce lawsuit is a hoot. But I guess 'A Tale of Two Cities,' mainly for the historical aspect, I suppose."

"Sad, sad story. Poor Carton."

"Very noble Carton."

"That too."

I was confounded, conflicted. When, exactly, had I ceded control of my house to the lovely and talented Alexis Alexander? Should I put my foot down, assert my rights as a property owner? On the other hand, cuteness clearly ran in the family, and the hug Ashlyn had given me revealed breasts that were at least equal to Alex's, possibly a tad larger.

"Well, feel free to roam through the library, Ash," I said. "We're free-range chickens here. Make yourself at home."

Alex sexually assaulted me in bed that night. I had no defense against her. She grabbed my cock and stroked it feverishly. Rammed it down her throat, stuffed it in her pussy. She forced my face between her legs, ordered me to drive my tongue into her snatch, lap up her cunt juice. It was awful, just awful. To fight back, to show my resolve, I withheld the cum she wanted until she herself shook with orgasm. That showed the bitch. Then I cut her some slack and let her jerk me off until I fired jizz down her throat.

Yeah, she'd taken control of the household all right.

Ash was a delightful addition to our home. She was playful, helpful, considerate. Margaret accepted her into the kitchen when it became obvious that Ash wanted to learn the art of cooking from one of the best. She was as knowledgeable about literature as Alex was about science. Someone whose insight and opinions I could understand.

She was different from her older sister in other ways as well. First, she made no effort to hide the fact that she possessed an extremely sexy body. While Alex insisted that the new swimsuit I bought her be a modest one-piece, Ash proudly wore a string bikini -- and doffed that occasionally to avoid even the tiniest of tan lines.

Therein lay another mystery. As I have noted before, and confirmed so many times by direct observation, Alex was naturally light brown all over. Ash, though, was blond from head to toe and required solar assistance to turn darker. It led me to believe they might not share the same two parents, but I knew better than to ask. Someday, one of them would tell me on her own.

We were a happy little family as Labor Day passed and the girls' college classes began. Along with football season. I learned quickly that the sisters were avid and knowledgeable fans. I had season tickets that I used only now and then over the years, but I was told we would not miss a game that fall. No matter that the hometown heroes were woefully mediocre.

It was a Saturday night after a surprisingly narrow defeat at the hands of a nationally ranked squad that the next step in our lives occurred. I was lying on my back on my bed. Alex was sitting on my face, grinding her crotch over me as I gleefully licked her pussy. I fondled her ass with one hand and her swaying breasts with the other.

And froze when I felt an alien pair of hands close in on my cock and balls. Alex accentuated the action on my face, guiding her pussy lips along my stunned, outstretched tongue. The other hands gently stroked my stiff shaft.

"Lay back and enjoy it, Bart," Alex whispered. "The Alexander sisters have everything under control."

Alex lifted up and spun around to face my feet. Before she lowered her pussy back to my lips, I spotted Ash dipping her head to take my cock between her lips. My tongue slipped back into Alex's cunt just as my dick entered her little sister's mouth.

What to do, what to do? I loved Alex. I didn't want to do anything to harm her or damage our relationship. Such as screw other women. But she clearly had been party to this surprise, and any straight man who didn't have the hots for Ash, who didn't want her to suck his cock was stone-cold dead.

I spent a lot of time and saved a lot of energy that year by going with flow.

The girls leaned forward and kissed each other as I eagerly licked Alex's pussy and Ash sat on my dick. We enjoyed this threesome for several minutes until, like a pick and roll basketball play, the girls scurried along my sides to change places. I discovered that no matter their parentage, the sisters' pussies were equally tasty.

They swapped ends again. Ash straddled my hips, held my cock straight up and lowered her crotch until I slipped smoothly into her cunt. Alex hovered over me for a minute or so, allowing me to gaze up at her pussy or glance down to where my rod was buried in Ash's snatch.

I decided to try to give them rides to remember. I yanked Alex down to my face and thrust up into Ash. Both girls rewarded me with coos of approval. I licked and fucked them with all my energy. They bounded about on top of me, adding force to my tongue and dick.

They leaned forward again, kissed, fondled each other's tits.

We rocked, we rolled. I was in dreamland. It was a scene out of a porn video. I was the faceless owner of the cock -- though not one big enough to actually get me cast for the shoot -- they were the stars, the beauties who guys would pay real money to watch them do what they were doing with me. For free. For the fun of it all.

I felt Ash's muscles tighten on my dick. She shivered and moaned. Is there such a thing as a sympathetic orgasm? If so, Alex experienced one then. I followed seconds later, depositing a heavy load of jizz in Ash's cunt.

The sisters lay at my sides, my arms around them, their fingers lightly drawing patterns over my chest and belly, down to my pelvis, my slippery penis. No one spoke. Our breathing, our sweat, our wide smiles spoke for us.

Alex kissed me on the mouth. She rolled over onto hands and knees. "Now me, Bart. Fuck me from behind."

My cock and I quickly rose to the occasion. I knelt behind Alex's glorious ass and eased my dick into her wet slit. And watched in absolute wonder as Ash shuffled up to lean against the headboard in front of Alex. She spread her legs. Alex lowered her head and began to lick the cunt that I had just filled with jizz.

I was overpowered by sexual frenzy. What I had just experienced with these two smoking hot girls, what I was seeing, what I was feeling with them now threatened to fry my brain, to blow out my senses. All I could do was slam against Alex's ass with hurricane force. Somehow, she managed to keep her head steady between Ash's thighs as I rammed my cock into her.

My wildest dreams obviously had not been wild enough to match this new reality. I began to shed tears of joy as my balls tightened, my dick throbbed. My slapping against Alex was loud enough to alert the neighbors. I grimaced, grunted, groaned. I nearly passed out from the force of my blast of cum into Alex's cunt.

Through fuzzy eyeballs, I saw the signs of Ash's slide into that mysterious oblivion. As I continued to pump away at Alex's behind, I felt her quake with bliss. Three wasn't a crowd that night. Three was a force of nature.

Ash didn't join Alex and me in bed every night. Just once or twice a week. She was paying me the going rate of $100 per week, so I opened another account to invest that cash for her along with my $1k in seed money and weekly match. I have yet to make any other investments that brought me so much pleasure.

Ash also changed the dress code for the better. I gladly took her and Alex shopping for clothes and accessories. They, in warm weather when nobody else was around, often sashayed about the house wearing just a pair of colorful bikini panties. (Ash at one point proudly made sure I knew that the bra she seldom donned feature D cups, a size larger than her sister's.)

They both looked stunning, naked, fully clothed or anywhere in between.

If the girls fought, it was all in jest. Who got better grades in high school? Alex was class valedictorian, Ash salutatorian. Who did Mom love best? Here I gained two pieces of valuable information: (1) they apparently had the same biological mother and (2) the answer to the question about Mom's favorite child -- baby brother Aaron, king of the junior prom, point guard on the sectional champion basketball team.

I stayed out of the "better than" debate until one fateful night when they decided that I had to settle the question. "Which one of us gives better head?" Alex asked.

I had had my nose buried in John Le Carre's "The Russia House" and was loath to look up and even acknowledge the issue. What an awkward position to be in. There was no way to survive either way. The "loser" was bound to sneak up on me when I had my guard down and slit my throat or slice off my nuts. Besides, how could I be expected to distinguish between sisters who both blessed me with mind-blowing blowjobs?

I did the only thing I could think of. I burst to my feet, threw down the book and announced, "Shit, I forgot I have to make a very important business call."

"At nine-thirty at night?" Alex challenged.

"It's to Japan," I stammered. "It's tomorrow over there. Hot new stock on the Tokyo exchange. I'm considering buying some shares."

As I hustled out of the room for the safety of my home office, I heard the girls share astute observations.

"Liar."

"Coward."

Thanksgiving approached and Ash demonstrated another difference from Alex. She picked up a boyfriend on campus. He was a junior, so two years older than her. No big deal, especially given the age difference between Alex and me -- almost 20 years. The surprise was that he was the mediocre kicker on the mediocre football team. Not the mostly competent quarterback or the second team all-league inside linebacker.

