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Subject: {ASSM} Wow Thanks Chp. 20
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Date: Thu, 17 May 2007 17:10:01 -0400
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   /the autoeroticrobot/ Masturbation is NEVER a bad idea.



  
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<1st attachment, "thanks20.txt" begin>

Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by the author unless explicitly waived.  Non-commercial re-posts
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delete the copyright information.  No commercial reprints are authorized.

   The author enjoys feedback and comments:
autoeroticrobot[@t]yahoo[d*t]com.  ...  Or look me up in Second Life:
avatar Fnugus Abismo.

   WARNING: This story depicts consensual sexual activity between men and
women, or women and women.  Some of the fictional participants in the story
may be under the age of 18.

   Wow Thanks (MFf, exhib, voy, inc, cons) by autoeroticrobot

   Chapter 20.  Visitor.

   The girls were still giggling in the den and had started playing some
music on the PC in there rather loudly.  Denise and I sat at the table
recovering from the intensity of the past few minutes, when unexpectedly
the doorbell rang.  Denise's face displayed a fascinating progression of
wordless emotion: surprise, puzzlement, recollection, alarm.

   She stood up and hiked up her pants and rebuttoned them and closed the
fly, and then peeked out a window that gave her a view of her porch, and
she said, "Oh crap!  I forgot that I told Mr Uribe, like two weeks ago,
that if he got lonely over the long weekend to feel free to stop by and
visit.  I'd told him you'd be visiting."

   Mr Uribe was, I recalled, their neighbor from across the street - an
older-looking man of about 60, of Mexican descent, whom I'd met at David's
funeral the year before and had immediately gotten along with well.

   Denise continued, "his son and daughter-in-law and grandkids moved to
the East Coast in August - some new teaching position for his son.  So he's
alone for the Thanksgiving weekend, for the first time in years."

   "Well, let him in," I insisted.  "It's not like we're in flagrante
delicto." I grinned at the funny face she made at this comment.  "Don't
keep him waiting," I insisted.

   Denise gave me a wry smile and meaninglessly messed with her hair for a
moment, as if forgetting that its current cornrows configuration meant she
didn't have to worry much about the grave dangers of poofy, frizzy hair.

   Then she opened the door and Mr Uribe and I were reintroduced.  She had
him come in and sit on the couch, and offered him a drink.  Then she fled
into the kitchen to fetch him a beer.  Apologizing to the man and excusing
myself for a second, I followed her in, since her nervousness was rather
obvious.  I could tell she was in turmoil, and was probably torn between a
desire to be a gracious host and her desire to continue with our private
games.

   In hurriedly whispered tones, I said to her, "we can take a little
break, you know." And added, "but we should probably warn Lissa - I doubt
the girls heard the doorbell with that music they're playing." I had
managed to recognize Lady Sovereign's sassy rapping, among who knows what
else, but they'd turned the volume up pretty high, it seemed to me, though
the sound quality of the computer's small speakers was tinny and poor.

   Denise put her hand to her mouth, in alarm, and then, pausing to compose
herself, strode back into the living room to give Mr Uribe his beer.  She
was more composed, now, I saw as I followed her back out and sat down
across from him.

   Rather than sit down, Denise turned with a feigned look of slight
annoyance, and went to the half-closed door of the den, and leaned in. 
"Hey, girls, can you turn that down?" But then Denise made the mistake of
adding, rhetorically, "What're you two doing in there, anyway?"

   Her daughter apparently took this second question a little too
literally, and answered, quite audibly as the music abruptly cut off, "Me
an' Marie found this cool website for playing truth or dare."

   I suspected this was something Lissa and Denise had scripted quite some
time ago, before the revelation of Finn's identity, as it matched the tasks
as I'd originally structured them at the beginning of the long weekend.  I
imagined that the last half hour or so had been occupied with Lissa getting
her friend to sign on to the project at some level - though I doubted she
would have told Marie the whole story.

   Mr Uribe's eyebrows shot up quizzically as he overheard this, and I
grinned at him lamely, and suspected that Denise was desperately trying to
convey to the girls - using some hieroglyphic hand signals I could easily
visualize - the fact that there was a visitor in the living room. 
Certainly, it suddenly became very quiet in the den, and then there was
some whispering as she went completely out of sight into the room and
pushed the door mostly shut behind her.  We did overhear one of the girls,
I couldn't tell which, utter a kind of loud but sincere-sounding "oops!"

   I tried to distract Mr Uribe with some small talk, asking about his
son's new job and refamiliarizing myself with his family's particulars. 
After a short while, with Denise still ensconced in the den, he said, "hey,
please, just call me Frank - no need to stay so formal.  I keep reminding
Melissa and Mrs Nguyen, but they seem to forget occasionally."

   "Well, you can call me Jason, of course.  And I'm sure my sister prefers
Denise to Mrs Nguyen."

