At Home With Melody Part One free porn video

Note : This story is completely fictional!

From a distance Travis watched as a tall young woman walked the pavement outside a large college, with her shorter, less elegant, friend. Melody was considered by most on campus; too prim and proper; too out-of-touch; too rich; too untouchable for even the more popular of jocks. Still, she was undeniably beautiful, and no male failed to glance whenever she passed by.
Travis didn’t careless what others thought about her character. To him she was the embodiment of both grace and beauty, a true goddess. He had noticed a lot about her during the year. The way she walked on those long slender legs, her sweet voice, the long off-blonde, slightly wavy hair, the chocolate brown eyes, small nose, even white teeth; natural full lips—a born model in anyone’s book. Yet there was more. Travis had often noticed those far away stares, the touch of sorrow in her eyes.
He continued to watch.
If others had been watching they would have claimed he was obsessive, but others didn’t pay him any attention, for he was far too unremarkable.
On this day, Melody Evans was dressed in tight fitting, fluffy pink sweater and designer hipster jeans that melded perfectly with her crotch and round, small ass. She carried books, rather than a satchel, and was mostly feigning interest as her younger friend, dressed in a sexy short, pleated, blue skirt and tight top, was once more raving about the captain of the basketball team. He was a tall African American, with a killer smile and a cute butt. Melody wasn’t that interested. She had heard April rave on about boys so many times before that it had become like background noise. Still she smiled and nodded appropriately, keen not to upset her closest friend.
They were an unlikely pairing, two girls from completely different worlds. Being a year apart, they didn’t even share the same classes or circle of friends, yet they were so often seen together.
And from the college’s wide steps, Travis continued to watch as the tall and the short—the beauty and the want-to-be—walked side-by-side, until they disappeared from sight. Having seen all that he could, he rose and reentered the college.
In a large music room he removed his violin from its case, and alone, began to play. Anyone else who had shown such aptitude had long since moved away from the ridicule of school jocks, to music schools out-of-state; however his sole parent did not have that kind of money.
As he played, he closed his eyes and thought of Melody—so beautiful, so misunderstood. What was her hidden story?
In his mind, in a flowing white dress, Melody, the drama major, danced barefoot on stage—a spirit lost to the music. But then her big brown eyes sprung open and immediately spotted him there, in the dim light. He hit an off-note. The spell was broken. The violin returned to its case.

April and Melody lived in the same tree-lined street, which is how they came to know each other in the first place. Yet the modest, two-storey, mortgage-laden house they come to stand in front off, was in stark contrast to Melody’s mansion at the end of the street.
“Coming in,” April asked? They generally shared more time at April’s house than at the mansion, however, on this particular Friday Melody had other things on her mind. “I’ve got my lines to practice,” she replied, “The plays only weeks away.”
“We can practice together, like we usually do.” April did not, in fact, attend drama lessons herself.
Quickly realizing her mistake, Melody added, “and I’ve got other things to do as well, maybe a bit later.”
“You’re not going to disappear into your own little world again, are you, not on a Friday night, you know how I hate that?”
Ignoring the inference, “ring me, we’ll get together later and go out if you like, I just need to change and do a few things.” April looked unconvinced. Melody added, “Look, I’m sorry, okay, but really, I’ve got to catch up on Mr. Wilkins’s class.”
“Too busy watching his butt, I bet.” However, the truth was that unlike other girls in her class, Melody seldom ogled her young, good looking, English teacher. She was a diligent student who was in the top few in all of her classes. Certainly Mr. Wilkins was undeniably cute, but passing English was more important. Good grades seen as her way out of Summerville, as far as she could get, perhaps even as far as Hollywood.
“He gives a lot of homework.” She stressed.
“I wish he gave out other things,” a knowing glance and a familiar smile. “I wouldn’t mind doing a little detention under him.” April loved being provocative. Melody, however, was so used to this kind of talk that she didn’t even bother with a comment. “Later, then. Okay?”
And she left.
At the mansion, she actually sighed. She preferred her friend’s house a lot more compared to this overt display of wealth. ‘Stuck-up rich bitch’, a jock had once called her. There were enough rooms for a number of families to live comfortably, yet there was only herself, an older brother and her seldom-at-home parents. At least she had her huge bedroom in which she really did get lost in at times.
The white, wide, double door entrance opened to a large foyer. To the left was a huge living area with adjoining open kitchen, to the right, a more formal, but still oversized, lounge room, with convincing but artificial wood fire; their was a sixty-inch widescreen panel television with accompanying small, but very effective and stylish speaker system. Wood furnishings were refined and dark and uncluttered, the large three piece lounge suite, crushed, indigo blue, leather. The deep carpet was off-white; an impossible color to keep clean, yet clean it always was. There were many other rooms besides.
Running along one wall of the wide sparsely furnished foyer, were railed stairs. The carpet here was, with short pile, although still too pale for practicality, more suitable to traffic. It was to these wide stairs Melody immediately moved.
The second floor also had numerous rooms, her own at the end of an arched corridor that passed by her brother’s room.
In the safety of her own space, a little ashamed at the lie she had told, she threw her books on a computer workstation. There was no pressing schoolwork and she knew her lines better than most in her drama class. However, after a long week, she craved time alone, time not to think of April’s hoped conquests, time to escape flirtatious eyes that she was not always comfortable with, and her inadequacies in communicating with the opposite sex; an opportunity not to be answerable to anyone but herself.
Her bedroom had everything, including a spacious ensuite that did not join with any other room. In the duel-head shower she lathered herself and washed away the worries of the week. It felt good to have shower gel on her perfect tits, her flat stomach, to linger between her legs, rubbing her swollen clit, her skin tingling all over.
After drying off, she returned to an idea that she had been developing throughout the afternoon: Her own little ‘play’, which was something very different than what she had been rehearsing in the school drama.
A short hunt later, with a decisive and slightly impish smile, she changed into an outfit she had acquired over a year prior. It was a cheerleader’s outfit. Back then, she had actually contemplated joining the squad, however April had not been accepted, and that was simply unacceptable to Melody; and so, in the end, she had secretly bought a copied outfit, and practiced at home. Not even April knew she did this, or the real reason she still owned something never intended to be seen in public. Melody often lived in an imaginary world, which did not always include dolls or her more serious future acting plans.
And continuing to try to sate her wandering adult thoughts, still warm from the shower, she brushed her long hair; added two blue ribbons to form ponytails, then carefully painted her fingernails red and blue—the school’s colors. A sweet smile in a long mirror, she looked incredibly innocent, yet totally seductive, then she fluffed up the many decorative pillows that sat atop a heavily patterned quilt; that, in turn, draped across a white four-poster, double bed.
She sat down on one side.
Much of her room was filled with delicate, often childish things that should have been stowed away in the mansion’s large attic years ago. There were at least twenty different teddy bears, fifty or more dolls, and two huge dollhouses, cute mostly animal posters, long white lace curtains hiding two arched windows, a flowery frieze and several sparkling crystal mobiles. But not all could be considered a young girl’s fantasy. Along with the computer workstation—where her schoolbooks now sat—and other white furnishings, immediately in front of the lace-trimmed bed, was a large white TV cabinet. Inside the cabinet were an unnecessarily large TV, a VCR and a DVD player; the three items connected to a small but expensive sound system. Many folk would have been happy to have such an elaborate set-up in their main living area, let alone in a bedroom. It was as though her parents’ thought filling their children’s lives with extravagant gifts might placate for the lack of time they spent with them.
It did not.
Yet at that moment, Melody was not about to complain. Let her parents enjoy their self-indulgent world, the consequences of their actions would one day take care of themselves—one day, when she was far away.
She reached down, and with a small gold key, unlocked the bottom drawer of her bedside table and retrieved yesterday’s mail. It looked so innocent, it always did, a small, nearly flat, white padded envelope containing a DVD. She believed no one in her family ever questioned her mail; for, as a drama student, she had collected obscure videos and DVDs from all over the country for a number of years now. Little did her parents know that some mail had, in fact, come from discrete adult outlets.
She rose, placed the DVD in the player, grabbed the remote, and then moved back to the bed. After finding a comfortable position, half-lying, half-sitting on the stack of pillows, she perused the DVD case. The jacket spoke of a highly erotic couple’s movie with a ten rating. Using the Internet, she only ever ordered material she hoped would have high production quality, even if the stories were generally lacking. However, she had quickly learnt that even a high rating did not always guarantee good viewing. For this reason she paid particular attention to details. The glossy cover looked promising: the two girls featured were beautiful, the setting, a touch exotic, the film company well known, and the director proven. One of many small pictures on the back showed a well-cut African American did appear in at least two of the sex scenes. Perfect; just what she felt like; and with DVD features she could select the appropriate scenes instantly.
She may not have been paying much attention to April’s obsession with the young basketball captain, but that did not mean she didn’t imagine what a good looking African American might be like to fuck—with his beautiful black dick. 
She’d seen several African-Americans before on other videos, but not in a while, and now she could hardly wait. Would he be big, they usually were? She had told herself many times that size was not important, and she truly believed it—two of her three vibrators were actually rather small—yet over time she had developed quite a voyeuristic nature, and now the thought of seeing a big black cock had her fairly squirming.
