Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
A virgin high school teenager is the “safe” guy friend for six beautiful, busty babes. The girls flirt and tease him, but aren’t going to ruin their friendships by crossing the line of physical intimacy. But then one day, things start to change.
The complete story includes lesbianism, anal, threesomes, and group sex. If any of that bothers you, find another story to read. This story and all other stories I’ve written are owned by me, and publishing them in any form without my express written consent is prohibited. All characters in this fictional story are at least 18 years old.
I hope you enjoy.
****
– PROLOGUE –
****
“No, I’m not fucking any of them.”
Some days, it felt like I had to say some variation of that sentence fifty times. Really, it was more like a half-dozen, but that’s still a very high frequency for such an uncommon statement. To be honest, though, I couldn’t really blame them. Had I been in their shoes, I might’ve asked the same.
“No, I’m not gay.”
Okay, I didn’t have to say that sentence FIFTY times. I mean, at least most guys knew better than to ask another guy if he was gay. That’s just rude. I wished more people would be mature enough to understand it was indeed possible for a guy to be friends with a group of gorgeous young women without banging any of them. But the follow-up question came quite often, as if it was the only reasonable explanation for why a guy like me would NOT be fucking one of “The Big Tits Club” girls.
I really hate that name, by the way. I understand the name, but I still hate it. It’s immature. It’s objectifying.
But it is undeniably… accurate.
Let me be clear and state for the record that none of us came up with that nickname. As far as I can tell, it was coined by the Varsity football team during our junior year, and the name spread like wildfire. Nothing we could do about it. As I said, it was… accurate. Belle, Mari, Alice, Sam, Zofi, and Naimh: six hot girls, every single one of them a D-cup or bigger.
Oh, and me: the lone male in our clique of best friends. Alice once called us “The Magnificent Seven”. After “The Big Tits Club” nickname took off, Mari tried to rename us “Sam’s Club” after our de facto leader (it didn’t work). Belle tried “Matty’s Angels” (didn’t take, either). Eventually, Sam suggested that the girls just own it – be proud of their curves and take the nickname for a compliment. We were “The BTC”, even me.
It wasn’t always this way. Well, obviously, the girls had to grow into those figures, and Belle and Zofi didn’t get up to the D-cup range until the end of junior year. What I meant was: we hadn’t all been friends forever and didn’t become a group of seven until just last year. The group grew in bits and pieces organically over time. But at the core of the BTC were me and Belle.
I was the only child of two lawyers who, in my opinion (and theirs), should never have been together. As Mother frequently reminds me, my father only married her because she accidentally got pregnant. My earliest memories are of them fighting. They were always fighting. Not physically or anything like that, but they were both verbose people with enormous lexicons and a deep-rooted conviction that THEY and only they had the correct position on any number of issues.
My parents bought a big house in the Silicon Valley suburbs planning to live the American dream and raise a big family, but as far as I could tell, they hated the act of raising a baby so much that they never had another kid, and they weren’t too fond of each other, either. Instead of filling the extra rooms in the house with siblings, each parent got a home office in which they seemed to spend the majority of their time avoiding each other. That they also isolated themselves from me was just collateral damage. How they managed to NOT get divorced until after my eighth birthday, I’ll never know.
At least they became pretty good friends with the Kramers, our next door neighbors who had a daughter a month older than me. Annabelle’s dad was a surgeon and her mom a stay-at-home wife. They were both sweet and loving and would have had more children if not for her mom’s medical issues. Little blonde Belle and I played together as toddlers, and my parents were happy to dump me with the Kramers all day every day. Oh, they came to pick me up at night and put me to bed in my own room, but I spent more time at Belle’s house than I did my own. I certainly have more fond childhood memories of Belle’s mom than I do of Mother.
Belle and I were in junior high when her mom passed away. I was as heartbroken as she was. Belle’s dad withdrew into his work after his wife’s death. My mother had always been a workaholic, and was partner in a firm that kept her at the office close to eighty hours a week. So that left Belle and me with a lot of time alone. Well, not alone. We had each other, and she was the sister I never had. We walked home from junior high together, and then rode eve gelen escort our bikes to high school. The day after I got my license, Belle was strapped in the passenger seat the next morning for our first drive to school. We didn’t even need to discuss the matter. It was just assumed she would be there.
