The Slumber Party Ch. 01

When he began shooting his seed into her, Janice looked up at him wide-eyed in horror. Strange choking sounds emerged from deep in her throat, and he realized with considerable amusement that his climax was inspiring one of her own.

Even before the last drops from his cock had been deposited into her pussy, he rose up from her and took stock of the situation. Marcia was doubled up and writhing in pain, although she had not failed to notice his attack on Janice. The other girls were sitting stock-still in appalled amazement, although he noted wryly that one of them was tentatively reaching her hand underneath her nightgown in a certain direction.

But if the three remaining unviolated girls—Marjorie, Sandra, and his sister Carrie—thought that Grant's climax would put an end to their petrifying situation, they were sadly mistaken.

For whatever reason—whether it was a tremendous excess of testosterone or a fixation on female flesh that stretched back to his childhood—Grant had the supremely enviable ability to revive himself almost instantly after an orgasm. So remarkable was this capacity that few female partners had been able to keep up with him, even those who chose to be utterly passive in the manner of Victorian wives who lay back and thought of England. This was part of the reason why Grant went through so many women, one after the other: few of them succeeded in satisfying him.

So now, as he surveyed the scene, his cock dripping and streaked with blood and semen, he turned his attention to his next victim.

Marjorie was the next in line. It was she who had found Grant's taking of Marcia and Janice so exciting that she was stimulating herself with her hand. Although she would never admit it to anyone, she was utterly besotted by sex, but too shy to do much about it. When Grant looked in her direction, she abruptly removed her glistening hand from her crotch and peered around the room in a futile hope of escape; but in fact she was secretly thrilled when he seized her nightgown and tossed it over her head. Being naked in front of a man was one of her most poignant ambitions, and now it had come to fruition.

But she felt obligated to make at least a token nod to her modesty by saying, "No, Grant, please . . ."

Even to herself the words sounded unconvincing, and Grant only smiled out of the corner of his mouth as he flung his body on top of hers.

Marjorie was considerably more well-endowed in the breast department than Janice, so Grant spent quite a bit of time nuzzling and kneading those luscious globes before moving up to mount her. As his cock broached her opening, she weakly tried to push him off of herself, but it was all to no purpose. He thrust himself deep into her in a single motion, rupturing that poor membrane so quickly that Marjorie hardly felt it biting the dust. But the unusual sensation of a man's large cock filling her up was such that she felt the need to moan loudly even as Grant pasted his lips onto hers.

She too unconsciously wrapped her legs around his torso as he pumped her, and she clung to him desperately with arms that encircled his back. When he moved his lips from her mouth to her cheeks and neck, and then unexpectedly inserted a hot tongue into her ear, a sudden orgasm shot through her, and her moans turned into a kind of strangled gargle.

But Grant wasn't ready to unload for the second time into this female, gorgeous as she was. There were, after all, some limits to his stamina. Pulling hastily out of her, much to her own frustration and displeasure, he moved on to Sandra, who was staring at him with a blank intensity that struck him as a bit crazed. She sat motionless on her sleeping bag as he pulled the nightgown off her head, exposing her nakedness. Feeling that there was a strong probability that she was suitably wet, he plunged into her, breaking her hymen without fuss and eliciting only a heavy groan from her.

Grant was struck at how different each girl's pussy felt. True, they were all tight, but each of them squeezed his cock in a uniquely individual manner; and of course the overall feel and scent of each girl's body was highly distinctive. Sandra, for her part, had a proudly luxuriant dark bush that she refused to shave, something Grant emphatically approved.

But after thrusting in her for several minutes, he pulled out without coming.

He made his way over to his bed, and his sister.

As she looked up with a mix of heart-thumping excitement and dismay, Carrie first gave his blood-streaked cock an alarmed look, then peered up at his face. "Grant, you mustn't," she said in a low voice. "It's not right."

To this Grant said nothing, but with surprising gentleness lifted up the nightgown over her head.

Grant had never seen his sister naked, and he gave silent approval to what he saw. With her ample breasts, wide hips, shapely thighs, and fairly pleasing face, he wondered why she remained so devoid of male companionship. Any guy would find more than his share of delight in that soft, somewhat plump body. But he knew she was quite shy, and the fact that she was also smart as a tack might have intimidated the average run of schoolboys, who deeply resented a girl being smarter than themselves.