Really, Mel, she thought, how did you get to be like this, and at only twenty? I think you’ve got problems, girl. But rather than chastise herself further, she only smiled, before then placing the DVD case on the side-table.
Leaning back into the pillows, with knees bent, she sought the best possible position. Her short cheerleader’s, white pleated, skirt, fell to her waist, revealing simple white cotton panties.
Slowly, as though putting on a show for an invisible observer, the cheerleader cum-make-believe porn princess, parted her knees until she could see the TV more easily while showing off all of her pussy gap. With the skirt and panties, she wore white socks, new sneakers, and a blouse that was covered by a tight fitting blue sweater, emblazoned with the school logo.
‘Melody does Suburbia,’ she said, while examining her red and blue fingernails one last time. They were quite dry now.
She pressed the remote, and made some selections.
A preened, very beautiful and rather young looking woman was now getting to know a tall, athletic, African-American. Although, hardly interested in the dialogue, Melody was instantly transfixed by the casual manner in which the two actors conversed. Indeed, they seemed quite comfortable with each other, a fact that was always important to Melody, and an indicator that this could very well be worth its high rating—a touch of love and a caring approach almost as important as the sex. The accompanying mostly piano and rhythmic percussion drums played quietly in the background, the slowly rising meter, matching the unfolding scene well.
A last fluff of her pillows (she was always particular about comfort when it came to pleasing herself), then again leaning back, she parted her smooth, slender legs a little wider, an exquisite erotic view for her imaginary audience. Was she the only girl in the world who did such things, she wondered fleetingly?
Very quickly the scene was heating up, almost too quickly. However, Melody did not ‘pause’ or ‘rewind’, instead she reached for a set of small cordless headphones, and placed them over her pretty head. It was a totally unnecessary precaution in the empty house, might even have hindered her when listening out for her parents or brother, but then no one was ever allowed in her bedroom without her permission, and no one had ever broken that rule. The real reason for the expensive headset was so that she could have the volume close and as loud as she liked, totally immersing herself in eroticism.
On the large screen, smiling, looking remarkably innocent and relaxed, the half-dressed, girl lay on pillows in a similar fashion to Melody. The camera panned down to show the black man preparing to shave the girl’s wonderfully pink, slightly moist, pussy. It had been some time since Melody had watched a scene like this, and she enjoyed the novelty, finding it erotic enough to already have a hand gliding up and down her own silky smooth, right inner thigh. She ached to play with her cunt, but it was too soon. What would it be like to put your complete trust in someone else—a male—while having your pussy shaved like that—dangerous, yet exciting.
And this was for real. The only other time she could remember having seen a girl being shaved, with loads of shaving cream hiding most of the pubic area, and with questionable camera work, she was sure it had been largely faked. 
The man wiped the newly shaved area with a towel and the camera zoomed in. Melody pressed ‘pause’. She didn’t believe she had lesbian tendencies, yet couldn’t help but admire how perfect the woman’s clean pussy looked; the folds, the clit hood with that little love knob just pecking out, why was it that she liked the look of a pussy almost as much as a cock? She had adopted the practice of leaving only a small patch of short soft hair above her own clit for some time now, and could control regrowth with a simple, bikini-line, cream; indeed, her preened cunt showed no signs, whatsoever, of soreness—as though it was always meant to be without hair. But what would it be like to have a lovely man do it for her?
And her hands continued to glide up and down her thigh, skin electrified.
The camera panned back to the girl’s smiling face. She had pretty blue eyes, and looked totally relaxed. Then, on elbows, with one fingertip held sweetly to her teeth, she made such explicit requests that Melody’s ears burned.
A graphic close-up followed, where the girl was using her fingers to draw back already moistening pussy layers, even revealing a slight gape.
The African American followed up by using his pearly white teeth to bite gently on her folds and hood, then with long fingers, he rubbed all around her perfect clit and used his tongue to flick and lick and delve deep into her ever widening cunt hole. She sighed and sucked in air, lost to passion.
Good camera work insured all the frames were in perfect focus—true professionalism, maximum quality. Melody slid her hand closer and closer to her white panties. How would that long tongue feel, buried in her own sodden cunt or was she too tight to even be able to take it?
And the black man’s flicking tongue continued to tease the almost too young girl’s clit, causing quivers of delight, that had Melody raging with as much desire. If anyone could see her eyes right then, they would have had no doubt how truly turned on she was, she simply loved to watch sex.
More erotic chatter. Words usually considered obscene, dripping like honey. And dripping like honey, too, was the slippery cunt opening; and while juices flowed, one of the blonde’s hands massaged the black man’s bald head.
A camera was once more on the actress’s pretty face, focusing on her ecstasy. Melody’s hand was now in the small hollow where the elastic of her panties met her inner thigh. With just two fingers, she slowly rubbed. She loved to tease herself while imagining what others, like her brother, would think of her playful and erotic behavior; a major contrast to the elusive life she actually led. 
A sustained close-up of the handsome man, licking, sucking, using saliva, little twitches; and between squeals the blond continued to encourage.
Melody could stand it no more. With legs still widespread, her hand now glided over her panties, it felt delicious; she held her crotch tight, then pressed with her fingers, causing a little dent to occur, where her glorious cunt hole was.
Slowly, teasingly, she rubbed her aching, still concealed, clit. It would be so easy to now rip down her panties and furiously wank, but that was not the way she wanted it, on this particular day. 
Seemingly from nowhere, the man produced a huge transparent dildo. Melody had never seen one quite so big before, and from the expression on the young actress’s face, neither had she. In fact, so convincing was the girl’s shocked look, Melody could have believed that this was not part of what they had rehearsed.
“You must be joking,” said the giggling starlet, “I can’t take all of that.”
The smiling man waggled it. “Think of it as practice,” he wickedly laughed.
For what, thought Melody, what did this man have to offer that could possibly match a thing as big as that?
“Just be gentle, okay,” said the blonde, who looked like she had no intentions of stopping him. Melody noted the girl’s short socks and pretty sneakers. They almost matched her own. She liked that.
He gave another wry grin.
This was not quite like the porn Melody was used to watching. Indeed the actress could well have earned an academy award, if the awards ever accepted such raw material. As for the rippled dildo, Melody thought it far too big to be enjoyed. Still, this was just a movie, and the dildo was certainly visually stunning.
She ‘paused’ the movie, rolled over, and from the still unlocked bottom drawer of her bedside table, retrieved a round mirror. It was two-sided, one side reflecting an image twice its size. She laid it down beside her, then once more pressed the ‘play’ button.
Loud in Melody’s ears, “oh shit that thing’s big.” A close-up showed the man using two hands to roll the head of the dildo around and around the girls failing vagina. Then slowly, ever so slowly, he pushed it in. Her vagina visibly popped, the dildo’s head was swallowed. It looked so delightful that Melody quickly rewound and watched it in slow-mo—recorded proof that a cunt could fit just about anything inside it; and proof, also, that Melody really was a voyeur.
“You can do it,” lost to fantasy, Melody excitedly called out. “Take that toy,” and, willing the girl on, her own legs stretched further apart, her hand now gliding more quickly over her white panties, her cunt like an oven of desire.
The actress gave a little squeal as the toy penetrated further and further. Melody placed a finger on her own clit, and through the cotton, began to rub.
A longer shot showed the actress less worried and more enthused. Melody rubbed faster. How could that thing possibly have fitted? And faster still. A close-up now showed the man, in a screwing fashion, maneuvering the transparent probe, in and out, edging deeper and deeper with each thrust. Then he pulled it quickly out, the girl’s deep hole popped like a mouth. The camera stayed there for a moment, while the girl slowly rubbed her clit. Juices flowed, her gape was more pronounced. Then back in, the toy went. More noticeable now, was how the girl’s vagina was coating the huge dildo cock with copious amounts of cunt cream.
Melody slid several fingers down and pressed into, then rubbed all around her own hole. She was damp. It felt exquisite. She reached for the mirror, then using the side with the enlarged image she examined how very damp the crotch of her knickers had become. 
The thick love wand, glistening with womanly dew, was at least five inches in, when the black man produced a small vibrator.
Melody was so transfixed she momentarily stopped exploring, to simply watch. The vibrator was switched on. It hummed delightfully. The man carefully placed it to one side of the girl’s hooded swollen clit, and all the while the giant phallic probe remained in place. So clear was the focus Melody thought she could actually see juices, leaking. ‘Rewind’, yes, the twitching girl was definitely dripping wet by now. Excellent, most porn starlets didn’t appear to get as wet as this, as wet as Melody did herself, this was refreshing, and extremely horny. 
Panning up. The blond was biting her lip as though barely able to stand the amount of pleasure she was enjoying. She cupped her concealed breasts, and gently squeezed. The camera drew in close, then down her stomach, to where the dildo continued and the vibrator was clearly heard as it circled all around that swollen clit; and then, surprisingly quick for a porno, the girl had one incredibly massive orgasm that, with tears shown in her eyes and quickly panning down, even more juices flowing from her cunt, looked far too real to be faked.
Melody placed the mirror on the bed and cupped one of her own hidden breasts. Her hand was full. It felt wonderful: Too wonderful to leave at just that.
So she removed her blue sweater, and undid her white blouse. She had not bothered with a bra. With her left hand, as though still aware of an invisible audience, she ever so slowly removed her right tit, to then show off how very erect and long her nipple was. She touched and gently pulled at it, then cupped her whole breast. At times like this, it was so wonderful to have tits.
