"That's too young!" Carla said jeeringly, walking on ahead.
"Oh, please, tell me about it again!" Nancy begged, catching up with her. "How big is it? Please tell me…"
Chapter Three
"Ssshhhhh… don't make a sound!"
The two figures crept stealthily along the gravel path towards the main house. It was a cloudless night, but the moon was a mere crescent, so the shadowy figures were not immediately discernible to anyone looking out into the night.
They approached the wall of the house, and then skulked along until they came to the back window of the bedroom. There was a light on, and they tiptoed right up against the screen.
Carla could see clearly by straightening her hunched figure, but Nancy had to stand on tiptoe and crane her neck.
Iris had her back to the window. She was hanging her shift up in the closet, and John was sitting on the side of the bed, still in his Bermudas, but with a sportshirt. He was looking across at her.
"I'm sorry, honey! I don't know what came over me!" he said. "Let's make up!"
"No sir!" was the hard reply. "You've had your fun with me!" She turned to look at him, and Carla drew in her breath. Iris' normally soft pretty features were cold, giving her a look of callousness, which in turn made her look like an ugly harridan.
She was wearing a bra and panties, and with her back turned to her husband, she slipped off her bra and put on a cotton nightdress over her head. Then she removed her panties.
Without another word, she walked over to the bedside lamp and turned it off.
The room was plunged in darkness, and the girls heard John sigh loudly. The sound of the bedsprings creaking was followed by footsteps and the slamming of the door.
"Quick," Carla whispered, "he must be in the bathroom!"
Hastily, they slipped around the other side of the house, and Carla gave Nancy's hand a squeeze when they saw that the bathroom light was on.
Sneaking up to the window, they were grateful that the ground had risen in that area and they could see clearly into the bathroom.
John was looking at his face in the mirror over the washhand basin. He peered intently at the reflection of his eyes, and examined his chin and cheeks minutely.
"Christ," he said suddenly, "now what am I going to do?"
With a deep sigh, he began to peel off the sportshirt he had on. His muscles flexed as he pulled it off over his head, and Carla and Nancy were able to see his biceps rippling as he raised his arms. They noticed the long straight dark hair under his arms, and the profuse hairiness of his chest.
"I've seen his chest already!" Carla whispered impatiently, "I want to see the rest of him again!"
As if in answer to her demand, John began to ease off his shorts. They slipped down to his legs, and he stepped out of them. His penis lay flaccid, nestled against his dormant balls, and looked like a harmless little worm. The dark pubic curls sprouted out around it, framing the sleeping flesh.
"I thought you said it was big!" Nancy whispered.
"It is, wait until you see it!"
John surveyed himself in the full-length mirror which was on the back of the door.
Carla and Nancy had an excellent side view of him, and they pinched each other as they peeped in the window, barely able to suppress their giggles.
John ran his hands up and down his sides. His stomach protruded slightly, but his buttocks were firm, and all in all, he was in fine shape for a man of thirty-five. His chest was muscular, and as he stood with legs slightly apart, he looked taller than his five foot eleven.
To their amazement, they saw him take his deflated penis in his right hand, and tug playfully on it!
They gasped as they saw him roll the protracted organ in his palms, and Nancy blinked her eyes in disbelief as she saw the member increase in size before her very eyes!
They nudged each other as they saw him cup his balls in his left hand, and weigh them gently in his palm. They could see the wrinkly skin squirm and contract fin his hand, as he pulled gently on them, and then began a soft pumping movement.
"Wh-what's he doing?" Nancy whispered, her eyes round like saucers.
"I don't know — maybe he'd going to jack off!"
"What does that mean?" Nancy asked.
"If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you!" Carla retorted, her eyes still glued on the strange sight.
John now turned around and his back was facing them. They could see from the mirror that he was still cupping his balls in his left hand stroking and massaging his prick with the other. They saw him look over his back and buttocks and to their amazement, he flexed his buttocks, clenching and flaring the ass-cheeks rhythmically.
Carla felt hot all over. Little beads of perspiration broke out on her upper lips, and her hands felt clammy. There was a moistness growing down between her legs, and a tingle was beginning deep in her stomach. Her breasts were beginning to throb and it was all she could do to stop herself from ripping off her clothes and running into the bathroom to John.
Nancy was mesmerized by the sight of the naked man. She had never seen anything like it. Even the sight of John spanking his wife didn't have this strange effect on her. She felt hot and cold all over, and she felt as if her entire body was bathed in sweat. Tremor after tremor shot through her and there was a strange gnawing in her breasts and between her legs. What was happening? Tentatively, she raised her hand and touched her small breasts with the palm of her hand.
"Mmmmm," she sighed, barely audibly, "it feels so good."
Closing her eyes, she drew the palm over the jutting points again and again, murmuring from the delicious contact. She raised her other hand, and timidly touched the burning spot between her legs. She barely brushed it with her hand, but the split-second touch caused the sparks of fire to leap into a Pentecost of flaming tongues. Glancing over at Carla, she was amazed to see that her hand was groping at her breasts, and her eyes were still glued on the bathroom.
Raising her eyes, Nancy was just in time to see John step into the shower. She suppressed a pang of disappointment as he drew the shower curtain, shutting off the wonderful view of his manhood from their eager eyes.
"Oh damn!" Carla murmured. "Why did he have to do that!"
They saw the water spray down over him, and they could see his silhouette through the shower curtain. The shadow was distorted, and to their feverish eyes, his prick was twice as long, and jutted out like a bayonet held aloft.
John soaped himself thoroughly. He was trying to wash away his desire, soap off the degradation the memory of this afternoon's vile action made him feel. He wished he hadn't been so hasty. After all, what was his wife to think, when she'd walked in and seen his hand on an almost-naked girl's shoulder, and a damned pretty one at that! God! She'd better not walk around like that too often, barely covered, and asking about the facts of life! She didn't look or act as if she were too ignorant of them either! Bitch! What was she up to, anyway?
Carla and Nancy watched as they saw his shadow soap his still erect penis and rub it lovingly. Nancy stroked her tiny breasts in time to his circular soaping, and Carla ran her tongue over her parched lips. She had a cottony feeling in her mouth, and her whole body throbbed and ached. She didn't know what to do. She was afraid to touch her pussy, for fear she would cum on the spot — her nerve endings were a quivering mass of sensation, ready to ignite at the merest touch.
Her glance fell on Nancy, who was stroking her breasts, oblivious to everything except the silhouette of the man in the shower, and Carla was surprised to see her palm cupped down against her pubic mound.
Just then, John stepped out of the shower. The water dripped down, running in little streams down his face. His hair was plastered down, and Carla felt little shivers of excitement run through her as she drank in the sight of his wet body. He began to dry himself, rubbing his body briskly with the towel, and Carla stifled a cry of disappointment when the large bath towel engulfed and covered almost his entire body. She knew that soon the wonderful sight of his naked masculinity would be denied her, and she wanted to prolong it forever. She wished it were she who was in the bedroom, instead of Iris. The throbbing between her legs intensified at the delicious thought and she pressed her inner thighs closer together, to block out the warning ache.