It was Marcia who said, aghast, "Omigod! He's going to do his own sister!"

Carrie hadn't made a public confession of it, but it was quite obvious that she too was a virgin. As Grant stood quietly over her, he placed a hand on her pussy, parting the lips and finding satisfaction in the wetness he found there. This initial breach of a (possibly irrational) taboo set the stage for what followed.

In what almost seemed like slow-motion, Grant placed himself on top of Carrie as she mechanically parted her legs to accommodate him. He put both of his hands around her face, kissed her tenderly on the mouth, and then—as she raised her legs and bent her knees in that characteristic gesture of welcoming—he entered her.

Her only reaction was to gasp softly and close her eyes. It might have been too much to say that she had longed for this moment ever since she had seen her brother naked, but there was no denying that she was not strenuously objecting to his probing of her innermost recesses. His pumping of her was gentle and loving, and as he did so he remembered a great many of their interactions—funny, frustrating, and tender, as the case may be—reaching back to their infancy.

When he came in her, she held him tightly to herself until his spasms were over. She had already come earlier, but had withheld any overt expression of her pleasure—partly out of embarrassment, and partly out of some residual shame.

When he rose from her, he saw the other four girls gazing raptly at them. Perhaps, he wondered, some of them have brothers of their own—and they're thinking what it might be like . . .

Grant was now a bit tired, but he knew he wasn't quite done. Exactly what the next phase of the action would be, he wasn't quite certain. As he looked around the room, he saw that several of the girls were looking a bit resentfully at him for the fateful rupturing of their hymens and the attendant pain that that act—and the stretching of their pussies—had caused. Some were still doubled over in a fetal position, their hands at their groins.

As for him, this singular achievement of relieving five girls of their virginity at one go somehow didn't strike him as anything out of the ordinary. Instead, as he looked down at his blood-stained cock, he felt the need to do a little tidying up.

He ambled into his bathroom to wash off his member, but was amused to find almost all the available space around the sink littered with a bewildering array of feminine cosmetics and toiletries of all sorts. He couldn't even figure out the purpose of some of them, even though he richly enjoyed the end result of girls' dolling themselves up for him. But when he saw a large blue jar of cold cream, his mind began working.

He also sensed a sudden revival of feeling in his cock.

Removing the lid, he walked back into the room with the open jar in his hand. He figured he'd start this next round in the same sequence as he had done the first.

Marcia was lying on her side, hands between her legs, moaning softly. She was, of course, still naked, not having the energy or spirit to clothe herself in her nightgown. As she looked up at Grant, now towering over her, it was neither her nudity nor his—not even his rising member—that consumed her attention. It was that telltale blue jar.

"Wh-what's that for?" she stammered.

Grant bent down and somewhat aggressively forced Marcia to lie on her stomach. Protesting loudly ("Hey, what's the idea?"), she tried to get up or move away as much as the pain in her private parts would allow; but she didn't get very far. Placing the jar on the floor next to her, Grant pinned her down with one strong hand in the small of her back, then scooped up a bit of the cold cream and began applying it.

To Marcia's anus.

"Omigod!" she shrieked, suddenly realizing what was about to happen. "Don't you dare!" She had heard about this procedure—some girls claimed that they liked it even better than the other way—but she really didn't think that she would ever be subjected to it, and certainly not when, only moments before, she had lost her virginity the old-fashioned way.

Grant calmly placed himself directly on top of Marcia's now supine body. It was a small mercy that he entered that tight rear orifice slowly and gently.

But as he proceeded inch by relentless inch, Marcia let out a cry that rose inexorably in pitch and volume. When he was fully in her—something she could hardly believe was even possible—her cry turned to an inarticulate groan, as her tongue was forced out of her mouth and her eyes opened wide. Whether what she was now experiencing could, in any meaningful sense, be called painful was almost an absurd question: the sensation was so unprecedented, so transcendentally bizarre—at once thrilling and degrading—that she seemed somehow to be floating up above her body, looking down at herself being expertly speared by this man's thick member.

