Thank you. Xoxo, the text read. Sean cursed at the prospect of having to endure Michael's various caprices longer than necessary and at his inability to say no—more accurately: to say no to the pair of perky breasts Michael's mother, Sharon, used to keep in either no bra or a sports bra under her tank top. In combination with her yoga pants, this gave an overall picture that had Sean nodding absent-mindedly and stupidly commenting open-mouthed uh-huh's whenever she was talking to him, no matter the content.

But how could he possibly deny himself the pleasure of seeing those mesmerizing globes wiggle when she was giggling from their casual flirts?

Being the average victim of traditional human lack of rationality, he was taking his time to change from his tracksuit to his habitual clothes to delay the twenty-minute car ride with Michael on the backseat as much as possible. As if that helped any. He had promised he'd let the spoiled brat hitch a ride home since his mother couldn't make it.

“Promised, idiot!” Sean cussed between his teeth, reminding himself she hadn't even given him a reason—nor had he bothered to ask. He sighed as he zipped his hoodie, pinching the skin on his neck with the topmost pair of teeth out of lack of attention from being pissed at himself. “Fuck!”

At least, the damage was just superficial, he found looking in the mirror of the dressing room, but looked close enough to a hickey to have him hiss yet another curse. How would he possibly be able to face the incarnation of his most intimate desires in this condition? What would she think? ... And why even bother about such things anyway? She was one of his kids' mother—your stereotypical porn soccer mom.

What was he even worried about? From her point of view, there was nothing he could offer her anyway. For all he knew, she'd been selling his parents his diapers for a summer job as a high school freshman, to put things into the right perspective. Keep dreaming, dumbass!

Still, he hoped he could zip the hoodie close high enough to cover the bruise; maybe dig his hands into its pockets and raise the collar a little bit too? A quick exchange at her doorstep, some guiding of attention to the little rascal, perhaps. If he was lucky, a hug including an ever so brief feel of her breasts against his chest and he would be gone. She wouldn't even notice the 'hickey'. Great plan! Yeah, a hug. As if... He rolled his eyes at his own thoughts.

“Perv,” he whispered to himself under his breath as he stepped to the dressing room door, rummaging in his pocket for his set of keys.

Locking the coaches' dressing room door, he looked for Michael and sighed when he couldn't see him in the hallway. “Where'd this fucking kid go?” he sighed almost inaudibly in case the boy was standing right next to him and he had just overlooked him.

Sean decided to look for Michael while doing his inspection drill: turn off all the showers in case the kids had left them on, gather any forgotten items, switch off the lights, lock all the dressing rooms, look for any stray soccer balls or other scattered material and finally, lock the access gate.

During the round, he tried to remember how he had gotten himself into this situation of being the most popular coach of the squad—with the kids' moms anyway. The dads, not so much but they never showed up anyway. It had not been particularly difficult, being the youngest coach and the only coach following the credo of always participating in every exercise instead of showing off a well-fed pot belly and shouting out orders while loudly chewing on Nicorettes.

Also, he was, albeit fair, a very strict and demanding coach from whose practices, the kids went home crawling on all fours, much to the delight of the mothers looking forward to nights bereft of parental duties. He sure enjoyed the delighted glances he earned and the sarcastic, “poor kid, you'll be going to be early tonight,” that didn't run into any opposition. In short: the mothers were digging him big time.

This earned Sean not only the moms' gratitude but plenty of occasions to flirt those willing to. Knowing most of them were married or generally not interested in boys little more than half their age gave him the confidence to go all out and flaunt his lack of shame. The coy giggles and blushed cheeks that often ensued were the greatest rewards for having to deal with the unleashed kids.

Still, of all mothers, Sharon—the most exhaustive boy's mom—had to be the most flirtatious of them, making his head spin with a single batting of her eyes alone, giving him enough material to masturbate himself to sleep many a night.

On that day, she had asked him to take Michael home. Why, oh why, had he agreed to give her his number in the first place? He sighed as he locked the gate. Vide supra, idiot: tits! Oh, the virtues of having time-consuming hobbies and the involuntary dedication to being single they brought along.