   Things relaxed some more, and he told me how he had spent Thanksgiving
Thursday volunteering with a meals-on-wheels food delivery program - he
worked in a social services program of some kind, I recalled - then he told
me how he had managed to waste the last two days trying to clean his
basement.  We were laughing at the tendency of this sort of task to become
infinite, when Denise finally reappeared, looking calm and collected, and
took a seat on the couch opposite Frank and joined the conversation.

   I won't go into the details of the conversation, but it was pleasant and
unforced, and I could tell that Frank and Denise had some substantial
preexisting comfort with each other, as neighbors who trusted and liked one
another.

   After another ten minutes or so, the girls poked their heads from the
den, looking slightly embarrassed and giggly, and said a quick hi to Frank.
Then Lissa said to her mom, as clearly part of something prenegotiated,
"Marie and I are going to start now, OK?" Marie was looking vaguely nervous
but seemed in the thrall of her more confident friend.

   Denise just said, "sure, darling." With that, the girls pulled back from
the open door and quietly shut it completely.

   She shrugged at the two us facing her, and commented, as if making an
apologies, "you know how teenage girls can be - they're fixated on playing
this game, so rather than argue about it I just put some limits and said go
ahead."

   Frank smiled understandingly, "yes, I vaguely recall having a teenaged
daughter - I definitely understand."

   "Oh, yes, I forget you have a daughter too.  How is she?" asked Denise.

   Frank looked troubled for minute, and explained that as far as he knew,
she was fine.  "We don't stay in touch very well," he explained, sadly. 
She had joined the Navy straight out of high school, and that had been 8
years ago.  She had apparently decided it was the career she wanted, but
even when on leave, she didn't come home to visit.  It was a moment of
sadness.

   To change the subject, I think, Frank mused, "I haven't played truth or
dare since I was a teenager myself," and sighed.  He might as well have
exclaimed, melodramatically, "ah, lost youth!" And he certainly played to
the themes on Denise and my minds.

   Denise and I exchanged a silly grin when he wasn't looking, and almost
in unison both said something to the effect of "me neither."

   We broke into laughter at this and then there was a comfortable silence.
Almost as if on cue, the door of den reopened and Lissa and Marie both
trouped out, and positioned themselves standing in front of Denise.

   "What's the joke?" asked Lissa, self-consciously, seeing all of us
recovering from our moment of laughter.

   The two girls then sat side-by-side on the remaining chair, a
non-reclining piece that matched the couch and was catty-corner to it. 
Their thin, fourteen-year-old frames fit easily.  The looked back and forth
at each other, as if waiting for the other to speak.

   "What's up, girls?" I asked, finally.

   Lissa said to Marie, softly, as if just to her (but easily overheard),
"well, it was your idea."

   I sensed there was possibly something pre-programmed here, but I
couldn't tell if Denise was in on it too, or even if Marie was, for that
matter.  Whatever it was, I sensed where things might be headed, and I
doubted it had REALLY been Marie's idea, whatever it was.  It seemed to me
most likely that Lissa was playing the situation herself, with her recently
revealed impeccable instinct for kinkifying situations.  But somehow she'd
gotten her friend to think it HAD been her idea, and so it was she who
finally took a deep breath began to speak, in a barely-audible
stream-of-consciousness that had Denise, Frank and I leaning forward to
make sure to hear all her words.

   "Well, me an' Lissa kinda were thinking it's kind of boring to play
truth or dare, with, like, just two of us and were wondering if, uh, like,
maybe it would be more interesting with MORE PEOPLE playing..."

   She paused and looked reflexively at me and Frank, underscoring the fact
that by "more people" she probably meant something more to the effect of
"guys."

   As if to emphasize this, Lissa grabbed exactly that thought from my mind
and said quickly, breathlessly, "especially, like, some GUYS."

   Marie was beginning to blush, but retained her serious expression and
continued again, "so, we were, like wondering, did you all want to play
too, I mean, even though you're, like old and stuff..."

   "Yeah," interrupted my niece, with a bit more energy.  "We don't mind
that you're, like, old - just to make it more interesting, is all."

   Marie seemed to have forgotten what to say next, and fell silent, just
nodding.

   I was the first to react cogently, with a little effort to make light of
it: I said, "well, if you're going to call us 'old' I'm not sure we want to
play."
"Uncle JASON," protested Lissa.  "It's not like that," she sighed,

looking annoyed.  "You know."

   "We know what you mean," said Denise, in reassuring maternal tones. 
"But are you sure?  I think we'd have to set some solid ground rules before
we start."

   "Of course," agreed the girls, in unison.

   Denise's "helper" statement convinced me that she had known this was
coming.  But I was worried about Frank - that maybe he would be too polite
to say if he found the whole thing a bit too weird for his tastes.

   So I said, "You don't mind if Mr Uribe - Frank, here - plays too?" But I
was facing toward him directly, and made clear I giving him an opportunity
to bow out gracefully.

   But he laughed heartily and with great sincerity, and looked directly at
the girls, raising his eyebrow questioningly, almost Spock-like.  "You
wouldn't actually want a REALLY old man, like me, to join you in your
game?" he queried, good-naturedly.

