Marc's first thought when he realized that Michael was gone was good riddance. He decided to keep the thought to himself. He had not been fond of Michael from the first time he saw him, and Marc considered himself a rather good judge of character. If he had not been convinced by Michael's brashness in the bedroom, his irresponsible flight now convinced Marc that Michael was the sort of company which his sister would be much better off without. He knew that Steffi was not going to see things that way.
"Why would he run away?" Steffi wondered out loud.
It was Marcia's turn then to exhibit her understanding of Michael's mind. She told the other two how Michael had revealed his secrets to her, and even Steffi had to admit that it was not unlikely that Michael would be too paranoid to hang around after such a confession. Marc found it very difficult to take his eyes off of Marcia as she repeated the details to them at length. She was sitting up in bed, her arms crossed in front of her chest and her hair mussed sexily. Marcia glowed with the warm glow of a sexually satisfied woman, and Marc could not help but envy her for that. He was feeling horny again, having returned from a pleasant talk with the very sister who had blown him so well that morning. It embarrassed him now to wish as he did that his sister's tits were just a little larger, realizing that her small jiggling boobs were just right for her petite frame. It seemed to him that the best solution to the problem of what to do about Michael was for Steffi and him to get undressed, get into bed with the voluptuous Marcia, and forget all about Michael. Of course, he said nothing of the sort.
"We've got to look for him," Steffi said, interrupting Marc's fantasy of sharing his bed with his pretty sister and the busty nurse.
"Look, Steffi," he argued, "if Michael wants to run away, who are we to try and stop him? Besides, he can take care of himself."
"Oh, no," the girl responded. "You don't know him like I do. He needs my help, Marc. He's likely to do something crazy if we don't go and find him."
Marc knew that the things his sister was saying were true, but somehow it didn't seem so terribly important to him that Michael be kept out of trouble. Still, if it meant so much to Steffi… "Okay," he said. "Where do we start?" Steffi smiled and kissed her brother warmly on the lips.
"Well," she said, thinking hard, "one of his favorite spots in the city is the Naked Truth, you know, that discotheque downtown? There are lots of people there that might help him hide out. Somebody there is bound to know where he is."
Marc's attention was divided as he listened to his sister's advice and simultaneously watched Marcia slipping back into her clothes. He felt the pangs of horny despair as furry cunt and massive tit disappeared behind cloth and wool. Marcia smiled at him and winked before she spoke.
"I'm afraid you'll have to count me out," she said. "Duty calls, you know, and I've got to get back to work. I'll be in touch. Don't worry about a thing."
Marcia, now fully clothed, walked to the door and hesitated a moment before leaving.
"Nice meeting you, Steffi," she said. "I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more of each other."
She smiled inwardly at her own double meaning and walked out.
Marc and Steffi stood in awkward silence for a moment before Marc finally spoke. "Let's get going," he said simply.
The Naked Truth was open most of the day and night six days a week. To the delight of its owners, it was nearly always full. Much of the credit for the Naked Truth's success went to the excellent bands which played live every night, to the owner's good taste in recorded music during the day, and, perhaps most of all, to the incredibly exciting gogo dangers who mingled with the customers day and night. It was rumored that some of the girls were not adverse to going into the back rooms with especially attractive customers, but whether the rumors were true or not, there was no end to the number of young men who went each night to try their luck. Marc had never been at the Naked Truth before.
The reason was not that he was prudish, because he wasn't, and not because he didn't like to dance, because he did – rather, he had avoided the Naked Truth because he felt out of place there. He was young, but not quite young enough. He was hip, but he certainly didn't feel a part of the hippie scene. Now he was there, and he admitted to himself that he was eager to find out what was going on.
"Marc," Steffi said, "I'm going to check out some people I know. Why don't you look around for yourself?"
"I'll come with you," he volunteered.
"Well," she said, trying to be tactful, "some of these people are sort of strange, and you're kind of… well, you know…"
"Straight?" he offered.
She smiled her pretty smile and kissed him with slightly parted lips.
"Straight looking," she corrected, heavily emphasizing the second word. "I've got the best big brother in the world and I know it. But we have to do what's best for Michael right now, and I think it would be better if I went alone."
"Okay," he said, his attention momentarily distracted by a dancer's bouncing boobs, "whatever you say. I'll try to keep myself entertained."
Steffi glanced over to where her brother's eyes were focused and understood immediately.
"Ill meet you here later," she said, squeezing his arm as she began to walk away. Marc had not taken his eyes off the bouncing boobs. "Her name's Shelly," Steffi added helpfully before she left. Marc smiled, thanked her, and resumed watching the lovely dancing girl.