He looked through the fence and couldn't believe what he saw: he had locked Michael into the area. This alone was no reason to get hysterical, was the boy not wallowing in the large puddle of mud that had remained after the previous day's heavy rain.

Sean shot a rhetorical question addressed to the higher powers in charge of how he had earned this as he ran to the puddle only to realize he had to get his feet wet too if he wanted to get Michael out of there. “This kid is killing me,” he moaned lowly as the muddy water soaked the socks in his shoes.

The boy threw a major tantrum as Sean lifted him by sheer force and carried him over to the outdoor shower. Wet car seats were better than wet and dirty car seats, he reasoned as the purposefully cold was raining over Michael. He held the boy as far as possible; not only to minimize the amount of collateral splash water but also to avoid the boy's wild kicks.

“Mom will kill you!” Michael yelled in his infantile rage. “She'll peg your ass to death, asshole!”

Sean indifferently rolled his eyes. He marveled at the choice of words for such a little kid, wondered where Michael had picked up these rather crude profanities, wondered if the brat actually understood a word he'd been yelling and thanked these ominous higher powers that he didn't have to deal with that boy all the time. The poor teachers at school...

The boy was still thrashing about as Sean dragged him over the floor to his car. “Look, Michael, you're only hurting yourself,” he explained, a heavy sigh in his voice.

“Yeah, but you'll get sacked if I tell Mom!” Michael yelled, his signature fake crying commencing.

“We'll see about that,” Sean nonchalantly retorted, making use of his well-experienced mask of complete disinterest. “Let's get you home and into some fresh clothes first.”

The yelling and crying reached its peak when Sean forced Michael on the backseat of his car and barely managed to get him into the seatbelt.

The ride home was uneventful hadn't it been for the heavy metal show-grade volume of Michael's unending whining and cursing. The only thing that allowed Sean to keep his sanity throughout the ride and not stop and single-handedly throw the boy under the next truck was the prospect that the ride would be over soon and he'd get greeted by the soccer mom of his dreams, possibly in skimpy underwear?

That thought had him completely oblivious to the elevated noise level surrounding him. His mind was busier with brushing away such absurd ideas—who dresses nicely at home anyway, duh?—than with the obnoxious calls for attention from the rugrat on his backseat. At the same time, he was mentally picking the color and degree of transparency of the negligee she would be wearing for him, against all voices reasoning he should not expect anything like that from a mother who was, for all he knew, married.

She would never invite him in and even if she did, he would politely decline; he had been over this scenario countless times in the past few hours. Go there, deliver the brat, say bye, end of story. And should she ask him to stay, even just for a coffee, he'd just excuse himself and show he had his desires under control. Yeah! Sounded about right. Totally legit! Piece of cake. No problem to pull off... unless she'd really be wearing that negligee. “Naïve doofus,” he cursed himself under his breath.

When he finally pulled up her driveway, his ears were ringing from the constant acoustic pressure. It was only when he heard his momentary tinnitus start predominating Michael's screaming that he realized the boy had somewhat reduced his volume. His eyes did indeed look tired when Sean opened the back door to get the boy out.

The latter was yawning when Sean rang the doorbell, his head repeating 'politely decline' like a broken record... until the door flung open and the woman standing in front of him cut his breath.

“Who the fuck are you?” Sean yelped in shock from the sight of a near-perfect clone of Sharon—minus five, maybe ten years—wearing just a sports bra and yoga leggings; no panty line nowhere in sight, nipples protruding through the thin fabric.

“Hello to you too,” the younger Sharon shot back, suppressing a snuffle. “So you must be this Sean guy my sister's been going on and on about, yes?”

“Yeah, uh,” was all Sean managed in his shame. He tried to cover up his lapse by tentatively offering her his hand, an abashed crooked smile on his lips. “Nice... uh... meet you.” Nailed it... not!