Her other hand then continued to explore her moistening panties. She could orgasm quick, herself, she had no doubt, but it was too soon.
On the screen, the dildo was taken out and the man sucked it clean, his actions taking Melody a little off-guard. She’d seen it done a dozen times before, and although she liked to taste her own juices, the thought of a lover devouring large amounts of pussy juices like that, was somewhat confronting.
Now the actor moved to a kneeling position on the bed, his crotch stopping immediately in front of the starlet’s delighted face. He was dressed in a white T-shirt, and bulging loose-fitting shorts.
Melody sat up. This is the moment, she thought—the unveiling—and she wanted to give it the full attention it deserved.
But this movie was a tease, the blonde chose to gently fondle and squeeze that wonderful bulge before then leaning forward and kissing it all over. Finally, she hooked her thumbs over the elastic and pulled down to reveal gray bikini jocks so full and strained, that Melody literally gasped in delight.
Again the actress lovingly teased. “Come on,” Melody said aloud, but rather than spoil the agonizing play, she chose not to touch the ‘fast forward’.
Then it popped out.
Unbelievable! The biggest, blackest, veined cock, Melody had ever clapped eyes on. Cocks like this, were supposed to be myth, yet there it was, perhaps a full foot long. And it just bobbed there for a while—huge and beautiful. When the wide-eyed blonde did grab at it, her fist concealed less than half of its size. 
Now Melody really did need the remote. On ‘pause’ she again fluffed and arranged her pillows, then sank back into a more comfortable position. When she spread her legs this time, unable to ignore her aching heat any longer, she carefully pulled aside one leg of her panties to finally expose her nearly bald cunt. Any man watching such an act from such a beautiful, innocent, young college girl, would have cum in their pants at such an exquisite picture of pure adult delights. Melody’s pretty pussy, with large clit, was porn star perfect.
She pressed ‘play’.
The camera drew back a little.
“Wow! That is the biggest cock I have ever seen. So this is what you were preparing me for?” said the cute young blonde. An extreme close-up followed, where only the girl’s mouth was visible. She opened as wide as it would go. The massive cock head came into frame. A smile, displaying even, white teeth, a little giggle, then, rather than take it in, teasingly, she flicked it with her tongue and scraped the head gently with her teeth.
Melody used her fingers to spread her slippery folds and pull back the hood of her clit. Then she looked in the small handheld mirror. How could that not impress? She released the hood, placed the mirror to one side, and with two fingers, started to play at the sides of her raised tension. Extreme, almost unbearable, pleasure, like every frigging movement was the closest thing to an orgasm one could be without actually exploding. It took a deal of control now not to increase her speed and take herself over the edge.
The blonde then had to stretch her mouth and use all of her oral and hand skills to make-up for her inability to take in all of the massive cock presented to her. The volume at which Melody had her headphones set at, exaggerated the accompanying erotic slurping and sucking sounds. She briefly wondered at how that must feel for a man. However, there was nothing wrong with the way it felt to then slowly sink a finger deep into her thoroughly damp tight hole. Then she rubbed her cunt juices all over her clit; and repeated this process several times, her own moaning now matching anything from the headphones.
The oral lovemaking was explicit and erotic and lovingly shot; but even so, it went on for too long and she was just about to reach for the remote, when the scene changed. It was worth the wait. A close-up now showed the man positioning his magnificent rod in front of that newly shaven pink cunt. What a simply beautiful pussy! And how wonderfully happy the actress looked, as she was again, about to have something plunged into her beckoning hole. With her fingers, she drew back her labia and the cock came forward. As expected, there was a certain resistance, but so dilated and slick was her vagina that the large head soon popped in; then out and in and out and in, slow, accompanying squelching and occasional popping in the headphones. It took some time before the man attempted deeper penetration. Then came gentle slapping noises as his heavy, hairless black balls, contacted with the girl’s perineum and anus. Of course, with a cock that big, total insertion was out of the question.
A shot of the girls face, she was in heaven. Yet in such ecstasy, she still reached down and started to play with her swollen clit. Her action hardly necessary, thought Melody, considering the huge black cock had stretched the girl’s cunt to the point where the sliding wet shaft caused maximum friction on that erect little button. However it was visually pleasing, and Melody loved to see a girl play with herself while being fucked, it was always more authentic.
And now total jubilation set in, as sweetly the girl said, “Fuck me with that big dick of yours. Shit that’s huge. Look at it! Watch it going in my little pussy.” And the girl, herself, watched, enthusiastically, “It’s so pretty. I love your black cock. It feels so tight. I’m so wet. You fill me right up.” She pulled back the hood of her clit. The camera showed a slow-mo close-up of her tiny erection riding high above that massive wet rod. Looking straight into the man’s eyes, “I love you fucking me.” And her continuing relaxed state only confirmed how much she was truly enjoying what looked to be the fuck of her life.
Melody ‘paused’ the movie once more. From the bedside drawer she retrieved a flexible toy. It was small in comparison to what the blond had taken but more than adequate for her needs. Now she eased off her sodden white panties, then spread her legs once more, and reset the last part of the DVD. With the fun-handle inches from her own dripping cunt, she pressed ‘play’. Black cock was once more positioned in front of that fully exposed screen pink pussy. This time, as the cock pressed against resistance, at the very same time, Melody’s toy entered herself. She tried to match the rhythm on the screen of both the fucking and the clitoral stimulation. Added was the occasional grope of her wonderfully bobbing breasts.
And she masturbated like this right through the wet, noisy scene, able, only because of years of practice, to hold back her release until matched by the actress’s second orgasm. When she did finally explode, it was earth shattering, causing her to call out. Fortunately, no one else was in the house. Then, quivering, she sumptuously lay back, relishing the depths of being a woman. 
However, the scene was not quite over. With Melody now watching more in appreciation of the quality of production than real desire, the handsome man pulled out his excessively long fat dick. She loved to watch a man explode—something that could not be faked—but a large number of her more recent DVDs had moved on from simple ejaculations onto stomachs and breasts.
And sure enough, the girl got to her knees and voluntarily found a position at the edge of the bed, where her mouth was level with the throbbing wet dick. Melody reached for the ‘stop’ button, but did not press. “Yuk.” She said in anticipation, but not with any real commitment.
The most astonishing thing was how this young girl—perhaps no older than Melody herself—showed no sign, whatsoever, of revulsion; even smiling, while looking up into the eyes of her lover. And the man took his time. Slowly masturbating, swelling even further—if that was possible—arching back, and shooting several healthy loads of very white cum, directly into the girl’s eager mouth. And the girl drank it as calmly as though it was milk. She then used her fingers to retrieve drips, before sucking and licking the failing cock completely clean. Now that has GOT to be acting, thought Melody, and I don’t think I could ever be as good, not that I would ever want to do anything like that. Some of her earlier fantasizes had actually been of herself starring in a quality porn flick, with lots of men adoring her. 
Suddenly she was once more the Melody that everyone else knew—prim and proper, intelligent and aloof, able to wear tight clothes while still appearing as virginal as she truly was.
She took off her headphones.
On her bedside table, the phone was ringing; and downstairs her mother was returning from a shopping excursion. It was not typical for Melody’s Mother to be home so early on a Friday evening. 

Chapter Two

April was no more than five feet and four inches tall, and when she sat casually, dressed in denim and light sweater, next to Melody with her habit of sitting quite straight-backed, she looked all the shorter
The diner was full of noise. Had they not arrived at a reasonable time, they would have failed to find a free booth. The fear was that they would soon have to share.
“He wanted to know what I’m doing later.” April seemed in a hurry. “Can you believe it, Clayton ringing me!” She reiterated, her green-blue eyes, ever alive.
“Be careful. You know what he can be like.” The only hint of Melody’s earlier escapade, was a few tiny flecks of nail polish that she’d failed to fully remove, they went unnoticed.
“Like what, Mel? You tell me. He might want to have a little fun. And what’s wrong with that? Did you stop to think I might actually want to have fun? Clayton asks me out and all you can say is, ‘be careful’.”
“You’re my best friend. I’m supposed to look out for you.”
“Yes, but just because you have a problem subscribing to fun, doesn’t mean I have to. I’m a big girl now,” an almost humorous comment, considering her size and youthful appearance. “And unlike you, Mel, I happen to like boys.”
Melody wasn’t going to bite, or mock. “You can have fun and still be careful,” she said, “That’s all I’m trying to say. Clayton might be good looking, but he does have a rather poor reputation.”
“No kidding, Mom, a reputation for having his way with girls. So what! Do you think I just want him to kiss me? And he’s more than just good looking. He’s a total babe, and the best player on the team. All the girls want him.” April caught Melody’s look-away glance, “except you, of course. The mystery of the modern world; the girl with the mostest, wants the leastest. Honestly, Mel, sometimes I wonder about you. If I didn’t know better I’d swear the rumors were true.”
“That I’m a lesbian,” Melody had heard the rumor so many times it held no sting, “Or that I was sewn up at birth?”
“Well I know you’re not a lesbian. Not that that would bother me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you giving me permission, or something? Like you think I’m holding back on you?”
“No. I said I know you’re not. I just don’t see that there’s anything wrong with liking girls. That’s all. We all wonder at times.”
