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There was no real follow-up to the peculiar three-way intimacy of that picnic, although Grant pounded Angela that night in such a way that she could scarcely keep quiet about it. And she seemed disinclined to keep quiet. In the mornings the sisters exchanged silent and knowing looks as they went about preparing breakfast.
But it was three nights after the picnic that all hell broke loose.
Sara and Angela had already changed into their nightgowns and were in their respective beds, with Grant uncharacteristically staying up reading, when an explosion suddenly sounded outside, shaking the house. Grant, crying out harshly, dropped his book and struggled to understand what was happening.
Very quickly he determined what was going on: someone was shooting at the house.
He cautiously approached the front door and peeked out of the curtain covering it. Some tall, rangy man was on the sidewalk, his hands gripping a shotgun. Clearly he was the one who had, for whatever reason, took a potshot at the house. The shot had apparently hit the house just above the front door. Now he seemed to be preparing to shoot again.
With crazy bravery—or foolhardiness—Grant rushed outside, wearing nothing but shorts, a T-shirt, and slippers. Roaring like an enraged lion, he made a beeline for the gun-toting man. Possibly his recklessness was not as insane as it seemed, for he had detected that the man had indeed tried to fire again but had been unsuccessful. It appeared the gun was jammed after that initial shot.
The man—who, as Grant understood at once, was Carl—recognized that his gun was momentarily useless, so he tried to use it as a club to knock over his oncoming antagonist. But Grant ducked under the gun and then, in true football fashion, tackled the man and hurled him to the ground. The shotgun fell out of his hands, and Grant kicked it away as he began to pummel the man with his fists. The anger that filled him was so white-hot that he could easily have killed Carl, but Carl was no weakling. He fought back hard—and dirty. Using not only fists but also feet, nails, and even his head, he himself inflicted many injuries on Grant as the two of them rolled around on the ground.
By this time, the two women in the house had rushed downstairs to see what the hubbub was. While Sara screamed as she saw who it was that Grant was tussling with, Angela briskly called the police. Within minutes, a squad car with its wailing siren pulled up to the house and cops rushed out. Their initial orders to the two men to cease and desist were blithely ignored, and the two policemen had to separate the two by main force—a task that took a not inconsiderable amount of time, and with some minor injuries to themselves.
But at last the two assailants were pried apart from each other. After Sara and Angela explained what had happened, Carl was thrown unceremoniously into the police car in handcuffs. The policeman asked Grant if he wished to be taken to the hospital; but, even though some of his injuries looked pretty severe, he doggedly insisted that he wouldn’t go.
Shrugging, the police took their prisoner away. Later, Sara was told that Carl had unexpectedly made bail and had been released earlier that day. But now he was going to be put away for a long, long time.
The two women led their valiant defender back into the house. He really did look a mess, with cuts, scrapes, and blood all over him. Sara looked as if she was going to faint, and Angela feared that all the gains in emotional stability she had made in the last several days would go for naught. But Sara got a grip on herself, thanking Grant profusely for his valor. He shrugged off the compliment, but Angela could tell he was secretly happy and proud.
But it remained to clean Grant up. Angela first peeled off his T-shirt and, aghast at the amount of blood she saw on his chest and back, rushed to the bathroom to get some washcloths and other paraphernalia to begin a course of first aid. But she was reassured when she discovered that most of the blood seemed to be Carl’s.
As Grant stood stolidly in the living room, Angela urged Sara to take part. Maybe she should tackle Grant’s upper body while she attended to whatever injuries there might be to his abdomen, groin, and legs. Sara, in a daze, began dabbing Grant’s chest with a wet cloth while Angela surveyed his lower portions. After Sara had finished cleaning the blood off of Grant’s back, Angela asked Sara to bend down and help her with some scrapes around the hips.
But after a while, Angela let out a frustrated cry. “Oh, this is absurd! We can’t do this with all these clothes in the way.”
So without asking anyone’s permission she pulled down Grant’s shorts, taking his underwear with them. He was now entirely naked.
And he was getting hard.
But Angela paid no attention to that as she told Sara, “Why don’t you deal with that little cut there?” pointing to his hip. The cut actually curled around to Grant’s bottom, and Sara blushed as she washed away the blood from it.
Angela, ankara escort however, couldn’t ignore the cock that was actually quivering in front of her face as she tended to a scratch on the inside of Grant’s thigh. Looking up at him, she said, “Looks like there’s a bit too much starch here,” and she popped his member into her mouth.