We spent all afternoon at either her house or mine. Belle’s dad at least always came home for dinner, so the three of us would spend that time together. But after dinner I would go into my big empty house alone. Maybe two nights out of five during the weekdays, Mother would come home before I fell asleep. She worked a lot of Saturdays as well. Sundays she tried to make an effort to bond with her only child, which usually involved having brunch together and awkwardly talking about school and stuff before disappearing for the rest of the afternoon. But I could tell she was going through the motions to assuage her own guilt and that was it. Didn’t matter. I stopped caring once I started high school.
Belle was the sister I never had, but we weren’t best friends. At school we lived our own lives. In elementary school I hung out with boys who liked to play soccer and two-hand touch football in the field. I had no idea what Belle did during recess, nor did I have any inclination to find out.
I did know that Belle’s best friend since second grade was Mariangel Hernandez. Even if they got assigned to different classrooms, their bond remained and they would seek each other out during lunch or recess. Belle was the confident, outgoing one while Mari was the shy wallflower. Mari would often come home with us to hang out after school, so I got to know her pretty well. She was very nice and could become quite talkative once she got to know you. But she was naturally shy and didn’t like getting attention from boys. She dressed to hide her figure, started eating a lot, and got rather chubby (which caused her no shortage of self-esteem issues). And then came Sam.
Sam didn’t become friends with me or Belle until high school when she adopted Mari. I don’t know exactly what started their friendship. Sam was super outgoing, totally magnificent, and a complete attention-whore. Maybe girls like that just like to have shy wallflower friends, y’know? Anyway, Sam had ALWAYS been popular, ever since her family moved to the Bay Area from Australia in seventh grade. She was gorgeous, and she knew it. She strutted around campus like she owned the place, and in some ways she did. Getting from one side of school to the other in-between classes could sometimes be a challenge due to the crowding in the halls, and yet those crowds would magically part like the Red Sea when Sam came walking. Back then, she was still a brunette. She didn’t start dying her hair blonde until halfway through freshman year, but once she did, she got even MORE popular, if you can believe it.
As for me, I started playing Magic: The Gathering in junior high and hung out with a group of like-minded boys and one girl: Ailiseu Choi. Her first name meant “iris” in Korean, but she was the total opposite of a pretty flower. Alice had no accent to speak of, was taller than most of the boys, very athletic, and not afraid to tackle someone on the field. She’d started playing soccer and two-hand touch football with the boys back in fourth grade, and while the two of us had never been friends outside of recess back then, we were friendly acquaintances.
Everything changed in junior high. Alice started becoming… well… a GIRL, and all of a sudden guys started treating her differently. Now perhaps because I already spent so much time with Belle and Mari, I knew how to act around a female of the human species and didn’t get all weird around her. Alice appreciated that and started spending more and more time with me. It got to the point when the school newspaper’s gossip column speculated that we were a new couple. At first, both of us denied we were romantically involved, but after a while it seemed easier to just ignore the rumors and even go along with them a bit. Boys certainly bothered Alice less when they believed she was my girlfriend, and once we realized that, we mutually agreed to just let the rumor mill do its thing.
Looking back, if any one thing was the genesis of the BTC, it was my family’s backyard swimming pool. Now Silicon Valley isn’t super cold, but it isn’t a super-hot climate either. Houses with swimming pools weren’t common, but ours had one, even though my parents had never really used it. My parents had always wanted “the best”. I think they just liked the idea of entertaining guests in their expansively landscaped backyard with a swimming pool.
The pool was empty for most of the year, but during summer breaks I would ask my mom to have it filled up. Belle and I would swim laps for exercise in the afternoons a few times a week, and Mari joined us pretty often as well. Neither girl was into sun-tanning gaziosmanpaşa escort or anything like that, so the pool was really just a way to cool off on a hot day before we returned indoors. But then Sam and Mari got to being friends, Mari told her I had a pool at the end of freshman year, and all of a sudden I found my shoulders caught in a death-grip by a gorgeous blonde who put her face inches away from mine and gasped, “You have a POOL?!?”
