Gay Erotic Stories

Chapter 34 - Answers? Mary drove the Suburban up the driveway, as Andy and I were finishing dressing in the back. Andy was her old, sweet, happy, self again, although I was unsure whether two long hard fucks in four hours or all my patient loving and talking did the trick. We unloaded Lisa’s things and the new bondage gear we bought at the boutique. I slipped down to the dungeon to check on Cathy. She was lonely and depressed, but still passive and understanding of why her brother had imprisoned her. It was almost nine but I still had work to do. I told Lisa to get ready for bed, telling her she could sleep in whatever she wanted and she would be sleeping in the back bedroom tonight. I removed her collar. She scurried through a bath, returning dressed in a flannel nightgown that covered her from neck to toe, with her collar in hand. Her eyes beamed up at me as I refastened it around her neck. By then, Mary and Andy were naked and waiting. “Lisa, I want you to braid their hair.” “Any particular way.” “Yes. Together.” Lisa had no idea of what I meant until I showed her. Mary and Andy sat back to back. Lisa pulled their hair into two strands, braiding Mary’s left strand to Andy’s right and vice versa. “Why in the world did you do that?” she asked, as she stood back to admire her handiwork. “Come on, Lisa. Bedtime.” I led her to the back bedroom, chained her collar to the headboard and kissed her goodnight, telling her I was glad she was back. Of course, you know why I had her braid their hair together. “Kittens sweet, bound as one by woven fur.” These kittens did not have fur. They had hair. I hoped braided was as good as woven. If Uncle Bert meant public hair, I was in trouble because I made Andy keep her mound clean shaven. He couldn’t have meant braiding their pubic hair and tying them together that way. Could he? I knew the rhyme he wanted. Many years ago, he and I were in southern California on the way back to Colorado for the summer. We stopped at a small town, which was having a festival, like a county fair. It was a lovely, bright day, with clear skies. As I thought back to that day, they suddenly popped into my mind. I was fifteen that year and was looking forward to being with Uncle Bert more than I ever had. Remember, it was my fourteenth summer when he got me laid for the first time, with the three Stevens’ girls, Sandy, the mother and her daughters Sandy and Sara. I lost my virginity to Sara that summer, but before the first three days was over I had all three Stevens all three ways, which for a fourteen-year-old, is heaven. Over the school year in LA with my parents, I had gotten laid only once and only then because Darla Davidson was a slut in the making. She had just discovered the joys of sex and was fucking anything in pants. So, this summer, I really expected to do some great things. Uncle Bert had seen the sign for the festival and pulled off the interstate, headed down a road in the directions the signs pointed. “I’m horny, Davy. Let’s see if we can stir up some good farm women,” he said “Yeah, Uncle Bert. That sounds great!” What would any teenaged boy have said? My teenaged pecker was standing at attention as we drove into a field, parked the car and walked towards the festivities. We wandered around, looking at machine and livestock displays, playing some arcade games and always looking for women. The food was excellent from the booths, but expensive. Uncle Bert said the high prices were for charity and he did not mind. I had no idea at the time he was so rich. I got tired of looking for women or anything else. The sun was brutal. Everybody was sweating but the desert air dried you quickly enough. I drank everything I could find to keep hydrated. But, the desert was draining me. Uncle Bert would not let me give up. “Look, Davy, you got to put some effort into it. You think a good fuck just falls off the trees. Women need to be found and courted.” Courted? He meant drugged, I suspect. Shortly before nightfall, I was back in the livestock area walking around when I saw her. She was almost as tall as I was, which is unusual for a teenaged girl. I was already pushing six feet. She was mucking out a pen with a big rake. She wore jeans and a western shirt with a straw cowboy hat on her head, one, long, braid of coal black hair down her back. She was a long and lean girl. She had a beautiful ass, one of those high, firm, teenaged-girl asses which seems so adult in comparison to the rest of their bodies that it out of proportion. When she turned around and saw me for the first time, her huge black eyes bored into me. Then, a shy, sexy smile crossed her face before she looked away, returning to her raking. I slowly walked to where she was. I realize now she started raking an area that had been raked before so she could be by the fence and