“Do we?”
“Look, forget I said anything.”
“So if I’m not a lesbian, then I must be sewn up, right?” And Melody smiled in hope of changing the mood.
“Got to be,” April followed with a soft laugh. “A body for sin and all you want to do is catch-up on homework.”
“Looks can be deceiving, maybe I’m a closet nymphomaniac.”
“And I’m Whoopi Goldberg. You look at a few adult sights on the web with me and you think you’ve lived dangerously. When was the last time you even took time to…”
“Not here, okay. Let’s not talk about me.” April was forever suggesting Melody explore her own sexually. “Where does Clayton propose to meet you?”
“He gave me his address.”
“Oh, April, listen to yourself! He’s not asking you out. He just wants to have sex with you so that he can brag to his mates about his latest conquest.”
April was stung. She tried vainly to laugh off the suggestion that that was all it was, but in truth she was hurting more than she wanted Melody to know. Having fun was one thing, and she loved sex as much as anyone, but being someone’s reason for bragging rights, was something else. And how often was Melody wrong? Never.

While the girls talked, a silent observer looked on. Travis knew most of the places where the girls hung out. If he missed them at one, he’d go to another, until they eventually turned up. He’d been doing this for the last six weeks and never did he think he’d been spotted. Indeed, no one really took any notice of him, just another nerdy loser trying to look cool, by hanging around joints where cool people did.
While drinking soda and eating fries, and trying to look inconspicuous, inside he felt terrible—like a Peeping Tom. Yet he couldn’t stay away, he just had to have one more look. Maybe he might even be noticed tonight. Certainly he fantasized about that moment, but what would he do then? Could he act as though this being there was accidental, or would they know he had been spying? 
With the crowd pressing, he was bumped, and at that very moment April looked up. “It’s him again.” “Where,” but before Melody could swing around, “don’t look. I want to see what he does,” and April tried to glance without being too obvious. “He’s looking this way. He’s looking at you, or at least the back of your head. Maybe he has a hair fetish.”
“That’s not funny.”
In a lowered voice, “it’s not funny with him following us around everywhere. It’s creepy. Damn nerd.”
“Maybe it’s just a coincidence.”
“That’s what you said last time, but here he is again; and in here. This is hardly his crowd…and on a Friday night! He looks like a fish out of water,” and feeling sure that he had no interest in her, she chanced a better look. “He’s still got his school sweater on for shit’s sake.”
“He’s pretty good you know,” then recognizing April’s confusion, “the violin. They accompany us,” she spoke of her drama class. 
In a strained whisper, “Melody, what does it matter how well he can play the violin, he’s a pervert. He watches you like a hawk. Probably plays with his little wiener while looking at you in last year’s yearbook.”
“Stop it, April. You don’t know that. Maybe he’s just trying to fit in.”
“Rubbish, and you know it, he’s here for you, and no other reason, a pervert if ever I saw one. You come across all-knowledgeable about Clayton, yet you can’t see when someone’s following you around like some creepy Peeping Tom. He should be reported.”
“And what do we say? This is a public place, and I’ve never seen him following us outside. A lot of guys look at us. I’m kind of used to it.”
“A lot of guys look at you.”
“And you, April!” But April looked utterly skeptical. Melody stressed, “You’re far more sassy and sexy than me, April, and everyone thinks so. You have a wonderfully cheeky smile and a cute bum, which you don’t hide very well under your skirt,” a little grin, “and everyone just loves your enthusiasm for life. I think you’re far more attractive to men than I am. I’m just a gangly, quiet girl that guys only look at, because I have nice breasts. And we both know guys will look at any girl’s breasts.”
“Oh shit, Melody, I’m going to vomit. You don’t really believe that dribble, do you? And if you think I’m sexy, than perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps you really are a lesbian,” said without any real bite. “I’ll say it for the hundredth time, you’re the best looking girl in Summerville; and not just because you have those horribly perfect tits. If you can’t see that every guy around constantly gives you the eye, than you’re truly blind. I’m just lucky to pick up a few scraps when they realize you’re not interested in anything they have to offer. Certainly, not in anything,” the slightest nod, “he might have to offer.”
“He’s not that bad, quite cute, really.”
April looked again, this time catching Travis’ eye. She poked out her tongue, then turned back to Melody. “If you like weirdos. And my little brother dresses better than he does.”
“Maybe we worry too much about how we look.”
“Shit, Melody, listen to yourself. You sound like you’re defending him. He’s a creep. He makes me cringe. And if I were you, I’d watch my back. Don’t let him get too close, okay.”
“Maybe we should move on if it bothers you so much.”
April looked again, “No need,” a short laugh, “seems I scared him off.”
As Travis departed into the night, some of the local football team entered the diner. They had just finished a late afternoon practice session and were ready to party. At the back of the pack was Clayton. As though a homing-beacon, through the crowd, the very first thing he noticed were the two girls at the far end.
Not one to hold back, he pushed through. “Hey, April…so much room, and only the two of you. Some might think you were being rude.” He then signaled for April to shove over, so that he could sit down. He called over to a friend. The tall guy was a little hesitant in taking a seat next to the school’s ‘unattainable’. Clayton simply winked at Melody though they had been close friends most of their lives. Melody wished so much that she could suddenly disappear. “What do you reckon, hey Mel, what say the four of us go to Thunderbolts? Dance a little, drink a lot, and party hard afterwards. My place is free of olds at the moment,” another hideous wink. “You do dance, don’t you? A drama student who doesn’t dance, that wouldn’t sound right.” A comment purely designed to get a reaction. Truthfully, Clayton had seen April and Melody dancing at Thunderbolts on more than one occasion.
“She dances,” said April, defensively, but following with a laugh. The idea of male company already had her head in a spin, and her clit twitching. “And she drinks. She just doesn’t drink like you do,” A feigned look of disapproval.
“Ah, that hurts. Now you’re calling me a drunk. I’ll have you know I only…”
The friend called, Wayne, interjected. “Get drunk every weekend.”
For some reason that Melody was unable to comprehend, this was seen as funny, and even April laughed. Times like this she wondered what happened to her friend’s sensibility, it was as though she was a different person, not one Melody particularly liked. “I don’t really feel like dancing tonight,” she said so quietly she would have to repeat herself.
“Not again, Mel.” April looked pleadingly. “Come on. Let’s have some fun for once.” Still Melody looked worried.
“And I promise,” said Clayton, now slinging an arm around April’s shoulders, “if you’re not having the best time of your life, I’ll take you home myself.”
“I bet you would.” April elbowed him. “I think that’s what she’s afraid of.” But there was no depth to her mocking. The school jock, with his arm around her, how terrific was this? Another, more nervous laugh. “Look, Mel, if you’re not having fun, we’ll just leave, okay.”
“No you won’t. Melody’s a big girl now. She can look after herself.” Clayton blurted all too loudly. Then less forced, “you’re not trying to tell me the rumors about you two are actually true, are you?” An attempt at humor, however, to Melody he simply looked like an animal of prey.
Turning to her unwelcome company, Melody said, “Wayne, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, Wayne,” said the big beafy boy. “And Clayton’s right, we can take you home any time you want. All you have to do is say the word.”
“Thanks, but really, Wayne, I’m sorry but I don’t feel much like partying tonight.”
“Got things to do, I suppose,” said April, with a hint of frustration.
“Just not in a partying mood, that’s all.” Melody’s eyes suggesting her friend should not pursue the matter further.
“And when do you let your hair down? Asked Clayton, “I’m sure, if you gave us a chance we could show you a good time. A time you wouldn’t regret.”
“Come on, Mel, please!” April pleaded.
“You go. Have fun. Don’t let me stop you. Thunderbolts gives me a headache,” the ‘headache’ line was secret code which was supposed to mean that it was the wrong time of the month for her to feel particularly comfortable out having fun. She hoped April was unaware how much of a lie she was purporting. “Ring me later, if you like. Anytime.” And she rose, signaling her intentions to leave.
April would plead further, but it was useless, the mere mention of ‘fun’ had caused Melody to shrink back into her shell, and it was obvious nothing was going to pull her out.
Truth being, with Clayton’s hot body next to her, April didn’t have the will to pursue her friend’s shyness. It could wait another day, it always did. As for the ‘headache’ story, April was not ignorant. She knew it was a lie, but what could she say when in a room more than half filled with ogling men?

When Melody arrived home, she was surprised to see her brother, Anthony’s, sports car in the drive. However, there was no surprise when she climbed the stairs to find Anthony’s room was being occupied by more than one person, the sexual play loud enough to make a prostitute blush.
For a moment she listened. Then almost subconsciously, a hand pressed into the crotch of her jeans. Her brother was eighteen months older than herself, and was considered by April and most girls, to be very handsome. His current flame was a slender, pretty, girl, with a perky personality, who was around Melody’s age. The thought of the two fucking behind the closed door, had Melody rather excited. Very occasionally she even found herself wondering what her bother was like at sex. She had never heard any of his ex-girlfriends complaining. Perhaps he had a really nice dick and was good at fucking with it? Did she really want to see his cock? How could she think such things about her own bother? And she resisted the temptation to play with herself more fully, and crept passed, entered her own ‘keep-out’ zone, donned her headphones, and feeling a little guilty at getting turned on by her brother’s antics, started watching a non-erotic Hollywood epic, instead.