The kicker, for fuck's sake. Kickers might as well be ballroom dancers, wannabe Fred Astaire's when Big Man on Campus accolades are handed out. It was like the title of Frank Deford's latest book, "The World's Tallest Midget," a description of a literate sportswriter.

Ash insisted Jay was sweet and, point of emphasis in her selection process, "awesome in bed." I didn't like the idea of having competition, even for the attention of the sister of my beloved.

But, go with the flow, Bart, go with the flow.

Ash invited Jay the Kicker to join us for Thanksgiving dinner. I prepared by checking the local newspaper's archive to find out how many PATs and field goals he had missed. Answer: Plenty.

We dined on the traditional Thanksgiving feast -- turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, dressing, cranberry sauce, rolls, pecan pie -- that Margaret had prepared for us to heat up. Being a model boss, I had given her the whole day off, with pay. (Please, please, hold your applause.)

We had reasons to be thankful. Ash was killing it in college, racking up A after A on tests and essays, mirroring the academic excellence of her older sister. The Cubs had installed lights at Wrigley Field, the last MLB stadium to host night games. Televangelist Jim Bakker was indicted. The Soviet Union began withdrawing troops from Afghanistan and Iran and Iraq agreed to a ceasefire, finally bringing lasting peace to those countries. We had read George H. W. Bush's lips and were assured we would be subject to "no new taxes."

We ate in peace. After cleaning up the kitchen, we adjourned to the family room to watch NFL games on TV. We watched several scores by both teams, and I remarked to Jay that "these professional kickers are really good. They rarely miss from any distance, and virtually never on extra points."

He nodded his agreement. Was he offended? I didn't care. If he couldn't take it, he didn't deserve Ash's time. And certainly not the enjoyment of her spectacular body. I had to look out for my girls. And put a potential rival on notice.

Alex and I lay in bed that night with her in my arms as was typical of us after a spiritual session of intense love-making. We had been gentle, tender, slow. We had kissed softly, stared lovingly into each other's eyes. When I came, it was with a sense of contentment, satisfaction, fulfillment.

And then we heard them, from way upstairs. "That's it, Jay! Right there! Yes, yes! Fuck me, Jay, fuck me, fuck me!" "You're so fucking hot, Ash. You make my dick so hard. God, I love fucking you."

Alex couldn't stifle a giggle. I soon joined her with a wild guffaw. We held each other, shaking with laughter. She grabbed my cock.

"Okay, Bart, it's time to keep up with the Joneses. Fuck me, baby, fuck me!"

There was nothing tender about our next round of sex.

The sisters and I had Friday off -- Nick had locked up his lab and forbid Alex to enter -- but Jay had practice for Saturday's annual in-state rivalry game. The fact the coaches had not had them work on the holiday was indicative of how they calculated their odds of winning.

We went to the game, of course, and it was the predictable blowout. Our heroes were shut out of the end zone in a 38-9 loss. Yep, that's right. Jay connected on all three of his field goal attempts. From 38, 41 and 34 yards, no less. Sitting between Alex and Ash as usual, I had to absorb the verbal and physical assaults on my character for judging the young man to be something of a failure.

"See, I knew he'd come through for us," Ash exclaimed after his third connection. "Another one right down the middle. Split the uprights. Just shows you what a confidence builder a good blowjob can be."

She drew stares, gasps, giggles from the loyal fans around us. She gazed longingly as Jay was carried off the field by his mates.

The loss dropped the team's record to 2-9, 0-8 in the conference. Just three victories shy of qualifying for an invitation to a bottom-tier bowl game, of which there were and still are too many. The defeat didn't darken Jay's life. He was as cheerful Saturday night as he had been when he arrived Thanksgiving morning.

He had also brought along some entertainment for the evening, after we chowed down on turkey sandwiches.

"I'm tired of football," he announced as we finished off the pecan pie. "How about we watch this instead?"

He pulled a VHS tape from the bag he had brought and passed it around the table. It was a movie called "Reamin' Reunion."

"Or this one." He produced another cassette: "The Final Taboo."

I'm no prude. I have no objection to porn. Despite their having sex drives in high gear, I wondered how Alex and Ash would react. Positively, it turns out.

Ash grabbed "Reamin' Reunion," rushed to the credenza that held my TV and inserted the cassette into the VCR. Alex grabbed my hand, led me to the couch facing the set and coaxed me down. I put my arm around her. She nuzzled up against me and pulled my hand down to her breast. Ash and Jay settled in on the love seat, she pressed play on the remote and the movie began.

We had dressed in heavy clothes for the game, but the house was warm and we had already cast off sweaters and the girls had changed from jeans into short skirts. As the action on the screen heated up, so did the temperature in the room. Within minutes, both Alex and Ash were bare-breasted and Jay and I were eagerly fondling their magnificent tits.

Alex broke my contact with her chest so she could loosen my pants and help me wriggle out of them. Needless to say, my dick was already stiff and ready for her touch. I glanced over at the love seat and smiled when I saw that Jay and Ash were way ahead of us -- they were both naked.

But then I cringed. The cock that Ash was slowly stroking was significantly bigger than mine. Now, I'm clearly among the it's-what-you-do-with-it crowd. But a long, thick dick gives a fella an unfair advantage from the get-go. I had to compensate.

I slid off the couch, knelt between Alex's legs and lifted her hips off the cushions. She shoved her panties down her thighs and bunched her skirt up around her waist. I yanked the panties the rest of the way down her legs and moved in with my tongue.

I spread her labia. She moaned. I flicked her clit. She shook, giggled. I drove my tongue into her slit. She gripped my head and sighed deeply. I ate her with gusto. She wiggled and quaked, whispered small encouragements. I glanced up at her. She had her head turned to watch her sister and Jay on the love seat. The noises I heard from that direction indicated that a blowjob was in progress.

I planted a big kiss on her labia. I rose up -- yep, I saw, Ash had that oversize dick deep in her mouth -- spun around, fell onto the couch and pulled Alex over on top of me. She grabbed my cock and guided it smoothly into her pussy. She lowered her head and kissed me. I raised my hands to her swaying tits.

Alex began to rise and fall on me, gliding my dick into and nearly out of her cunt. I reveled as usual at the sight of my shaft between her pussy lips, her tits jiggling with our rhythm. Her eyes either closed or staring fondly at me.

In my peripheral vision, I saw Ash on her hands and knees on the love seat, Jay methodically rocking back and forth behind her.

We kept it up for five minutes or so, ignoring whatever the actors were doing on screen. Two happy couples, enjoying the most enlivening connection imaginable.

And then, a major complication.

Alex stood up, smiled down at me and shuffled over to the love seat. She tapped Ash on the shoulder. Ash broke free of Jay, kissed her sister on the mouth and sauntered over to me. Ash climbed on the couch and straddled my lap just as I saw Alex go down on Jay and take his big dick into her mouth.

I was torn, confused, confounded. Conflicting emotions roiled in my core: Anxiety over seeing Alex getting it on with another man; excitement over my getting it on with her little sister.

Ash took my attention away from the other two by lowering her face to mine and kissing me passionately on the lips. I raised one hand to her large, right tit and grasped her ass with the other. She began to buck up and down on me harder and faster. Ash leaned back to take my cock all the way inside her, which gave me a view of Jay now fucking Alex doggie-style.

Ash again caught me looking. She clutched my head and turned it toward her. I smiled. Got it. Set your worries aside. Fuck the girl you're with. I gave her my full attention. I thrust up into her. She slammed down to meet me. She bounded about frantically, giving me a wild lap dance. I grinned with pleasure.

I could hear Alex and Jay huffing and puffing, the sound of him slapping against her ass as he drilled her cunt. But it made no matter at that moment. Didn't concern me. I had Ash riding my dick. And I was nearing the finish line. She tightened her muscles on my shaft. I dug my fingers into her ass. She moaned with delight. I fired streams of cum into her cunt.

