My entire bedroom was roasting with the heat of so many naked young bodies doing so many filthy sexual things, and it smelled like cum and sweat and, well, tuna fish, believe it or not.
I guess that cliche was true.
And Patty's well-endowed sister Becky was going to town as well.
As soon as another boy took Roger's place as our watch-guard, he'd walked in and discovered a very eager 5th-grade girl, Becky, aroused beyond belief by sucking so many dicks as a warm-up.
She'd pulled him down on top of her on my loop rug, then immediately took his cock into her slickened pussy.
The whole room listened to them fucking, Becky's groans even louder than my own sister's, her filthy urgings for the boy to fuck her cunt harder and deeper and faster getting everyone's attention.
Needless to say, she got all the sex she wanted, my turn at fucking her on the loop rug probably her fourth or fifth of that late afternoon. And her hot 5th-grader's pussy was so wet and juicy and tight, it literally squeezed the cum right out of my dick the second she came.
Anyway…
When five o'clock suddenly rolled around, my alarm clock signaling the end of our first sex party, my sister and I jumped up in near-panic, turned on the lights and got everybody rushing around with us.
It was then, with only an hour or so left before our parents got home, that we realized there was a lot more mess to clean up than we'd planned for.
“Your sheet and mattress pad are soaking wet,” Margie said, hurriedly stripping it off the bed. “And it all leaked through, so even your mattress is soaked with cum! And your rug! And somebody fucked on your pillows, so they're soaked, too.”
Becky, it turned out, had used every available surface in the dark to fuck or suck on, including my desk chair, her pussy spilling not only her own overflowing juices but a trail of cum wherever she went.
I just shook my head.
All of the kids were kind of shuffling around, a little embarrassed at their various stages of nudity when the lights came on, but I managed to get their attention by clapping my hands loudly.
“Hey, gang,” I said to them, proud of what my kid sister and I had accomplished so quickly, but nonetheless worried about what'd happen if we got caught. “Please listen up.”
And as soon as I had their attention:
“This will seem like you're home with your parents, because I'm telling you, not asking you, and I apologize, but 'Billy Goat' Budd will back me up on this, I know.”
I glanced to him. “Right?”
“Right.”
“So the second rule of Sex Club is: laundry, and a lot of it.”
So it wasn't all just sex and games. But it was definitely worth it.
And Margie told me, “At our next sex party, I want to take one boy's dick in my pussy, one in my mouth and one in my asshole at the same time. I'm pretty sure I could handle it.”
To which Patty laughed and said, “Count me in for that!”
“Me, too,” Becky raised her hand. “I'd try it. But I think we're going to need some more boys. I know some good-looking 5th grader guys who would probably love to fuck us all.”
“Then we need some more girls, too,” 12-year-old Mike suggested. “Danielle with the big boobs probably knows some sex-crazed young girls, just like her…”
“Excellent,” was what I said. “Perfect.”
Because something I'd said earlier, just throwing it out there, was suddenly all I could think of.
It was a simple term I remembered hearing in one class or another, or on the Internet, or from somewhere, but it suddenly made perfect sense to me, the motto for all time, and the rule that was more important than the other rules we'd ever put together for our start-up little club.
Rule number three for Sex Club: the more the merrier.
We were on our way, all right.
Daddy's Best Friends
I'm not really a tomboy, but I've always loved fishing. Especially up at our cottage on Clear Lake. My mom hated the place, so mostly it was my dad and me and his friends, Jack and Ray, who'd go up.
I loved it.
I only had two more weeks of the 5th-grade before summer and we all headed up for the weekend on Friday afternoon. As soon as we'd unpacked, though, my father got an emergency call and had to go right back to his office. This happened about once a week at his company, always some kind of urgent problem that apparently only my father could fix.
“Amber, do you want to ride back with me or stay fishing with Jack and Ray?” my dad asked. I loved my dad, but there was no way I was leaving. “If you stay,” he went on, “I'll come back on Sunday morning so I can get some fishing in before we all have to head back.”
“You know I'm staying,” I laughed. “Jack and Ray can protect me from any wild animals.”
At 11-years old, I was only 4'10” and 89 skinny pounds, and it was unlikely there was anything outside bigger than a raccoon to be scared of, but being protected by my dad's two best friends sounded like a great idea to me.
In truth, I had a giant crush on both of them.
“I'll be fine,” I said.
“Right,” my dad nodded. And to them, he said, half-kidding, “Just don't let her drink any more beer.”
Ray had given me several sips of his beer a few weeks earlier and none of us had heard the end of it yet. I didn't even like the taste, to be honest, but it'd made my head spin in an oddly fun way.
Anyway, I knew my dad was just being my dad, looking out for me like that.
“Daddy, I'll stick with cranberry juice,” I promised.
He just gave me a look.
Like I said, I'd always had a schoolgirl's crush on Jack and Ray and I flirted like crazy with both of them, mostly right out in the open, which my father always took for youthful playfulness.
Of course, he was wrong-I was a lot more mature, sexually, than he imagined, and would willingly have made out with either one of his friends.
I masturbated every night thinking about one or the other doing the filthiest things to me, at least doing whatever I could imagine at that young age. Or sometimes I fantasized about both of them, like in the sex videos my girlfriends and I'd sneak looks at on the Internet.
Jack and Ray taking turns on me, I mean.
So that's where my little head was at.
“Okay,” my dad finally nodded, heading out the door. “You guys take good care of my little princess…”
“Got it,” Jack waved. “You'll get her back in one piece.”
Ray waved too, but he was already disappearing through the kitchen doorway for another beer. He was always in the mood for another beer. Yet he never seemed at all drunk.
Of course, maybe I'd just never seen him sober, so couldn't tell.
I was in skimpy cotton shorts and a little halter top with no bra, having no real boobs to be hiding, anyway. And I kept flirting like crazy, all the rest of Friday afternoon, both out on the lake in our pontoon boat and back on shore.
My shorts were not only skimpy, they were those little clingy ones, the kind with a seam up the middle that separated the cheeks of a girl's butt. And I made certain to show myself to best advantage. Especially on the pontoon boat, where I did a lot of bending over and stretching for things like the tackle box or the bait.
I guess I was practicing my emerging feminine wiles. And measuring my own sexual charms at the same time.
“Were you staring at my butt?” I accused Jack at one point, straightening with a wriggling worm in my hand. I didn't have any real breasts yet, but I knew my clingy shorts showed off my firmly rounded little ass to perfection. “Or just trying to see up my shorts?”
“You're insane,” Jack laughed. “Little girl, that worm you're holding has a better butt than you do.”