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Subject: {ASSM} The Last Fling: A New Home {Varkel} (Mf Mf oral anal)
Date: Tue,  7 Aug 2001 23:10:02 -0400
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The Last Fling



April to December Twice

Presented as a Series of Episodes by Varkel
Copyright (c) Varangian and Kellis, July, 2001



Episode 3:  A New Home


"Want me to feed you thataway?" asked Anita, standing naked at
the window, chewing a piece of toast smeared with jelly.  She had
looked away from her contemplation of the morning birds and bees
long enough to grin complaisantly at Jack, whose face doubtless
exhibited a touch of envy for Lou.  The smaller man was sitting
pushed back from the table, his robe fallen open under naked
Betsy in his lap, his hands squeezing both her ample breasts.
The lush blonde giggled as she spoon-fed him from his bowl of
cereal with one hand while the other played under his paunch.

"No," Jack answered reluctantly around his own cereal mouthful,
"at least not exactly that way.  I don't digest well with a
hard-on."

The brunette sniffed.  "If'n you keep on with your eyes
a-popping, you gonna get one anyway."

"Doubtlessly you are correct."  He tore his gaze away to grin at
the girl in the window.  "You're the artier view anyway, with
those sharp little tits outlined in bright light.  I think I
prefer to study you.  What do you see in the yard this morning
beside poison toads?"

"They ain't really poison," she averred.  "I kept one for a pet."

"They what?  But everyone says -"

"I know what they says," she sniffed.  "But my Buffy was nice."

Jack looked inquiringly at Betsy, but one of Lou's hands had
abandoned the breast in favor of her groin.  The expression on
her face was clearly introspective.

"I'll bet it's a salesman," said Anita, who had turned back to
the window.

"What's a salesman?" asked Jack, again tearing his eyes away from
the unusual breakfast spectacle.

"Car just stopped in the driveway.  No, a woman's getting out
too."

Jack's eyes widened.  Lou's hands fell away.

Jack jumped to his feet and reached the window in three bounds,
thrusting Anita aside.  "Good god!" he cried.   "That's Maisy and
Puggy."  He spun around, staring from one nude female to the
other.  "Good god!"

"Who's that?" asked Betsy.

Lou answered, setting the blonde on her feet, "His daughter and
her husband.  Come on, both of you, into my bedroom.  For god's
sake, Jack, get rid of them quick."

He herded both girls into the hall.  "Where are your clothes?" he
demanded.

"All over," Betsy answered nervously.  "Mostly in the guest
bedroom."

"Quick, grab them and follow me.  You girls have got to dress in
a jiffy."

Jack met the visitors in his foyer.  They had opened the door and
walked in unceremoniously, as was their custom.  After hearty
greetings, including a hug for the woman and a handshake for the
man, Jack asked, "Well, what brings you out to deadsville so
early?"

Maisy, a rather heavy matron of 40, sniffed.  "I only called it
'deadsville' because that's how Lou and you prefer it.  _Early_?
It's ten o'clock, and you're still in your bathrobe.  Daddy, I
swear you'd let yourself go straight to pot if I didn't keep
after you.  Where's Lou, still in bed?  You two are a terrible
influence for each other!"

Jack grinned.  "You might be surprised.  But you didn't answer my
question.  What's the occasion, Puggy?"

Puggy, at 38 sporting a larger paunch than Lou, was the one in
Jack's opinion headed "straight to pot."  He shrugged and
mumbled.  "Some female thing."

Jack asked sympathetically, "You got a problem, Maisy-waisy?"

"Female thing, indeed!  It's just that I had three cups of
coffee."  She darted past Jack, waddling to the bathroom just off
the den.

"Wait a minute!" Jack called after her.

She stopped at the door, looking back inquiringly.

"I think it needs more toilet paper," he said lamely, hurrying
after her.

"Bosh!  I know where the spares are."  She jerked the door open
and popped inside.

Jack pulled up short at the den doorway.  He craned his neck.  At
least the kitchen was empty, though the last half of Anita's
jelly-coated toast lay thrown carelessly on the table, along with
three partly consumed bowls of cereal.

Puggy said behind him, "I told her not to overdo it, but she was
arguing with the boat-fitter.  Arguing makes her thirsty."

"Yeah," mumbled Jack, "like her mother.  At least so far she's
only swilling coffee."

"In the morning," the man added.

"What do you mean?"

Jack started to turn around but the bathroom door flew open with
a bang.  Maisy emerged, holding a pink cloth triumphantly aloft.
She demanded as she approached, "What in the world is this doing
in your bathroom, Daddy?"

"What is it?" asked Puggy, squinting.

She stretched the object apart in both hands.  Obviously it was a
pair of feminine panties suitable for buttocks considerably
smaller than her own.  Her eyes glittered.  "I do hope you can
tell me these belong to Lou."

Jack was not a devious man.  All his life he had solved problems
by smashing head-on into the forces behind them and exposing them
to the light of day.

"Shit!" he cried in complete disgust.  Gritting his teeth, he
charged straight toward Lou's bedroom.  The woman followed close
behind, still holding the panties aloft.  Her husband, showing
less lethargy than usual, nearly trod on her heels.

But as Jack reached for the knob, the door opened into the room.
Lou stood barefooted in shorts and open shirt, bearing a towel on
one arm.

"Go ahead, girls," he said, making gestures past himself with his
arm.  "Looks like Jack wants to talk.  Hey, did you change your
mind?  Are you going to the beach with us?"

The girls wriggled past him, each barefoot, dressed in the one
set of clothing each owned:  jeans and T-shirts, each carrying
one of Lou's flight bags.  Unkempt, scraggly hair would have
exposed the charade if the girls were not so young.  Wide-eyed
with surprise, the visitors fell back before them.

"Oh, hi, Maisy.  And Puggy," Lou intoned.  "How nice to see you.
I don't think you've met my granddaughters, have you?  That's
Betsy, the stacked blonde -"

"Oh, grandpa!" complained Betsy.

"And Anita, the sultry brunette."

The slim girl only smiled.

"How do you do," Betsy said to Maisy, shaping her words
carefully.

But the woman had fallen back against the wall.  She stuttered,
"P-pleased to meet you."

Puggy produced a wide grin.  "Yeah, pleased."

Lou said to Jack, "Call my cell phone if you change your mind.
Come on girls.  The boys are gathering already."

"Oh, wow!" exclaimed Anita.

"See you later, folks," Lou concluded, herding the girls before
him.  Both visitors turned to watch the small party hustle into
the garage.  Very shortly they heard an engine starting.