So that’s how I found myself one June afternoon before my sophomore year standing in the kitchen overlooking the backyard trying NOT to gawk at the two beautiful teenagers reclined on lounge chairs wearing skimpy bikinis twenty feet away from me. See, Sam was into sun-tanning, as was her best friend Zofi. Dark-haired and blue-eyed Zofia Zelazowska was a classic Eastern European beauty: tall and slender like a high-fashion model. I had long known she was Sam’s best friend, but never really interacted with her much, other than to know she was soft-spoken and very sweet.
Sam had invited herself over to check out my pool, and I had been too dumbstruck to do anything but agree. I get the impression Sam gets away with that sort of thing a lot. A pretty blonde says what she wants and people just sort of let her have it, and I was no different. I may have been accustomed to hanging out with girls like Belle, Mari, and Alice, but that didn’t mean I was blind. I knew full well that my female friends were growing up, even Belle, and while I was careful to not openly gawk at them like so many other teenaged boys, I still paid attention.
I paid a lot of attention Sam. Zofi, too. She was gorgeous. And Mari, too, who was beautiful in her own way. And… Alice. Yeah, I paid attention to Alice. Even though she never wore makeup and made zero attempts to be “feminine”, she was still obviously female.
But not Belle. No way. Nuh-uh. Yeah, I understood that we weren’t related. But I’d literally grown up sharing cribs and playpens with the girl. Belle was my “sister”, and I simply didn’t feel that way about her. I could let myself fantasize about my buddy Alice every now and again, but not Belle.
That’s not to say she wasn’t beautiful. She was quite pretty. Belle was a petite strawberry blonde with piercing green eyes, a delicate face, and became a stacked little hottie at age eighteen despite never getting taller than 5’1″. She was eminently “fuckable” as the guys would say, but she was also my “sister”. I simply couldn’t think of her that way. And lest you get too far ahead of yourself in my story, I’ll say it loud and clear upfront right now:
NO, this story does NOT end with Belle and me falling in love, getting married, and living happily ever after. It isn’t that kind of story.
Thinking back, I’m not even sure why Sam got so excited about me having a pool. She and Zofi barely used it that day. If all they wanted to do was lay out in the sun, they could have done so from anyone’s backyard. But I suppose that’s not really as much fun as laying out near a large body of water.
Mari, having been the one to tell Sam about my pool, had been the one to bring Sam and Zofi over to my house in the first place. That meant Belle came over as well, the five of us spending all afternoon hanging out. Belle, Mari, and I did our laps. Sam flirted with me (she flirted with everyone). Zofi seemed surprised to find out I wasn’t gay. I ordered pizza for everyone. We all had a REALLY good time, and long story short, Sam and Zofi started coming over to my house more often, especially once they realized my mother was never home.
That summer was also the first time Alice’s family didn’t go back to South Korea for summer break. She wanted to play Magic: The Gathering with me, and she happened to come over on a day when all the girls were hanging out at the pool and promptly complained that I’d never invited HER to go swimming. She was a super athlete after all, and could swim like a fish. She got along pretty well with the other girls, especially since Sam and Zofi already thought she was my girlfriend (even though we tried to explain otherwise). Five hot girls started making my house (and pool) a regular hangout joint for the summer, and that was really the start of the BTC.
The final member of the BTC joined toward the end of junior year. Naimh O’Brien was a classic Irish ginger full of freckles and piercing green eyes. She transferred in early March, brand new to America and quite intimidated by everything. She had two classes with me and the teachers had a hell of a time pronouncing her name (it’s “Neeve”, rhymes with “Steve”). Sam invited her to come hang out, and the rest is history. I was admittedly smitten the first time I saw Naimh, the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen, but once she became part of the club I knew better than to even think about hooking up with her.
That was actually a rule: “Nobody dates Matty”.
I mean, gölbaşı escort I was allowed to date, and I did go out with three different girls during high school – I just wasn’t allowed to date any of the BTC. Sam made up that rule halfway through sophomore year when Zofi got it into her head to try kissing me. For such a beautiful girl she could be awfully shy, and she’d never kissed a boy. We were all hanging out at my house, she and I got to talking about boys and dating, and she timidly asked if she could kiss me. I’d never kissed a girl before, and the idea of kissing such a gorgeous creature as Zofi really excited me, so I was quick to agree. It was really nice, Zofi seemed to think so too, and we had two more makeout sessions before Alice caught us and told everyone else.