Sara watched wide-eyed as she once again saw her sister give Grant a blowjob. But after a few minutes Angela took the organ out of her mouth, held it in her hands, and directed it at her sister. “Say, you want a taste?”
Sara sat stock-still, her face expressionless as the cock dangled inches from her face. Grant said warningly, “Angela, I don’t think—”
But then Sara tentatively licked the tip with her tongue.
She giggled, then boldly took the cock away from her sister and grasped it in her own hand. She got about three inches into her mouth, sighing heavily as she did so. Closing her eyes, she worked it with her tongue and lips while instinctively extending her other hand to Grant’s balls and stroking them.
Angela watched with delight and amazement as her sister went to town. Even she had rarely stimulated Grant so quickly, and she could tell that, as he watched this new girl now putting more than half of his cock into her mouth, he was about to explode.
Sara was oblivious and wouldn’t pay any attention to her sister’s quiet urging to let up a bit. “Sara, I think that’s enough,” she murmured—but clearly Sara didn’t think so. Angela wasn’t at all sure that Sara was emotionally prepared for swallowing, so she took matters into her own hands and pulled Grant’s cock out of her sister’s mouth.
It was just then that Grant came.
He showered the faces of both sisters with his emission, as the two squeezed their eyes so that the stuff wouldn’t get into those delicate orbs. But it spattered all over the women’s cheeks, foreheads, noses, and chins—and there was so much of it that neither of them could prevent themselves from laughing uproariously as the spray seemed to continue for minutes.
“Oh, you naughty boy!” Angela cried once the downpour was over. “What a mess you’ve made all over us!”
“Um, sorry,” Grant said in a mock apology.
“Gotta clean ourselves up,” Angela muttered. She looked around for a Kleenex box or anything else she could use for the purpose, but found nothing. Shrugging, she first used her fingers to dab the stuff off of her face and put it into her mouth (waste not, want not!), then—in a move that shocked but also amused her sister—started licking the come off Sara’s face. She did so using her lips, tongue, and fingers, not failing to give Sara a sample of the salty discharge. Sara lapped it up eagerly.
After the women had become more or less clean, Angela suddenly became serious. Peering intently but sympathetically at Sara, she said: “Are you ready?”
Sara hesitated for only a second before nodding.
“Ready for what?” Grant said cluelessly.
Angela stared up at Grant as if to say: What do you think, you dummy?
She led the two of them—Sara by the arm and Grant by his still hard and dripping cock—into the bedroom. She turned her attention to her sister and made a wordless query by looking up and down her nightgown. Again Sara nodded, and Angela gently removed the garment over her head.
What Grant saw revealed was a creature so staggeringly beautiful that he felt a strange kind of mortification. Good Lord, she’s even more beautiful than Angela! I didn’t think that was possible. But it was. Aside from the beauty of Sara’s face, Grant gazed long and lingeringly on her soft, rounded shoulders, her full, round breasts (fractionally larger, Grant estimated, than Angela’s), her flat stomach, her flaring hips, her strong, svelte thighs, and her slim, tapered calves and dainty feet. Even looking straight at her, he could tell that her curvy, fleshy bottom was a work of poetry in itself.
Angela suddenly felt silly being the only clothed person in the room, so she doffed her nightgown in a trice.
Sara looked eager and excited, but a shadow passed over her face. She looked at her sister and said, “I don’t think I can be on my back.”
Angela nodded understandingly. That would remind her too much of the brutality she suffered at Carl’s hands.
Looking at her two companions like a stage manager preparing actors for a critical scene, she ordered Grant to lie down on his back on the bed. He complied, and Angela then said: “Sara, why don’t you lie on top of him?”
Sara did so with some hesitancy, but gradually she seemed comfortable resting on top of this strong, muscular man, who held her close but not tightly. Grant kissed her face and mouth, tasting the faint remnants of his emission but also absorbing the distinctive scent of this gorgeous woman. He could easily sense that she was aroused, and so he slid a hand between their bodies and reached her sex. When he touched it Sara let out a pathetic little whimper, but Angela reassured her.
“It’s ankara escort bayan okay, dear,” she said. “Just relax and enjoy it.”