“Sheryl, nice to meet you too,” she coldly returned, giving him a surprisingly firm, almost painful handshake. “Now will you come in and try to make up for your bad start or are you gonna keep ogling my boobs?”

Caught red-handed—or better: red-faced—Sean stammered, “Yeah... uh... here's Michael.”

“I know,” came Sheryl's obviously irritated answer. “I have eyes too in case you didn't notice and they're perfectly functional. And I can also see he did a poor job trying to shower with his clothes on.”

Sean gulped at her sharp tongue and at the sudden loss of his habitual bravado and natural flirtiness with women. “A-a-and Sharon? N-not home y-yet?” Was his clumsiness due to the fact that, contrary to Sharon, Sheryl seemed to be in an age not all too far from actually available to him? Get it out of your head, dimwit! This prospect made Sean take a step back and got him all intimidated by the younger version of his most intimate wet dream's personification.

Sheryl rolled her eyes once more. “Of course not, dummy. Why d'you think she asked you to bring Michael home? Damn, you're even denser than she told me. To think I agreed to spend the evening with you and have you for dinner so Sharon can show you her gratitude. Ugh!”

Sean winced when hearing what Sharon really thought of him. At the same time, this scenario had never occurred to him. In his mind, he would have given a B-grade film noir private eye explaining the ravishing femme fatale he could never possibly fulfill her desires without putting her to grave danger but never had it crossed his mind that Sharon was possibly not even remotely interested in him, let alone thought so lowly of him.

He congratulated himself to have solved this problem before actually running into it but quickly realized that Sheryl posed an equally great—if not substantially greater—threat.

“Now let me get some fresh clothes on my nephew while you set up some rice. You can cook rice, can't you? We're having Parmigiana.” Sheryl's voice shook Sean from his daydreaming, causing him to nod stupidly just as with her older sister.

She quickly walked him through the kitchen before she put drop-dead tired Michael the shower for the umpteenth time that day and prepared his pajamas.

During dinner, the little boy hardly managed his plate before he excused himself to brush his teeth and retreat to his bed.

“Your girlfriend give you that hickey?” Sheryl asked, breaking the awkward silence that ensued and painfully reminding Sean of what he had so desperately tried to hide earlier.

Blushing furiously, he muttered, “Got no girlfriend,” before shoving a large scoop of rice into his mouth to buy some time to activate his much decelerated—a.k.a. barely existent—thinking due to the presence of the younger version of his secret forbidden crush while, internally, he kept cursing at his lack of self-control and control of the overall situation in general.

She feigned a concerned look. “Oh poor sweetie, you've never scored on any of your soccer moms then?” She rolled her eyes at the mention of that specific type of woman. Then, her face lit up with a knowing smirk. “So tryna be a player, don't you?”

For the first time, he managed to look her in the eye for more than just a split-second as his eyes grew like saucers and his face took the expression of a kid caught stealing cookies from the jar.

“Thought so,” Sheryl giggled and tugged at the cleavage of her sports bra. “Wanna play with me tonight?”

Sean's mouth sprang open and his mind went on screen saver as he caught his first glimpse of her pale breast flesh.

“They say that 'gentlemen prefer blonds', right? In layman's terms and so that even a dimwit like you understands it, 'Stupid girls fuck better.' I'm curious to find out if that holds true to guys too,” she nonchalantly added, playing with a strand of her hair, “because if it does, you'll be my ticket to sweet sexual oblivion tonight.”

“What?” Sean barely managed, giving solid proof to her undiplomatic insult to his intellect.

Sheryl rolled her eyes playfully and removed her sports bra, leaving the unveiled glory of her breasts in Sean's eyesight. He gulped at the sight and tried hard to move his eyes somewhere else while he felt his face gradually heat up to near-boiling temperature. Sheryl was grinning knowingly, not that her facial expression got registered by him. She stood up and teetered up and down on the spot, making her bosom wiggle firmly, causing Sean only to fall deeper into his hypnotized state.