At nearly the same time, I heard the unmistakable sounds of orgasm, hopefully a double one, emanating from the love seat.

Ash fell forward onto me. She pressed her breasts to me, rested her chin on my shoulder. I traced my fingers over her back, down to her ass. Her heavy breathing warmed my neck, my heart. After a few minutes, she rolled off me and slid down to the floor, leaning back against the couch.

Jay had pulled out of and away from Alex and slouched on the love seat. She still rested on hands and knees, her head on the arm of the seat. Her eyes appeared glazed. I wondered what thoughts were spinning in her head.

Alex rose with a smile on her face. She padded over to the couch, leaned over in front of me and kissed me tenderly on the lips. She dropped to her knees between my legs, held my cock in her hand, kissed my balls then wrapped her lips around my shaft. She sucked me languidly, looking up at my face, never taking her eyes off mine.

Ash motioned to Jay. He hustled over and stood in front of her, hands on hips. She sat up on her knees, cradled his nuts in her hand and took his cock into her mouth.

The girls sucked us with vigor and affection. When their lips or jaws tired, they pulled back, nibbled on and licked our shafts. Ash took Jay's left, then his right ball into her mouth. They kept at it for seven, eight minutes. I felt the pressure of impending climax gather in my loins.

Ash backed her head away from Jay. She turned her head up, gripped his cock and stroked it with increased power and enthusiasm. I foresaw a mighty explosion, a scene right out of the porn movie we were no longer watching. Jay took on the look of a man ready to burst. Ash picked up the speed of her strokes, but managed to keep his rod aimed directly at the target.

He let go with a loud cry of release. The first strand of cum laid down a line over her nose, lips and chin. The second and third spurts splashed on her left cheek, some pooling in the socket just below her eye. The fourth and fifth landed on her pursed lips. She stuck out her tongue and lapped up the jizz. Jay lost steam, and Ash took him back into her mouth to suck the last drops of his orgasm down her throat.

Seeing the facial, so up close and personal, sent me over the edge. I involuntarily raised my hips from the couch. Alex took my shaft all the way into her mouth. I fired blast after blast of spunk down her throat. She gulped it down gleefully.

Alex crawled up and straddled me on the couch. She closed to within inches of my face. I wrapped my arms around her, clutched her hips. We gazed into each other's eyes, just as we had that first time she visited my bedroom. She lowered her lips to mine. We kissed softly, as lovers do.

I pulled her tight to me, chest to chest, belly to belly, pelvis to pelvis, cheek to cheek. She shivered to my touch, our embrace. My cock twitched.

She nibbled on my ear. She whispered the words that I had longed to hear, that changed my life forever.

"I love you, Bartholomew Winchester Junior," she said. "I hope someday you'll love me too."

"Oh, that day came long ago. Possibly the day I opened the door and fist laid eyes on you."

She bolted upright. She made a fist and pounded me on the arm.

"And you're just telling me now!" she hissed. She hit me again and again. "I take it back. I hate you. I hate you."

I grinned wickedly. She hit me again. I couldn't stop grinning. She was so cute, so sexy. I loved her so much.

She could maintain the ruse of anger no longer. She fell forward onto me again.

"You'll pay for this, you know," she said.

"And do so gladly. Every day as long as I can hold you like this."

She bit my neck. Gently. A love bite I'll cherish forever.

Part II -- Alexis

By spring of my third academic year at the University, I had amassed enough credits to earn a B. S. in chemistry. I had been accepted in grad school, and Professor Manfred had included me as a co-author of a minor report on a minor chemistry matter published in a minor scientific journal.

The good professor in accordance with my now being a published scientist raised the pittance he was paying me to work in his lab by a paltry amount. And expected me to express my gratitude.

Bart celebrated my early graduation, but it raised a minor consideration for him, too. He was uncharacteristically quiet at dinner one night the week before I was to receive my diploma. My sister, Ashlyn, and I exchanged glances several times when we failed to elicit a coherent response from him to even one of our questions or comments, even our most salacious suggestions.

We were even more concerned when he asked us to join him after dinner in his home office for discussion of "an important matter."

I'll admit that I was concerned that I, having achieved the basic accomplishment of higher education, was about to be turned out of the domicile that I'd come to think of as my home. Indeed, our excellent cook, Margaret, and the maids sent to do our cleaning and laundry by the service Bart contracted with had come to depend on me for guidance and direction. Indeed, Margaret seemed to think she needed my approval to prepare a meal requested by Bart himself.

Also, Bart repeatedly and fervently had expressed his love for me as I had declared my love for him the previous Thanksgiving weekend. And both Ash and I had just as frequently and fervently shared our sexual enthusiasm with him over those winter and spring months.

So, why was I so fucking nervous? It had to be some simple thing, right? Perhaps he needed Ash and me to contribute more than $100 each per week for our room and board. We had never doubted that he was running a significant deficit in that account, especially because he also sprang for new clothes, books and other items for us. Or Margaret was quitting and we'd have to pick up the cooking. No big deal. I hoped.

Bart set a formal tone for our meeting by sitting behind his desk and positioning Ash and me in straight-back chairs facing him. The boss giving orders to staff members who may or may not be being called on the carpet for some indiscretion. We were not offered anything to drink.

"Your graduation, Alex, has thrown a plan of mine off its track." He frowned. "It's no huge problem" -- I began to breathe a little easier then -- "but you know how I can get my mind set on something and don't like to have to adjust. Especially when I have planned something special for someone I love so dearly."

Even Ash let out a big sigh of relief.

"As you obviously know," he continued, "I have collected a hundred dollars per week from each of you since you moved in here, allegedly to cover expenses for your food and lodging. But I've diverted those funds to another purpose." He paused, smiled in satisfaction with what he had done and what he was about to reveal to us.

"I've taken that money and put it in investment accounts in your names. I started the accounts with a thousand bucks in seed money and matched your hundred per week with contributions of my own." Ash and I were now gazing upon him in wide-eyed wonder.

"I intended for your accounts to grow without your knowledge until you graduated -- you, Alex, next year and you, Ash, two years later. But you had to be so god damned smart and hardworking, Alex, that you've smashed my plan to pieces."

"You know," I interrupted, "you don't have to give us anything. You've taken us in to live in this palace. You've fed and clothed us. You've loved us."

"Fucked us good and proper," Ash added, helpfully.

"No, no, no," Bart objected. "I owe you girls ..."

"Women," Ash corrected, not helpfully.

"I owe you women more than just the benefits of money I'll never miss and compound interest. I had a good life before you came to live with me. I've had a fantastic life since you came."

"Then leave the money where it is," I said. "We love living here with you. You don't need to give me one Franklin Roosevelt dime to let me know you love me and make me want to stay." I paused, cleared my throat. "Uh, you do want me to stay, don't you?"

He smiled slyly. Left me wondering just for a few seconds.

"I've never wanted anything more than to have both of you stay here. With me. For the duration."

"Then what's the fucking problem?" Ash asked, cutting to the chase.

Bart shook his head in recognition that, indeed, there really was no fucking problem.

"I just wanted your fund balance to be bigger when you graduated than it is," he said.

"So how big is it?" Ash asked, again going straight to the bottom line.

Bart pulled a sheet of paper from the top right desk drawer. "As of graduation day, I estimate it will be eleven thousand seven hundred and ten dollars and change."

"Holy shit," Ash said.

I was stunned. Speechless. I knew Bart was a generous man, but I had no idea just how generous.

"I had expected it to be almost twice that -- pushing twenty-three thousand by next spring, so I hope you won't be disappointed with this amount, Alex," he said.

I shook my head. "Again, not one thin dime. You give me happiness, comfort. You give me love."

"Orgasms," Ash added, lustfully.

Bart chuckled. The man did enjoy getting us off.

"So, okay, here's an alternative plan," he said. "We continue on as if you hadn't jumped the gun academically. We let the account grow. You continue to contribute one hundred per week so you have some skin in the game."

Ash again: "Some skin? You've got our whole fucking bodies, Mr. Don Juan. In case you forgot screwing both of us just last night."