Marc didn't know if Shelly was a professional dancer or not, but there was no doubt in his mind that she could be if she wanted to. The music was loud and the flashing lights distracting, but Shelly seemed to be perfectly comfortable as she bounced and writhed to the pulsing rhythms. The music was hard rock 'n roll, and the girl moved to it as if she were born to dance to it. Dressed in a low-cut tank-top and hot-pants, she might as well have been naked as far as the effect she was having on Marc was concerned. Her legs were long and sleek and bare almost to the waist, a few girlish pubic curls showing from beneath the tight elastic around her upper thighs. She had dancer's legs, and her strong calf and thigh muscles tightened and relaxed excitingly as she dipped and twisted in time to the music.
The boobs which had originally caught Marc's eye were truly phenomenal. High and round, they were large and ripe like Marcia's, but much less conical as if they were still in a stage of development. Marc imagined that her nipples would be tiny and firm, rubbing up against the snug-fitting cloth of her tank-top. He longed to hold his palms underneath those bouncing tits and to rub his face in the cleavage between the un-bra'd bouncers. Even more urgently, he imagined rubbing his pelvis against the wildly undulating pelvis which was now bumping and grinding as excitedly as that of the most skilful stripper.
Marc suddenly realized that the girl's big blue eyes were not focused inwardly as he had assumed, but were rather looking rather intimately into his own! She seemed to beckon him with sly subtle movements of her chin, and Marc found himself seeming almost to drift off slowly in her direction.
Without being able to remember the exact moment when he began to react to the music. Marc realized that he was facing the blue-eyed teenager and was almost imperceptibly beginning to imitate her movements. First it was his elbows and knees which buckled and swayed, and then he felt his head beginning to hop in time, and finally his entire torso was wiggling freely to the unrelenting beat of the rock music. Shelly was grinning at him now, seeming to play the part of the seductress more than that of the dancer. Marc reddened slightly as her gaze turned to the tell-tale bulge which had begun to show through his pants. The girl licked her lips suggestively and the blood in Marc's temples began to pound in expectation.
The fast loud music of one rock band ended and was immediately followed by the still louder and faster music of another. All of a sudden, Marc's attention was shifted from Shelly's face and tits to her hips and her high, shapely ass. She seemed to be all pelvis now as she slid her body up and down in a tight, slow circle, jutting her crotch toward her partner as if he were expected to do something more than dance with her. Marc smiled at the realization that he himself was her partner. He was ready, able, and willing to do quite a bit more than dance with her, and it was beginning to look as if she were going to offer him the chance to prove it.
The music was deafening as the two danced closer and closer. Their closeness was not just a matter of choice. The dance floor was packed with writhing teenagers now, and there was no choice but to dance close to your partner if you had one. Shelly's eyes and pelvic thrusts were giving Marc the impression that he very definitely had one.
"Hi!" he yelled, trying to make himself heard over the music. The girl squinted at him in the darkness and nodded in acknowledgment, her jutting hips never missing a beat.
"My name's Marc," he shouted, hoping that introductions were not out of style in such situations. The girl smiled at him.
"I can dig it!" she yelled back. She turned her back on him then and began to thrust her backside toward him. It seemed to Marc to be like some primate mating ritual with the girl repeatedly pushing her ass out in his direction as if in simulation of fucking. Her own hands were on her ass now, and she was rubbing and caressing it in time to the music. Marc's own fingertips were getting itchy as the girl continued to massage her own smooth upper thighs and to draw slow, round circles on the barely covered cheeks of her buttocks. His cock felt uncomfortably full now in his pants. He wondered if she was getting off on her dancing as much as he was.
When she turned around again, he could tell by the glaze of her eyes that she was becoming quite exhilarated. He didn't know if it was the tightness of her hot-pants working their way up her snatch, the rubbing of her shirt against her sensitive nipples, or her own fingering of her full, tight ass, but something was causing her dancing to take on an ever more spasmodic character, as if she were trying to work it all out on the dance floor. Marc hoped that she was going to let him offer some help.
Suddenly, she seemed to be once again aware of his presence. She spoke to him, but her voice didn't carry over the roar of the record. He moved a little closer in order to hear, but her voice was still too soft. He stood barely four inches in front of her now, surprised that his erect cock and her protruding tits allowed them to stand so close. He was feeling very warm and excited by the time he could hear her words.
"Dance closer, you cuntlicker," she seemed to be saying in what sounded like a whisper. Marc couldn't believe that she had actually addressed him that way, but the leer in her eye and the way she was beginning to run her fingertips along the inside of her crotch suggested that she might very well have said just that.