Although one of her favorite films her mind was elsewhere. What was Travis’s story? On the odd occasion when she had taken notice of him, he had played the most exquisite violin, perhaps the most gifted musician in the school. Why did guys always have to be jocks for April to be interested? But still, was he really following her, was he a Peeping Tom?
Although her upstairs bedroom could hardly be seen through either window, she suddenly thought to check the street outside. It was empty. She drew the curtains to the point where not even a slither of the room was visible. Then she turned on her computer and checked her email. She had heard of people being terrorized this way, however, except for expected unauthorized advertising, her mailbox was found to be empty.
Relieved, she returned to her bed. Just another boy fighting with his hormones, she told herself. A smile crossed her face. She knew what it was like to be ‘hormone-happy’. From her bottom drawer, she withdrew her new DVD and gave it a kiss—that beautiful big black cock. There would be other nights, however, to admire the rest of the film.
Instead, her thoughts turned to her friend, April. What risks was she taking? Melody really didn’t like the way Clayton looked at them both. Her friend always claimed to be able to control the situations she got herself into, but could Clayton be controlled? Could he take, ‘no’ for an answer…not that she imagined April was acquainted with the word? ‘Be careful, girl,’ she whispered, and for the first time she thought she should not have left. What sought of friend was she? Okay, she was afraid of where the evening was going, but surely she could have hung around long enough to give April her support, if she had needed it. But that was dumb, April was a pint-sized energy ball who could down any man with a good kick to the balls—and she wouldn’t hesitate, if necessity arose. It’s a shame she dyes her hair so blonde, though, she thought, it makes her look like she’s inviting trouble. And those skirts she wears. 
What was she suggesting? She wore jeans, herself, that were so tight you could easily make out her feminine gap. Some would call her a prick-tease, no doubt, but her clothes made her feel sexy and she was not about to change her style for anyone. Still it wasn’t such a problem for her, because she wasn’t the one going out with boys like Clayton.
She didn’t go out with boys, full stop: a mystery even to her. ‘Why?’ She asked herself yet again, ‘What’s wrong with me? Why don’t I want to go out and have a little ‘fun’? Doesn’t mean I have to sleep with them? I’ve got a voice. I can say ‘no’ if it doesn’t suit me. But then why would I want to say no? Why am I holding back…the only twenty-year-old virgin left on Earth? Do I still think some man is going to sweep me off my feet, and charge off into the sunset on a white horse? I know that doesn’t happen, yet still I cling to my virginity like a turtle to its shell. What’s more, I know I would love sex. I like everything about it…At least, I think I do. I love watching. Maybe I’ve become a pervert. The female equivalent to an old man in a rain-jacket visiting adult movie houses, late at night. But when I’m at school I don’t think like this. I don’t spend all my time watching Mr. Wilkins’ butt. Well not all the time. I can separate fantasy from reality, so how did I get to be so mixed up?
Lost to questions she’d never be able to answer in one night, she turned back to thoughts of her friend. “Be smart, April, and please, please be careful.”

Chapter Three

On the wooded outskirts of Summerville, is a white mansion—known affectionately as the Manor—so large it dwarfed even Melody’s parents’ house.
On the lawns and circle drive of this opulent, many-pillared palace, were enough luxury cars to satisfy a family of sheiks. One of the cars was a white, late model, Mercedes, owned by the Evans’s.
Inside the Manor, in a room at least half the size of a basketball court, under soft chandelier lighting, was the majority of the owners of the cars. These were no ordinary people, and this, no ordinary gathering; for these were the unthinkably rich, gathered to party like the middle class could only ever dream of.
It was a masked costume party, and with so much wealth at their disposal, no amount of effort had been withheld. A pirate looked as though he’d stepped right out of the pages of Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island. A musketeer the very image of Alexandre Dumas’ adventures. And there was a Robin Hood, a Batman, an Edward Scissorhand; and amongst the women, Maid Marion, Heidi, Lady Guinevere, Queen Elizabeth (the hostess), a policewoman, a nurse, Fairies, Angels, a cheerleader, and every other fantasy character imaginable…a wonder of organization that so many had not duplicated another’s disguise.
And while the color and splendor, dipped and swirled, pranced and paraded, a masked band, dressed in very formal wear, played splendid classical music. To compliment the music, were the gliding, tireless, black masked, waiters and waitresses, their attire, the first real hint that this was no ordinary costume party.
For although the waiters wore smart jackets and white shirts and bow ties, where pressed black trousers should be worn, there were a series of different ‘Action Man’ style boxer shorts, plus sport socks and shoes. The waitresses were French maids with tiny dresses, black stockings and pointed shoes, their barebacked costumes, far too small to be authentic wear. Their job was to carry drinks in elegant, long-stemmed, crystal glasses, on large silver trays.
Although, at the rear of the room there was a table almost as long as the room’s width that was covered in the most decadent of food, most couples preferred to dance on, while allowing the male staff to bring them morsels. 
One of the masked waiters, carrying his tray, was a short distance from Mrs. Evans, when she curled a finger in his direction. He came to her—a corseted lady of turn-of-the-century fashion—then presented his tray of samples. But it was not food that she sought. Instead, she reached forward and as casually as one might feel fruit in a market, she grabbed and plied the waiter’s silky boxers. As his wonderful cock swelled, “makes a woman hungry,” she said, before, from the tray, then pinching a cheese cracker in her long fingers. When she ate, she fairly devoured the small morsel; then she turned on the waiter and once more grabbed his concealed cock, and for a while, played masterfully with it. “Maybe later you might have something else I could sample.”
“We are at your service, madam.” the waiter, replied without a hint of losing his composure. When he turned away, it took some time before his boxer’s ceased to be strained.
“You fancy the waiter?” her husband, Melody’s father, asked. He was tall and had short fair, wavy hair, and stood little more than an arm’s length away. 
“And you, Zorro? What is to be your conquest tonight? An Angel, one of the Maids, Heidi, I’ve seen you eyeing off Miss. Universe.”
“But where’s the mystery with her?” The young, stunning brunette was dressed in a striped bikini and wrap, her voluptuous figure very evident.
“Not enough layers for you to peel off?”
“Exactly. I like a little more subtlety than that.”
“But she’s terribly attractive, don’t you think?” And they both looked to where the masked beauty queen had last been seen dancing. However, Robin Hood had already taken a fancy to her, and was making very obvious advances.
“Too late it seems,” said Mr. Evans, admiring the way Robin Hood kissed the nape of the girl’s neck, while reaching around and openly fondling pert tits. “I don’t mind…Actually I rather fancy little Bo Peep over there.” Little Bo Peep, was less-than-average height, blonde, wore a sparkling pink butterfly mask, and carried a hooked staff that was decorated with a series of white and pink ribbons. Under her authentic looking fairy tale dress, were many layers of white petticoats that were complimented with white stockings and pretty bow shoes.
“A little young?” the seriousness in her tone, the first indication that she disapproved of his choice.
“And ‘Action Man’ over there, how old is he?”
“Tom,” then she lowered her voice. “Tom, I know who the waiter is, and he’s closer to thirty than twenty. She’s got to be no more than twenty-one or two at best.”
“How can you tell? She’s wearing a mask…And how could you possibly know who the waiter is, anyway?” And he looked over to where the waiter mingled. He had no idea, himself.
She lowered her voice even further. It was usually forbidden to use names at these parties, “look at his hair, Tom; and his build, and I’m sure I recognize that ring on his little finger. He should have taken it off.”
“Who then?”
“Lower your voice.”
“Who,” he reiterated in a whisper that drew her in closer?
“It’s Melody’s English teacher, Mr. Wilkins.”
“Are you certain?” Then realizing his exaggerated tone, he leant forward and continued in her ear, “you felt up our Mel’s English teacher?” However, although shocked, he was not really upset; rather, such a thought had him quite excited.
She turned to his ear, “yes dear, I had his cock in my hand, and later I intend to have it between my legs. What do you think about that?”
“You are the wickedest woman to walk the face of the earth…And I love you, my dear Mary Poppins.” The Closest character he could think of that fitted her costume.
“Does that still mean you’re going to chase after Little Bo Peep?”
“Just want to help her find her sheep.”
“What if she recognizes you, as a wolf in sheep’s clothing?”
Something in her voice had him further concerned. “You don’t really mind, do you? We agreed not to question each others choices, but if you would rather I…”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “It’s okay. I wish you well. Just don’t be disappointed if she thinks you’re a little too old for her liking.”
“Don’t jinx it, I’m forty-five, not seventy, and you keep telling me I don’t look my age. And I don’t know how you can possibly be so certain she’s so young, anyway?”
“Perhaps,” but she was certain, the masks often hid telltale age-lines, but that skin, the look; it was all too perfect for a woman over thirty; and not always were the guests middle-aged, idle, and rich; indeed, it was known that some were ‘hired’ from upper class establishments out-of-town. It was common knowledge that many of the French Maids were not only paid for serving food. “Good luck, then.” She tried to smile, but her heart wasn’t in it. Little Bo Peep, whether a call girl or not, may yet have a father that was no older than her husband, and although she had promised herself not to think like this, with a daughter in the same age group, she still found the thought a little disturbing.