"And we'll continue to gladly kick in our piddling share," I said, tempering my sister's truthful but not this time helpful comment.

"I was hoping you'd agree to this," Bart said. "So, in lieu of cash as a graduation gift, Alex, you'll see a brand spanking new Honda Accord in the driveway Saturday morning." He pulled a set of keys from the desk drawer and dangled them for us to see.

"And," he reached in the drawer and pulled out a second set of keys, "because my parents always gave both my brother and me presents on both of our birthdays -- to avoid jealousy -- there'll be a set of wheels for you too, Ash. Now, I know these aren't luxury rides or jazzy sports cars ... "

He never got to finish the thought. Ash was flying over his desk like a World War I soldier hurdling out of the trench and charging across no-man's land. She crashed into him, driving him back against the credenza behind him in his wheeled swivel chair. The collision knocked over photographs, a vase with flowers in it, a golf trophy (for a third-place finish in a member-guest) that he displayed more as a joke than a sign of prowess.

She straddled his lap and planted kisses all over his face. He was stunned for a few seconds, but recovered quickly, wrapped his arms around her and fondled her ass. I rose slowly from my chair, sashayed around the side of the desk and kissed both of them on the tops of their heads.

Ash and I had had a lot of practice relieving Bart of his clothes. I raised his shirt over his shoulders and head. My sister slipped off his lap to rip off his shoes and socks, loosen his pants and tug them and his briefs down his legs. His dick popped free, long and stiff, just the way we liked it.

Ash dropped to her knees between Bart's thighs. She kissed and licked the length of his shaft, nibbled his balls. She spread her lips and eased his cock slowly into her mouth.

I stepped away to quickly disrobe. Thankfully, Ash and I never wore bras or panties around the house, so I was naked in seconds. I hustled back close to Bart and lowered my tits to his face. He eagerly sucked my hard nipples. He reached out to place one hand on Ash's bobbing head and wedge fingers of his other hand between my thighs to probe my moist pussy.

The thrill of his unnecessary but certainly welcome gifts to us combined with the joy of having his lips on my nipple and his fingers in my snatch made me quiver all over. He seldom failed to make me come, but he was on track for a speed record this night.

Ash, too, was in a hurry. She leaped to her feet, lifted the simple shift she wore over nothing else over her head and tossed it aside. She mounted his lap again, clutched his cock and guided it into her cunt. I stepped back again so that my sister could lower her tits to Bart's face to have him suck her nipples as her fucked her.

I moved around behind Ash, knelt and got a close-up view of Bart's hard shaft driving up into her cooch. When she rose up to prepare to slam back down him, I grabbed his dick, pulled it out of her pussy and wrapped my lips around it.

"Thief! Thief! Help! Help! Stop that woman! The bitch stole my favorite cock," Ash cried, laughing uproariously and craning her head around to watch me suck our lover's rod. Our benefactor's dick. Our knight in shining armor's mighty sword.

By then, Ash loved Bart probably as much as I did. And he clearly was exceedingly fond of her, too. But she was not jealous of his greater love for me. And I was not put off by sharing his body with her. I loved them both that much.

Plus, watching them fuck was a huge turn-on. I popped Bart's dick out of my mouth and held it steady as Ash lowered herself onto it again.

I watched with pleasure as my sister bucked up on down on him. I relished seeing his hands glide over her back and ass as he drove his cock up into her. I reached between their legs and fondled his bouncing balls.

Ashlyn shivered in orgasm first, which I knew would make Bart's own orgasm even stronger. A successful fuck for him was not just coming inside, or, now and then, on, a woman. He needed her to be just as satisfied as he was, if not more. No wonder we cherished the son of a bitch.

He grunted loudly as he fired cum up into my sister's cunt.

When they both regained normal breathing, Ash stood and backed away. She leaned over, gave his slippery dick a goodbye kiss and hoisted herself up on the desk.

"So," she said, swinging her legs back and forth like a little kid, "what color is my new car?"

Ash and I were unaccustomed to having nice things. We had been raised by a single mother who worked two jobs -- one full-time, one part-time -- and made barely enough money to keep us clothed, fed and housed. We learned while still in elementary school how to cook and clean, how to prepare ourselves for school in the morning and fend for ourselves after school and in the evenings when Mom worked.

We began to earn money of our own very early, running errands, babysitting, mowing lawns, weeding gardens. As soon as we could, we took jobs busing tables and peeling potatoes at a local diner. We advanced to servers and took home good tips because of our looks and our ability to please.

My sister and I didn't have many dates while we were in high school. We were too busy. Mom insisted that we earn high grades, the only way, she said, that we could get scholarships and afford to attend college. We saved every dime we made. We weren't socially isolated -- I played volleyball, Ash shined as a point guard in basketball. She sang in the chorus, we were both members of the National Honor Society. I was co-editor of the yearbook.

We both discarded our virginity without complaint or regret, though neither of us felt the earth move in the process. We knew that boys craved us only for our bodies, so we hid those assets as well as we could under loose, plain, poorly mended attire. Mom warned us not to follow her example with boys or men.

She had fallen for a smooth-talking Jamaican who fled the scene the morning after she informed him that she was pregnant with me. And after one last rumble between the sheets. She tumbled again soon after I was born, this time with a Norwegian who contributed his seed to help make Ash. He declined to marry Mom, though, citing the wife and two brats he already had back in Bergen.

But then I met Bart, and my whole attitude toward men -- well, one man, anyway -- changed. When I brought Ash along to live with us almost three months later, she too discovered that having men in our lives was not a losing proposition so long as we chose wisely.

In that regard, my sister and I had another project that spring to capitalize on Bart's generosity. Her boyfriend, Jay, had been the lowly football team's woeful place kicker for his first three years in college. He had enjoyed something of breakout game in the final, rivalry match to end the previous season, making three field goals in three attempts for all of the home squad's points. Ash had credited his sudden success to the blowjob she had given him the night before.

The coaching staff, though, was not terribly impressed with his overall performance. So Jay was forced into a kicking competition during spring training with a refugee from the underfunded soccer team. They each were required to try ten kicks from different parts of the field, left hash to right hash, fifteen-yard line to forty-yard line.

The soccer dude drove nine of his kicks right down the middle and curved the final one -- a fifty-yarder from the left hash -- around the left upright. Ten for ten. Jay converted on half as many, including one wounded duck that barely cleared the crossbar from twenty-seven yards out.

Our boy was deprived of an athletic scholarship and accommodations in the jocks' dorm -- which, of course, he seldom used when Ash's bed was available to him at all times -- for his senior year.

I slept most nights with Bart in the downstair master bedroom suite, using my upstairs rooms mainly for storage of clothes and personal items and a quiet place to study. So Ash was the only full-time occupant of the six second-floor bedrooms. And then only when she didn't join us in Bart's king-size bed, where she was always welcome.

There was plenty of room for Jay to join us permanently as well. We figured Bart would be an easy sell, but we wanted to make it also easy for him to put up a fuss of sorts and fun for all of us at the same time. So Ash did join us in the master bedroom the night after the night of my graduation. While Jay waited anxiously upstairs.

Bart had bought us stylish but modest clothes at a boutique women's store downtown for us to wear on campus and out on the town. But he also purchased sexy nightgowns, tiny bikinis and other skimpy attire to wear around the house. He particularly enjoyed those days when Ash and I donned one sleeveless T-shirt and one pair of panties -- between us.

Our landlord usually slept naked. He saw us approaching opposite sides of the bed in short, transparent nighties without bras or panties underneath and had a substantial hard-on when we mounted the mattress beside him. We kissed his cheeks. I wrapped my fingers around his cock. Ash cradled his balls.

Ash and I had developed a routine for our threesomes. It was not mechanical, robotic, not programmed in any way. We simply understood each other's needs and desires. And Bart's (or Jay's), of course. We twirled around our man in perfect harmony, sitting on his face, fondling and sucking his dick, lowering our nipples to his lips, riding his cock like equestrians on an afternoon trek through meadows and woods.

