It was New Year’s Eve when Bea next returned to the club, but as the event coincided with her period, sex came off the menu. She hadn’t been prepared for another gang-bang, either physically or mentally, or ready to stand naked on stage again. Bea was, for once, grateful to her monthly companion.
While Bea looked back on her first time at the club with joy, the evening had left her troubled, not least because of Tar. He was the young man that saved her from humiliation, the one that took her virginity. He was the person who came to the house with flowers, wanting to apologise for leaving.
Tar called several times and spent the evening of Christmas Day with Bea, Charlie, and Grandpa. While Bea’s sexual attraction to Grandpa was already confusing, she was now more puzzled over her feelings towards Tar.
He’d been the first boy to have enjoyed more than a kiss or grope (always through clothing, never under). Tar had been the first to cum inside her, something Bea had craved more than the act itself. Those things should have meant something but Bea was uncertain what.
Tar proved himself to be easy to be with and caring. He was generous with his time and bought Charlie and Grandpa Christmas gifts, even though he’d met them only once. Bea and Tar talked as though they’d known each other forever. When they said goodnight, Bea did not want him to leave.
Bea cherished every detail of their first fuck, and wanted more, but sex became inconsequential with Tar. Despite that, he needed to explain that first night.
“I’d agreed to go out with them; a Christmas get-together. We work together but never socialise. I wanted to join in, be part of the gang, but no one said they’d been taking bets on my virginity.”
“Well, I can’t be sorry they took you,” Bea responded, unable to stop the heat rising in her cheeks.
“It didn’t bother me they…” Tar started, then stopped himself. “Sorry.”
“What?” Bea understood what he wanted to say, but needed to hear the words.
“You don't need my permission to go with others.”
Sex was no longer done for pleasure and wasn’t a commitment. Girls wanted to get pregnant; it had become necessary if people were going to halt the population decline. Women under fifty wanted to fuck as often, and with many people as possible. She didn’t need Tar’s permission, but Bea wanted it.
Long-haul driving kept Tar away for weeks at a time, so Bea invited Chloe and her sister, Claire, to the party. The suggestion was, in part, an olive branch. The holiday in Greece had strained the friendship between Bea and Chloe, but they’d known each other from nursery school. Bea felt guilty but hoped the company might distract her from sex.
Bea and Chloe often included Claire. It started when they were young, Claire being invited on shopping expeditions and sleepovers, the three sharing the same bed and talking until Grandpa begged them to get to sleep.
Claire had not been to Greece, her parents were strict over parties where girls got pregnant. She was not yet that age. Claire was old enough to drink (and vote, and get married) and had been deliberately unspecific when her parents asked where the girls might be going, but the chances of her asking a man to impregnate her were nil. Claire’s sexual interests lay elsewhere.
The audience that night was more couples than Bea remembered. She wanted the three girls to have a separate table from Grandpa and Charlie, but they were forced to share a booth. The club was busy
As they took turns in dancing, going to buy drinks or visiting the bathroom, their positions on the table changed. With the conversation and cheap champagne flowing, Bea didn't notice that Claire stayed next to Charlie, or the grin when they squeezed up close. Nor did Bea see the glances Charlie exchanged with Grandpa.
An hour before midnight, Grandpa got up and invited Chloe to dance. “They’re playing my favourite song,” he said, with a familiar twinkle in his eye.
Charlie guided Claire to her feet, but instead of heading to the dance floor, led her into the room with a two-way mirror; the room in which Bea remembered seeing Grandpa fuck a young girl. Left alone at the table with too many glasses of bubbles numbing her brain, Bea had to watch.
As with the first time she sat in that room Bea’s senses were on fire, her flesh tingled as Charlie removed Claire’s bra, her heart raced as Charlie kissed and then bit each swollen nipple, and warmth flooded her crotch as Charlie removed Claire’s panties. Bea was used to seeing Claire naked; the girls shared changing rooms and bathrooms, and slept in the same bed, but never had Bea focused on the girl’s sex.
