The Quinby home was terribly quiet. "Any decent household should be at two a.m." Frank muttered to a restless Jennifer.
"But something moved somewhere," she complained. "Maybe Celeste is trying to find the kitchen for a snack. It's black in the hall, Frank."
Her husband groaned and shifted to his elbows to glare sleepily at his wife. "Look, if I check it out will you let me go to sleep?"
"Oh, thank you. If it's Celeste, maybe you can help her. She likes an after-show nibble and I forgot the kitchen night light."
"Probably Bryan," grumbled Frank, groping for his robe, then remembering. "Wrong. He's on the all-night bus run back from the game."
"Thank heavens he made the team," murmured Jennifer. "He's a worry. So much boy and so anxious to be man."
"I'll be right back," Frank sighed. "I'm awake now. Probably make myself a sandwich."
"Be careful," an anxious wife whispered after his departure. Her happiness was complete, she told herself. She had been loved wildly by Frank before he fell asleep; her home was safe in his protection and to make life sheer joy, her best friend was with them and staying on longer than planned.
Now one more thing remained to complete her joy. Jennifer thought of Celeste. Sweet, gorgeous Celeste, looking more vibrant and beautiful than in conservatory years, had taken her family by storm.
She was the perfect house guest, making herself at home, slipping in quietly after her evening performance, remembering there was a man in the house who had to go to work early. To crown her happiness, Jennifer had watched Bryan make varsity football. That, more than anything, should get him away from any preoccupation with himself or with girls. But she knew it wouldn't. He seemed absolutely in awe, almost afraid of Celeste, and smitten as his eyes said he was with her beauty, he was rarely near her. Sighing contentedly at the new prospects ahead, Jennifer leisurely stretched, then sat up in bed.
Downstairs Frank felt his heart race as he moved through the dining room darkness toward the kitchen. Not from fear of an intruder, but hope that it might be Celeste on a snack-prowling expedition. He paused by the table as a light flared low in the next room, then went out. Must have been the refrigerator light, he decided. At the door into the kitchen he waited and listened, identifying first the lightness of footstep and then the fragrance of perfume as belonging to their house guest. Jennifer rarely used perfume.
"Celeste?" he called softly. "It's me, Frank. You all right?" he asked quickly to wipe out any fright.
"I'll be fine if you don't turn on the light," came back the low voiced response. "I'm practically in the buff."
Violent heart race now and with it a surging charge in his loins. He had already seen a nearly nude Celeste at their pool and also in her latest contemporary Carmen concert. She was pure man-maddening wench. Someone really screwed the calendar when they tried to make her in mid-thirties. Youngish Jennifer had faked out the years with her fabulous figure. But Celeste was like a girl who stayed a girl in every way. And she was also slightly terrifying. So real and so genuine and so all woman – but so famous and so talented she was like someone unreachable.
"Just came down for a bite myself. But I'll come back later if I caught you naked as a jay-bird." His humor sounded an empty nothing to Frank.
"Come in. It's fine. I'm not really, naked. Besides, you're the master of this house, right? So join me. Just keep the light off."
Frank poked about the fridge, finding the bowl of cold chicken and the milk. She was standing facing the sink, looking out into the moonlit night as he placed the bowl on the counter. "Like a piece?" he asked, feeling the wild tremor at the double entendre and leaning close against the counter front to keep his thoroughly aroused cock from bursting through the folds of his robe.
"Thank you." She reached daintily into the metal bowl and he studied her unashamedly. "I'm too piggy, but my figure doesn't seem to hurt from it."
"That is for sure!" He saw her glance at his staring but didn't care. "Say, we're surely glad you're staying with us for your Connecticut performances."
"You aren't thinking about my performances at all, Frank," she accused softly. "But, thank you. I'm thrilled to be here."
In the filtering moonlight her magnificent breasts rose and fell evenly as she returned to her study of their back yard. He watched her finger the drumstick to her lips, pucker and nibble sensuously at the flesh… lick her lower lip and give him privacy to inventory her body profile.