Where was Mr. Wilkins, she tried to console herself, his cock might be just the thing to help her forget Little Bo Peep. And after a quick nod, she moved away to mingle with others.

April had danced as much as anyone else, had laughed and shouted to be heard above the din in Thunderbolts, but what she had not done, was try to match the boys unrestrained drinking. Let them get drunk, perhaps then they would be easier to control when the time came for the evening to wind-up. At least, that was the theory.
It was nearly one in the morning when talk turned to alternative entertainment. April had pleaded her case to leave them to it. They had not proven to be quite the ideal company she had thought they might be. However, Clayton was the boisterous type when drunk, and, indeed, would not take ‘no’ for an answer. ‘Be careful’, she heard Melody’s warning ringing like a bell in her head, as she reluctantly got into Clayton’s car. And always Wayne suggesting she had nothing to worry about.
The drive was hair-raising, yet was nothing compared to what was to follow.
“I said I would ring Mel. Do you mind?” April was nervously standing in Clayton’s rather smelly lounge room. She had not known, until then, that when Clayton had said his house was free of parents, he had actually meant that his parents were in Europe on an extended vacation, and he and Wayne shared it together. She was having very definite second thoughts.
The boys both complained, but did not prevent her from using her mobile phone.
Melody was asleep when her own mobile rang. They talked, April finishing with a guarantee that all was well. 
But if she thought her extended conversation with Melody would deter the boys, she was very mistaken. And later, when she insisted on leaving, their wails of protests were excruciating enough for her to give in.
She stayed.
And she drank too much.
Perhaps if the boys were even drunker still, they would lose interest. Instead she got drunk herself.

Immediately beyond the ballroom was an enormous grand foyer, and in the middle of this, a very wide carpeted staircase, the dark wooden handrails intricately carved, and the newel posts, gothic. To the right of the railing, standing on the marble floor, was Tom Evans. He was fully dressed in his black, heavily embroidered, Zorro outfit. However, he did have his fly open.
Little Bo Peep was sitting nearby, on a wide step. She was masked and fully dressed. Every bit as casually as Mrs. Evans’s earlier behavior, she reached through the railing and slid a small hand inside Tom’s pants, her skillful action, causing him to press against the opening between the dark rails.
Moment’s later his full appreciation was clear for all to see. With her small fist, she slowly pumped his lovely cock, before then opening her pretty little mouth.
Such was her relaxed and experienced manner—while others were continuing to use the stairs—Tom was certain she was indeed paid well for her inclusion in the party, and not just another daughter of a guest: A fact that helped to quell his own apprehensions at her possible age. But then just as he was admiring her large, clear azure eyes, dark long lashes, pale blue eye shadow speckled with glitter, just as he was nearing fulfillment; taking all of his cock deep into her mouth, her mask brushed the railing and slipped up. Instead of righting it—as would have been expected—she simply continued to suck until he felt he could last no longer. “I’m going to come.” He whispered hoarsely.
“Then come.” She said cutely, before calling to a nearby maid. “We need Champaign, please.” The French Maid had a silver tray; atop, three long-stemmed wineglasses. One was handed to the sitting Bo Peep. Mr. Evans, straining to contain himself, refused an offer. Bo Peep drank half of the contents of her glass, then casually resumed sucking and pulling on Tom’s throbbing cock until he did indeed explode. Some cum missed the wineglass, and landed all over her hand and arm. She did not mind, simply handing the glass with the floating cum to the maid, before then licking off what had missed. “Yummy,” she said, with a cheeky smile on her sweet face, “very tasty. Thank you, Mr. Zorro.” Then she licked his cock clean.
Has to be a pro, gasping, he thought? Yet, now spent and able to think a little more clearly, looking down, he was somewhat chilled. She was very young. Was he crossing a line he thought he would never cross? She couldn’t possibly be as young as his daughter, could she? Of late he had truly noticed how beautiful his daughter had become—and sexy. At times like this it bothered him a little. But surely this was far too late for such disturbing considerations, and hadn’t she been meticulously chosen by the owners of the house—clean, reliable pseudo staff and known guests? At forty-five, everyone looked young to him, she could just as easily be in her late twenties, he tried to console himself, unconvincingly. 
Not long after this time, another French Maid, taller than the first, presented herself to Bo Peep and Tom, as the two shared a short cigar. After having provided them with an ashtray, “Is there anything else you might like,” she politely asked. She did not now carry a large serving tray, which was a sure signal that it was not food or beverages to what she was referring.
By now Bo Peep’s experience, rather than age, had Tom less worried about circumstances. “So what’s on the menu tonight then?” he asked the waitress.
“There’s the gamesroom, where we have a number of new items; there are some new toys we have in our collection…Whatever you desire.” The brunette smiled delightfully, “perhaps you might like to try our special package.” 
“Hmm, sounds interesting. What’s in it?”
“I’ll be right back.” The brunette again gave the loveliest of smiles. She was very attractive in quite a different way than the bright popstar looks of the young blond.
She nodded then departed for a nearby lengthy table that held an interesting array of items. On one end, a middle-aged Fairy was laying on her back, legs apart, being wildly screwed by an enthusiastic Spiderman.
As though all was right with the world, Little Bo Peep smiled up at Tom.
Patricia is right, early twenties at best, Tom thought, but tried not to show any hint of apprehension. 
When the waitress returned, she held flat in her arms, a large black attaché case. She presented it to Bo Peep who still sat very relaxed on the stairs.
Bo Peep leant forward and pressed the gold locks. When it sprang open, inside, on black felt, presented like precious jewels, was an assortment of exotic adult toys. “Wonderful,” said Little Bo Peep. “And do they happen to come with someone to demonstrate them?”
“Naturally, madam. We are always at your service.” It was a game, really; and Tom knew it. The Maid was too old to be calling the young lady a ‘madam’, and it was most likely that Little Bo Peep was ‘hired’ just like the maids, and simply playing out the role of invited ‘guest’. 
“Then I require you to give us a demonstration, before you completely ravish my body.”
“As you wish, madam,” and with a friendly smile the waitress gave up the last of her more formal persona, and came to join them on the stairs.
Bo Peep admiringly handled a few of the items in the case then turned to the Maid. “You can start with this big fellow in the middle.” She pointed to a pale pink dildo that was a perfect replica of the real thing. “I’m sure Zorro here would love to see you push this fat cock all the way into your lovely pussy.”
“It would be my pleasure, madam.” The attaché case was set further aside, on a lower stair, the toy retrieved; then the French maid turned her full attention on herself while her guests watched. After frilly French knickers were taken down, that big pink toy was gently slapped against a trim pussy, before then slipping gracefully in. It was magnificently explicit, people still stepping passed, while the maid’s legs rested wide on the steps, dildo rotating and sliding in and out, ever wetter; Little Bo Peep appearing to enjoy the show every bit as much as Tom.
And being the good maid that she was, she soon turned her attention back to those she entertained. When she gently pushed up the many pretty petticoats of Little Bo Peep’s costume, Tom could not help but stare agog at such erotic perfection. Bo Peep had been dancing the night away in exquisite lace top, stay-up, white stockings, and no panties; and what a beautifully presented completely shaven moist pussy it was. Again he thought of his daughter. What was Melody’s pussy like? Would it look as pretty as this? He shook such terrible thoughts away. He was here to have fun.
And no sooner had the maid begun an expert hands-on demonstration, and Tom was forgetting any earlier concerns about comparisons with his daughter. These were just two extremely well preened call girls providing sophisticated adult entertainment. And how well the girls toyed with one another: A variety of dildos and vibrators sliding in and out of lovely pussies, the top of the French Maids’ costume taken down so that Little Bo Peep could suck gently on prominent dark nipples.
Then they turned their attention to Tom. “I think you should fuck this good gentleman,” Little Bo Peep said sweetly to the Maid.
To Tom, “I am totally at your service, Mr. Zorro, sir. Would you like me to play with your sword?” said the half-dressed maid. Although her knickers remained off, her black stockings, held up with a suspender belt, were still on, along with black short-heeled diamond-studded, shoes.
Tom came around the railing to find a sitting position on the stairs. His renewed erection, along with his balls, sat prominently out of the zip in his pants. The French Maid sucked his veined cock for a little while, before calmly retrieving a condom from the attaché case and rolling it down over the shaft. Then she sought a position on top, legs well apart, knees bent, facing away from him. Little Bo Peep grabbed his throbbing member and helped hold it in position, as the Maid calmly sat down, to ensnare his cock in her welcome cunt.
It slipped in effortlessly, right down to the trimmed hairs on his balls.
And using the stairs for support, the Maid gently rocked back and forth, and moved up and down, pussy juices soon coating the transparent condom.
At one point his cock popped out. To this, Little Bo Peep, leaned forward, sucked the condom clean, then replaced that delicious cock once more in the Maid’s wet hole. Then she tongued the Maid’s clit, patted it, and gently played with Tom’s bouncing balls.
Fucking resumed in earnest, forcing Little Bo Peep to move back and resort to intermittently using her fingers, rather than her tongue, to squeeze the top of the maid’s folds, then she smacked the girl’s clit.
Tom was overwhelmed with desire. However, before he was allowed to come, Little Bo Peep decided she desperately needed a turn.
And so, on the stairs and often using the railing as support, he expertly took turns fucking them both; and on occasions, ever so briefly, when entering Little Bo Peep, in particular, he actually thought of his daughter.