"I guess they don't need these," murmured the woman in a tone of
shock, handing the panties to Jack.  "I didn't know Lou had
granddaughters.  Are they sisters?"

"As a matter of fact, I don't think they are."

"That means ..."  She turned wondering eyes on Jack.  "He must've
had _two_ children!  I didn't know he had any at all."

"Well, why should you?" Jack asked, showing faint amusement.
"He's a friend, not a relative."

"But he's been with you as long as I can remember!"  Suddenly she
frowned.  "Isn't it a shame that nowadays affluent girls want to
dress like trash?"

Jack asked thoughtfully, "You think they're dressed like trash?"

"In those dirty-looking jeans?"  The woman nodded as if he had
confirmed something long suspected.  "But that's the reason for
it, isn't it?  Their fathers can't tell the difference and their
mothers just don't care."  She gritted her teeth, "I tell you,
I'm going to run for city council.  We'll see if something can't
be done about that!"

Over her shoulder the husband rolled his eyes at Jack.

 From the corner of his eye Jack saw Lou's Cadillac accelerate
down the street.  He smiled expansively.  "Come on into the
kitchen and tell me more of your political plans while I finish
my breakfast."



* * *



"Oh wow!" Anita exclaimed again as Lou pulled away from the
house.

"Where we going?" the blonde complained from the back seat where
the man had pushed her in the rush.  "You running us off?"

Still breathing heavily, Lou slowed at the first intersection,
squinting into the glaring sun.  "The people in that maroon car
were some of Jack's relatives.  Do you have any idea how hard
explaining your presence at the breakfast table would be?"

He thought about it along with the girls and grimaced in
annoyance at the disruption and inconvenience the unannounced
visitors had caused.  Yet he was pleased at his own demonstration
of control and management.  He had recovered with a plausible
scenario.  Still had it on the ball, by god!  With an internal
chuckle as he pulled away on the street, he wondered how Jack had
played it.  Did Maisy know that he, Lou, could not possibly have
two admitted granddaughters?

"I get it!" Betsy chortled, seeing some humor in the situation.
She leaned forward with her arms on the seat in front of her.
"You-all was a-feared of getting caught!"  She exaggerated the
solemn tones she had used before the visitors, "How do yew dew!"
and laughed uproariously.  "How'd you like that, Lou?"

The man admitted, "That and your 'Oh, Grandpa,' helped a lot."

The brunette breathed, "Oh, wow, just like TV!"

The blonde was still chuckling.  "Hey, 'Nita, remember climbing
out'n Fred's window when his folks got home early?"

"Yeah," the little one answered with a giggle.  "But that time
we's naked."

"Where we going, Lou?" Betsy asked again, now in a sober voice.
"I don't really wanta go to the beach."

"We're just getting away for awhile, sweetheart," the man mumbled
distractedly with a brief glance at her.  "We'll be back there
again, maybe tomorrow."

"But where we gonna stay?" Anita whined.

"I have a house," Lou snapped, as he concentrated on the busy
highway traffic in front of him.

Betsy leaned back and Anita looked furtively around at her.  Both
shrugged imperceptibly.  Lou seemed edgy; best wait and see what
he intended.

A few blocks further the man nodded his head to the left.
"That's the place."  He slowed the car and prepared to make a
left turn.  "I just bought it.  I haven't had time to furnish
it."

"You mean it's an empty house?  Where we gonna sleep?"  Betsy's
voice was slightly indignant.

"There's furniture in it, my dear.  It's just not furniture I
would choose.  It belonged to the old woman who lived there
before she died."

He pulled the car into the driveway of a house larger than the
one they had just left.  It too faced away from the beach.  It
was luxurious and sizable, possessing two floors of windows.  He
reached over to retrieve a remote device from the glove
compartment, and soon they drove into the garage.



* * *



"What happened to your panties?" 

Lou gazed at the small girl who was barely more than five feet
tall.  She had the body of a healthy twelve year old with well
shaped limbs and a flat belly.  In jockey shorts she could pass
for a boy, were it not for breasts too firmly prominent to
jiggle.  Lou could imagine her as a boy even now when she turned
her back, because her breasts were yet too narrow to spill past
her sides.

"I don't know," she said, throwing her jeans on the floor and
turning to face him.  "You rushed us so I couldn't find them."

He pointed at the blonde's clothing also piled on the carpet.
"Betsy's are yellow.  Yours are pink, aren't they?  I saw them in
the front bathroom this morning."  Suddenly he chuckled.  "Maisy
was holding a pink cloth in her hand.  Ha!  I'll bet she found
them where you threw them last night."

"Oh, wow!"  The girl's mouth fell open, then she grinned.  "It's
'cause Jack helped me with my shower."

"Jack was very concerned about you.  We all were!"  He grinned.
"You're the prettiest pixie he ever got his hands on."

She sniffed.  "His hands!"

He squinted his eyes and pretended she was a boy.  Gently he
placed his hands on either side of her small head and brought her
face close to his.

"You'd be even prettier as a boy, you know," he suggested softly
and kissed the tip of her nose.

She sighed.  "Playing a boy for you hurts, Lou, even if you's
being careful."  She did not seek to escape his clasp.  Dropping
her eyes, she added with a sigh, "But I'll do it again if'n you
want."

The man stood back, taking a deep breath, and once again studied
the tender body before him.  She would submit, he knew, but her
vulnerability was almost palpable.  He shook his head and said
huskily, "I'll not hurt you, little one."

Anita brightened like a child and exclaimed eagerly, "Betsy'll
let you, Lou.  She don't think it hurts when you do her there.'"

Lou sighed and smiled at the girl, who returned his gaze with
matching affection.  He could not believe she was actually
eighteen years old.  He wanted her to be twelve, even if she
wasn't a boy.  He could believe it more easily than her true age,
so long as she turned her back and presented only boyish parts,
concealing the lush bush and thrusting breasts that belied his
perverse fantasy.

"Perhaps I'll do that when she gets out of the shower."  He
pulled the willing girl to him again and rested his chin atop her
dark head.  "We could spend the entire day playing with each
other."

Anita snuggled in his arms, comfortable in the knowledge that the
old man was capable of just a single shot in the course of
several hours.  It would be a restful day.

"You can lick on me," she suggested in a voice muffled by his
shoulder.

"Yes, that true.  But Betsy does it better, doesn't she?"  He
grinned playfully and petted her head as if she were a kitten.

"What is it I do better, Lou?"

The blonde stood naked in the doorway still damp from the shower.
There was no mistaking the sex of this one, Lou thought when he
turned to look at her.  Large breasts bounced on her chest.  The
rest of her body was as sumptuous although not the least bit
heavy.  She was physically mature in every way except for her
visage, which suggested an age slightly younger than eighteen.