Fabulous classic Grecian beauty to her dark hair and ivory skin. Chiseled perfection to the line of her slightly tilted nose, to the angle of her chin, the smoothness of her sleek throat. Her body, visible through the translucent pink of her shorty gown, was that of woman made for loving. Her nipples, unguarded by a bra, were hard points against the chiffon.
She finished the chicken leg and every bite was an agony for Frank. It was his cock she could be munching and it was his cock she was missing! Any cock, for all he knew of the manless career she had chosen, but for the moment, his cock.
"I can read the dial on your clock radio, Frank. Can you… from here?" She had turned and leaned back against the counter as she stared across the darkened kitchen toward the breakfast nook.
Trapped! The instant he turned, his frantic erection would lose the protection of the wall of the sink counter and leap through his bathrobe. Easily seen in the moonlit kitchen.
"Frank… didn't you hear me? Or are your eyes too old?" She caught his wrist with a little giggle and spun him around. "What does the dial say… oh… oh!" With a sigh of affected dismay, Celeste reached quietly across his front and clasped the great white phallus, ramrodding from the dark folds of his robe.
For a breath stopping second she fondled. "Has this made love to my long-ago roomie today?" She pulled impudently at the horny gristle of his cock shaft. "Tell me, Frank, was this inside Jennifer tonight?"
Momentarily speechless at her utter calm and her directness as she fondled the erection and looked into his eyes, he nodded. Just as though Celeste was the one person in the world who had a right to know.
"Does my openness upset you?"
"No! Good gosh, but you're different!" That was the whole clue, he knew. This brilliant talent, this magnificent female with the stacked chassis that bad to be love starved was really no brazen hussy. She was a beautiful, considerate house guest from the moment she walked through their front door, and she had a tremendous love for Jennifer, as alive now as when they'd been roommates at Gordon. House guest was just what Celeste wasn't. To all of the Quinby household she was now family and she could do no wrong. Least of all this very personal touch. No wrong, Frank reminded himself, nothing but openness. So his lust burned for Celeste. It was plainly welcomed.
"Tell me how you made love to her tonight." The fingers became a fist clutching his cock.
A mad irrationality spilled all common sense from Frank's brain and words tumbled as if he was talking about the weather. "Rather show you than tell you." Last stabbing grab for reason as he saw her eyes glitter. "So, go on, Miss Cute Ass Celeste Dantrelle. Get mad! You asked."
Braced for her outrage or her slap or almost anything, Frank spun her around against his front, grinding his hard on into the thin chiffon as he kissed her lips.
Suddenly the hot hard flesh of his penis was through her frilly pink peignoir, its knobby cap urgent and rude against the soft undercurve of her vee mound. The heady wildness of his sex flesh rubbed against her pubic down, slid over warm pussy tissue and tore all the controls from Frank. Not daring to look into her face or wait for a sign of her wanting, his arm cupped tightly at the upper curve of her tail, he bent Celeste back. Far back.
Startled as she was at his incredible behavior, she arched deeply to his pressure, her head tilted to stare at the tumult-driven prick jabbed against her crotch. Then her head lolled back in limp surrender, eyes closed, lips parted, her body taut but her arms loose at her side. The peignoir spilled open and nearly left her shoulders, but Frank was unaware of it. In totally exposed voluptuosity, her nudity was before him. In what couldn't have taken five seconds, she had opened to his will, her sleek thighs slightly parted to offer the ultimate prize.
Frank took. Hands cupped at her buttocks he bent slightly at the knees and thrust upward as he straightened, impaling Celeste's torrid femininity on the end of his phallus. A sharp intake of air and a momentary stiffening as she felt his first demanding thrust. Then the passion was on him. Her body, animated even in standing coitus, seemed to envelope his and he was going… going… too soon! He fought to hold it back. Lost!
Hot, spraying darts of semen raced into her barely penetrated vagina.
It was over.
That fast it was over and done with and a wilting, glistening cock slithered from her cunty cleft. Her arms crawled sensuously over his shoulders and around his neck and she was leaning silently against him. For long moments no words.