Bea always admired Claire’s blonde hair, blue eyes and svelte figure. Now she envied the fullness of her breasts, the dark spread of her areola. Bea admired how her nipples hardened and glistened with saliva from Charlie’s mouth. She saw the outer lips of Claire’s pussy swell as Charlie touched, then parted them with her fingers, exposing the moist pink entrance to her womanhood.
Bea knew with certainty that Claire was a virgin and wondered if that might change. Charlie appeared rough with how she was biting the girl’s thighs, her labia, and as she teased it from its shroud, her erect clitoris.
Charlie spoke and Claire pulled her legs tight back to her chest, giving Bea her first sight of the girl’s tight, puckered hole. It was not a view that Bea had ever imagined, but the sight now made her heart thump in her chest and her breathing difficult.
Bea thought back. Someone had put his finger into her bum, a prelude to having five men fuck her. She remembered how it had taken her by surprise, and the unexpected orgasm that followed. She wondered if someone tried to put his cock in her ass whether she’d object.
Charlie blocked Bea’s view as she licked the girl; long strokes that reached from the base of Claire’s spine to the ridge of her pubic bone. Bea imagined the hot breath on her flesh, the tongue as it slid between the lips of her cunt, the way it might have pushed against her anus, trying to probe the entrance to that dark hole.
When Charlie stood, she turned towards the mirror, allowing Bea to see her wet face, the moistness of Claire’s sex glistening on her chin and nose. Charlie licked her lips and then put two fingers in her mouth.
Bea wondered if Charlie was giving a sign, as she seemed to be so slow and deliberate with her actions, but when she turned, she had a plan. First one, then two fingers slid into Claire’s bum.
Claire was in pain, but Charlie pushed hard and appeared to be twisting and turning her hand as if drilling her way into the young girl’s bowel. Cries came through the glass, not of hurt or terror, but of pleasure: Claire was having an orgasm.
The door opened. Someone entered. Bea froze. It was then she realised her jeans were unzipped and the front of her bra unclasped. She had no recollection of doing those things.
“I left Chloe dancing with a young man.”
The voice belonged to Grandpa. Bea didn't know if that made it worse. The door closed. She heard the key turn.
“There were lots of young men wanting to dance,” he continued, as if catching his granddaughter masturbating was an everyday occurrence. “I figured they might do a better job than this old timer.”
On the other side of the mirror, Claire sat up. Charlie took off her clothes. Bea could not take her eyes off them. She didn't know if she was still breathing.
“Claire is beautiful. I was worried that Charlie would be too much. She can get carried away.”
Bea thought Claire had taken the onslaught in her stride but didn’t respond. Grandpa’s voice got closer.
“But she is a joy to watch.”
Bea had a sense of Grandpa standing right behind her; she heard the way his nose whistled as he breathed and felt the static from the cardigan he always wore. Without thinking, she leaned into him, her shoulders landing against his chest.
As Charlie took a seat on the bench, lay back and spread her legs wide on the other side of the mirror, Grandpa wrapped his arms around his granddaughter. It was something he had done a thousand times, but stood in that dark room, watching two naked females through a two-way mirror; it could not have been more erotic.
“Are you disappointed Chloe didn’t want to take you upstairs?” Bea voiced the question to break the awkwardness. As far as she was aware, Grandpa never saw her masturbate, let alone stood this close while she had her jeans and panties around her thighs.
“She did,” he replied, sounding uncomfortable. “She wanted to take me upstairs so we could fuck, but wouldn’t ask because of you.”
“Why?”
Bea tried to turn her head so that she might see her grandfather’s face but pushed herself back harder against his body. The smell of his aftershave lingered in her nose.
“You’ll have to ask her that.”
As he spoke, her grandfather kissed Bea on the top of the head. It was another familiar gesture, but Bea wished he had been kissing her on the mouth. She wanted him to kiss her as a lover. She ached for his lips to press against hers.
“For what it’s worth,” Bea said, struggling with the thoughts and images in her head, “I want you to have her. I could never stop you.”
They were no longer speaking of Chloe. It was she that wanted him. Bea no longer cared if a tampon filled her vagina or if menstrual blood flowed from her womb. She wanted her grandfather’s cock. She needed him to fuck her.