more available if I wanted to talk, which I did. It was there Uncle Bert found me. He had struck out but he was happy to see I had found someone, even if a fence was between us. Her name was Melody. As luck would have it, she had a mother, an older sister and a father, except the father was up in Sacramento looking at cattle to buy and he had taken Melody’s older sister with him. Uncle Bert sent me for drinks since Melody was thirsty. But, when I returned, he took if from me to give to her and then sent me, to my great chagrin, on another errand. When I got back, the mother was there. Shortly, the mother went ahead in their car. It took about ten minutes for Melody to finish her work, then we left, too. She rode with us to show us the way. They lived in a nice, three bedroom home on a dairy farm. When we arrived, Melody’s mother was sitting in the porch swing, enjoying the now cool desert night. Her hair was wet and she looked freshly bathed. She stood as we walked up the four steps to the porch and took Uncle Bert’s hand. I remember she looked flushed and happy. “You kids stay outside for a while. Mr. Wilson and I have some business to discuss,” she said, leading him into the house. Without saying anything, Melody took my hand and led me off the porch towards the hay barn. My two strongest memories are of her smell and the strength of her hand. She smelled sweaty, but it was not an unpleasant smell. In fact, I liked it. It was a sweat plus perfume plus girl smell that to this day makes me horny. “Follow me,” she said softly. She had a little girl voice but a big girl’s body. She led me up a straight ladder into the loft. My eyes never left her swaying ass as I climbed behind her. In the darkness, she slowly found her way to the end of the loft and opened a swinging door. Moonlight flushed in, brightening the little world there. Now, I could see in the shadows. “Over here, Davy.” She walked to a spot and gracefully sat. There was a blanket and a pillow. She showed me the flashlight and books laying nearby, saying she came out here to read and for peace and quiet. We sat and talked for a while. She was my age but our lives were so different, mine urban, hers rural, we had many things to learn about the other. We had been talking about nothing special when she said, “You have beautiful eyes.” She leaned forward and gently kissed each of my eyes. Quickly, before I could respond, she turned, putting her back to me. “Davy, would you please take down my hair?” The moonlight was shining through the open loft door. You could hear the night creatures starting their songs. I touched her long black braids and began removing the pins. Talk almost ceased between us, just a few words, an occasional “ouch” when I tugged too hard. Hair undone now, I ran my fingers through it, separating the individual hairs, letting it flow around her. Her hair was thick, almost coarse, it was so heavy yet so soft. She turned around and gently lay back on the blanket, eyes so big and welcoming. “Davy? Davy!” Mary interrupted my memories and just when I was getting to the best part, although I think the part I told you is often what makes the best part best. You can fill in the rest. Just do it very slowly until the insertion part, when you go out of control and start squealing like pigs because that is what Melody and I did. And, do it three times before you call it quits for the night. “What do you want us to do?” “Stand up first.” It was awkward as they stood together. The braiding left some room for maneuvering but not much. With a ouch and a grumble, they managed to stand. It was the first time I ever had them stand like that, back to back, naked. I walked around to admire my four-footed, four-breasted kitten. A vision flashed through my mind. I would bind them, ankle-to-ankle, arm-to-arm, then I would. I would what? I could play with them but they would difficult to fuck tied like that. Still. I observed them, putting together all possible combinations of me with them bound back to back. Mary knew what I was thinking. I could tell be her smile. I took a breast in his each hand, Mary’s left, Andy’s right, feeling the differences between them. Of course, the most obvious difference was the ring through Mary’s nipple. But, there were so many subtle differences, which are hard to describe. Try it. Just get two girls to strip and stand back to back. You will see the difference for yourself. Then, I got back to work. I had them lie on the bed with their heads almost touching. Mary was fully on the bed but Andy was at the edge, with her ass hanging off and her legs on the floor. I had them entwine their fingers, interlace them and hold tightly. Andy’s eyes were aglow as I slipped in her. “Quiet, little kitten,” I whispered. At that festival where I met Melody, one of the exhibits was a big Holstein dairy cow