Frank, frustrated that her body wonders had forced him to climax before she had begun to build, hugged her tight and searched for words. None came. The great chance to really make it with Celeste was blown. It was a want that had burned feverishly from the first sight of her. Now it was gone.
"You don't give a girl much chance, do you?" Her eyes were full on his face. "Is that… what do athletes call it…? Your best shot?"
"But gosh, Celeste… I don't…"
"Must be more." Sultry, whispered taunting! "I'd like to know why Jennifer chose you, instead of her career. Could it be this?"
One savage squeeze forced him hard again and he caught her hand and ripped it from his erection, pushing her toward the back door. "The cabana… out by the pool. You'll find out what she got instead of a damned music career."
Nothing short of earthquake could have stopped Frank Quinby as he tiptoed from the kitchen out onto the dew-dampened grass and across to the swimming pool. Just as they slipped from the screen door to the flagstone patio, Celeste squeezed his hand fiercely. Her pink shorty gown slipped from her shoulders.
Something tore inside Frank at the sight of her total nudity in the night. Dancing away from him, arms wide flung, breasts happily thrusting, she was a nymph of distant legend. The brightness of a full moon gleamed across her front and accented hills and valleys of incomparable splendor. Her ribcage concaved deeply into her waist and satin smooth flesh plateaued to the wild width of her hips, curving back into the prominent vee mound that topped her love center.
He strutted proudly before her, naked himself as they reached the safety of the cabana. A potent man, vain about his overdeveloped genitals, Frank grabbed the opportunity to show off as he hefted a mattress over his head and strode brazenly to the double size chaise lounge.
This time it was right. No hurry. No impetuous schoolboy in Frank's lovemaking. No premature ejaculation. He molded her fantastic curves across the chaise he'd had specially made for sex. Resisting inner springs gave a kind of surprise reflex to his thrust as he drove his phallus into her, giving each spearing stroke a whip snap when he ground her taut buttocks hard against the mattress. Passion agony was on her lips as he withdrew with tortuous deliberateness almost to the tip of his cock after each thrust.
The cabana became an isolated world apart from reality as he rode and conquered and heard her sweet screams of fuck need. She was finding what she wanted to know – why his Jennifer wanted man instead of music for a career.
Jennifer! His bold betrayal splashed like a brief rocket before his fevered thoughts as he felt himself hurrying toward long delayed orgasm. Frank hadn't been that great in fidelity to this wife. Not at the office and not at the annual convention of dairy products distributors. He had his fun, but never, ever in their fifteen years of marriage, had he ever been unfaithful in his own home. Something had torn inside with the coming of Celeste. Something whipped him to have her once, to prove a wild premise that he could in one act of love, get closer to Celeste than all their long friendship had ever brought the girls.
Clasping and clutching, hearing the throaty moans of her ecstasy, his climax built and built but didn't let go. Couldn't let go till it forced her on to her wildest orgasm ever. Frank had the weird, wonderful awareness that he had achieved heaven and hell simultaneously. He had acted on his impulse to try to seduce Celeste, only to discover it was Celeste granting him her body. Even as his orgasm rippled through his loins, he was into her because Celeste wanted him there. Not because he was the world's greatest lover.
Then the climax was on him and he was ejaculating into the devastating glories of his wife's best friend.
"Awwwhhh… Celeste, yuh… tuh… take it… take it!" Frank's come was a hot barrage, leaping and racing just as a banshee scream coming from the threshold of the cabana pounded and reverberated across the two bound-together bodies. Jennifer flung herself across their final punishing, writhing thrusts as climax slowed.
"Ayyyeeehhh!" Frank's roar of pain and surprise sprayed at the night as he tumbled in a mishmash of arms and legs to the not soft flagstone of the cabana.
Hands wild before his face to protect himself against raking fingernails that tried to ravage a shoulder, he spun away from the assailant, then cringed behind the tilt end of the chaise, gaping in disbelief. His wife! And such a wife! Rage and animal lust for what she had obviously watched stolen from her, whipped the smaller Jennifer to a fury of strength beyond any that Celeste had to repel the initial assault.