One of the ways Bart differed from the few boys we'd experimented with in our recent youth was that he never pawed us, never groped our tits or asses. He caressed, he fondled, he teased. He sent shivers down our spines when he grazed his fingers over hard nipples or sensitive clits.

And, oh, boy, could he lick pussy. The first time he went down on me I thought I'd pass out from the euphoria that made my body sizzle. That was the night I swallowed cum for the first time, locked in a sixty-nine that I refused to release until we both had achieved new heights in carnal delight.

I've gulped down buckets of jizz from our men since then and loved every drop of it.

I guided Bart's hard cock into my wet cunt while Ash ground her pussy over his face. We leaned in and kissed each other in sisterly solidarity. We knew this was one of the things he loved best -- his cock in one sister's snatch, his tongue in the other sister's cunt.

We started slow, gazing fondly into each other's eyes while giving Bart's cock and tongue a preview of coming attractions. Then we picked up the pace, gradually transforming that jaunt through the countryside into a gallop toward the finish line at the Kentucky Derby. Bart's cries of delight were muffled by Ash's crotch, but we girls squealed with joy -- Jay later commented on the ruckus we made -- as the three of us took the checkered flag and were delirious with the thrill of victory.

Ash and I lay at Bart's sides, his arms around us, our heads resting on his shoulders. We each draped a leg over his thighs. We traced fingers over his well-lubricated dick.

"Bart, honey," I whispered, "we have a favor to ask."

He sighed. "I hope it has something to do with fucking two hot, sexy sisters."

"Of course it does," Ash responded, gently squeezing his cock. "It always does."

"But this particular favor also involves Jay," I said.

"Oh, a foursome? You know I'm always game for that," Bart said. He raised his head off the pillow. "Which begs the question: where the fuck is Jay right now?"

Ash answered. "He's upstairs, anxiously awaiting your response to the request we have."

"Which is?"

"We want Jay to come live with us. Full-time," I said.

"He needs us, Bart, and he's been a good friend. Not to mention a good lover. You like having him around don't you?" Ash said.

Bart sighed deeply, theatrically, and closed his eyes. "Of course, I should have anticipated this. The world's worst place kicker lost his scholarship ..."

"Hey, that's not fair," Ash protested. "Remember, he made those three kicks in the biggest game of the season."

"Inspired by your expert fellatio on his too-big-to-fail cock," I reminded her.

"Well, sure. But still."

"Okay, maybe not the world's worst kicker," Bart conceded. "Just the worst in the conference." Ash slid her hand down and tightened her grip on his balls, threatening to do significant harm without a retraction. "Or maybe just one bad day in spring training. I mean, those fucking coaches should have given him a second chance to keep his job."

Ash relaxed her grip.

I pressed the issue. "Will you think about it?"

"No." I saw Ash grimace, her arm tightened as she once again held Bart's nuts hostage. "Because," breaking into a broad grin, "I've already accepted that he'd be a regular nuisance around here anyway. I mean, what the fuck, he already sleeps here most nights, eats my food, fucks my favorite babes. He might as well unload all the shit I saw in his car when he arrived this afternoon and make himself at home."

I rolled over and planted huge kisses on Bart's lips. He tasted like Ash's pussy. My sister went a big step further. She swiveled around, lowered her face to his crotch and deftly sucked his dick until he blasted a load of cum down her throat.

Summer was downright idyllic. I worked in Professor Manfred's lab, but it was the first summer since I arrived on campus that I didn't also load up on courses. Ash parlayed her waitressing skills into a few extremely lucrative months. Jay drove a beer delivery truck around a half dozen counties. Bart counted his money.

We lounged by the pool, which I was finally convinced was shielded enough from prying eyes that we fucked there too. We went to movies, concerts, plays. We toured a renaissance faire, where Bart and Jay participated in a jousting competition, impaling each other with foam-rubber spears, falling off mechanical steeds in fits of uncontrollable laughter. They did a better job of it that night with hard shafts in tight pussies as we romped like wicked knights and ladies in the master bed.

The smell of sex never really left the house.

I had never been so happy. Ash was too: "I feel dizzy all the time, Alex. I just can't believe this is happening to us. It's all so fucking wonderful."

And yet, I had a thought that might make it even better. While I had graduated, I still was just going to enter my fourth academic year at the University that fall. Ash would embark on her second. What if, I thought, we could further populate the house with women who would be in their third and first years as well? And we could keep that rotation going for years to come? Surely Bart -- and most definitely Jay -- could have no objection to a couple more willing pussies in the house.

The freshman choice would have to wait until the new girls arrived on campus. But I had a candidate for the third-year resident. I worried, though, about Kendra's tits: They might be too big. Bart preferred women whose boobs were in the B- and C-cup range. Ash wore a D-cup when required, but only because my C-cups were a bit snug on her. Kendra, though, sported an impressive rack of double D's. Would Bart be repulsed by these massive mounds?

And then there was the issue of her face: She was downright beautiful. Ash and I generally were described as cute, pixie-ish, playful. (An elderly neighbor woman had once referred to my visage as "sparkling," which I will never forget.) Kendra's hair was black, mine chestnut and Ash's blondish. So, were we Bart's "type" and he wouldn't be attracted to classic beauty?

One mitigating factor: Like us, Kendra was all natural -- no implants, no injections, no piercings (not even ears), no ink. Would her smooth, untouched skin counteract those possible detriments?

There was only one way to tell. I invited Kendra to join us poolside and stay for dinner one night when we all were to be at home. She, too, was working in town that summer. She was a sociology major in anticipation of attending law school after obtaining her undergraduate degree.

Outside of her gorgeous face and stunning chest, she fit what might be considered the mold for our household. She was five feet, seven inches tall, as bit larger than me. She had narrow waist and tight firm hips; she was no Amazon. Also like me, she had brown skin, a couple shades darker than mine but well within the range that seemed to catch Bart's eye.

In retrospect, of course, my concerns were pretty damn silly. It's just that I cared so much for Bart and wanted to please him. And also, I really wanted Kendra to join us.

We had met when we both took a break from our chosen fields and gave our brains some R&R by joining a campus book club. (It would help me keep up with Bart and Ash in dinner conversations.) Kendra lost herself in spy novels, I escaped in murder mysteries. We both enjoyed political satire; after all, what politician doesn't deserve mockery? We went out for drinks after club meetings. She loved to laugh and tell a dirty joke. She had confided to me that she wouldn't have a steady beau because, she said with startling frankness, "I like fucking different guys too much."

I told her I had a steady beau but also liked screwing another guy as well. And that my steady guy also regularly nailed my younger sister. She seemed intrigued by our living arrangement. I decided to introduce her to our gang.

Kendra appeared, wide-eyed as she gauged the massive size of the house, at the front door promptly at three o'clock. After I led her on a tour of the house and grounds -- she was awed by the huge bedroom, dressing room and private bath she'd have as her own if she moved in -- we adjourned to the pool. I introduced her to Ash, Jay and Bart. She fondly held hands with each of them and gave them tender pecks on the cheek.

Ash gave me a nod of approval.

Kendra had worn a string bikini under her blouse and shorts. As she removed her outer clothing, I saw Ash's jaw drop and Jay's eyes bulge. It was the tiniest swimsuit I'd ever seen. It was held in place by straps no bigger than shoelaces. Her nipples were covered by patches of fabric slightly larger than Band-Aids. Her crotch by a matching piece of cloth similar in size to a gauze pad.

I hesitated to ask her how much it cost. I knew the price per yard of fabric would have been phenomenal.

Kendra appeared nonchalant, unselfconscious as she draped her blouse and shorts over the back of chaise longue and stretched out under the brilliant August sun. I quickly glanced at Bart to gauge his reaction. He seemed unimpressed.

We sat in an arc around one corner of the pool. Munched on crackers and cheese and sipped lemonade. I struggled, not always successfully, to suppress a smile as I saw Jay's eyes focused exclusively on Kendra's body.

After a half hour or so of idle chatter, our guest rose, announced that she needed to cool off and sauntered over to the deep end of the pool, her bare ass swaying alluringly as she walked. She dove gracefully into the water and just as smoothly swam several laps. When she rose out of the water in front of us, I was struck by the similarity to Ursula Andress rising from the ocean as Honey Rider in "Dr. No."