Just as he was about to explode, he was asked to return to his original position on the stairs.
The condom was removed and discarded. With willing mouths and hands, the two girls shared his cock until he could stand it no longer and powerfully came all over his black Zorro pants. Another passing Maid, using a hand towel provided for this very purpose, dutifully cleaned up the sticky mess like it was the most typical duty a maid carried out.
He sighed, accepted a wine, finished his short cigar, then followed the girls to a room, on the other side of the foyer. This was the gamesroom.
There was conventional gambling tables and a wheel for those who cared for such things, but more prominent was the selection of sexual practices that many had quite a deal of money riding on.
How quickly could a Maid suck and jerk two Waiters off at the same time, and who would come first? How far could two other Maids, sitting with legs wide apart on a long L-shaped lounge, using their dexterous pussies, pop table tennis balls—pussy cannons? A Maid was measuring both the girth and length of three waiter contestants, to see who had the largest dick. 
However, the most extreme contest actually came from a guest, rather than any ‘hired’ help. The longhaired, Lady Guinevere stood in heeled boots, on a pool table, while several very engrossed masked men looked on. She had her long decorative purple skirt hitched up to her waist. Tom watched in amazement as a Waiter continued to add small weights to one end of a gold chain, which reached her ankles. Following the chain up, Tom’s eyes came to where it split into two, the duel short chains then linked to gold rings that stretched the Lady’s pierced labia.
She endured.
More bets were made.
More weights added.
To Tom this kind of practice was more disturbing than erotic and thus he moved on.
Exotic gambling was not all that went on in this huge opulent room. While some perused magnificent large paintings and sculptures as casually as one might in a public gallery, others gathered at one end around a menagerie of gadgets and unique furnishings.
Prominent, was a big round table that was covered in ruby red, studded, leather. This was a rotating table.
Lying on one half was Miss Universe being happily fucked by a tall pirate. On the opposing side, squatting on bent knees with sway back, was a half-dressed, slender, Wonder Woman. An overweight and short, Batman, needed to rise up on his toes to get his surprisingly large dick, fully buried inside her willing and exquisitely exposed pussy.
Tom was momentarily fascinated; especially when the table rotated, and partners were swapped, Batman appearing somewhat relieved that Miss Universe retained her lying position, permitting him easier access.
Tom laughed softly. The girls, Little Bo Peep and the French Maid, who had remained with him throughout, openly giggled.
There was another observer nearby—a guest dressed as a nurse, her uniform too short and too tight to be genuine. Her white shoes and stockings and panties had been removed, but not her pink, silver encrusted mask; and she slouched, with one leg over an arm of a large leather armchair.
To her, the table held no humor at all, only lust; and appearing as though in the privacy of her own home, she ignored onlookers and calmly played with her fully shaven pussy.
Now to Tom, this was erotic, and for a while he stood and watched the actions of the thirty-something, blond nurse, rather than the table. The nurse finally acknowledged him with a smile, then rose and moved to the table. She played with the couples; hands cupping concealed breasts, then holding a set of balls, fingers frigging both clits of the two female participants. Without a word being spoken, Miss. Universe moved off the table to allow the nurse to take her place.
And so the fucking carousel continued.
And for a while Tom continued to watch lustfully, while Little Bo Peep started to play with the returning bulge in his pants. She was masterful—not too harsh, nor too soft.
The French Maid left their side and went to the table, and while the Nurse, lying on her back, was being fucked by the Pirate, the attractive Maid undid the top of the Nurse’s uniform. large breasts were then sumptuously teased.
A well-endowed African American male guest, wanting to replace either Batman or the Pirate, stepped forward. Tom took this as an indication that perhaps it was time to move on.
Through a large glass archway was an adjoining room, which was still considered part of the ‘games’ area. In it on yet more expensive leather seats, sat several older gentlemen, smoking cigars. Nearby was a dentist’s chair, a loveswing for the more athletic, and a dildo pumping machine positioned at the end of a slender black leather table. These devices were not being used. However, another apparatus was. A policewoman was blindfolded—rather than simply masked—and was lying with legs straddled in a gynecologist’s chair. Several pseudo doctors, wearing authentic looking white robes, with an assortment of shiny metal instruments, were examining her private parts. One hollow instrument spread her cunt so wide Tom felt compelled to peek inside. The open-ended instrument was taken out and gloved fingers slipped in and out of her dilated hole; followed by a large black police baton.
And other things, besides, went on, in these most extraordinary rooms. Much to Tom’s utter delight, Little Bo Peep chose to spend the greater majority of her time by his side.

Chapter Four

Upstairs there were ten luxurious bedrooms that were set aside for private encounters.
However, as demonstrated by the rooms below, most of the voyeuristic guests didn’t bother with such unnecessary privacy; and thus there were always plenty of free rooms for those less inclined toward extreme exhibitionism. Considering what she hoped might eventuate and still fearing the idea, on this particular night, Patricia Evans was one of these few less extroverted.
The large door to the upstairs bedroom that she now occupied was locked, and added to this was a seldom-used ‘do not disturb’ sign. Some actually saw this kind of practice as rude, but right then she didn’t care, the thought of absolute privacy, all that mattered. 
In the beautifully furnished room with her, was a masked Mr. Wilkins; and, for the first time in all of her party experiences, a second man was included—a certain Robin Hood had already been successful with Miss Universe, and had quickly moved on to more interesting conquests. Mrs. Evans, with all her layers, now considered more interesting.
She could have simply requested that the waiter alone attend to her—it was quite common for this to happen—however she did not want to be so obvious in her dreams of having sex with Mr. Wilkins. Better no one knew how often she’d actually fantasized about this exact, completely improbable, encounter. However, would reality live up to her expectations? And with her less-than-shoulder length, black, straight hair and blue eyes—Melody’s features having come largely from her father—would he be able to recognize who she was? In her mind, she had little doubt. What would it be like then when they met at school functions?
But this was not the time to be thinking of such things, she reprimanded herself, this was time for fun.
Still, and more immediately, could she actually take on two men at one time? She had never tried anything quite that adventurous before, and was not even certain how she was supposed to behave. Was it too late to retreat to the relative safety of the ballroom? She checked her large fabric mask yet again. It was more secure than Bo Peep’s had been. 
With her discomfort becoming ever more apparent, the Waiter, now standing by the king-sized bed, said, “perhaps, Madam, I could return at a later time when you might be needing refreshments. If that is what you would prefer?” A rather ridiculous statement, considering he had already brought with him, a full bottle of wine on a silver tray, with three long-stemmed glasses, and an assortment of condoms. 
All too quickly, she replied. “No. No, please…I don’t want you to go…Stay.” Then trying to sound less flustered, “I believe you have something better than Champaign that you might be able to offer me.”
Robin Hood, simply ignoring her uncertainty, kissed her softly on the cheek then followed with a gentle hand that felt the frilly high neck-collar of her buttoned-up, white, lace blouse. Following, he ran his hand down, inside her short black jacket, until he could press against breasts that sat above a corset. “Don’t be shy, my Maid Marion (not her costume), merry will be your loins when my arrow enters thee.” His hands then wandered freely over her waist, her shoulders, neck, then back again, to lightly squeeze her breasts.
Looking for better comfort, he carefully maneuvered himself onto the bed, until he was, with legs enveloping her, in a sitting position immediately behind, where he could hold her against his toggled green vest. “Rest thy weary head on my shoulder, while thy humble manservant sates thou quiet hunger.” He motioned to the waiter, who looked a little confused. He motioned again, making it more obvious that he wanted the masked waiter to come to the edge of the bed, then kneel and spread the good lady’s legs.
With measured steps, Action Man, cum Waiter, Mr. Wilkins, approached, then knelt. Robin Hood nodded approvingly.
When the Waiter looked up, Patricia Evans drowned in his eyes; they reminded her of her son’s, which strangely, only seemed to add to the erotic moment. The large black mask could not hide how dreamy those bedroom eyes were, like mesmerizing pools of pleasure, transporting her to a world of dreamy sexual freedom. 
And slowly the Waiter ran his hands up the classy lady’s fine stockings. It felt so delectably seductive. He stopped at her knees. With both hands he calmly parted her further. Set before him were lacy satin, black panties, which he openly looked upon with adulation.
These were not stay-up stockings, and were supported by a black suspender belt that the Waiter had no trouble unclipping, the patterned black stockings, then slowly rolled down. Her fashionable short boots were taken off. The stockings followed. He massaged her small feet then sucked each of her toes.
It felt exquisitely sensual.
Now Robin Hood was not about to be outdone.
Reaching around, he started unbuttoning her jacket, there were only two buttons, when completed, he folded back the stiff material to better reveal her very lacy, blouse; and although still concealed behind the smooth fabric, it was rather obvious that above the corset, she wore no bra.
Now in a better position than before, and with easier access, he caressed and kneaded her lovely soft breasts, before carefully pinching her erect nipples.
Action Man was now cradling feet, then kissing carves and knees, and leaning more forward, her sensitive inner thighs. He came to her panties, so prettily set out in front of him, and there he paused to once more admire them, before then beginning to play. Mrs. Evans, way past modesty, relaxed her knees to the point where he could easily fit his head and hands between her legs, to do as he wished.