Sprawled across her former roommate's striving curvaceousness, Jennifer was almost fragile in comparison to Celeste. But there atop the explosive breasts; straddling the more succulently muscled body of superlatively endowed Celeste, Jennifer was a fierce sex kitten in her own right. Feline, sleekly turned arm and thigh muscles, a taut trimness accented by the pixie bob of her platinum blonde hair and the perkiness of small breasts, Jennifer had a terrifying sensuality of her own.
Frank gaped as if seeing his wife for the first time, then bellowed helpless protest as she poised tensely over the spread-eagled Celeste, arms straight as she gripped jutting boobs. For a mad moment Frank was sure he was going to witness to the mutilation of the most glorious breast over development he ever had seen, then Jennifer's shrill cry ruptured the electrified silence.
"You Amazon witch! How dare you!" She was in a world alone with Celeste, no longer aware of Frank's presence. "Like always! You helped yourself." Outrage in the words, but not in Jennifer's tone or her expression. Fingers that had been clawlike when they first grabbed the milk-ivory globes, were now cupping the magnificent orbs almost tenderly.
"Like always!" breathed Celeste, visibly aroused by the nubile nude astride her and never from the first even mildly frightened. "Like always, Jenny… and… and you were right."
"Was he?" panted Jennifer, breathless now at the brazen finger play from her "captive" that toyed boldly at her crotch.
"Oh God, he's good!"
The dawn sprayed across Frank's tumbling thoughts as the impact of it all smashed home. His great spontaneous seduction scene in the kitchen had been a sneaky mischief set up by these long-time friends. Relieved and turned on by the sight of his wife now in passionate clutch with Celeste, he crawled over the edge of the chaise, stroking and fondling one and then the other as girl play erupted.
No longer was Frank out of it as the two cuddled and clasped in happy reunion with each other's bodies. It was plain their intimacy had gone far beyond the side-by-side music study at the conservatory. To Frank, insinuating himself close to feel their pulsing delight in each other, it was like finding a new woman in the girl who had been his wife of more than a decade. Never the least hint of lesby interests before and now not the least self-consciousness in her play before him.
Little out of breath screams darted from each as they fingered, then kissed the other's most erogenous points. When Celeste curled in the bend of Jennifer's deeply tanned leg, she was a stunning contrast of buttermilk satin against deeply tanned skin.
"I want Frank to see how we made nights happy at Gordon," she murmured, nuzzling suggestively along Jennifer's inner thigh. "And I want to see if he has destroyed your pretty garden."
The spellbound audience of one gaped at the way a kind of delirium possessed Celeste as she kissed along the dark cleft, then tongue-speared deeply into her playmate's pussy. Jennifer, dissolved in instant orgasm with the first pressure of tongue on clit, was a wriggling demon-driven nude when Celeste literally commandeered her body.
Thirsty lips suddenly abandoned the tender cunty flesh and she raised her head to look Jennifer in the eye. "I love it… he's made your garden even more beautiful; your ditty's bigger and your vagina… oh, my dearest, has he taken you hundreds of times?"
"Thousands," panted Jennifer, writhing against the hands cupped beneath her buttocks to urge herself upward for new play. "He's pretty nutty about sex."
"I noticed. Beautiful." Celeste's hand was possessive and demanding as she clutched Frank's cock, nudged impertinently against her tail, forcing him, like it or not, to lie side-by-side with Jenny. "I want to kiss two sex nuts to distraction. Then I want you to do it in front of me."
A strange aura came across the threesome there on the double-wide chaise longue. Frank and Jennifer, unable to help their intense feeling for the magnet of Celeste, hugged each other as they stared down at the beautiful creature claiming total rights to phallus and vagina. Dark hair swirled and darker eyes sparkled as she sampled and sucked and kissed from cunt to cock. There was only beauty in her act. Nothing cheap or wanton. Something regal and worshipful of the sexuality of her friends.
In happy moaning delight she brought Jenny to peak and sent her in writhing orgasm frenzy over the crest, then shifted to a brief maddening fellatio of Frank's hard-on, licking and juicing it nearly to completion, but spewing it dripping and saliva-soaked from her lips at the last torturous instant.