Grant was entirely on top of her, covering her up as if shielding her from a hailstorm of bullets. He took the opportunity to seize her breasts with each hand; and as he ground his member into her nether orifice, she instinctively grunted with each thrust.

But, as before, Grant didn't want to reach his pinnacle too soon. After several minutes he abruptly withdrew, leaving such a sense of absence in Marcia's bottom that she gasped in confusion. She lay motionless like a corpse, not quite knowing what hit her.

Grant had already moved on to the next girl, Janice. To his credit, he did feel a little twinge of sympathy when her face crumpled at his approach and she cried softly, "No, please, not that!" But he felt like a stern teacher who needed to compel a timorous student to tackle an especially difficult project: It's really all for her own good. So he calmly flipped her over onto her stomach, applied the cold, wet substance, and forced himself into her.

Instead of screaming, Janice's eyes bugged out and her jaw dropped, with strange, inarticulate sounds coming out of her mouth. Her arms were splayed wide, clutching the sleeping bag spasmodically as she initially tried to throw Grant off herself, then—when she realized the utter futility of that attempt—lapsed into utter passivity in the hope that he might finish sooner. The sensation of his cock pounding her anus was so unusual that she couldn't liken it to anything she had ever felt—and in spite of the extreme tightness of the orifice and the inevitable pain attending his entry, she couldn't say that she entirely disliked the procedure.

But again Grant pulled out without achieving climax. That only happened when he came to Marjorie. By this time, most of the girls had realized that resistance was pointless, and Marjorie silently and dutifully placed herself face down on her sleeping bag, endured Grant's liberal lubrication of her orifice, and did her best not to scream when he penetrated her. He was pretty close to orgasm; and when he did come, shooting streams of his essence into her, Marjorie opened her mouth wide with astonishment, but with a secret delight that she had drawn his most precious substance out of him.

Sandra also made herself a sacrificial victim without fuss or complaint, and endured the pain of rear entry with only a few tears leaking out of her. Grant was in her for quite a time, but he finally did pull out.

Once again he approached his sister.

"Grant, no," she said in a subdued voice, "don't do this." She had accepted, even welcomed, his violation of her pussy; but this alternate way of being deflowered was something she had very mixed feelings about. In her naïveté, for a long time she didn't know that girls even let boys go in "the back way," and when she found girls at school who had done exactly that, she had looked upon them as young tarts and harlots. Now, witnessing her four predecessors all seeming to suffer at least some discomfort at the act, she didn't know what to think.

But she knew that Grant wasn't going to be deterred by any squeamishness on her part. She may have been his sister, but she was also one of this bevy of former virgins, and she had no reason to expect special treatment.

So she flopped onto the bed on her stomach and waited for Grant to do his business.

He was in fact a bit more gentle with her than with the others, but nonetheless he was relentless in his thrusts. As before, he took her breasts in her hands and squeezed them hard—but then, after a while, his hand snaked down to her pussy and he began stroking her in that sensitive spot. At the first touch of his fingers she opened her tightly shut eyes and let out a choking cry. Grant was forcing his member more vigorously into her, causing her to become dazed and light-headed. And when he started to come, sending his emission deep within her, his skilled fingers elicited a climax from Carrie that was so overwhelming that she came close to fainting.

He pulled out a little too fast, and a jolt of pain went through her. But she was so spent that she hardly had the energy to react to it.

Grant himself was now pretty much done: four climaxes was usually his limit. He again surveyed the scene: the five girls were either lying comatose on their backs or stomachs, or writhing in pain both front and back, or staring at him resentfully but with a hint of fearful admiration. One or two of them couldn't stop staring at his member, which was still somewhat engorged, although now drooping a bit.

On unsteady legs he retreated to the bathroom to do a thorough cleaning up. Then, emerging, he sauntered toward the door that led to the main house and said over his shoulders, "Thanks, girls, it was a blast."

There was an eerie silence for a moment. Then, suddenly, Marcia began to cry softly, and that was the trigger for a cascade of tears from all the girls—something that didn't subside until they all fell into a heavy, almost drugged sleep.

*

Years later, Janice was cuddling with her boyfriend of several months, Todd, after a fairly vigorous bout of lovemaking. In all innocence Todd had ventured the query, "Say, what was your first time like?"