"I was telling Anita that you could eat her out much more
effectively than I."  He smirked at her.  "But of course, as you
have said, you only do that when you're drunk."

"Well, I'm not drunk."  The blonde bent to the clothing crumpled
on the carpet and raised the dirty jeans gingerly with a sneer.
"What I am is a-hating to put this dirty stuff back on."

Lou took them from her, sniffed the seat and leered.  "Girl
dirty!  I love it."

Betsy sneered at him.  "You wouldn't if'n you had to wear them."

"I have an idea," Lou said.  The brunette paused, looking back
from the bathroom door.

He continued, "Old Ms. Creighton left soap and towels in the
bathrooms.  Maybe she left soap in the laundry.  Grab all the
clothes, Betsy, and we'll check it out while Anita showers."

The blonde stooped to gather the clothing.  The smaller girl
frowned.  "Where you gonna be?"

"This house has a laundry room.  I think I remember it in the
back.  Look for us when you finish."

Her eyes were huge.  "You won't ... leave me, will you?"

Betsy answered firmly, "I ain't leaving this house without you,
'Nita.  You know that."

"Nobody is leaving," Lou added.

The mollified brunette closed the bathroom door behind her,
verified a dry towel beside the wet one Betsy had used, and
stepped into the shower.  Shortly the water was deliciously hot.
The rack under the showerhead even contained shampoo.  These old
men knew how to live!

As she scrubbed herself, she pressed hard into her side.  The
pain was gone, thank heaven -- or thank Jack!  It was hard to tell
the difference nowadays.  She luxuriated under the beating water.
Sometimes when she was taking a shower she wished she never had
to come out.

But all good things come to and end.  She finished and dried off,
massaging her hair as dry as the towel afforded, which was dryer
than a plunge in the surf, lately her typical bath, would leave
it.  She smoothed it with her fingers before the huge mirror and
dashed out of the bathroom, feeling a renewal of energy.

"In the back," he had said, presumably the part of the house away
from the street.  She passed through the kitchen, wondering that
it was so clean, pots hanging on the cabinets, everything in its
place.  How long ago had the old gal died anyway?

She heard a motor grinding somewhere in the house, accompanied by
the clackety-clack of buttons striking a metal drum that she
remembered from her grandmother's electric clothes drier.  She
twisted toward the sound and finally came to the laundry room,
equipped with washer and noisy drier, and a couch -- where the old
woman rested when she did her own washing?  Today Betsy knelt
there with buttocks elevated to admit whatever it might be that
the huffing and puffing gray-head's bouncing paunch concealed.

Was Betsy playing the boy?  She was grimacing, but she did that
for pleasant sex too.  Despite her relative diffidence, Anita was
not shy of matters affecting her cousin.  She darted behind the
man and bent to confirm her suspicion.

Lou, holding the blonde by the hips, paused and twisted around to
regard the brunette.  Wheezing, he demanded, "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Anita answered innocently, raising up and turning
toward the clacking drier.  "Is it about finished?"

"It's closer ..."  Lou had to pause for a deep breath.  "To
finishing than I am."

"Yeah."  Anita nodded sympathetically.  "Betsy hates getting
jizzed when she's just showered clean."

"Huh?"  The old man blinked.  Leaning around to stare at the
blonde, he asked, still breathing hard, "Why didn't ... you tell
me?"

Betsy turned her face up with a sniff.  "Tell you _what_, when
you's a-coming at me with a dick that hard?"  Her gaze softened.
"Besides we owe you, Lou.  Don't pay 'Nita no attention.  Go
ahead and jizz."

He withdrew from her, his thick organ temporarily leaving no
doubt where it had been.  He sighed, recovering his breath.  He
reached under the blonde's chest and raised her against him with
a hand between her breasts.  He extended the other hand to the
brunette.  "Come hug me, sweetness."

Anita came to him without hesitation.  He pulled both girls'
chests against his own and kissed first one, then the other.
"God, I love you two!  You have got to be the two sweetest girls
in this state.  You certainly are to this old man!"

The girls smiled and returned his kisses.  "Heaven on earth!" he
cried ecstatically, four soft lips on his face, four soft breasts
in his hairy chest, a smoothly rounded buttocks cheek in each
hand.

At that moment the drier stopped.

The girls pulled away, retrieved their clothing and shook out the
heat.  Betsy paused with her hand on the brunette's arm, looking
at Lou.  She smiled indulgently.  "You want us to stay naked?"

He was stooping for his own clothing.  "No, go ahead and get
dressed.  I think we should flit to the mall."

"The mall?"  Betsy's eyes rounded.

"I expect you girls need a few things."

Two squeals erupted in soprano harmony.



* * *



Anita, now in the back seat, tapped Lou on the shoulder.  "We's
forgetting something."

"What?" demanded Betsy, turning partly around.

"Won't let us in the mall barefooted."

The blonde's eyes widened.  "Hey, that's right!"

Even Lou nodded.  He grinned at the blonde beside him.  "You ran
away barefooted the last time.  What did you do then?"

"We had money then.  Bought flip-flops at the drugstore."

"Good thing you thought of it, Anita.  A drugstore is around the
next corner."

When he had parked the car, he pulled the wallet from his shorts
and peeled out two twenties for Betsy.  "Get me a pair, too: size
nine."

"What color?"

"Who cares?"

"All right."  She accepted the money and paused, grinning
mischievously, with her hand on the door handle.  "Did you and
Jack notice we leaves you some when we takes your money?"  In the
back Anita hesitated with one foot out of the car.

"Yes, we noticed with gratitude."  He laughed wryly.  "So what
did you take this morning?"

"Just your dick."

They left him sniggering in the car and returned shortly in the
toe-first gate imposed by that type of sandal, bearing a handful
of change and a pair of bright orange flip-flops in men's medium.
He laid them beside him on the seat without comment and whirled
them all away to the mall.

As they passed the imposing facade, Lou, walking with a limp and
a frown due to the unaccustomed pressure between his toes, caught
Betsy's arm.  "Ladies, you'll have to lead the way.  What I know
about buying for females is all hearsay."

"We ought to begin with purses," suggested Anita.

The blonde nudged her.  "He wants to buy _clothes_!"

Lou started to say that the program was up to them, but they
darted purposefully away toward a garish marquee identifying
itself as _Threads4U_.  He shrugged and followed, clomping along
despite the discomfort to his toes.  He spotted a bench in front
of the store, a haven for his feet, where he might await their
decisions and from which appear only to pay the bill.  He
stumbled into the store, meaning to tell them of it.