Zofi made clear she had no romantic intentions toward me, and to be honest, I didn’t have any romantic intentions toward her either. Everyone realized me hooking up with any one of them would upset the balance of our group friendship, and so Sam made them all swear not to ever try to seduce me. After all, it was my house and my pool that they all kept using, so it wasn’t like they could kick me out of the club.
Everyone kept that promise. Nobody tried to seduce me.
Well, not until senior year.
****
– CHAPTER 1: The BTC –
****
“Hey, Matty?” Belle called. “I need you to get me the madeleine pan up there.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Belle pointing to the top shelf of one of the cabinets. I set down my knife and the carrot I’d been chopping, took three steps to the left, and reached up to grab the pan. It was a regular occurrence for me to grab things on high shelves for Belle. She’d grown as tall as she would ever get by age fourteen and stopped at only 5’1″, slender yet stacked, like a lingerie model at four-fifths scale. Her mom had been a short, busty little woman, too. On the other hand, I hit my growth spurt right when Belle stopped and now stood 6’1″, taller even than Belle’s dad.
Belle said thanks and busied herself pouring batter into the molds. Today was the Wednesday after Labor Day. Tomorrow would be the first day of school, and she wanted to bring treats for our friends. Her dad had not yet come home from work, and even though I didn’t actually live in this house, I was making dinner for the three of us.
I knew my way around the Kramer kitchen better than my own. I certainly ate more dinners at their house than mine. Belle and I shared the space on autopilot, working in silence without the need to chit-chat. After eighteen years together we were basically family, with no worries about personal space. When she had to use the sink, Belle simply tapped my hip with her forearm and I immediately slid to the side. When I needed to get glasses from the cabinet above her head I simply reached over her head without so much as an “excuse me”.
The table was set by 6:17pm, which was about the time Mr. K always got home after sitting in Silicon Valley rush hour traffic. He came in from the garage, took one big sniff, and smiled. “I can tell Matt is cooking today. It smells so much better than yours, Belle.”
“Dad!” Belle exclaimed, scandalized. But she immediately started chuckling along with him. Mr. K’s cholesterol levels had been going up, so Belle had taken it upon herself to start feeding him “cleaner” meals. But it was our last day before school started, so I’d made barbecue ribs and French fries (although Belle had talked me into baking the fries). I still made steamed carrots, already knowing Belle would nag her own dad into eating them as payment for each bite of the ribs.
Just like we did most nights, the three of us ate our meals in relative silence. Again, there was no need to fill the space with meaningless conversation, although I did ask Mr. K if he’d heard the latest news about the 49ers. We chatted about football for a couple of minutes before returning to the food. Then Mr. K asked us both if we were excited about going back to school.
“Not really,” I admitted. “It’s been nice to just be lazy around the house all day.”
“True,” Belle chimed in. “But it’ll be nice to see some of our friends.”
I snorted. “Our friends have been lazy around MY house all summer.”
Belle shrugged. “Well, other friends beyond the BTC. Don’t get me wrong, I love hanging out with the girls. But there are some people I haven’t seen in three months and have no idea what they’ve been up to.”
(Before I get too far, let me explain that we were in high school during a period before social media or cell phones. I know, it was practically the Stone Age.)
Mr. K nodded, but arched an eyebrow and gave his daughter a curious look. “Are there any boys in this category of people you’re looking forward to seeing?”
“Dad!” Belle exclaimed again before rolling her eyes.
So Mr. K turned to me. “Has she talked about any boys she thinks are cute?”
“Yes, but that’s as far as I’ll admit.” I grinned and mimed zipping my lips shut.
“Is there one boy in particular?”
“Dad!” Belle screeched.
I stared studiously at my plate, zipping my lips again.
“Is he a good kid or one of those bad boys?”
“Dad!”
I finally spoke up, saying, “Relax, he’s a good kid. And if he turns out to not be such a nice guy, I’ll pound his face in.”
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32