As she walked over, pushing her breasts together with her upper arms, he could feel the first drop of drool running down his chin. Once she was standing next to him, she took his head and pulled his face between her breasts and made him motorboat her. She giggled when she let go of his head but he kept his nose buried between those soft, fleshy cushions.

“Lookie there who's a greedy little boy,” she aspirated with a sugary sweet voice before taking his face in both her hands and lowering her own to steal a first kiss.

He let it happen and allowed his own hands to run through her hair and caress her neck. She moaned into his mouth in response and slid her tongue past his lips while her hands were looking for his to place them on her breasts. Submissive to her charms and marveling at the prospect of an unexpected nookie, Sean decided to make the best of the situation and started to knead her breasts.

He regaled on the soft, cushion-like feel of them in his palms as he sucked her tongue between his lips and let his own play with its tip. As he let off of her tongue, a thick string of saliva briefly hung there before it snapped and the bigger glop landed on his chin due to her standing straight and him still being seated.

She grinned at him, collected the sticky slime with three fingers and licked it off while winking at him. This triggered his most primitive instincts to a point where he couldn't help but step off his chair and push her against the wall with his face buried between her boobs.

She let it happen and when her back hit the wall, he slowly traveled down, past her belly button to her crotch. He grabbed the waistband of her yoga pants and pulled them down mid-thigh so he could just sniff her womanly scent and lick her pubic mons, just millimeters away from her clit if he stretched out his tongue far enough.

As a reaction, she wriggled her legs in a vain attempt to make her pants fall to the floor to grant him better access while pressing his face into the trimmed curls of her landing strip. Along with her moans, her squirms became increasingly frustrated by the lack of proper clitoral stimulation.

As she pushed him away, he had a knowing smirk all over his face, showing he had been torturing her deliberately, denying her the full pleasure she was hoping to receive from his oral administrations.

All it took was biting her bottom lip and a desperate enough, “Please,” to have him pull the lycra fabric down all the way. He knelt in front of her, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he kept smirking at her. Her second plea came a lot whinier—pure music to his ears—a tonality he just loved to hear.

Feigning obedience, he just dug his face into her crotch, supported by her hands pulling him in again, but did nothing else; just enjoyed the sensation of having his face pressed into the most private parts of a woman in growing desperation for her climax.

“Nooo, dummy,” she wailed, her voice dripping with lust, as she ground her crotch against his face. “Lick my pussy clean! Treat my clit like bubblegum!” came her order in the same pleading tonality.

He obliged willingly to her raunchy commands and started lapping her labia. She squealed in delight over the sensations but soon, her animalistic comments turned into discontented grunts again as she realized he was deliberately still leaving out her clit.

“You devious torturer,” she gasped. “Now just eat me out already!”

With that, he finally gave in to her orders and for the first time licked her erect nub, feeling the electricity shooting through her body as she spasmed from the lightest touch. He tantalized her some more by just faintly brushing his tongue over it, which rewarded him with insults of ramping crudity gradient.

Soon enough—or late, in Sheryl's opinion—he increased the pressure on her clit and finally sent her over the edge, resulting in a cacophony of guttural emanations that reminded him of a demon with a sore throat. Along with her tensing body, Sean got showered in a deluge of her nectar as she spray-covered him in her lust.

As he let go of her, her legs were so shaky, she had to rest her back against the wall so she would not slip on the pool of her own pussy-drool. He was still kneeling in front of her, grinning over both ears at his most recent sexual exploits. Time for some reward, he thought as he unbuttoned his pants to free his rock-hard erection.

His ambitions were, however, put to an immediate halt as he heard someone harrumphing behind him just as his pants hit the ground. Afraid of whom to find standing behind him, he first sought the expression of purest uh-oh in Sheryl's face.

He felt someone brushing past him and head straight to his lover at full speed. Sharon's hand landed on Sheryl's neck and pressed the latter against the wall.

“How dare you,” began the older version of Sean's ambulant wet dream, “take advantage of my boy toy, you filthy fucking slut?”