“I know,” Grandpa said, hugging his granddaughter just that little harder.
In the next room, Claire had positioned herself between Charlie’s legs and begun exploring her pussy with her fingers, touching and caressing part by part, looking as her clitoris swelled and emerged from its fleshy shroud, as juices appeared between her inner lips.
Bea and Grandpa watched as Charlie gave instructions, making shapes with her hands. Claire placed one, then two, then four fingers into Charlie’s vagina, pushing and twisting until her knuckles vanished from sight. Charlie’s back arched and her head rolled back.
“It’s been a while since I have seen Charlie in that room.”
“You’ve seen her… with other women?” Bea’s voice was breaking as her emotions overwhelmed her.
“Few women come to the club because they’re interested in women. The last time someone fucked Charlie that way, she wet herself when she came. Lost control.”
“I think… I’m losing… control,” Bea said, the words emerging in-between ragged breaths.
“Then let go.” Grandpa held Bea even tighter. “I’m here, sweetheart. You’re safe.”
Bea wanted to turn and wrap both arms around her grandfather. She wanted to kiss him and hold her semi-naked body against his. She wanted him inside her, but the sight of two women fucking scrambled her thoughts.
Claire had lain forward, her head resting against Charlie’s belly, blocking the view, but Bea and Grandpa could see the arm movement, the slow rhythmic pumping action, and the tension in Charlie’s leg muscles as she lifted her bum off the bench to meet each thrust.
“Claire… make… Charlie… climax,” Bea said.
“I know, sweetheart.”
Grandpa leant forward so his chin was touching Bea’s shoulder. She liked the familiarity of his whiskers against her cheek and the smell of bourbon on his breath.
“I want… that… too,” Bea said, her hands undoing buttons. Her blouse slipped open. She was naked from neck to thigh.
Bea wanted her grandfather to make her cum, but words stuck in her head. For a moment, she imagined it had gone too far, that she misread his closeness. Bea feared she’d humiliated him and imagined having to run off and live somewhere in obscurity, hoping the shame might not find her.
Grandpa understood the law prohibited incest, and that there were risks if his granddaughter got pregnant by him, but none of that mattered. He wanted happiness for his granddaughter and guessed that her first sexual experiences had not gone well; taking her to his bed was something he was willing to do since Greece. In the intervening months, that had grown into a powerful urge.
Grandpa knew Bea needed him to make the next move. He understood Bea might be unsure of her feelings and thoughts, but doing was very different from imagining, especially while watching Charlie.
He placed his right hand on Bea’s left breast, cupping its shape into his palm, relishing the soft flesh. When he saw the tension release from Bea’s body, he slid his other hand over her belly, across the soft fluff that was her pubic hair, and allowed his finger to tease its way between the lips of her womanhood.
He turned circles around her clitoris. A shudder flowed through Bea’s body. She had enjoyed playing with herself for many years and orgasms, when they happened, did so with predictability. This was different; an even-higher peak followed each spasm. They continued building in strength until Bea could no longer stand.
She was aware of sounds coming from her mouth; loud, crude words that she might never have imagined saying in front of her grandfather. The barrier now raised, Bea was confessing her thoughts, her wish that he be the one to fuck her, to ravish her, albeit that most of what she was saying was unintelligible.
When her world stopped moving, Bea was on the cold, concrete floor with Grandpa behind her, on his knees. She couldn’t see his face in the darkness but imagined he looked happy.
“We missed the grand finale next door,” Grandpa said. “I thought I heard Charlie scream, but it’s quiet now.”
“Sorry,” Bea’s reply was instinctive.
The old man touched Bea’s lips, stopping her from speaking. His finger tasted and smelt of her.
“Never be sorry.”
Charlie, Claire, and Chloe were back at the booth and distracted by the woman singing karaoke on stage when Bea and Grandpa returned. Bea was grateful that no one asked questions.
At the stroke of midnight, people sang Auld-Lang-Syne, drank champagne, and hugged and kissed. The party atmosphere helped the evening’s events to recede in Bea’s mind. When she found herself alone with Chloe a few hours later, they returned.