"Good Lord, Celeste… finish me!" groaned Frank.
Even Jennifer wanted it. "He's my husband and I want you to make him come."
"Nuhunnnhhh!" Brunette lengths tumbled crazily and her body pretzeled in frantic contortions as she hovered possessively across their trembling bodies. "I want to watch you together," hissed Celeste. "Do it for me, sweet Jenny!"
An odd turnabout stormed Frank Quinby as he felt the arms of this near lifelong friend of Jennifer's yearning and tight around his waist, tugging to urge his copulation before her. It had been a long-time lust burning in the man to act out his passion for Jennifer before an audience.
"Gotta have you, kitten!" he exploded, throwing himself across the diminutive figure of a cock-maddened Jennifer and spreading her legs to his will.
"You'll kill her with that." Crouched beside them, eyes saucer-wide in fascination, Celeste watched the love organ pierce the needy pussy lips and move with practiced boldness deep into Jennifer's clutching cunty center. "Isn't it too much, my precious?" moaned the voyeur, leaning impulsively to kiss and fondle Jennifer's perky breasts.
"Course!" gasped a sex-driven housewife, feeling more courtesan than married as Frank came alive with a fever she hadn't felt for years. "He's killing me with it. I love it! Love it!"
And then the cabana quieted. Beyond the entry the sound of distant locusts. Inside, the soft breathing of a spent and happy threesome was all that could be heard. Delicious moments of afterglow.
"You two are very precious," murmured Celeste as she rolled away from the hands that stroked and tugged to try to urge her to a more intimate embrace. "I'm going to bed."
"And so are you, dear heart." Jennifer's happy face lifted above Frank's shoulder to follow Celeste's departure. "And you're never going to tell us, are you?"
"What?"
"Whether our way is better than your way."
At the exit from the cabana, Celeste looked thoughtfully at the pair snuggled on the chaise. "If it's a Frank with a Jennifer, no contest." A special kind of radiance mingled with an eerie aloneness in the nude slipping into her pink peignoir. "But I haven't met a Frank… and I wouldn't try to steal a Frank even if I could. So, for me it's right the way I am." She tiptoed out into the night.
Alone in the cabana, Frank clutched his wife tightly and nibbled sensuously at the soft tissue of her earlobe. "You set me up!" he accused. "You knew what that noise was in the kitchen all the time."
Jennifer's slim figure was cemented fiercely to his. "Guilty." Her mound was restless against his and he lay unresponsive, letting the sexuality of her smooth satiny feel get to him. The memory of the kitchen and the play that erupted in this cabana tortured him to a freshening erection.
She felt his stiffening flesh and trapped it mischievously between warm thighs, forcing the burgeoning cock to stay motionless while it ballooned. "Want to take it to her?" she cooed. "I won't stop you. We promised way back when we were girls what belongs to one, belongs to the other."
Frank's answer was in the arching of his body against the vise of her thighs, kneeing an opening between her legs and stuffing his phallus almost brutishly into Jennifer's snug vagina.
"Doesn't work that way, baby, and you know it," he murmured softly as their coital rhythm began. "I'd like to fuck hell out of both of you… tonight… tomorrow… every day. Hell, yes, I admit it!"
"So, maybe you ought to while she's here."
"That's what I mean by female smartass talk!" His buttocks cheeks tensed as he ground impatiently against the cuddly form under him. "She's not up for grabs."
Jennifer, rocking in the slow familiar copulation pattern she loved to use to protract their intercourse, kissed him impulsively. "You saw what most men don't," she whispered. "She's in a world her talent has her locked into. She looks like everyman's dream of mistress and plenty have tried."
"But she does love it," interjected Frank. "She loves it every way. With you as much as with me."
"And she chose it." Jennifer was pumping now in the spell of the indriven organ, rapidly losing control to runaway passion.
"You chose, baby. Glad?" growled her man.
"Ohhhh, Frank… Frank… my beautiful ohhhh, yes!"