“I'm only giving him what you're too much of a coward to do yourself,” the younger sister croaked back, fighting the constriction of her airways.

“Bullshit! I was going to screw him tonight and you knew that! Why else would I invite him over? Why couldn't you just leave me this pleasure? You'll just fuck any guy who doesn't say no, won't you?” Sharon barked.

“Says the right one, you married bimbo slut!” Sheryl snarled, still short of breath. “You told me to greet him and treat him to dinner because you were, literally, too fucking busy to show him some appreciation for having to put up with your ill-bred brat. What did you expect I'd do, you whore?”

“Oh, playing the cheap married card, are we? At least, I know how to keep my man! Why did the last one run away again? Ah yes, because you jumped him at every occasion and didn't leave him room to breathe! And what did you just call me?” the elder sister screamed.

Sean's simple mind not being up to the task of processing what he was witnessing, he watched with odd amazement, mouth goofily agape, how the two sisters were verbally bashing each other's heads in, his pants and underpants still in a pile around his ankles.

“Oh, you're just jealous because I'm still young and pretty and can have any man and you're slowly becoming an old hag, ain'tcha?” the younger of the two kept firing.

“Picking the cheapest points, are we? How mature of you, baby sister!” Sharon shouted before both voices turned into an uncontrolled mess of death metal-type Nazgûl screeches.

“Ladies!” Sean intervened, yelling. Then, as two differently aged versions of the same delectable, yet fuming face stared back at him, he meekly added, “Can't we just discuss this?”

“Shut up, boy toy!” came the answer in unison.

Sheryl managed to free herself from her sister's grip. She grinned. With a broken voice, she tried, “Yeah, why not let the boy toy decide who's better?”

“Ha!” Sharon exclaimed, her tone dripping with venom. “An easy victory. What can you offer him except teeth for a blowjob? Ever heard of experience?”

“Yeah, more, like, 'ran-down', you mean? Your cunny is so worn out it has to feel like throwing a wiener into an empty sports hall on Sean's dick,” Sheryl sneered.

“Still better than your nearly non-existent boobs, flat-chested sister,” Sharon fake-laughed.

“You're just jealous that they'll never sag like yours and it only cost me barely a cup size—before your boob job disaster, that is,” Sheryl shot back in nonchalant arrogance.

“This does it, bitch!” Sharon barely managed in her just triggered pure rage. “Sean, sit down so I can suck you off and show this wannabe-slut how it's done!”

“Yes, Sean, sit down so she can prove she's not worth half of what she claims,” Sheryl agreed to one half of her sister's suggestion.

Although the little reason his brain was still possessing—given the situation—was half-heartedly trying to convince him to pull his pants up and leave while the sisters were busy negotiating, his loins had, since the competition for his favor had been pronounced, decided to sit this one out and endure whatever the was on the sisters' minds to please him. He was, in fact, very much looking forward to having these two prime examples of what his young mind categorized as a MILF and a cougar compete for who'd receive his steamy load as a trophy.

Hell, yeah!

He smugly leaned into his chair and folded his hands behind his head, sporting a huge smirk.

“Show my unfaithful cheating sister she can't even blow that stupid grin from your face, Sean,” Sheryl cheered as Sharon knelt down between his legs and lowered her luscious lips onto his cock.

Sean's eyes first widened and then rolled up as Sharon immediately went for a deep-throat assault while playing with his balls.

Seeing his long-time secret wet dream come true in combination with the prospect of receiving pleasure from the woman of his dreams twice and Sharon's unhesitant assault had Sean on the brink of his orgasm with just a few bobs of her head supported by synchronized strokes of his shaft.

Suddenly, Sharon let go just the moment his voice was about to turn into zombie gargles. She was screaming bloody murder and it took Sean a moment to realize Sheryl had pulled her older sister's hair to remove her from his nearly squirting member.

“Oh no, I'm not letting you have this so easily. Are you so afraid I'll win that you cheat, you lying bitch? If you wanna beat me—which you never will—you'll have to do it fair and square, big sis,” Sheryl declared as she pulled her sister closer until their faces were just inches apart.