He found the girls standing before stacks of folded jeans, Betsy
staring critically as Anita held a pair to her hips.  As he
approached, a middle-aged woman in business blouse and skirt
descended upon them with eyes flashing.  Her nametag identified
her as _Martha / Floor Manager_.

"Hold everything!" she cried.

The girls turned to regard her.  "What?" asked Betsy.

"I recognize you two!"  The woman nearly screamed.  Her face
twisted.  "What brazen sluts you are!  I ran you out of here just
day before yesterday."

The girls flinched back.  Lou, drawing near, asked reasonably,
"Are you sure of your facts, madam?"

She spared him a quick glance, from his incompletely buttoned
Hawaiian shirt to rumpled shorts to orange flip-flops.  The
conclusion was a sneer.  But her voice softened, possibly in
deference to his age.  "I want you all out of here -- you, too,
sir, if you're with them."

Lou looked meaningfully around the store.  Not surprisingly, it
was otherwise empty just after lunchtime on a weekday afternoon.
"Is your business so good, madam, that you can afford to throw
away a thousand dollars worth?"

"A thousand dollars!" she repeated with a sarcastic bark of
laughter.  "I doubt if there's ten dollars among the lot of you.
Now get out of here.  And this time don't come back!"

Lou took the new jeans from Anita, refolded them and returned
them to the stack before him.  "Come along, my dears," he said,
taking a girl's arm in each hand.  "Let's go to a place that
wants our money."

The girls walked docilely beside him toward the exit.  At sight
of the thick bulge in Lou's rear pocket, the floor manager caught
up to them just at the magnetically-guarded doorway.  "Uh, sir,
perhaps I was hasty."

He nodded to her.  "Oh, you were definitely hasty."

"Well, I'm sorry.  If you would, ah, care to show your credit
card ..."

He responded airily, "We prefer an establishment that wants
payment _after_ we make our selections."

Carefully picking up his feet, he walked out of the mall between
the girls.  The blonde kissed the back of his hand.  "I'm sorry,
Lou."

He sighed.  "What did you do in there day before yesterday?"

"Actually it was about a week ago, after we got ripped."

"What did you do?"

She took a deep breath.  "Tried to steal some fresh panties."

He grinned darkly.  "Is every place in ten miles going to
recognize you two?"

She ducked her head without answering.

He shook his head.  "Well, don't worry about it.  Your fortunes
have improved -- at least they will if you let them.  I know a
place that won't recognize you.  Now where the devil did I park
the car?"  He pulled out his key chain and pressed a button.  A
horn blared somewhere in the colorful gaggle of steel before
them.  "Oh, yeah!"

"Oh, wow!" breathed Anita.



* * *



"How can we help you?"

Despite what he had told the floor manager of Threads4U, Lou held
out both his Platinum card and driver's license.  "I know we look
bad," he told the tastefully made-up saleslady at _Evening
Boutique_.  "These are my granddaughters and the airline claims
their luggage was stolen.  They need just about everything."

The woman, middle-aged but attractively gowned, blinked from man
to girls and down at the three pairs of flip-flops.  She returned
his driver's license immediately.  "One moment, sir."  She
disappeared through the door marked _Office_.

"Oh, wow!" Anita murmured, looking around at the sleekly dressed
manikins, the velour couches, the decorative columns and the
landscapes on the wall.  "They sell clothes here?"

Lou chuckled.  "Maybe not everything you need, but you don't
_have_ to wear jeans all the time, you know."

"We don't?"

"You gonna buy us _dresses_?" asked Betsy.  Evidently the idea
was not entirely pleasing.

He shrugged.  "Not if you don't want them."  Lowering his voice,
he added, "Damn these sandals.  I need to sit down."  Without
waiting for an invitation he flopped on a couch.  He patted the
seat on either side of himself.  "Sit."

"We might get it dirty," sniffed Betsy.

Anita pulled on the seam of her jeans and pointed out, "We did
just wash them."  She collapsed beside the man and leaned against
his arm.  With a shrug Betsy joined them.

The office door opened and the woman reappeared, followed by
another one similarly attired.  Both women were smiling
expansively.  "Here you are, Mr. Mainwaring," she intoned,
extending the credit card.  "My name is Estelle.  This is Agnes.
We shall be delighted to serve you and your granddaughters."

"Mainwaring?" repeated Betsy under her breath, looking askance at
the man.

The woman continued, "You don't appear to have used our services
before -"

"Yes, I have, Estelle," he interrupted, "but it was about twelve
years ago."

"Oh, pardon me.  That was before the computer."  She beamed at
the girls.  "And obviously it was not for _these_ granddaughters!
May I suggest that we begin by taking measurements.  My dears, if
you will be so kind as to go with Agnes, she'll accommodate you,
while I show Mr. Mainwaring some of our selection."

"Go ahead, girls," he advised, hands urging them to rise.  "Do
whatever they say."  He grinned.  "You'll be very glad you did."

Betsy stood along with the brunette but glowered at him.  "I
wanta see any dress first," she asserted.

"You shall," he assured.

"I ain't gonna be no high-heel slut."

He flinched.  "Don't worry, Betsy.  If you don't want it, you
won't get it.  Now go with Agnes."

The girls departed reluctantly into another part of the building,
looking back at him apprehensively before the door closed them
off.  Estelle sat at the other end of the couch and crossed one
sheer stocking over the other knee.  "I do remember you," she
admitted, studying him sharply.  "You're Jack Westfield's
friend."

"Yes.  Ah, yes!  You came with him to that sales dinner in
Miami."

"How is Jack these days?"

"In bad shape," Lou said quickly.  "His liver, you know."

"No, I didn't."  Her voice was wistful.  She took a breath, then
cocked an eyebrow at him and grinned.  "Your _granddaughters_,
Louis, who didn't know your last name?"

He chuckled self-consciously.  "Who calls his grandpa by his last
name?  Theirs are different, of course."

Her eyes twinkled.  "And their baggage was _stolen_?"

Lou drew a deep breath.  "All right, Estelle, I'll be frank with
you.  They are very recently discovered grandchildren.  They have
not been properly raised, a circumstance that I can afford to put
right, and I shall."  He straightened up.  "You may not have
heard it, but I'm a widower.  I see Jack a lot, but what does he
know about young women?  I need some advice.  How much help can
the Evening Boutique offer me?  For example, I know enough to
know they need manicures and hair-dos."

Estelle nodded.  "We can arrange all that, but they need
appointments."

