"Gang bang sisters" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mason Calvin)

CHAPTER TWO

Upon inspection of the store the following morning Thomas I. Dunn, for the first time his friends could remember, expressed delight. Not even the bare walls, desperately in need of new paint, drew any criticism from his sharp tongue. Instead, Tom walked briskly from the front door through the store, into the next room, with his eyes peering over his glasses, and disappeared. They caught up to him in the kitchen, where he had just finished inspecting the bathroom and rear entrance.

"Charlie, old buddy, this is better than I ever dreamed possible. We couldn't find a place like this if we paid a couple of hundred bucks a month."

"My uncle said we could have it without rent until December. He usually rents it then for the holidays."

They all agreed that the store was terrific and Charlie Krauss was the hero of the day.

Then with a few more tours of the premises they set out to scrounge the neighborhood for furniture. They hadn't known this much enthusiasm since their early teens. Old chairs and tables were carted off from their basements in an old wagon and a dilapidated baby carriage. They confiscated lamps, knickknacks and ashtrays from their offices, restaurants and bars. The four made a systematic visit to all the cafeterias in the neighborhood and walked off with enough eating utensils, glasses, cups and saucers to serve a small army. And they were having a ball doing it.

The following Friday night, just a week after the germ of an idea began, they had their first party. And by that time no one was surprised at the female guest list. Jay brought Cynthia. Charles brought his seventeen-year-old sister Kay, who was a short fat kid with pimples. Ed brought a cousin, who had a terrific build and pretty face; not to mention a reputation in the neighborhood as being a whore. And Tom Dunn, being an only child and not having any relatives nearby, brought an ex-girlfriend. A tall, thin girl who was easily the homeliest girl in the group. But to add a touch of freshness to the stale group, Tom invited an Italian friend he worked with, who brought a buddy and two mod, good-looking chicks.

As it turned out, the first party was a complete bomb. If it hadn't been for the bowling alley downstairs, they would have sat in complete silence and stared at each other. However, the league was bowling for position that night and just as Tom finished a fast dance with Cynthia, the music ended, Tom and Cynthia bowed, and a loud cheer rang out below. Everyone laughed. Tom told a joke, punctuated by bowling balls crashing into pins and ending with a cheer from downstairs. Everyone laughed. But the party ended without a single couple getting laid, which constituted a failure.

It was especially a bad blow to Charles Krauss, who had put a great deal of faith in Tom's ability to get them laid. A case of hero-worship that had existed for several years was almost shattered. But Tom scolded him for expecting too much from the first party and Charles was content. At twenty-three, he had to believe in someone or he'd die a virgin, if you didn't count his sister.

The standards of this German neighborhood – a section of Queens County, New York – were very strict. Any display of affection in public was out of the question. Dating was only for those getting married. Sex – God forbid – was only for married people who were trying to have children. And there were many, many rules governing the conduct of young people – anyone under thirty.

Then, keeping this in mind at all times, everyone but the old ladies who watched suspiciously from their windows set out to break the rules without getting caught. Incest was the most popular way out. A forty-year-old man, whose wife was now fat and unattractive, found new delights with his daughter. Brothers and sisters just carried their childhood games into their teens. And everyone suffered from guilt complexes, but never let it interfere with their fun.

Still disappointed with the party, Charles turned down an invitation to join Tom, Ed and Jay at the corner bar. Instead he took Kay home. But rather than going upstairs to their apartment, where their parents would be sleeping by now, Charles gave Kay a gentle nudge in the direction of the basement stairs. She followed his lead, down steep, creaking wooden stairs to the damp basement and back to a storage-bin in the rear. A small light barely lit the cubicle, but as soon as it was turned on Charles retraced his steps and unscrewed the bulbs in the other sockets so no one could see them from outside.

"It wasn't a bad party," Kay whispered.

"I guess so," Charles sighed moodily.

"Tommy sure was funny."

"Yeah. He sure was."

Charles opened the buttons on his sister's blouse, then unhooked her bra. Kay quickly slipped them off. Desperately trying to work up some enthusiasm, he caressed one of her big tits and watched the nipple grow hard. He bent over and kissed the nipple, sucked on it, and finally bit it gently. Then, disappointed because it didn't arouse him, he let go.

Kay sensed his lack of enthusiasm and tried to give him a spark of life. She opened his zipper, slid her chubby hand into his shorts and started to play with the limp cock. It remained limp. Even while he removed her panties and squeezed her ass the limp noodle remained uninterested. She tried harder.

"Want me to bury it between my tits?" she asked.

"No, not really," he answered in a bored tone.

Kay felt frustrated. She jerked the rubbery tube and nothing happened. She bent down and kissed it, her big eyes looking up into his for approval, but still no signs of appreciation, and now she was out of ideas. Men weren't suppose to be limp, she told herself in defense of her pride. But the sight of his cock churned up the juices in her own sex box and she was curious about the male apparatus anyway. Usually her brother was jamming it into her mouth, cunt or ass and she never got to examine it like this. She decided on the spot that it was "cute" when it was soft and wrinkled; no big veins popping out and no puffing head dribbling cream, she reasoned.

Since Charles was just standing their doing nothing, she proceeded to give him an examination. She took the soft meat in her hand and closed a tight fist over it for protection and warmth, lifted it and gazed at the wrinkled prunes dangling from the base… cupped them in her other hand and squeezed gently. Then, starting at the tip of his cock, she ran the tip of her tongue down the shaft to his balls and back up again. Charles spread his legs wide apart for her and she used her pink tongue, letting it lounge around his hot and swollen balls, licking and sipping with those pouty red lips of hers. Then she slid the bottom of her tongue back down over the bottom of his heat, feathering it, before her lips formed into a hot, moist circle to clamp firmly around the pulsing head, sucking on it and nursing it wetly.