The blood drained out of Janice's face, to be followed by a furious blush. Todd, alarmed at what he was seeing, said, "What's the matter? Are you all right?"

After several moments of pregnant silence, Janice gave Todd a highly truncated and expurgated version of her encounter with Grant on that fateful slumber party. Todd's jaw dropped—and Janice couldn't tell whether it was from amazement at Grant's sexual prowess or horror at his apparent disregard for the girls' bodily integrity.

"He—he did all five of you one after the other?" Todd said in disbelief.

"Yep," Janice said curtly. "Twice—front and back."

"But—but," Todd sputtered, "couldn't you have stopped him? I mean, he basically r—" He couldn't get the word out.

"How?" Janice said pungently.

"How? There were five of you and only one of him!"

"What were we supposed to do?" Janice said, losing patience. "Tie him down like Gulliver and the Lilliputians? He was a big, strong guy—a football player! We were just a bunch of girls. Even if we'd each grabbed an arm or a leg, then what? We couldn't hold him forever. Once we let him go, he'd just start all over again. There was nothing we could do."

"What about Grant's mother? Where was she in all this?"

"I'll tell you about her later. But believe me, she would have been of no help. There's no way she could control that son of hers."

Todd lapsed into an appalled silence—but Janice sensed just the faintest bit of envy that Grant had even had the chance to take on five virgins at once. I wonder if I could have managed . . . she suspected him of thinking.

"You didn't think of calling the police?" Todd said quietly.

"Some of us thought about that, but Carrie persuaded us not to. She—"

"She persuaded you? After getting pummeled herself, by her own brother? My God, isn't that itself illegal?"

"I have no idea. But she made a good case. I mean, it wasn't as if we were entirely unwilling."

"What? It sure sounded like it, from the way you described it."

"Well, it wasn't, if we could all be honest with ourselves. And that was the other part of the whole situation. Imagine us calling the police—and then having to tell them, 'Well, you see, we just wanted to see the guy naked—we didn't want him to do the other things.' That wouldn't have gone over so well! If the case had gone to trial, what a field day his defense lawyer would have had, portraying us as a bunch of out-of-control sluts! No thanks."

"But . . . it must have been pretty hard on you, having a big guy poke you like that."

"Oh, it wasn't so bad. All he did was tear away our hymens, which most of us wanted to be rid of anyway. Someone had to do it, and it probably would have been painful no matter who it was."

"So," Todd asked shyly, "you were okay afterwards? You didn't get pregnant?"

"No, I didn't get pregnant. None of us did. So that was fine. And I'm not all traumatized by it either. I think I'm tougher than that, and so were the other girls. It was just kind of annoying. I would have liked to have had more of a say in how I was deflowered. God, what a horrible word! Why is it that only women get deflowered? Where's the flower in me that got plucked?"

Todd had the good sense not to answer. But after a moment he did venture, "So, um, you didn't like the back way?"

Janice gave him a dirty look. "It hurt like hell!" she spat.

"Even with the lube?" Todd said in a small voice.

"Yeah, even with the lube. The guy was pretty big, you know. That thing was not meant to go in there."

Todd remained sheepishly silent.

Enlightenment suddenly dawned on Janice. "Don't tell me," she said in an ominously quiet voice, "that you want to do that to me."

"Well, I was just going to suggest it," he said like a naughty schoolboy.

"Were you now?" she said acidly. "Have you done it?"

"No," he said. He had the good sense not to add: Haven't found a girl willing to let me do it.

"But you want to?"

"Yes."

Janice looked down at Todd's cock, which was now quivering with anticipation. She continued to glare at him, but then said, "All right, buster. Better get the cold cream—there's some in the medicine cabinet. And be quick about it, before I change my mind!"

*

The question of Grant and Carrie's mom, Jessica, was indeed a good one. Where was she in all this?

The fact of the matter is that Jessica hadn't been in good spirits ever since her husband, Greg, had abruptly left the household five years before. Devastated by the sudden death of his mother right under his roof, he had attributed blamed the poor woman's death (of a stroke) to Jessica and even his own children, whom he unfairly blamed for not taking better care of her. He had simply taken off for parts unknown, and neither his wife nor his kids had heard from him since.