"How soon?"  He glanced at his wristwatch.  "We haven't had
lunch.  Can you arrange it in a couple hours?"

"The Miranda Salon is two doors down and today they're not busy."
She jotted something into her notepad and looked up appraisingly.
"It'll cost you."

He grinned.  "Females are expensive."

"I'm glad you understand that."  She smiled ironically.  "It's
especially true of newly discovered granddaughters.  Generally
what kind of clothing do you want to buy them?"

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.  "Casual stuff, nothing formal
yet.  Whatever young women wear to attract the boys."

She chuckled.  "In Florida that's not very much."

He grinned.  "Maybe I should say, whatever they wear while going
to where the boys are.  Also they need something for general use
such as, ah, visiting relatives or keeping doctors' appointments.
I don't know: shoes, dresses, underthings, slacks, blouses -- the
works."

She wrote furiously before looking up.  "'While going to where
the boys are.'  Perhaps I have misjudged you, Louis."

He studied her frank gaze and shook his head.  "No, you haven't.
But they _will_ go to the boys."

"Oh, yes!" she agreed dryly.

She rose and returned to him pushing a low table on castors with
a very large catalog open on its surface.  She maneuvered the
table before him before resuming her seat.  "Here is our complete
line.  If you'll thumb through it and give me some idea of what
you want for them, I'll get the right sizes in from the warehouse
while you're out to lunch."

He glanced across her sleek figure and threw up his hands.
"Estelle, you obviously know what's in good taste.  I'll trust
your judgment.  I want beachwear plus five or six outfits for
each, including something nice they can wear out of here today.
I may take them out to dinner tonight."

"Thank you."  She grinned crookedly.  "But no high heels, I
gather."

He nodded.  "Probably not.  They have yet to learn what high
heels do for a woman.  Of course at their age they don't need
it."

"Very well.  When they return from the salon, I'll have shoes and
clothing here for them to try on."

He chuckled.  "You'd better bring in about three times as much as
you expect to sell them."

"You said you'd trust my judgment."

"Well, of course I shall, but I've had damn little success buying
women's clothing."

"Then we may surprise you, Louis."



* * *



During lunch his cell phone rang.  It was Jack.  "Where the hell
are you anyway?"

Lou winked at the busily chewing girls.  "We're having lunch at
MacDonalds, the one on Eighty-fourth Street.  Why don't you join
us?"

"I've already had lunch -- with my charming daughter and her slob
of a husband.  It's two-thirty.  What did you do, fall asleep?"

"Not exactly.  We're buying clothes."

"_Clothes_?  For the girls?"

"Who else?  I personally have enough for the next ten years."

Jack took a breath.  "So you've decided to do it, eh?"

"Do what?"

"Play incestuous grandpa to the hilt."

Lou chuckled.  "That's a nice choice of words."

"But accurate."

"Well, as one new grandpa to the other, wait till you see our
granddaughters!  We should be through at the boutique about six.
I've made reservations at _La Trenda_.  I'll get them to your
place by six-thirty.  Put on a suit and join us for dinner.
These sweethearts won't mind dancing with a couple of old farts.
They've already assured me of that most convincingly."

"Have you been fucking them all morning, you lucky bastard?"

"Oh yes, five or six times."

"While I was listening to Maisy's all-too-predictable opinions.
Damn it, I'm jealous.  Wait a minute!  _Five_ or _six_ times?"
Jack emitted a Bronx cheer.  "What have you really been doing,
Lou?"

"Would you believe once, incomplete?  While they washed their one
set of clothing?"

Jack was momentarily silent.  "What time is our reservation?"

"Eight."

"Okay.  I'm looking forward to it.  And keep those clothing
receipts, you hear?"



* * *



"Luke and Bucky didn't care for dancing, did they?"

Betsy was almost as tall as Lou and would have matched him in the
scorned high heels.  She drew back enough to stare into his eyes.
"How did you know?  Oh.  Show me that step again."

"Nevermind, honey.  This is a good tune for a two-step.  Let me
put my leg between yours ...  Now just sway and turn as I turn
you...  Ah, sweetie, you feel good!"

After a bit she said in his ear, "Most of them ain't as close as
we are."

"I know.  Ballroom dancing is supposed to be done practically at
arm's length."  He grinned.  "But think what they're missing!
And that's the other reason for a good, stiff bra.  A man can
think he's feeling your tits through his suit coat."

"I never had to wear one before."

"Well, you don't _have_ to wear one now, not for the usual
reason.  There's not a finer set in this room, Betsy.  The bra
makes them stand out a little further, which makes _you_ stand
out better.  You must have noticed all the men looking at you
when we came in."

"Oh, I did!  They all want to fuck me, don't they?"

He grunted.  "Every one who's not queer.  You're what a woman is
supposed to be."

He felt her cheek tighten in a grin.  She murmured, "You didn't
mind them looking at me, either.  Your chest swelled up."

"To have the prettiest woman may be a man's proudest
achievement."

"Oh, Lou, you say such nice things!"

Their table manners had been as expected -- nearly nonexistent,
but he was more than satisfied with the sleek blonde's behavior
in his arms.  She may never have used a napkin before or a fork
to hold meat while cutting it, but she ground her soft body
against him most impressively, thrusting with her hips.  His
breath came faster.  His tongue touched her ear.  She giggled and
pressed him the tighter.

But her attention was more on the surroundings.  She asked, "How
tall is Jack?"

"Five eleven, I think."

"And 'Nita's five one.  But they look good together, don't they?"

The couple was not far away.  Lou squinted between the other
dancers.  He said mournfully, "Because Jack's too skinny for a
pot."

"A pot?  You mean his belly?"  The girl turned her head to stare
at the other couple.  "That's not it," she concluded.  "An old
man that's skinny don't look as healthy as ..."

"A fat one?"

She chuckled and thrust a finger into his paunch.  "As one with
some meat."

"You mean you actually think I look better than Jack?"

"Yes, you do, Lou.  Even 'Nita thinks you _look_ better."

"But what?  You like his big dick, is that it?"

"'Nita does," she admitted.  "But I like yours, Lou."  Her hand
went between them.  "Why didn't you finish this morning?"

He sighed.  "Because it was no fun for you."

"Oh, Lou!"  She hugged him tightly against herself.



* * *



A light flashed briefly then died away concurrently with the
closing of a bathroom door.  Anita, lying pressed into Jack's
side, head on his shoulder, gently lifted the man's hand off her
hip and lowered it to the bedsheet behind her.  When his snoring
continued unabated, she raised herself cautiously off his body
and slipped out of the bed.  In a moment she was blinking in the
bright bathroom light.