The oiled and steaming spear slid far back in her mouth, into the slowly gulping throat, and she used those muscles to milk it, swallow on it, draw at it.

Her head was bobbing on it and little animal-lust moans were slipping out of her, along with saliva that ran down over his balls and nestled in the crack just behind. Her eyelids fluttered and her tongue washed in circles up and around and over and under the thick swell of meat. His thighs trembled slightly and he arched up to piston in and out of the warm mouth.

Her tongue moved faster, eyes closed now, and her temples beat like a heavy drum, cheeks hollowed to the suckings.

Her teasing fingers traced his contours, and this showed new results in the throbbing, rosy rigidity and restless movements of his hips.

He felt the electric strokings of her fingers, stroking along the lines of his inner thighs. Inching, impressing, gently upward, a little more firmly each time, and her tongue a million dartings of fire. He spread his legs even wider apart for her, hunching his shoulders, a cue, and so she proceeded past his balls on the next licking trip to his ass. She sat between his legs and looked up. It was an interesting angle, she thought, but not as interesting as Charles made it sound, when he was viewing her from this position.

She ran a finger down the crack of his ass and probed the little entrance she found there, but couldn't get her chubby finger in the tight opening… decided she wanted to and wet the finger in her mouth, then tried again. It squeezed in this time about a knuckle's worth and she noticed a twinge of life come into his dangling cock. She twisted and pushed at the sucking tunnel and managed to get another joint into him. He seemed to like the feeling, because he was helping by spreading his cheeks and drawing the finger into himself with muscular contractions, but it didn't seem to harden his prick any more than it already was.

Charles suddenly pulled her to her feet. "Just squat a little," he directed, placing his hand between her legs and snugging into her pussy.

"Shove it where it belongs, Chuck," she said over her shoulder.

He moaned and gave in to her suggestion, jamming his cock into her panting cunt with a vengeance.

"Ooooo… nnnice…" she sighed, and the stiff cock with delight.

Charles drove the hot meat in and out, squeezing the white meat of her ass with all his might, oblivious to his sister's furious orgasm. He reached around and cupped her large tits, using them as handles to push and pull her on and off his throbbing prick, delighting Kay even more by holding her aching breasts while he filled her tight cunt with his expanding muscle. She gurgled from deep in her throat with the pleasure he inflicted between her legs and imagined the hard shaft was coming up the back of her throat and out.

Kay was overwhelmed with the sensations her brother created throughout her body and wondered why he ever wanted to do it any other way.

Especially up her ass. Charles at the same time was pretending he did have it in her asshole, and drove harder and faster into her body, spurred on by the slapping of her soft, meaty buttocks on his belly. The fit of her cunt was tight enough, but he wanted to hear the moans and groans she gave out when he penetrated into the wrong tunnel, where her muscles would fight back to expel the probe.

Charles came with an agonizing cry of relief. Kay clamped him inside her and drooled as the splash of sperm hit the walls of her cunt.

The next three parties were just as bad as the first, but Tom continued to fight back with new ideas.

"Next week," Tom announced, just before leaving the fourth party, "is Halloween… and I've decided to conduct a Black Mass."

At long last there was a spark of excitement in the group. Chatter and giggles, whispered explanations to the uninformed about Black Mass rituals, more giggles and nervous laughing. Then silence, as they waited for their leader to give them the details. And Tom Dunn, coming up with another idea that caught the imagination of the crowd, was the center of attraction. Again he seized the opportunity to build his ego.

He tested the strength of his hold on them by adding. "To pay for the incidentals needed to conduct the service, I'll need two dollars from each of you."

The overwhelming response startled him, as the money quickly materialized on the table before him. A new confidence surged through him and he refused to let go until he had played it for all it was worth.

"Each participant at a Black Mass is required to wear a black cape. Nothing else!"

Mumbling ran through the group and he thought he may have gone too far. It turned out they didn't know where to get black capes and considered the case hopeless.

"For Chrisake… who's got a sewing machine?"

Kay Krauss answered with a raised hand.

"Can you make eight capes?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I guess I could if you show me what they look like."

"Just a simple piece of cloth that wraps around the shoulders and reaches to the floor."

She was negative about the whole thing, but willing to cooperate. It was decided that Tom and Cynthia would go to her house to help her with the design. Everyone was to be measured and they had to donate more money. And surprisingly, no complaints from anyone. Not even Jay, who was always crying how broke he was.

"Okay, here's what we do next week… I'll set everything up. Alone! At eight o'clock I'll unlock the back door and you can all enter. No one is to enter before eight. Got that?"

Everyone nodded obediently. They stared with wide eyes, hanging on his every word, drawn deeper into the game by the complexity of the rules he was dictating.

"Everyone must be in the kitchen by ten after eight. At that time you lock the back door, Ed. Then the guys go into the room off the kitchen and put on their capes. All clothes are to be removed except shoes and socks…"

A stir of excitement went through the group. Nervous grins were flashed and the girls giggled softly.

"You've got exactly ten minutes. Then you leave that room and go into the next room, just behind the store, and wait. At eight-twenty, the girls do the same. You've also got exactly ten minutes. And remove everything but your shoes. If anyone cheats, it's up to the others to kick them out before they enter the store. I'll ring a bell signaling the beginning of the Mass. Then, and only then, do you open the door and enter."

On the bus ride back to Ridgewood the group was in high spirits. The other passengers were confused by all the attention everyone gave to "Ichabod Crane".

By Saturday, Kay had made sixteen capes instead of eight. There was more money in the treasury than Tom needed, and best of all, the guest list consisted of nine females and only six male names.