Except that Ursula was more modestly attired.

Watching Kendra dry off with a towel, from her glimmering hair to the soles of her feet, was an erotic experience. It apparently got to Ash as well. My sister leaped up, announced that she too was hot and needed to cool off in the pool. Before diving in, though, she went one step further and removed her bikini top and panties.

As Ash gleefully splashed water at us from the pool, Kendra said, "What a wonderful idea." She quickly unlaced what there was of her suit and let it fall to the pool deck. Released from bondage, her breasts were even more monumental than I had imagined. High, round, firm. Rising prominently from her otherwise slim torso. Very Barbie-like.

I grinned at the noticeable bulge in Jay's trunks. I had not worn a swimsuit, but my sister's antics soaked the T-shirt and shorts that I had on, so I joined the sisterhood and freed myself from them.

The men, though, kept their suits on. Bart because he was being maddeningly inscrutable, Jay in a futile attempt to conceal his raging boner.

We enjoyed gin and tonics on the patio before dinner. We all had covered up again because Margaret was cooking and one of the maids was helping her serve. Bart insisted on a certain amount of casual decorum around the hired help.

Dinner was an unqualified success. Kendra was a hit. She was a great conversationalist, knowledgeable on a wide array of topics -- movies, books, music, politics, campus gossip. And she got us all laughing:

"A husband said to his wife, 'I was talking to the mailman and he said he's screwed every woman on this block except for one.' The wife thought for a moment and responded, 'I'll bet it's Joanne.'"

While we were all chuckling over that, she turned to Jay, who was sitting beside her, a puppy dog by his mistress. "Do you know why women give better weather reports on TV than men do?"

"No," Jay said, momentarily lifting his gaze from her chest to her eyes.

"Because," Kendra said, glancing down at his crotch, "they are more accurate when reporting inches."

"Whoa," Ash laughed. "What's the difference between Jay's penis and a baby carrot?"

"Nothing," my sister and I announced in unison.

"Oh, fuck you two," he said.

"Promises, promises," Ash grinned.

Kendra tempered the tease by patting Jay's thigh.

The evening had turned unseasonably cool, so we sipped after-dinner coffee in the family room overlooking the patio, pool and expansive lawn. Conversation drifted from subject to subject until Ash, always pressing the bottom line, asked Kendra, "So, what do you think about our little hovel here? Interested in joining us?"

Kendra smiled at the question for which there was just one obvious answer.

"Well, I'm a bit curious. Are all the bedrooms the same as the one Alexis showed me?" she asked. "I imagine the master bedroom is a tad fancier."

"There is no 'master bedroom,'" Ash said, using air quotes. "There's a fucking master suite."

"Ah, the best kind," Kendra said.

Ash stood up and grabbed Kendra's hand. "C'mon, we'll show you."

She led Kendra, with the other three of us trailing behind, into Bart's domain. First through the sitting room larger than the living room of a suburban ranch; into a dressing room with more than three dozen feet of closet space; passed a bathroom with a large spa tub, roomy shower stall, two linen closets, a huge medicine cabinet behind a vanity mirror over a long counter with two sinks, an enclosed toilet stall, and finally into a spacious bedroom centered by the king-size mattress.

Kendra lowered her hand to the mattress, testing it for firmness.

"So, if I were invited to live here, this is where I'd go to show my gratitude?"

Ash put a hand on her shoulder. "It's where we all go to share the exhilaration of living together."

"Hmm," Kendra said. "What's the difference between Monopoly and group sex?"

We shook our heads, grinning in anticipation of the answer.

"One's a fun family activity and the other one's a board game."

She turned to Bart. She took hold of his hand, lifted it to her breast. "Wanna take a ride on my railroad? Spend a night in my hotel on Pussy Place?"

Bart destroyed her blouse, buttons flying everywhere as he ripped it off her. He tossed her down on the bed, lifted her legs and wrestled her shorts off her ass and down her legs. She laughed with joy, lying on her back, her legs splayed, inviting us to ravish every luscious inch of her.

As experienced strippers, we four were quickly naked and diving onto the bed with her.

Ash and I let the men take the lead. Bart dove between Kendra's legs and almost immediately began lapping at her pussy. Jay lowered his lips to her chest and hungrily licked and sucked her hard nipples. I caught her eye; she smiled broadly at me and mouthed, "Thank you."

Our men devoured my friend. Their hands, lips and tongues explored every pore of her body. They dipped their dicks into her cunt, her mouth. Squeezed their rods between her bountiful breasts. Ash and I were lucky to be granted a touch here, a feel there.

Kendra rolled over onto her hands and knees, waved her ass in invitation. Bart responded by easing his cock between her pussy lips. I watched his rod slide all the way into her, his balls dangling jubilantly below.

To my surprise and delight, Kendra motioned for me to lean back against the headboard and spread my legs. She lowered her head and wedged her tongue between my wet labia. I gazed in wonder as she greedily licked my snatch, deftly flipping her tongue over my stiff clit, then driving it deep into my cunt. I glanced up and smiled and grinned at Bart as he filled Kendra's pussy with his dick and watched her head bob between my thighs.

Ash was on her back next to us. Jay braced himself on his hands at her sides as he drove his cock hard into her cunt. She tossed her head back and forth, pausing now and then to gaze beneath Kendra's swaying body to see Bart's shaft slide in and out of her pussy.

We five were a maelstrom of desire, a cyclone of lust. I came with a mighty squeal of joy. Ash guffawed, then grimaced and let loose her own cry of delight. I felt Kendra quake between my thighs, her lips clamp down on my labia. Bart and Jay moaned and groaned and released loud bursts of air as they fired jizz into Kendra's and Ash's cunts.

I was still breathing hard when Kendra somehow found enough space between Ash and me to roll over onto her back. She purred, "Now you fuck me, Jay."

If Jay had ever turned down such an invitation, it wasn't in my presence. He abandoned Ash and crawled between Kendra's legs. She lifted her legs up and wrapped them around his body as he nudged his still-hard cock into her dripping snatch. She breathed deeply as she experienced his large cock in her twat for the first time,

Bart looked at me, grinned broadly and shuffled on his knees up to my spread thighs. He jammed his dick into my slit in one fluid motion.

Jay and Bart pounded Kendra and me with vigor. Ash stationed herself behind the men, tickled their asses, fondled their bounding balls. She urged the men on: "Fuck 'em good and hard, guys. Nail those bitches." As if our boys needed the encouragement.

I was flying high, powered by the joy of Bart's energetic fucking and the sense that Kendra would soon be welcomed into our household. I had come once with my friend's tongue in my cunt and quaked a second time as Bart let loose a fire hose of cum into my pussy.

Kendra and Jay soon joined us with bursts of joy as they shook with orgasms.

We lay in a sweaty heap on the master bed. Kendra was nestled between Bart and Jay, Ash and I at their sides.

"So," Kendra broke the silence, "when can I move in?"

Bart laughed. "You just did, babe. You just did."

Having successfully recruited a third-year woman to our group, I turned my attention to planning a fortieth birthday bash for Bart. I wanted a fancy lawn party, and I set about enlisting companies and groups to make the dream come true.

Bart's generosity extended far beyond those of us he housed and fed. He was a major supporter of the local arts community, majority owner of a small performing arts center that featured performances by amateur and professional groups and touring bands. He raised money for the library and hospital, backed youth sports leagues. He purchased instruments for the school district's bands.

So I was able to get a catering company he had long employed to donate staff, equipment, food and booze. A string quartet to supply music during cocktails and dinner and a classic rock band to take Bart back to the music he was weaned on in the sixties and seventies. We girls took Bart's credit card to the local boutique and bought fancy dresses to wear for the gala.

We were favored with fair weather the day of the event -- temperatures hovering around eighty, low humidity, a light breeze out of the southwest. A few puffy clouds to decorate the cerulean sky. The guests were festive, Bart beamed with pleasure. I tried not to be jealous of all the attention Kendra got with her big tits attempting to burst free of her low-cut dress.