Betsy sat on the toilet, looking up with a grin.  "You, too?"

The brunette shook her head.  "Not if you mean the champagne.  I
just wants some company.  I'm worried about Jack.  He was
a-snoring before anything could happen."

The blonde chuckled.  "Lou, too."

"You think they's all right?"

"They's old men, 'Nita, that's all.  Lou said it in the car:
they's gonna fall asleep as soon as they hits the bed."

"When'd he say that?"

"While Jack was a-feeling you up."

"Oh."  Anita sniffed.  "Well, feeling didn't do no good.  He's
already snoring when I come in the bedroom."

Standing, the blonde wiped herself with toilet paper.  "It's all
yours."

"Might as well."  Anita took the seat while Betsy leaned against
the door.

The blonde noted, "Today was _some_ day, wa'n't it?"

"Oh, wow!"

"What part did you like the best?"

The brunette thought about it.  "I guess the dancing.  That old
music is pretty!  And ..."  She grinned reminiscently.  "I could
feel Jack's big thing pushing my belly.  It made me buzz."

Betsy sniffed.  "I can't believe you."

"Huh?"

"What about the salon?  Just look at your fingernails.  And your
toes.  And your hair's still the neatest I ever saw it.  It still
gleams."

"Yours is so fluffy!"  Anita stared up at her friend in obvious
admiration.  Lowering her eyes, she extended her hands with
fingers spread, appraising her glittering nails in satisfaction.

Betsy continued, "Didn't you just love sitting back and letting
them women do all that stuff?  Nobody ever waited on _us_ before,
'Nita."

The brunette smiled dreamily.  Suddenly her eyes brightened.
"Did you hear what they was talking about?"

"You mean their boss fucking all them boys?"  Betsy made a face.
"Women gossip the same everywhere."

"But I still love the dancing best," Anita averred.  "All them
women in fancy dresses!  And the eating.  Wow, that was good
stuff!  And Jack held me so close."  She smiled dreamily again.
"It was almost like stand-up fucking.  I wanta do that _again_!"
She looked up inquiringly.  "You think they does it much?"

"You mean go dancing?  Well, they might take us again, but look
out.  Remember what Granny said.  They's gonna get tired of us
pretty damn quick."

"I been thinking about that."  The brunette frowned seriously.
"We gotta make them keep on liking us."  She studied her friend
thoughtfully.  "I know one way with Lou: let him think you're a
boy."

"A boy?" the blonde barked, adding a laugh and bouncing her ample
breasts forward.  "How'n hell am I gonna do that?"

Anita laughed also but shook her head.  "I guess you can't.  He
wishes _I_ was one.  Maybe we need to get some for him."

Betsy's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.  "We can do that.  Jaimey
Rodriguez.  I'll mention it to Lou.  But what about Jack?  What
can we do special for him?"

The brunette stared back.  "He loves your asshole."

The blonde laughed hollowly.  "Then why does he only dance with
you?"

Anita tossed her head.  "Oh, he likes me the best.  I think I
remind him of somebody.  I know he goes for little women.  Maybe
that's it: he might like some more to play with."

"More little gals?"  Betsy was aghast.  "To take our place?"

"Maybe not, if'n we're always the ones that gets them."

"I don't know.  We'll have to take _that_ real easy."

The brunette stood up and wiped herself.  "What time is it?"

"I don't know.  What difference does it make?"

"Would it hurt Jack to wake him up a-sucking his dick?"

"Huh!  You know what Granny said: 'Let a sleeping man lie.'"
Betsy sniffed.  "Besides, I got a better idea.  How'd you like
your new threads?"

"God, they's pretty!"

"They's hanging in the guest room closet.  And the door's got a
full mirror."

"Oh, wow!"

  Betsy chuckled.  "What we waiting for?"

The two naked girls hurried quietly down the hall.



* * *



"Wake up, we're here!"

Lou had actually to shake Betsy, curled in shorts and halter on
the seat beside him.  She groaned, sat up straight and rubbed her
eyes.  "Wher'zat?" she mumbled.

He answered impatiently, "At the erstwhile Creighton house, now
known as Lou's Haven for Wayward Ladies.  I even let you sleep
while I waited in the line at MacDonalds.  Now do you want these
bagels and eggs or not?"

"I wanna sleep."

He took one of the breakfast sandwiches from the bag, opened the
wrapping and passed it beneath her nose.

"Mmm!" she breathed.  Her eyes finally opened.  She looked
around, recognizing the stall where Lou had parked his car
yesterday.

The man leaned over the seat and passed the sandwich under the
nose of the brunette, lying on her side with knees drawn up.  Her
nostrils wrinkled.  A moment later her eyes fluttered open.

"Hungry?" he asked, grinning at her.

She sat up, looked around and sighed.

He chuckled, glancing back at the blonde.  "What did you two _do_
in the guest room last night?  Obviously you didn't sleep!"

Betsy yawned hugely without bothering to cover her mouth.  "We
tried on our clothes in front of the mirror.  You got anything to
drink in there?"

"Coffee for me and cokes for you.  Let's go in the kitchen and
have at it."

At the table they were a passive pair, eating the sandwiches he
had bought and drinking the beverages without comment or
enthusiasm.  Finally Anita asked, "Where's Jack?"

He chuckled and shook his head.  "You still have a lot of kid in
you, don't you, to pay no attention to what you're told when
you're sleepy?  That's why we had to hustle you out.  Maisy wants
her father to make the decision about which boat she should buy.
She was coming to pick him up at eight."

"Oh."  The brunette brightened a little, glancing at the blonde
as if reassured about something.

"Jack's arriving later, probably this afternoon, after he takes
care of his daughter."  Lou glanced from one set of downcast eyes
to the other.  "Didn't you get any sleep at all last night?"

Betsy explained dully, "We tried on all the clothes."

"And hated them, I expect."

"Huh?"  She blinked at him.  "Why'd you say that?  We loves
them!"

His face lit.  "Well, damn!  Estelle _is_ surprising!"

Both girls stared.  He remembered that they had not been present
when Estelle promised to surprise him.  He took a breath.  "So
you didn't get much sleep.  Okay.  I think some linens are left
in the closets upstairs.  Why don't you make up one of the beds
for yourselves?"

"_Our_selfs?"

"Yeah.  I'm going out to order furniture and sign the maintenance
contract.  I'll be back in time to bring you some fast food for
lunch."

"That's why you wearing so much clothes," remarked Betsy.

"You've seen me in long pants before.  Clean up this trash -- you
do know about the trash compactor, don't you? -- and go to bed.
I'll wake you up for lunch."