Shelly had both hands firmly in her crotch as the music soared erotically. With each beat, her knees would buckle slightly and her fingers would press tighter against her pubes. She was clutching and releasing herself rapidly as the music peaked, her breathing growing more rapid as she rubbed the silky material of her pants against the moistening walls of her cunt. She was jerking now, less to the beat of the music blasting from the speakers than to that in her own fevered body, her fingers working busily at her crotch and her hips writhing to assist in pushing them up into her snatch. Her movements were not different than that of many of the others dancing on the floor, and Marc couldn't help but wonder how many hot little chicks came to the Naked Truth to enjoy the thrill of working themselves over in public to the beat of rock music. All around him were bobbing tits and asses, and he suspected that quite a few of the gyrating teenyboppers were quite ready to have some cock put to them by someone who really knew how. Marc was feeling eminently qualified.
The music had stopped for a moment, and Marc felt a warm hand on his arm. It was that of the sweaty, glassy-eyed Shelly. She leaned up against him, squashing her breasts against his chest and whispering in his ear. "Let's sit this one out," she said. Nodding his consent, he took her by the hand and led her to an empty table at the side of the floor. He was feeling good with the glow a man feels when he sets his eyes on an attractive woman and then, a few minutes later, he's buying her a drink and getting to know her. Marc felt as if he already knew everything about Shelly that he needed to know.
"You came in with Steffi, didn't you?" she asked as soon as they had sat down.
"Yeah, I did," Marc admitted, "but…"
"Well listen, my friend, you might as well know that I don't fuck around with my friend's dates."
"Yeah, but…"
"Not that Steffi and I haven't shared a few hot ones," she added dreamily, "but that's only with her permission."
"Listen," Marc said, grasping her firmly by the shoulder, "I'm her brother."
For a moment the girl was silent. She looked him up and down and smiled approvingly. Suddenly she was serious as she leaned over and spoke to him in a hushed tone. He was having great difficulty not staring down into her deep sweaty cleavage.
"How's Michael?" she whispered.
Marc hated to mix pleasure with business. He took the girl's soft hand and held it in his own sweaty palm. It seemed like a good idea to ignore her question, licking the sweat out of her cleavage instead, but he figured that he had a duty to his sister. He swore silently and looked into Shelly's big blue eyes. "We don't know," he said simply. "He ran away."
The girl put her hand to her mouth in a gesture identical to the one Steffi had made earlier. Marc could see almost the whole of her lovely breasts as she hunched over, and he was finding it very difficult to concentrate on asking about Michael.
"Do you think that he's here?" she asked.
"That's what we're here to find out," Marc answered, his fingers drumming impatiently on the table while his other hand still held the girl's fingers tightly.
"Do you want to know the truth?" she asked.
"Sure."
"Michael's a fuck and he's probably better off if they catch him," she said with brutal honesty.
Marc felt relief and an instant kinship to the girl. Her opinion of Michael seemed to correspond to his own. He wasn't sure what he should say – fortunately, she continued to speak.
"Steffi's a good kid. Wild, like all of us, you know? But a good kid. Women get hot for strange men sometimes, and for some reason Steffi's mad about Michael. He treats her like shit, and the worse he treats her the more she seems to worry about him, like she doesn't know the difference between loving someone and feeling sorry for him. He's going to fuck her up eventually. I hate to say it, but I hope for her sake that they catch him."
She paused and looked carefully at Marc to see if she had offended him.
"I hope you don't mind my saying all this," she said.
"My dear," Marc replied truthfully, "I couldn't have put it better myself."
Shelly smiled, and all the tension between them instantly disappeared. "My name is Shelly," she said.
"Steffi told me," he told her.
"And I thought I was the one who was picking you up," she laughed, squeezing his hand.
Marc remembered something that had been bothering him before. He figured that now was as good a time to ask as any.
"Before, when we were dancing, what did you call me?"
"Cute looker. Why? Was I being too forward?" Marc laughed at the error his own dirty mind had played on him. He decided that the joke was too good to keep to himself.
"Frankly," he explained, "I thought you said 'cuntlicker'."
The girl looked at him curiously for a moment before replying.
"Sounds good," she said. "Want to give it a try?"
Marc smiled. It was his turn to lick his lips at the appetizing thought of eating Shelly out. Before he could answer, he became aware of the fact that the music had changed from a fast rock number to a slow dreamy beat.
"Do you dance slow?" Shelly asked, rising to her feet, her breasts bobbing in front of Marc's face.
"As slow as I can," he answered smilingly as he led her out on the floor.
A slow dance at the Naked Truth was a rare happening. The lights were turned down lower than low as young bodies finally came together to rub and squirm against one another, cheek to cheek and crotch to crotch. Marc became aware of the heavy scent of incense for the first time as he finally pressed the warm body of his partner tightly against his own. He loved the feel of a busty woman pressing close to him, and he was so glad to be able to press his throbbing cock against the thin material of the girl's silky hot-pants. It seemed to him that he could feel the moistness of her slit right through the material. He put his hands on the cheeks of her ass and pressed the warmth of her womanhood tightly against his cock. Her breathing began to speed up exactly as did his own.