Sara did her best—and in fact, it wasn’t very hard to do, for Grant was expert in stimulating a woman, although he had rarely done it in this position. Continuing to kiss her, he stroked and rubbed her pussy at first gently, then with greater force and vigor, until in a few minutes he could tell she was close to her culmination. A bit impishly, he suddenly held back, almost stopping his motions as Sara cried out: “Oh, God, please let me come!”
“Grant!” Angela chided. “Don’t tease her like that.”
“Sorry,” he muttered—and put Sara out of her misery. A few strong strokes, and she exploded in a climax that shook her whole frame and made her collapse bonelessly on top of Grant, her arms circling his neck as if he were a life preserver in a wide, empty ocean.
Grant and Angela—who had nestled alongside the pair—had the sense to give Sara a bit of time to recover. When she had, Angela whispered, “Shall I put him inside you?”
Sara gave a little shiver of alarm, but shook it off. “All right,” she said.
Angela scooted down so that she faced both Grant’s and Sara’s private parts. Sara had slid up Grant a bit, and Angela, taking Grant’s cock in her hand, found she was able to insert only the very tip of it into her sister’s pussy. Even that little bit seemed to unnerve Sara for a second or two; but she soon settled down and did her best to enjoy the sensation.
“Sara, dear,” she said, “can you move down a bit?”
Sara gave out another little whimper, but did as her sister asked. In fact, she did it so fast that Angela was taken aback to see how quickly Grant’s cock disappeared into Sarah’s cleft. Sara expelled a cry of surprise, but it quickly turned into a moan of pleasure. Grant too was ecstatic: the feel of his hard member going into this heavenly creature was almost a reprise of that time long, long ago when he himself had lost his virginity—at fourteen—to a girl two years older than him, whose vagina was so transcendently soft and wet that he felt he had entered another world.
Grant began pumping from his position on the bottom, but Angela put a stop to that at once. “No, Grant,” she ordered. “Let her do it.”
Sara didn’t initially seemed inclined to follow suit, but at Angela’s gentle urging she began moving her hips to let Grant’s cock go in and out of her. Angela had to confess that this up-close-and-personal sight of copulation was a huge turn-on for her, and she slipped a hand down between her legs to stimulate herself, almost in rhythm with what her sister and her boyfriend were doing. Grant’s hold on Sara now tightened, and as she got into the spirit of things she began grinding her hips more and more violently. Angela sensed that Grant, even though he had already come once, couldn’t hold out much longer. Within minutes he started shooting his seed into her sister’s pussy, and Angela was awed at witnessing this pinnacle of human intimacy, her face only inches away.
She herself came almost immediately thereafter, crying sharply and letting out a gurgle of transcendent satisfaction.
Sara, still not prepared to lie on her back, remained on top of Grant, letting his cock slip out of her as it softened—which it did only slowly and reluctantly. Angela took occasion to snatch it and lick up the juices—both his and hers—that covered it. That give a final little fillip to her own orgasm.
But she knew that Grant wasn’t nearly finished. And as he looked over to his girlfriend with a certain silent plea, Angela with equal silence urged him to be patient and wait for the right opportunity. He wasn’t in a mood to wait, so Angela anticipated him by saying:
“Sara, dear, I think Grant wants to do something else.”
Sara’s eyes popped open. She had almost never met a man who could come even twice in one session, let alone more often than that. It wasn’t that she was tired—in some ways she was just getting going, and wouldn’t have said no to more stimulation for herself—but she was puzzled as to what exactly this sexual superman could want after what he had already done.
So she said uncertainly, “What?”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Angela said hastily. “No one will force you.” Even that little hint of what Sara had gone through made Angela bite her tongue.
Sara didn’t seem to notice. Instead she said impatiently, “What is it?”
It was some moments before Angela said, “I think he wants to go into your bottom.”
Grant, who was watching this exchange with rapt fascination, looking from one woman to the other like someone following a closely fought tennis match, was startled—and a bit appalled—at Sara’s response. He couldn’t quite remember when a person’s face had drained of color so fast, and his heart was squeezed with pity and sympathy for his new bedmate.
“Dear,” Angela said, noticing her sister’s reaction, “it’s okay if you—”
“Carl did it to me once,” Sara escort ankara interrupted, speaking in a strange monotone. “It—it really, really hurt.”
“Okay,” Angela said decisively. “We can do something else.”