We gorged ourselves on fantastic food, feasted on cake and ice cream. Drank champagne toast after champagne toast to the man of the hour. We kicked off our shoes and danced into the wee hours.

Bart took me and only me to bed that night and showed his appreciation in ways I will never, ever forget.

And all the while my lovely and talented sister bitched and moaned about just one thing.

"You've thrown off the balance of nature," she whined, by adding a third woman to our household that included just two men. "We have to get ourselves at least one more swinging dick."

I had spent two years on campus avoiding men and the last year cherishing my relationship with Bart. I had no candidates in mind, so I asked Jay if had any ideas. He smiled slyly.

"Well, yeah, one," he said.

And then actually made my jaw drop. He recommended that we meet Raul, the very man whose kicking prowess had gotten Jay booted from the football team.

Raul had felt bad about Jay's losing his position, his scholarship and his housing. Jay, though, was realistic about the situation: Raul was a much better kicker; the coaches had had no choice to select him over Jay. They met over coffee at the campus sweet shop and drinks after classes at a local dive. They became friends.

Jay invited Raul to join us for dinner and the evening on a Friday night in August. When he arrived, I was surprised by his stature -- he was short, not quite measuring five feet, nine inches high. I wondered how he could see over huge linemen to zero in on the distant goal posts. He also was slight, though everything about him screamed muscle and sinew. Still, again, I pondered how well he could withstand hits from those monstrous defenders rushing in to block his kicks.

He and Jay laughingly answered the latter question over drinks before dinner.

"If any one of those behemoths gets within five yards of me with a head of steam, I plan to take off in the opposite direction," Raul said. "You can call me chicken, but you'll have to also call me smart."

What he and Jay referred to as his "savvy cowardice" helped forge their friendship.

Raul was a delight. Despite his size, he was remarkably good looking, and he was nothing like a dumb jock. He was well read, cultured. He had been raised on Midwest values of faith and congeniality, but had abandoned the former in search of evidence rather than blind trust.

The latter, though, he retained in abundance. He was unfailingly polite. Though a political and social liberal, he insisted on referring to the president and his predecessor as Mr. Bush and Mr. Reagan. To this day, especially in a formal setting, he'll rise whenever a woman enters or leaves a room.

Ash and I were sold almost instantly. And couldn't wait to see how well the diminutive prospect could perform in our beds. We found out that night.

Bart, Jay and Kendra adjourned to the master bedroom while my sister and I escorted Raul upstairs to show him the spacious quarters he might occupy. He was dutifully impressed with the size and comforts of the accommodations, but slyly asked, "And would I be expected to enjoy all of this by my lonesome self?"

Our lips to his cheeks, our breasts pressed to his sides, our hands to his ass and crotch more than satisfied his curiosity. He smiled broadly as Ash and I slipped his shirt, slacks, briefs, socks and shoes off him. When we had him naked, I reach down and wrapped my fingers around ... one of the longest, thickest cocks I've ever feasted my eyes and hands on.

I gasped with surprise. For a few hilarious (in retrospect) seconds, I thought I'd latched onto his leg instead of his dick. I glanced at Ash, whose eyes were riveted on the massive member in my palm. Raul laughed, my sister and I giggled.

"Now that you have a sense of what I bring to the party," he said, "let me gaze upon these fine tits and fabulous asses I've been fantasizing about for the last couple of hours."

Ash and I hastily stripped out of our clothes and pranced proudly around before him, jiggling those tits, those asses for his voyeuristic delight.

"Holy fuck," Raul murmured. "I most definitely have died and gone to heaven I didn't believe existed until now."

Ash reached to grab his big, stiff dick and tug him toward the bed. "You'll soon realized that we ain't no angels, though," she promised. I gently nudged Raul until he collapsed on his back onto the bed.

I exercised seniority rights and regained control of his cock. Ash lowered her tits to his face and jiggled them over his lips, pausing now and then to let him suck her nipples. I held the base of his dick firmly in one hand, traced the fingers of the other up and down, over and around his shaft. I dipped my head, licked and nibbled and kissed his rod, spread my lips wide and took the thick head into my mouth.

I've never been one to believe that bigger is automatically better. Bart, for instance, has a pretty normal size dick, and no man has ever loved me better than he has. Not even Jay, whose cock is decidedly above average. But seeing how much of Raul's stiff cock I could get in my mouth was a real hoot. And I was anxious to discover how it would feel in my cunt.

The answer to the former question was: Not a lot, proportionally, but quite a bit compared with other dicks I had sucked. I beckoned Ash to give it a try. She might have edged a small fraction of an inch more of cock between her lips than I had, but I called it a draw just the same.

I motioned her back toward Raul's head. I straddled his hips, held his shaft firmly in my hand, smiled down at him and slowly lowered my pussy over it. Holy fuck. Did that guy fill my snatch or what? Indeed, I couldn't get the whole blessed member inside me. Ash even leaned over and tickled the section at the base of his dick that wouldn't fit. Then she adopted our favorite position: she sat on his face as I rode his cock.

Only a few minutes in, Ash nodded her head, confirmation that Raul loved licking pussy just as much and was just as adept as Bart and Jay. I nodded back, a signal that you won't believe the sensations of having so much cock inside you. We bounded about on top of Raul in pure bliss.

We moved about as usual, a lazy Susan swiveling us from face to pelvis, pelvis to face. We glorified in the feel of his tongue and dick in our cunts, his hands deftly reaching out to caress our tits and asses as he fucked and sucked us.

When he began to tense up and vibrate my pussy lips with moans, I yanked Ash off his dick and swung around on top of him. I was determined to the first of us to feel his cock throb with orgasm inside my twat. He thrust up, I pressed down. Ash ground her pussy over his eager lips and tongue. I shivered with delight.

The load of cum he fired up into me was proportionate to the size of his cock. He came and came and came. I laughed with utter delight as I felt the pulse of his euphoria. Ash shook as he held her tight to his face while filling my pussy with jizz.

We couldn't wear him out that night. He came three, four times for us, that big dick never losing its strength, his balls producing gallons of cum. We slept entangled in a sweaty heap. He moved in permanently the next day.

Part III -- Batholomew

Once Alexis gets her mind set on something, I have learned, there is no standing in her way. It's one of the many things I love about her -- her determination, dedication, her drive to set goals and meet -- or, ideally, exceed -- them.

So when she insisted that we needed a freshman girl to complete our household, I merely nodded and went about my daily routine while she set the search in motion.

She decided that she was too busy with increased responsibilities at Professor Manfred's lab to adequately undertake the task herself. She assigned the duty to her sister, Ashlyn. Ash initially expressed reluctance to do the job, citing her success in bringing Jay into the clan and his subsequent recommendation that we add Raul. But she quickly came around. She took a leave from her waitressing job to become a "counselor" during freshman orientation week.

Ash was starting to lose heart late that week. The new girls on campus, she said, were too vain, too preppy, "too retarded" (her words) to join our group. She enlisted Jay to help her survey the crowd that Friday night at a street dance outside the freshman girls dorm.

She had almost resigned herself to a night of failure when she spotted a girl a couple of rows deep in the crowd. The prospect was dressed the way Alex had during her first two years on campus, looking as frumpy as possible so as to fend off the guys whose sole purpose in approaching a girl was to fuck her and leave her. And brag about it to their idiot pals.

Ash sidled up beside her. "Hi, my name's Ash, short for Ashlyn. I'm one of the counselors. I noticed you aren't dancing. Don't you like to dance?"

"It's okay," the girl said. "Dancing, that is. But I came here to study, not to party. I'm just out here tonight because the other girls in the dorm dragged me out of my room."

"What's your name? What are you planning to study?"

"Oh, yes, of course. I'm Destiny." She chuckled. "Not really your fate, of course, that's just my name. My mom liked the sound of it. She said it would be unlikely there'd be another Destiny in any of my classes. She was right, of course."