   Lissa looked at her neighbor on the chair, and grinned.  "Of course you
can play.  At least that way, I won't be totally surrounded by just, like,
RELATIVES." She emphasized the last word with that perfect tonality of
teenage disgust, but grinned quickly at her mother and me to make clear she
was just kidding.

   "Besides, you're pretty handsome for an old man, Mr Uribe," piped in
Marie, shyly, but much to everyone's surprise, including her friend's, who
almost gave herself whiplash spinning around to regard her with surprise.

   Marie was right - probably, Frank was in better shape than I was,
despite my being several decades his junior.  He wasn't tall, but he was
well proportioned, with zero pot-belly and long, tanned arms and a shock of
somewhat chaotic grey hair over handsome, vaguely native-American features.
I realized that if someone had walked in on our group unknown, they'd
ironically have decided, mistakenly, that Lissa and he were the most likely
pair in the group to be actually related, given their similar skin-tone and
facial cast.

   Frank laughed again, and said, soothingly, "I'm very flattered.  But if
we're going to be playing truth or dare, you probably all should call me
Frank.  Enough of this Mr Uribe." He swept a sly wink around at the two
girls and Denise.  There was a silence, so he continued, "so, uh, how is
this played?"

   The girls both started talking at once, excitedly, but finally Marie
took up the stream and ran with it, as Lissa yielded to the quiet girl in
the long blond hair.

   "Well, there's this cool website where you can go to get questions.  You
go on and request either a truth or a dare and you can set ahead of time,
like, how risque you want it to be, like using movie ratings, PG-13 or R or
X or whatever.  So then you get your question or dare."

   "Wow, they even have the internet involved in truth or dare, now,"
commented Frank.

   I just grinned at him and nodded, wryly.

   "It makes it easier than to, like, think of questions and stuff,"
explained Marie, seeming slightly annoyed.

   "It's more fair," agreed Lissa, soothingly.  "People can't gang up on
other people with questions ore dares."

   "That's a good point," agreed Frank, trying to diffuse the girls'
defensiveness.

   "Well, obviously we'll stick to the PG-13 rating," harrumphed Denise,
very parentally.

   "Momm!" complained Lissa.  "Those ones are kinda boring."

   "Well if we're going to have R-rated questions, I'll reserve veto
power."

   Lissa nodded, but seemed to politely disagree: "maybe we could just make
some good clear rules in advance."

   "Such as?" Denise prompted.

   "Well, obviously, if the whole group thinks it's a bad question or dare
then we can skip to the next one - there are some lousy ones on that
website, that's for sure," Lissa mused.  Marie nodded in agreement to this.

   "OK, what else?"

   "Well, I think we should make sure no dares outside the house.  And no
dares with one person touching another person, unless everyone agrees."

   "That's reasonable," Denise nodded, unfolding her arms from her chest
and appearing more relaxed.

   "And no 'private' dares," suggested Marie.  "Some of the dares like say
you have to go in another room with someone, or stuff like that.  Most of
those kind are kinda, like, weird."

   "Risque," clarified Lissa.  Marie again nodded.

   Denise asked, "so are we going to have to all pile into that den to
play, since the computer is involved?"

   Lissa and Marie both started to nod, but I interrupted, "I have a better
idea."

   They all turned toward me with raised eyebrows, so I stood and quickly
fetched my laptop from the den.  "We can stay comfortable in here and use
this," I suggested.

   "Oh, awesome," the girls chorused.

   "So we'll make one person moderator, to run the website, and, like read
the questions or dares.  We can sit in a circle and take turns."

   I fired up my laptop, and there was some shuffling of places.  Both the
girls and then Denise made a quick bathroom break, and then Lissa fetched
some chips and drinks and things from the kitchen, while Marie pulled up
the website.  The girls insisted that the seating arrangement be
"boy-girl-boy-girl" (to the extent possible given 3 girls and 2 guys), so
we were seated as follows: Frank retained his position on the couch, which
he shared with Denise who was at the other end.  Then I was placed in the
end chair next to Denise, and the girls took places kneeling at the coffee
table in front of the recliner behind them, though they seemed disinclined
to sit in it.  They were both rather hyper, actually.  I suspected it was
teenage horniness at play.

   Marie acquired the role of moderator sort of by default - it occurred to
me that Lissa wanted her in the role for some reason - but Frank leaned
over and watched intently as she put in our group's settings to the truth
or dare website, and seemed amused by the fact that it turned out the
questions and dares were ones that had been submitted by users.

   Finally, after about fifteen minutes or so, everyone was settled and we
had a brief argument about who would begin.  Then Lissa pointed out that
the website had a random number generator, and added, "you'll find some of
the dares require random people to help with dares or questions.  So we
counted ourselves off (Frank as 1 through Marie as 5) and the number
generator gave us a 3, which meant I got to start it off.

   "Well, give me a truth question, then," I said, with false reluctance. I
really couldn't believe this was happening.  Not only was I now playing
truth or dare with my sister and niece, but they'd managed to rope in two
"innocents" besides.  They'd not stay innocent long, I suspected.

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