The latter protested, “Let go, you crazy bitch!” As Sheryl did as ordered, Sharon added, “You're fucking mental, Sheryl!”

The accused casually ignored the insults and slid her hair behind her ear as she took her elder sister's place between Sean's legs. Her approach was a lot subtler as she softly placed her pouted lips on the very tip to lap the generous dollop or pre-cum that came oozing from the slit with her tongue and spread it over his shaft. Doing so, she kept eye contact with Sean through eyes half-closed while moaning on his dick. It was only then that she took him all the way down her throat and kept him there until her gag reflex caused her mouth to produce a large excess of saliva. Upon releasing his cock, she spat the thick slimy natural lubricant on his balls and used her free hand to rub it into them.

The slippery feel soon had him close his eyes and emanate moans of approval testifying that he was close to a toe-curling orgasm... until Sheryl just let go of him and left him wallowing in self-pity over the loss of possibly the best orgasm in his life—just as he had done to her.

She grinned at her sister victoriously and said, “See, big sister? This is how it's done. He's not only had the best blowjob ever, but he'll also do anything to get off at this point. Your turn now to show you're so loose you could sit on a yoghurt cup without deforming it.”

“Oh no, let's up the game a bit, shall we?” Sharon replied in a pissed tone. She removed her pants, leaving her in only a dental-floss-grade thong. Then, she stepped between now puppy-eyed Sean's legs, turned around and sat on his lap. With her hand, she guided his erection between her legs and started humping him while keeping on pumping him with her hand.

It wasn't long before Sheryl took Sean's cock out of her sister's hand, slid the barely-there string of material hardly covering the latter's drenched entrance aside and guided the throbbing erection to its opening.

“Yes, ride him, Sharon,” she encouraged the elder of both. “Take him all the way in,” as Sean's and Sharon's moans were reverberating off the dining room's walls.

As Sharon and Sean were working up a rhythm, Sheryl knelt between her sister's spread legs. She marveled at the sight of Sean's cock sliding in and out of another woman's pussy. She leaned in closer to lick Sean's heavy, pendulous balls and suck them into her mouth while he was pounding Sharon. He was sitting on the edge of the chair, his back leaning against the backrest so Sharon could rest her weight on his torso and they could make out while Sheryl was having her way with his jewels.

In this position, it was easy for Sheryl to find Sean's backdoor and lube it with one copiously salivated finger before she penetrated him. He reveled in this additional stimulation and his thrusts became harder in response. Sharon, surprised by Sean's increased aggressiveness, let her body go limp from the approaching orgasm.

All she needed was Sean's helping hand brushing her clit with his finger and her body tensed before uncontrolled spasms brought Sean dangerously close to his own climax. He hoped to find a distraction from the stimulus from Sharon's irregular contractions.

The needed delay came from Sheryl who squeezed his testes with her hands with a nonchalant, “Not before I've had my ride too, boy toy!”

Sean winced and cried out in pain. His cock instantly shrank went just limp enough to slip out of Sharon's pussy as she was sitting on his lap, catching her breath from her most recent orgasm.

“Don't worry. I didn't hurt you. Just gave you a hard enough squeeze so you can fuck me just as good as you did my sister,” Sheryl commented, smiling at Sean's pale, anxious face. To prove her point, she took his semi-flaccid member in her hand, gave it a few pumps and took it between her lips where she could already feel his blood making it rise again as a sign that he was already forgetting her rough touch.

She straddled him and impaled herself on his erection which was proudly standing at full mast anew. His face was free of all worries about his virility again as she straddled him and gave him a deep kiss on which he could taste a combination of his pre-cum and Sharon's pussy. This let him—similarly to his cock—forget the cruelty of Sheryl's hand and spurred him on to thrust into her tight wetness as hard as he could.

“Fuck, Sharon,” her younger sister commented. “He's fucking good!”