"Nice to meet you, Destiny." Ash offered her hand to shake. Destiny had a firm grip. "And what are you studying?"

"Oh, sorry. Early child education. I want to set up a much-needed day care slash pre-school outfit in my hometown. We're a poor community. The kids need all the help they can get."

Ash liked what she heard and saw. Destiny was a slightly smaller version of Ash and Alex, a nice counterpoint to the taller, buxom Kendra. She had natural blond hair and bright blue eyes that lit up her delightful face. Ash made eye contact with Jay across the open dance area. She nodded and pointed at Destiny. Jay took a look, nodded his approval.

"C'mon," Ash sad, grabbing Destiny's hand. "There's a nice little diner a couple of blocks away. I want you to meet a good friend of mine."

Jay fell into step with them as they moved away from the dance and walked briskly toward the diner. Ash introduced them and assured Destiny that she wasn't trying to hook them up. At least not that very moment.

` They settled into a booth near the rear of the diner where they'd have some privacy. Ash made sure she sat on one side with Destiny, Jay opposite them. She told me the following morning how Destiny's eyes shined even brighter as Ash laid out the benefits of moving in with us.

I had fallen in love not just with Alex but also with having so many young people around. So I had drastically altered the terms of our agreements.

They would no longer pay anything toward room and board, but I would still establish the investment accounts for each of them and add $200 per week to the principle. In addition, I gave each of them a $1,000 clothing allowance, a $500 book allowance and $100 per week in spending money. Plus I bought a couple more sedans for the transportation fleet. And I promised to cover any shortfall they suffered in making tuition payments after the financial aid they received from the school.

I had conditions. They had to maintain at least a 3.0 GPA (which was no problem for any of them) and they had to either do work related to their major (such as Alex in the lab) or volunteer for a student organization.

While we engaged in freewheeling sex as a group, I had never presented the romps as a condition of their continued residence. It was merely a perk gleefully enjoyed by all.

When Ash stressed that point, Destiny seemed to relax a bit.

"So, I'd get all these benefits -- the money, the clothes and books, the private room with my own bathroom, help paying tuition -- and I wouldn't have to screw anybody?"

"Correct," Ash said. "But just think, Des, about living with this handsome guy here (pointing at Jay) and two other studs and not wanting to fuck them. I can testify from experience that getting it on with our three guys is an experience you will not want to miss."

Destiny sat silent for a few moments. "Well, I told you I came to school to study, to learn, not to party. But that doesn't mean I'm averse to partying some of the time." She paused again. "But what if -- just hypothetically speaking -- what if I were to want some, uh, loving of the, shall we say, same-sex variety as well? Would I be welcome in your bed as well as Jay's?"

Ash cleared her throat, grimaced, scratched her head. "Well, I guess that would depend on whether my sister Alex had you pinned down with her head between your legs at the time."

Destiny agreed to join us for dinner that Saturday night.

I sensed from the moment I met her that we'd happily invite her to join our house. She had discarded the wardrobe that Ash described as "early Alex" in favor of a simple white blouse through which dark nipples could be discerned and a short skirt that displayed her enticing legs.

Over drinks and dinner, she was as delightful as Ash had predicted. Bright, funny, worldly. Progressive in politics, social and fiscal issues without being radical, perfect for the philosophy that the rest of us shared.

After dessert and coffee, Alex took charge by suggesting that Jay and I -- Raul was out of town for the football team's first trouncing of the season -- show Des the rooms we had to offer while she, Ash and Kendra "tidy up the kitchen."

Des gasped when we ushered her into the suite she soon would call her own.

"Holy fuck," she muttered.

She immediately checked herself. Conversation so far had been tame, with only a few hells and damns uttered.

"That's actually Latin for awe and admiration," she said.

"Oh, really?" Jay chuckled.

"Yes, really," she insisted. "Why, when Julius Caeser saw the brilliantly designed knife that Brutus wielded, he exclaimed, 'Oh, fuck.' See -- awe and admiration."

"Ah. Yes. Of course," Jay conceded.

Des moved about the room, running her fingers over the furniture, gazing longingly at the expansive closet and peeking into the large ensuite bath. She approached the bed, reached down to gauge its firmness, then turned and sat on the edge.

"And there's no quid pro quo? No hanky-panky required?"

"Nope," Jay assured her.

She scrunched up her face, nodded her head. She leaned back, bracing herself on her elbows, allowing her skirt to ride up so that we saw she had not bothered donning panties.

"Too bad," she said, "because this bed clearly is plenty big for the three of us."

It certainly was. Jay and I had her, and us, naked in seconds. While Kendra was larger all over than Alex and Ash, Des truly was a slightly smaller version of the sisters. Her breasts were delightful handfuls, her waist tiny, her hips narrow but firm, rounded, her legs slender.

Our dicks were hard. She clutched one in each hand.

"I'm a little nervous," she said. "I've never done this before."

"Oh, sorry. We didn't know you were still a ..." Jay mumbled.

"Virgin? Fuck no," she said, giggling and squeezing our cocks, spitting out the word as if it were a piece of rotten meat. "I've just never had the pleasure of two handsome men at the same time."

"Get used to it, Des," I said. "We're not likely to let you sleep alone very often."

"Just don't go to sleep on me too soon," she said.

Des lay on her back. Jay licked and nibbled her nipples while I nestled between her legs and kissed and licked her thighs, up to her glistening pussy. She raised her hips an inch off the mattress to urge me to wedge my tongue into her snatch. She tasted heavenly.

She clutched Jay's sides and tugged him up over her so that his hard cock rested on her face. He raised up to drop his rod to her lips. She opened her mouth and took him deep into her throat. She sucked him with gusto. I drove my tongue into her cunt, up over her hard clit. She shook with pleasure.

"Switch places, guys," she said. "I wanna suck your cock, Bart, while you, Jay, fuck me from behind."

We scrambled around to gleefully accommodate her request. She wrapped her lips lightly around the tip of my dick. Jay teased her pussy with the tip of his rod before easing it inside her. She lowered her head and took more and more of my shaft into her mouth.

For a novice at double penetration, she was remarkably adept at pushing back against Jay while bobbing up and down on me. I looked up at Jay. He nodded enthusiastically. Destiny was fated to grace our household with her presence.

We rose and fell, up and down, back and forth. Jay and I swapped places several times, always wanting more -- more fucking, more sucking. And Des was just as eager as we were to have our dicks in her mouth and pussy.

I was slamming hard against her ass, driving my cock as deep into her cunt as I could when the dam in my loins broke and I unleashed furious streams of cum into her pussy. She pistoned her head more frantically over Jay's dick as she felt the explosion in her snatch. Jay strained to hold back and then sighed deeply as he fired jism into her mouth and down her throat. She swallowed it with aplomb.

We lay in sweet exhaustion for several minutes, Des lying between us, Jay and I on our sides, one leg draped over hers, our slick, semi-hard cocks pressed against her. She turned and kissed me, then Jay on the lips.

"You know what my favorite post-coital activity is?" she asked.

We didn't.

"It's sucking the cum and cunt juice off the cock of the guy who just fucked me."

She rose up, swiveled around and lowered her head to my crotch. My hardening dick twitched as she traced her tongue along the shaft and then once more wrapped her lips around it.

She was on her hands and knees, leaning over me at an angle, waving her ass in the air. Jay needed no more hint than that. He climbed up on knees behind her and rammed his cock into her cunt for the utter joy of sloppy seconds with a girl who was eager to run up the score.

We helped Des move her clothes and few belongings from the freshman dorm to her new quarters the next day. Raul, back from the road trip, spent that Sunday night in bed with her.

She fit right in around the breakfast table Monday morning. She pitched in to help prepare scrambled eggs, toast, coffee, juice, fruit and yogurt. All of them had classes to attend. Raul had to sit through film of Saturday's grid iron debacle -- the highlights being his two made field goals.

Ashlyn looked around the table as the seven of us snarfed down breakfast.

"You know what we need?" she asked. We looked at her expectantly, at least half knowing what she was about to suggest. She grinned wickedly. "We really could do with one more stiff dick."