Betsy grimaced.  "I guess you think we ain't thankful."

"What?"

Her hand slipped across the table to cover his lightly.  "Nobody
was ever so good to us, Lou.  Do you want us to ... to play the
boy for you?"

He glanced at the brunette, who would not meet his eyes.  But the
blonde's regard was obviously sincere.  He took a breath.
"Betsy, I ... I thank you for the offer.  As I told you
yesterday, you are two sweet girls!  But I think you need some
sleep and I need to get going."

He stood up.  "Don't let anybody in except Jack.  I don't think
the telephones work, but don't answer them if they ring.  Any
questions?"

Anita asked, "What's a trash compacker?"



* * *



Having spoken with Lou by cell phone, Jack knew of the girls'
presence when he arrived after eleven.  He found them intertwined
atop a bottom sheet on the king-sized bed in the largest upstairs
bedroom, still fast asleep because of circumstances that Lou had
also explained.  He stood over them, studying their sleekly
youthful bodies, and an idea formed in his head.  Two uncased
pillows lay on the floor.  He placed them on the bed within arm's
reach of the girls.

He hung his clothing over a chair and stripped naked except for a
wristwatch.  Anita lay on her back, her head on the blonde's
shoulder, one leg thrown over the blonde's nearer thigh, lush
pubes open to the warm air.  He got on the bed at the foot and
crawled slowly up between Anita's legs, taking care not to touch
either girl until his face was close enough.  His tongue dipped
upon the brunette just above her clitoris and began a slow,
gentle stroking.  Her rate of breathing increased almost
immediately and her legs parted farther.

He lowered himself upon Betsy's leg and extended the length of
his tongue strokes.  He snaked two fingers beneath his chin and
slipped them into her, pressing upward.  Shortly she moaned and
her cool thighs closed around his head.  He looked up past the
out-of-focus pubic haze to find her eyes hugely open, staring
down at him briefly before drifting closed.  Her hips began to
rock.

He felt Betsy withdraw her leg.  Hands stroked his buttocks,
cupped the testicles and reached under to clasp his painfully
erect member.  But Anita was shuddering in orgasm.  Suddenly her
hands pushed his head away.

Moaning, she caught his arms in her hand, pulling him upon her.
Other hands guided him into her.  The girl cried out.  Her knees
rose until her heels drummed his buttocks.  He chuckled with
delight.  In the early years of marriage his wife had reacted in
this manner to cunnilingual awakening.

But he lifted his torso above her when the girl tried to wrap him
in her arms.  He looked around.  The blonde was kneeling nearby,
her hand still squeezing the scrotum.  He said, "Stuff both
pillows under her butt when I lift it up."

Leaning back, he raised a hip in either hand as Betsy pushed the
pillows into place.  He leered at her.  "Now turn around and play
69 with Anita."

The blonde hesitated only a moment.  She hustled around on the
bed and let her groin down upon Anita's moaning face.  "Ooo!" she
murmured as the brunette's tongue found the mark.

Leaning farther back, Jack pointed to his junction with the
brunette.  "I'm told you do that the best anyway."

Betsy's eyes widened.  "You want me to lick her while you fuck
her?"

"When you're not sucking me."

A twinkle revealed that the full idea had registered behind the
blue eyes.  The blonde head went down, its nose in his pubic pad.
The legs in his arms shuddered mightily and stentorian moans,
interspersed with wet gulps, issued from the face beneath the
blonde.

After a few strokes he withdrew and pressed himself beneath
Betsy's forehead, which rose enough for her to take him into her
mouth.  He felt her stroking tongue and the hint of teeth.  He
performed several shallow strokes into the suckling mouth before
withdrawing to return to the vagina beneath it.

"I've dreamed of this all my life," he murmured.  "Oh, god, I do
love you sweethearts!"

He traded orifices several times.  Contrarily, however, as his
pleasure swelled towards orgasm, pain in the chest and left arm
informed him that he was working too hard for this one.  Panting
like a runner, he had to abandon the approaching climax and
collapse backward to the foot of the bed.  Even then the pain did
not ease.  He let himself fall on hands and knees to the floor.
 From there he crawled to his pants hanging over the chair,
thankfully only a few steps away, and retrieved the small brown
bottle from a pocket.  Shakily he thrust one of the tiny little
pills under his tongue and fell back naked upon the carpet.

By this time both girls were bent over him, wet mouths hanging
open in concern.  "Jack, Jack!" cried Anita, wringing her hands.
"Are you all right?"

"I will be," he managed to gasp between pants.  Already his
temples were thundering and the chest pain was easing.  It always
seemed to transfer to the back and sides of his head, a location
reassuring because it possessed no heart to fail!

"C-can we do anything?" asked Betsy.

He shook his head.  "I'll ... be all right.  Just let me ... lie
here a little."

Anita licked her lips, staring at his sagging penis.  He would
have laughed.  If it were possible to suck a man to good health,
he believed she would attempt it.  For him, at least.  That
thought struck him forcefully.  Did she truly feel as strongly as
it seemed to imply?

He raised an arm and caught her hand.  "Anita, stay with me," he
beseeched her.  It was almost an involuntary utterance.  He would
have been hard pressed to say exactly what it meant.

Her answer was to kneel beside him and kiss his hand.



* * *



Lou arrived with lunch just before midday.  Jack had resumed his
clothing but the girls remained nude.  They sat together at the
kitchen table.

Lou grinned around his food.  "I once knew this little tart in L.
A. who liked to fuck while we ate.  She'd sit at the table facing
me and feed both of us from the same sandwich while she bounced
up and down.  Not too fast."  He gazed askance at Betsy, seeming
to weigh her visually.  "We'll have to try that one of these
days."

"Yeah, sure, Lou," murmured the blonde, looking away.

"But you were practically doing that the other morning at
breakfast!"

"Yeah, I guess."

The man looked inquiringly at the three chewing faces.  "What's
going on here?  Did Jack beat on you?"

Jack took a deep breath.  Betsy's face grew stony.  A fat tear
rolled down Anita's cheek.

Lou's eyes widened.  He stared at Jack and demanded, "What in the
world did you tell them?"

Betsy stated flatly, "He nearly had a heart attack."

"A _what_?"  Lou studied his friend.  "Angina?"

"Yeah, must have been."  Jack sighed and added, "Nitro fixed it."

"Then it was angina.  What'n hell did you try to do?"

"A three-way," Betsy replied.

"I see.  Got a little too strenuous, did it, Jack?"

The slim man sighed again.  "I guess."

"But the pain's all gone, right?"