As they stood there in the almost complete darkness. Marc could hear the sounds of zippers being opened by horny adolescents. The deep breathing and gasping which he heard all around reminded him of his own pressing needs, and he hoped that Shelly would remember the offer she had made him just moments before.
The girl's fingers were dancing delicately on his neck, sending shivers of delight down his spine. Slowly, in time to the pulsating music, the fingers began to knead and massage, working their way down from his neck to his shoulders. She was rubbing his back now as he rubbed her silky bottom, squeezing it tight against his groin. Her soft hands slid down to his buttocks and were moving ever so slowly around to his front. He kissed her wetly on the neck as her fingers found the top of his fly and zipped it down. Cool hands reached into his pants and under his shorts. He bit his lower lip as the exquisite delight of cool feminine hands grabbing hold of his cock surged through his body.
"Mmmm!" she purred. "Very nice!" She was holding it now as the music went on, gently pulling and squeezing to the rhythm in her ears. Her palm gently caressed the undersurface of his cock, and he felt the vein throb as her fingertips poked softly at his balls. For a few moments, Marc surrendered himself to the pure pleasure of having his apparatus fondled and stroked, occasionally sticking his wet tongue into the girl's ear. He realized that he was not being fair when she spoke.
"Touch me," she whispered, her breath hot in his ear.
It was his turn now to reach around to the front of her firm youthful belly. First, he just grabbed her roughly by the crotch, evoking a moan of pleasure and a grateful squeeze of his organ. "Unzip me," she whispered urgently.
Marc felt around the smooth front of her tiny pants and located the zipper. He opened it and slid anxious fingers into the gap. His hand was greeted not by panties but by natural fur, and he groped eagerly among the tangled hairs until he found her damp open slit. He pushed two fingers into it and was amazed at how easily they slid up the moist tunnel of her passion. She pressed her thighs together as Marc began to flex and unflex his finger inside her honeyhole. His fingers were getting soaked and he loved it.
Meanwhile, the sliding of the girl's palm under his cock was coming close to taking its ultimate effect. She was pulling on it desperately now as if she couldn't wait for him to explode in her hand. He was certainly a willing subject. They rubbed and stroked each other for several minutes in silence before the girl pulled his hand away from her crotch and dropped to her knees in front of him.
Oh God, Marc thought. Is she going to do what I think?
And do it she did. Her hand was suddenly replaced by a warm wet mouth. She was sucking hard on Marc's cock as he looked around to see if anyone was watching. It was dark, and he assumed from the sounds that everyone was too busy to worry about what anyone else was doing. He decided not to worry and to enjoy the totally unexpected treat.
Getting blown felt so much better than the adolescent hand-job which he had been receiving. Shelly had both hands inside his pants and she was gently rotating his testicles as she sucked and licked at his pounding dick. The tension was almost unbearable and visions of earlier times began to flash through his mind. Suddenly, the girl on her knees was no longer the busty dancer. In Marc's mind she had become Steffi. It was his own sister who was blowing him now. It was his own sister who had opened up his pants, rubbed his balls, and taken his erect cock eagerly into her sweet little mouth. It was the tongue of his sister that was licking his dick up and down, up and down until it felt like a balloon that was so full that it just had to explode. He grabbed hold of her head firmly now as his cock began to jerk spasmodically back and forth, squirting white gobs of come into the girl's mouth. He could feel her swallowing it down as the last few spasms flooded his body with the satisfying warmth.
She slid her mouth off now, squeezing his organ with her hand as she stood up and closed his fly. Her mouth was wet with his come, and she opened her lips wide to kiss his tongue as he once again put his hand inside her pants, probing and squeezing at the damp juncture of her thighs. She spasmed slightly and pulled his hand away. He looked at her with confusion.
"The music's over," she said simply. Marc realized that it was true as the lights grew brighter. He looked around at the couples still holding each other tight and saw that Shelly was not the only girl with white cream at the corners of her lips. He realized also that he was having a hard time standing up.
"There you are," a familiar voice called out to him as the soft dreamy music was replaced by a loud Motown number. Marc turned around to see the real Steffi facing him.
"Hi, Shelly," she said. "Have you been taking care of my brother for me?"
"Sure have," the busty girl replied. "Haven't I, Marc?"
Marc dumbly nodded in agreement. It was too much having his sister and her friend talking about him this way.
"He's a good man, your brother," Shelly said, suddenly realizing that she had forgotten to zip her pants closed. She did it now, seemingly without any self-consciousness. Steffi too seemed to take it all in stride.
"He sure is," she said in agreement. Marc felt like a king.