Sharon stepped to the chair and presented Sean her boobs right at the height of his face. Grabbing Sean's head, she broke the kiss between her sister and him to have him suck on her nipples.

“She's getting enough action already, I want some too!” she declared, taking hold of one of Sean's hands and guiding it to her pussy. “Finger-fuck me, Sean. Finger-fuck that slut soccer mom's cunt you've been drooling over.”

He happily obliged but only managed to clumsily stick one finger up her pussy. Little did he know this only served a little revenge plan Sharon had in store for her little sister. Sharon rubbed her clit to a quick orgasm while Sean's finger coarsely poked in her hole. This helped her squirt over her hand and thereby lubricating her fingers.

She used her slick index to penetrate Sean's anus once more, making Sean tense up and ram his erect member deeper into Sheryl's depths.

Sharon then grabbed her sister's hair with her free hand and yanked it back, making her scream in pain and arch her neck back.

Sharon stuffed her index finger into Sheryl's mouth. “Suck the taste of Sean's ass off my finger, you filthy slut,” she ordered. “For pulling my hair. How's that for a payback, huh, bitch?”

Sheryl moaned on Sharon's finger as if she enjoyed the humiliation of tasting Sean's ass.

“Now send her over the edge, Sean, and give us your steamy load on our tits,” Sharon commanded.

Obedient, Sean coated his index with Sheryl's freely-flowing juices helped her reach her orgasm by returning her earlier anal teasing while keeping on driving his steel into her depths. He already felt her tense when he just circled the rippled skin of her rear entrance with just a tiny bit of pressure. When the opening gave way to his forefinger, her hips convulsed and her riding became more frantic—furious even, in the quest for her final release.

She hugged him closely, pressed her chest against his face as she came with a loud fuuuuck, and almost cut his breath from how hard she was pressing his nose against her sternum. As her orgasm ebbed, Sean was gasping for air as if he had been drowning.

On unstable legs, Sheryl came off Sean and knelt beside her sister—both awaiting the prize of Sean's own climax. He stood up and stroked his throbbing erection. Lubed as it was, it only took him three pumps over his frenulum to release six spurts of man-cream he tried to distribute over the two pairs of breasts presented to him as evenly as possible.

Once spent, he fell back into the chair which slid back a good two feet from the momentum. With eyes half-closed, he watched how the two women regaled over the load they had received from the object of their desires.

Suddenly, footsteps right behind him woke him up from his post-coital doze. Startled, he turned around to find a man well twenty years his senior standing behind him, mouth half-agape, a gaze easily mistaken for the infamous thousand-yard stare.

“Honey,” the man said, stepping towards Sharon. “Why didn't you fill me in?”

Sharon grinned at her husband. “Because he's too inexperienced to be the middle man in a little adventure between the three of us,” came her reply thick with lust. “... yet,” she ended the sentence, throwing a mischievous smile at Sean, which made Sean gulp.

“Really?” the husband asked, his voice filled with hope. “Oh, honey, you have no idea how much I love you,” he added as he made his wife stand up to lick Sean's cum off her chest and feed it to her with a sloppy French kiss.

Sean gulped hard at the sight of this unexpected turn of events. He was in awe, fascinated, turned on and grossed out all at the same time. He couldn't even decide whether the sight of this man licking another dude's cum off his own wife or the prospect of possibly getting fucked in the ass by the selfsame put him off or turned him on.

He was even more surprised to see the same man treat his wife's sister to the same exchange of foreign body fluids.

As the husband realized he was being observed by Sean, he threw him, “A little privacy here, yeah! Get lost! Bye, now, kid!”

Sharon helped puzzled Sean pick up his clothes and practically shoved him to the front door before he could even get dressed. Sheryl opened the door and Sean was pushed out in a common effort of both women. Naked, his clothes over his forearm, Sean tripped over the threshold but was able to regain his balance. The door flung open once more and a pair of shoes landed beside the naked young man.

Sean decided not to think about it any further, shrugged, pouted his lips and got dressed.