"Yeah."  He looked up at Lou.  "But I've learned something."

"Sure.  Next time lay back and let the girls take care of it.
They won't mind, will you, honeys?"

"We won't mind," answered Anita.  Her hand reached across the
table and covered Jack's.

"And that brings me to what I wanted to discuss."  Lou took a
swig of his drink, then caught Betsy's arm.  "Come give me a
juicy kiss first."

With a tolerant smile the blonde leaned to her left toward Lou
and twisted her torso so that her right shoulder rested on the
tabletop, turning her face and lips up before the man to be
kissed.  His hand first caught a dangling breast, then he bent to
her with open mouth.  He raised up shortly with a wide grin.
"Hey, I love second hand Big Mac when it's fresh!"

He helped the girl back into her seat and sat erect, expression
settling into seriousness.  He looked from Betsy to Anita.  "How
would you like to live here, girls?

"What do you mean?" the blonde asked suspiciously.  "Didn't you
say this is your house?"

"Yeah, I just bought it."

"Not yours and Jacks together, like the other one?"

"That one is Jack's alone.  I've just been living there to keep
him company.  This house is mine alone."  Lou grinned.  "Of
course Jack will still keep me company.  He'll be here as much as
I'm there, I expect, if not more."

"Then what do you mean?  You mean stay here with you?"

"Yes, with me and Jack too.  This could be your house as well as
mine.  Jack would visit."

He intended to explain more of his plans for the girls, but
Anita's expression of stupefaction caused him to pause with a
chuckle.

"We could be your spry uncles," he suggested.

The slim girl was struck dumb.  She looked about the room in
wonder.

"What would we have to do?"  Betsy was not so ready to believe in
such good fortune.

"Just what we've already been doing, sweetheart.  I'll ask you to
quit stealing from Jack and me, though.  We'll give you spending
money and we'll buy you clothes and stuff."

Betsy studied him.  She said skeptically, "We'd live here like we
was ... family? -- I mean, like your sluts?"

"Concubines, maybe."

"What's that?"

Jack regarded his friend with a twinkle.  "Yeah, explain that,
pal."

"Okay, I will."  Lou sniffed.  "You'll live here like my
granddaughters, except you aren't really my granddaughters, so a
few things would be different."

"Like what?" asked Betsy.

"Well ..."

Betsy's hand darted under the table.  Lou stiffened, then
relaxed.  She asked with an innocent twinkle, "Like that?"

"Ah, yes!" Lou agreed with a slight gasp.  "Any good
granddaughter might help grandpa find something he's lost."

Betsy chuckled.  Her right hand joined the left.  A zipper hummed
briefly.  "Hey, I found it!" she announced bright-eyed.

Jack noted dryly, "What a good little granddaughter!"

Anita found her voice with a grin.  "He told Estelle we was his
granddaughters yesterday."

"Estelle?" asked Jack.

"At the Evening Boo-tea-queue."

"The Evening --  So that's where you bought their clothing!"  Jack
chuckled wistfully.  "I wonder if Estelle still remembers me."

"It's been twelve years," said Lou deprecatingly, looking away
from Jack.

Betsy removed her hands and asked seriously, "What are you really
offering us, Lou?"

He took a deep breath.  "I meant what I said about
granddaughters.  We'll be as intimate as two men and two girls
can be, but aside from that and one other difference, I'll treat
you exactly as I would my granddaughters.  That means I'll
support you, even if Jack won't, though I'd be very surprised if
he doesn't insist on sharing the costs.  I'll cover your medical
and dental bills, your food, clothing and housing, and --  How far
did you get in school?"

Betsy answered, "When we goes to live with Grannie, we drops
out."

"You were 14, I believe you said.  In the eighth grade?"

"Ninth."

"Huh?  Oh, yeah.  You never went back?"

"No.  Grannie don't care and the school can't find us."

"All right.  I'll pay to continue your education."

"Huh!" Betsy sneered.  "We ain't going back to no grab-ass
school."

"A private tutor, then."  He chuckled and winked at Jack.  "Have
to handle that carefully, eh?"

The brunette leaned forward, unaware of breasts lolling on the
table top.  "You really mean all this, Lou?  You ain't just
fooling to keep us handy for awhile?"

"I really mean it, Anita.  This could be your home."

"My home!  Oh, wow!"  The little one was suddenly excited.
"We'll make you glad of it.  We'll do things for you, Lou.  We'll
get you boys from the mall."

"Boys!  Why would I want you to get me boys?"  The man sat up
straight and glared at the girl.

Anita seemed to shrink.  She replied contritely, "I thought you
liked boys, you know, young ones."

Betsy stood up restlessly.  "13 and 14 year-olds is easy, Lou.
Most of them is horny virgins who'll do anything for a fuck.
'Nita and I picks up a pretty one a few months ago just for the
fun of it.  We takes him to the beach after dark and teaches him
everything."

Jack frowned at Lou.  "_Boys_?"

"Why do you think I want a boy?" Lou asked again.

"Because of the way you carry on with 'Nita," Betsy explained.
"You pretend she's a boy sometimes."

"I'll admit there are times I'm curious."  He pulled the blonde
onto his lap.  "Though I probably wouldn't enjoy it.  Besides it
would be too risky.  But what about you two?"

"Us?  What about us?"  Betsy squirmed as he fingered her between
the legs.

"I said there was one other difference between you and regular
granddaughters.  You girls will want young cock from time to
time, won't you?  I don't want you bringing older guys around
here, you understand.  But I know that Jack and I can't keep you
satisfied.  Do you want to pick up boys at the mall for
yourselves?"

The blonde squinted at him.  "What do you mean by older guys?"

"I mean the kind that cause trouble, the kind who want to be in
charge.  I wouldn't mind if you brought over kids your age or a
little younger who aren't, you know, tough."

"He means boys like Jaimey Rodriguez," the little one piped up.
"Shy ones."

"Jaimey is really hung, Lou, even though he's just sixteen.
You'd like him."  Betsy began to toy with the man's sparse hair.

"I'm talking about boys for you!" Lou declared emphatically.

"Yeah, sure."  Betsy winked at the little one.

Anita regarded Jack.  "Do you like boys too?"

"Not as sexual partners!" The taller man declared positively.

"No, of course not, and neither do I!"  Lou tried to sound stern.
"You'll bring boys here for yourselves, if at all.  And,
sweethearts, when you do" -- he grinned slyly -- "we'll make sure
they treat you right."


END Episode 3
Next:  _Ms. Creighton's Hobby_


Contacts
  Varangian:  ludmax11@hotmail.com
  Kellis:  kellis@dhp.com

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