which the local FFA was raffling to raise money for their organization. As an attraction, they had painted it purple. I asked Uncle Bert about it and he told me the poem, written years ago, by a man named Ogden Nash. The poem caught the public fancy and “purple cow” moved into our lexicon. “I never saw a purple cow, I never hope to see one. But, if I had my druthers now, I would rather see than be one.” That was the cow’s own rhyme. Andy’s legs were wrapped around me, her breasts moving with each stroke I made in her, her hands gripping her mother’s tightly. She was mewing, little kitten sounds so delightful to me. The mewing got a little louder. I felt her legs tighten as her back arched and she came. She started purring. I recited the poem and Mary began to talk. She gave me information concerning a chemical developed in Germany to replace one of the two rare ingredients I had leaned about previously and another chemical which she said was a catalyst. I felt I was so close to the formula. The two kittens visited on the bed as I undid their braided hair. Neither asked why I put them through the strange contortions I had, as though anything I did was normal. Andy fell asleep before I finished. It was very touching to see the way Mary looked at her and stroked her face. I lifted Andy up while Mary pulled back the bedcovers, then lay her down and covered her over. Mary and I went into the living room, made a drink and sat before the fire. “How close are you to the formula?” she asked. “I think close. But, I need to get one more piece, from someone called The Hermit. Do you know who that is?” “Yes. I can take you to him.” She lay back on the sheepskin rug, her hair spread around her. The firelight made her gold nipple rings glimmer. She was very soft and appealing. Then, I saw that look again; the one I believed told me she was reading my mind. “Something wrong?” “What is going to happen to us? To Andy and me? Will you leave us after you find the formula? Will we ever see you again? Will we stay with you forever?” “Are you asking as a mother or for yourself?” “Both, for myself mostly. You love Andy more than you realize. She will be fine.” “You will be fine, too. I love you, too and I have plans for you.” “Oh, like what?” ”Like, I want you to throw away your birth control pills.” For an instant, she was stunned, staring at me wide eyed. Then, she smiled sexily. “Bert left that in my free will area. I am programmed to do as I wish about bearing children.” “I am not Bert. I want you to bear my child and I want to start tonight.” “Will I always be with you? I do not mean as your wife, I mean as one of the kittens you keep full time, living in your house, sharing your world. I only ask because I think the child should have a father figure, particularly if the child is a boy.” These were heady discussions. Where was I going? What did I think the future would bring? I knew exactly what I was going to do with Cathy as soon as I programmed her. I will save that for later. And, I knew what I had planned for Lisa. I already told you that. I had decided about Andy. And, while I have not told you that, you have figured it out. What I had not decided was all the other kittens, all 3,000 of them and how they fit in. I had not decided if I wanted to add more to make it 4,000 or 5,000 as I am sure Uncle Bert would have done if he had lived long enough. Or, did I want to keep just those I had and no others? Or, did I wish to add more to the kindle, say having ten or twelve around full time as Mary and Andy were. Honestly, was I man enough to keep ten or twelve women satisfied? Andy needed a lot of attention. By that, I mean she loved to fuck. Mary had already told me she wanted more. She also said she liked B&D and wanted me to bind her. I had not done it yet, although it was certainly planned. And, Lisa. Fortunately, Lisa was less demanding but as I took her deeper into her submission, where would her needs end? Why did I care about their needs? I had the power. I was the male even if I did not have the power Uncle Bert left me. How concerned should I be? They all seemed to be very happy with me. In the shadows, always in the shadows, was the devil dog. Diablo. Like tonight, when I had Mary and Andy naked and braided together. I wanted to bind them, squeeze and tantalize them until they both begged me to stop. I was looking forward to breaking Lisa, to taking her to the depths of submission. Would even more needs to exercise my power surface after I found the formula? Could I control those needs? Or, as Uncle Bert had warned me, would the power corrupt me? Make me evil and out of control? Yes, it was a heady discussion. ___________ Additional stories by E. Z. Riter can be found at www.storiesonline.net, and ftp://ftp.asstr.org./pub/Authors/E.Z.Riter which contains all the author’s stories.