Robin Hood took a moment to simply watch his compatriot. With tender care, the Waiter was continuing to gently rub the mound concealed under those panties, before pulling them aside, to fully reveal her perfectly trimmed, moist, dark pink cunt. Mrs. Evans was watching just as closely.
Hurry up, she was thinking—eat my fucking cunt.
He looked up straight into her eyes, again they looked like Anthony’s, then out came his wide tongue. Making sure she was watching, the first slow lick took in near all of her pussy. Then he used his hands to open up her exquisite womanly folds. Fingers dipped into her hole then rubbed the hood of her clit and everywhere else. His tongue flicked and flicked and teased every part of her sensitive slit. At one point, like a vacuum cleaner, he sucked in her entire clit. And he pressed a thumb against her anus.
She thought that was all he would do.
She was wrong.
Using saliva, he slicked his thumb, before squeezing it in where only her husband had ever gone before. The whole length disappeared. Very slowly he maneuvered it in and out, while continuing with his tongue on her cunt. She literally oozed desire like a leaking gel pack. In the deepest parts of her mind, fleetingly, she imagined it was her own son wickedly eating her cunt. She had never thought like this before.
Robin had her blouse undone now, and moving more to one side, leaning over, held her left tit and gently sucked and bit just her left nipple. Then he moved on to her corset, which simply had to come off if he was going to ravish all of her flesh. And he was good; taking it off as though he’d removed dozens of corsets in his time.
Action Man sucked and licked and poked and flicked, with no sign of tiring. Robin Hood now on knees, immediately behind, still supporting Mrs. Evans, was able to run his rough hands down to her waist and hold her there, an erogenous zone Mrs. Evans would not have thought he’d have considered. While the passionate eating continued unabated between her legs, Robin lightly pressed in and down on her waist.
This was simply too much, she was going to explode, but did she want to come so soon? With careful breathing, she had willed herself to hold back in the past; however, with two men working on her overtime, was such self-control possible?
Robin Hood was not yet finished with her tits, his mouth returning to suck in almost her entire left breast, her nipple fairly reaching his tonsils. Then his wet tongue went to work rolling around and around, avoiding the very tip. His other hand gently grasped her right breast.
Mrs. Evans almost cracked the Waiters head with her orgasm.
They were not finished—far from it.
Drinks were served.
Light banter and a few laughs followed.
Then, with Mrs. Evans seated in an elegantly curved wooden and material small chair, the Waiter came to stand in front of her. “Would madam like to see what other refreshments we have on offer?”
She looked up into his dreamy eyes, and smiled knowingly.
It was the only lead he needed.
And so he stood there, below his smart black waistcoat and neat white shirt and bow tie, were his silky daredevil boxers, striped sports socks and basketball shoes. A hand went to his shorts and he blatantly squeezed and fondled the full length of his concealed erection. Mrs. Evans could not help but lustfully eye the prominent bulge. She was flushed and as horny as hell, her previous orgasm almost forgotten.
Cock, I need cock, her eyes were saying.
The Waiter was good at reading eyes.
The boxers had an opening; through it he pulled his rigid cock out and presented it like a gift. She actually caught herself licking her lips. It was not the biggest cock she’d ever seen, but poking straight out like that, it was beautiful all the same.
Robin Hood was not about to be upstaged, he had a deliberate tear in his green tights, through which he pulled aside a black leather g-string, to allow his own weapon to bounce free—as though about to enter a cockfight. It had a large head and a noticeable bend to it.
And it was big.
While it bobbed, she eyed it just as lovingly. All cocks were beautiful as far as Patricia was concerned, and here she was, in a private room, with two of them—and all for herself.
Where to start?
Action Man made her decision easy. He took down his boxers, and while still retaining his sports socks and sneakers, came up to her so that his yummy penis was only inches from her face.
She grabbed it, that initial grab sending a current through her body.
Robin Hood stepped forward. Again she grabbed, again like a current of electricity. There she was, sitting, still partially dressed in her turn-of-the-century outfit, two wonderful cocks in her hands. She played with them while periodically smiling and glancing at the cocks, as though admiring her favorite toys.
Then genuine lust took over. She simply had to have them—in her mouth, in her cunt.
She started by pulling them toward her warm mouth. And she deliciously sucked one after another with genuine enthusiasm, the differences in both shape and size only making it more interesting. It took an effort to remember to be generous, laughing at times, when one suitor looked to be jealous at the attention she showed the other.
“I think the good lady should lay thou self down and allow us to show our appreciation of her good manners.” Said Robin Hood, thus marking an end to simple foreplay.
As though easing her into what would later be an all-out fuck session, Action Man’s smaller cock, with thin, clear, condom in place, was the first to enter her moist folds.
Lying on her back on the bed, she candidly watched as the full length disappeared inside her.
It was a slow and deliberate fuck, that pretty cock slipping in and out like it was a well-oiled machine. Mr. Wilkins is fucking me. It surprised her how much she delighted from such a thought.
Robin Hood, now without his little green cap, but still with green tights on, with his cock bobbing about, came to the bed and started on her breasts again. He was so good at that, like sucking tits was his forte. However, if she thought that was all he was going to do, once more she would have been very wrong.
In the same missionary position, as though silent signally was going on that she wasn’t aware of, the two men swapped places.
While watching a condom being unfolded, stretching the thin sheath to its limits, Oh shit that dick is big, was her first mental reaction. Instead of lust, her eyes momentarily filled with fear. Could she actually take it? Would it cause her to tear? She had never heard of anything like that happening before, but then she had never seen anyone fucked by a weapon so big. It looked like it had grown even bigger than when she’d sucked on it. Then she noticed the rubber ring at the base. Supposedly this would stop him coming too quickly; it also caused increased swelling. When had he put that on? Too much seemed to be going on without her knowledge. Like she was in a sexual dream, which she had no power over. She wanted out, but didn’t have time to express her wish.
With her mouth gaping, he eased it in.
It fitted.
Her fears abated.
Lust returned.
Somewhat amazed, she then watched as this second dick slid in and out more comfortably than she would ever have imagined. It was neither better nor worse than the first cock—just different; and she utterly loved the differences.
While she was being screwed, kneeling on the bed, Action Man again presented his dick to her face, he had removed the condom, and it looked delightfully naked. However, finding sucking a little difficult while the bed rocked, she chose to simply play with his lovewand. He did not seem to mind.
Doggy style: First, with new condom in place, Mr. Wilkins, then Robin Hood; and while Robin fucked, the former caressed her back, shoulders, cupped her swinging breasts, and kissed her flush on the mouth.
Mr. Wilkins is kissing me, almost as good as the sex! 
But even this was not the end: A first for both Mr. Wilkins and Mrs. Evans, but not Robin Hood, all of his expertise needed to accomplish the next extraordinary feat.
At first Robin was on the bottom, his large cock, protruding from green tights, deep in her fully expanded, wet cunt, she had her hands on the bed, legs well apart, her butt presented to Mr. Wilkins. 
Was she really going to do this, too late to have second thoughts?
Per Robin’s instructions, Mr. Wilkins was applying plenty of clear lubricant to both her anus and his condom.
And after less resistance than what Mrs. Evans had feared, it slid in.
There it stayed, deep inside her rounded bum, while slow fucking continued from below.
It was a strange feeling; two cocks rubbing together, barely separated by a stretched inner membrane. Then Mr. Wilkins began to carefully move his dick in and out. It was better than strange. It was good. Like having nerve-endings ignited that had always wanted to be seduced like this.
And this was not the only position they tried. Those two men, with their very different dicks, fucked her like their very lives depended on satisfying her every desire. The Turn-of-the-Century, upper class lady, left wildly exhausted, if not a little sore.
And how she glowed later, like at forty-three she was a teenager again, experiencing sex for the very first time.

Around four in the morning, while returning home in their car, Patricia Evans wondered at all that had taken place both with herself and her husband. Little Bo Peep had hung around her husband too long for her liking; and had been happy to walk around without replacing her broken mask, unafraid at what others might think. That was not how things were done at the Manor. And she was young, no more than twenty at best, certainly young enough to fit into Mr. Wilkins’s English class, without anyone questioning her age.
It did not seem to help that she now knew that the girl was ‘hired’: Too young to be a call girl, too young to be invited to the party, too young for her husband to be drooling over. The fact that he had actually fucked her might not have been so hard to take, if the scamp hadn’t flaunted it so openly. 
But then what of Mr. Wilkins; a man perhaps more than ten years her junior, and indeed, Mel’s English teacher; and had she really imagined her own son was eating her pussy, fucking her cunt? Had she really thought such things at one time? Why had Mr. Wilkins have to have eyes like that.
Almost as disturbing, she had actually had Mr. Wilkins and Robin Hood…Together, and the same time!
And what’s more, Mr. Wilkins had fucked her up the arse: the only man, other than her husband, to have ever done so! Mr. Wilder, with his super-dick, had not even tried, thank goodness. At least she’d come prepared, but had never thought she’d have seen such a thing through. Usually, although they played dumb, she could guess who was behind the masks, but she had not known who Robin Hood was. She had done unthinkable acts with a complete stranger and Mr. Wilkins. She touched her lips, remembering that kiss.
Usually, by the time Tom pulled up at their drive, they would have already shared the details of their conquests, yet on this particular night they had ridden in relative silence.