She was about to suggest several different things when, to her surprise, her sister didn’t let go of the discussion. “Do you do it with Grant?”
“Well, yes,” she said in a subdued voice.
“And you like it?”
“Sure.”
“Doesn’t it hurt?”
“Oh, it may have at the start, but you get used to it. I mean, you need the right lube.”
“Lube?” Sara said, dumbfounded.
Now it was Angela’s turn to have the blood drain from her face. “Omigod, Sara, don’t tell me he didn’t use lube!” She was shaking with outrage.
“No,” Sara said dreamily, as if remembering some horrible nightmare. “I think he was trying to punish me. He made me bend over my own couch, raised up my skirt and pulled my panties down, and plunged into me. I thought he was going to go into the—you know, the normal place, and was just doing ‘rough sex.’ But when he went there . . . Oh, God, I don’t think I’ve ever felt such horrible pain. He could hardly make his way in, but he wouldn’t let up, and finally he was in all the way. It was—it was awful.”
Sara seemed ready to burst into tears.
Angela, doing her best to hold off the swell of emotion, said, “Oh, the brute! How could he do that without lube?”
And with that, she almost flew out of the bed, heading toward the bathroom. “I’ll get the good stuff—I’m sure you have it.”
Grant, listening to the whole colloquy in appalled silence, said, “Hey, Angela! She hasn’t agreed—”
But his girlfriend had already left the room. In seconds she came back, holding the familiar blue jar. “I knew you had it,” she said with a glint of triumph in her eyes.
Sara looked at the jar as if it was a magical talisman. “You use that?”
“Yup,” Angela said shortly. And without anyone’s by-your-leave she began applying a goodly supply of the stuff to her own sister’s bottom. Sara squealed when she felt Angela’s fingers probing that most secret aperture. The job was soon done, but Grant persisted with his reservations.
“Angela, dear, she hasn’t said that she actually wants to do it.”
“You’re right,” Angela said. Then, looking over to her sister, she said, “Sara, it’s your decision. Don’t hesitate to say no—it’s entirely your choice.”
Sara didn’t have to think long or hard. By this time she had already gained such a warm feeling for Grant that she would have let him do just about anything. He may have been her sister’s boyfriend, but he had already touched her heart in many ways during their days together, and she felt that he had been hugely important in her recovery from what she had suffered from Carl.
So she was happy to say, “I’m ready.”
But a new dilemma emerged. Exactly how should Sara position herself? Both Grant and Angela didn’t think she would be keen on lying flat on her stomach while Grant lay on top of her: the sense of suffocation that she might feel—a sensation that, under normal circumstances, she might enjoy as a means of giving herself totally and unconditionally to a man—could easily evoke unpleasant memories.
So they agreed on doggie-style.
As Sara clambered off of Grant and got on her hands and knees, Grant—already rock-hard in anticipation of this new form of intimacy with a woman who had come to mean a great deal to him—couldn’t help gazing at that exquisite bottom, every inch of which he devoured with his eyes. In fact, so glorious was the spectacle facing him that, to both Sara’s and Angela’s surprise, he bent down and gave a tender little kiss to each of her butt cheeks, eliciting a nervous giggle out of Sara and a frown from his girlfriend (you haven’t done that to me before—and I in fact might like it).
Taking into consideration the bad experience Sara had had with Carl, Grant was super-careful to enter her bottom as gently and painlessly as possible. The very first contact of his cock with her anus caused Sara to let out her characteristic whimper, but she took the insertion of his member into her with a certain tense calm—crying out only when the head made its way fully into her rectum. After that, Grant moved slowly, inch by inch, into her, feeling almost an out-of-body experience as he saw his cock disappear into this radiant woman’s body. The one drawback of his favorite position for anal sex—lying flat on top of the woman—was that he couldn’t actually see what he was doing. But now he could; and a sense of intense intimacy surged through him as he established a unique bond between himself and Sara.
She endured the process bravely, and after he was in her fully her eyes popped wide open and her mouth gaped at the sensation. This was antipodally different from Carl’s vicious invasion of her, and she intuitively perceived the affection and sensitivity that Grant was bringing to the act. As he began pumping her, there was a certain amount of pain, but it was overshadowed by a realization of the distinctive union that two people can feel in the act of coitus. And she was happy to accept Grant’s thrusts passively until, seizing her hips even more tightly than before, he sent wave after wave of his third emission deep into her.