Open to Possibilities: the Sequels

Part 1 had three possible endings, though not universally popular with readers. I hope I make up for that in Part 2 by providing a different sequel matching each ending in Part 1. The first sequel is from Martin's point of view, the second from that of Sophie, and the third from Rolf's. If you want explicit sex then jump to the continuation of the second story in Sequel 2. Enjoy.

_____________

Sequel 1:

[The story so far – Martin is sharing his girlfriend with his best friend, Rolf.]

A boy in my class, a neighbour, came up behind me in the street when I was walking home from high school. Sophie had gone home to study, and Rolf to fencing practice.

"Hey."

"Hey," I responded.

Ben fell in step, and got straight to what was on his mind, "Don't you find it weird the way Rolf is always hanging out with you and Sophie? He's being a third wheel isn't he? Don't you ever get sick of him?"

I stopped in my tracks. "We're just all good friends," I said lamely.

"If it was me, I'd be thinking he was out to steal my girl."

Ben had hit a raw spot in my adjustment to sharing Sophie with Rolf. Deep down, I'd had the same suspicion, and had been anxious about it.

"He wouldn't do that," I said.

Ben shrugged. "Sure looks to me like he's trying."

We started walking again.

Ben glanced at me. "At school, sometimes it looks like Sophie encouraging him too, and she doesn't come round to your place as much as she used to."

I didn't know Ben had been taking such an interest. At least Sophie had kept to our bargain and not gone out by herself with Rolf publicly. Othwise Ben would have had cause to mention that too.

"It's getting close to finals," I said defensively, "she's studying more."

"Just thought I'd give you a friendly heads-up," Ben said, backing off on the path to his door.

"Thanks," I told him, "but I don't have to worry about Sophie... See ya."

When I got inside I phoned Sophie. I said to her, as I went upstairs to my room, "Kids at school are talking about how we're always hanging out with Rolf. They think he's making a play for you."

There was silence at the other end.

"Did you hear me?" my voice sounded as agitated as I felt.

"Yes... You know you have nothing to worry about over sharing me with Rolf. I love you both."

"What if Rolf gets it into his head to write me out of the picture? Kids at school think he's trying."

Sophie response was unsympathetic, "Don't be silly. He wouldn't do that. He's your best friend."

"It still feels weird sharing you with him."

"You still get your fair share, don't you?"

It was true. Sophie was being as sexually generous to me as before, but I still missed having her exclusively.

"I don't see as much of you as I used to."

The voice in my ear pointed out reasonably, "I have to be with Rolf some of the time now."

"I liked it better before," I said petulantly.

"Even better than when the three of us are together in private?"

Her mentioning it brought to mind some of the occasions when Rolf and I had both made love to Sophie in my bedroom.

"That's better isn't it?" Sophie persisted.

"I guess."

"You like joining in now," she reminded me. In my mind's eye I could see her lying naked, Rolf bent over between her legs licking her clit while at the same time I was lying beside her and we were kissing passionately.

"What say I come over and make things better for you?"

"I'd like that," I said, my cock starting to rise as I thought about the pleasure of making love to her again.

Sequel 2:

[The story so far – Under the influence of a drug, Martin has fantasised about letting his girlfriend, Sophie, be fucked by his best friend, Rolf, and also noticed his father's interest in her.]

"Would you like a ride home, Sophie?" Martin's father asked me.

Martin was recuperating from the flu and I was visiting, having had dinner at his place. We'd been watching television together until Martin, dressed in his pyjamas and dressing gown, announced he was going back to bed.

I knew he really wanted me to go upstairs with him, and his mother had already left the house to go to a nightshift at the hospital, but his father, it seemed, thought it was better Martin get some rest.

"You don't have to bother," I told him. "I can call my mother or father to come and get me."

"It's no bother," Martin's father insisted.

He wasn't a bad looking guy for someone his age, and I didn't mind being seen in public with him. He was even rather cute, like Martin, and if I were into older guys he would have been the sort of one I'd choose. Since I wasn't, and as if he was my own father, I simply trusted him.

The most direct route to my home was through a large tree-clad urban park. I didn't have anything to feel anxious about until the car slowed and turned off onto a secluded track that, once the headlights were off, swallowed us in darkness. The motor stopped.

Like any girl would, I'd already figured it out, though I could not help asking, "What are you doing?"

An older man having amorous intentions towards me was scary but, to my surprise, kind of flattering too. After all, at school Martin and I were accepted as an item after two years of going steady, and I didn't even get the satisfaction of turning down offers of other dates. Only Rolf still hung around like he thought he had a chance. Not that he did.

I'd experimented with other guys before I went out with Martin, letting them touch me, but he was the first one I let go all the way. Now, as if I had given a wrong signal, it seemed his father wanted a turn. He hadn't said anything, but was staring at me in an intent sort of way that left me in no doubt.

He reached out and caressed my hair, slipping strands back behind my ear. "You're very beautiful, Sophie," he said, his hand tracking down the side of my neck then across under my chin.

He took control of my jaw with one finger and turned my head so that I was looking at him directly. I didn't know what to say.

"I'm very fond of you, Sophie," he said meaningfully, which translated into letting me know he wanted to fuck me. I wasn't born yesterday, and he wasn't my father.

His hand fell to my right thigh, just resting over the top of my skirt. He asked without any shame, "Do you have similar feelings for me?"

I should have had feelings of disgust or outrage, but I didn't. I should have found the idea of cheating on Martin with his father quite ridiculous, and I did in a way. The situation was bizarre. Here I was, sitting in a car in a secluded place at night with an older man and hoping he was aware of the consequences if he decided to rape me.

"I've only ever been with Martin," I said, hoping he would realise I wasn't that sort of girl.

"I was rather hoping..."

"I know," I said, feeling sorry for him. I put my hand over his then wished I hadn't because he seemed encouraged by the simple gesture of kindness. His fingers squeezed my thigh. Despite myself, I felt roused by it, a warm glow sneaking up between my legs.

Given the way I was reacting you'd think I was the same age as he was. Wasn't he taking advantage of me? He was supposed to be driving me home, not molesting me along the way. His son was my boyfriend for crying out loud!

His hand, with mine over it, was kneading my thigh and I was doing nothing to stop him even though I still couldn't think of anything I'd done to provoke what was happening.

"We shouldn't," I said.

"It drives me crazy to think of you up in Martin's room with your clothes off," he admitted, breathing heavily.

I guess he would have had to have come from another planet not to have guessed what Martin and I got up to when we were alone in a bedroom – even mine on rare occasions. Even so, hearing him refer to it struck me dumb. I knew it was only a matter of time before he'd try his luck by shifting his hand under my skirt, so I attempted to divert him by touching his crotch, and, though startled by the feel of the coiled spring in his pants, offering, "I could give you relief manually if you wanted me to."

He had his zipper down and cock showing without uttering a word.

His manhood was bigger than Martin's.

I hadn't seen very many. When I was fourteen a boy showed me his while we were in the pool and my parents were in the house. I didn't reciprocate. A different boy let me touch his on a date. I was fifteen then. Also, before I met Martin, I had manually brought a boy a year younger than me to a climax in the cloakroom at a school dance.

So, when in the moonlight shining through the windscreen I ambitiously gripped the genital pole Martin's father had presented, I knew what I was doing, but my fingers couldn't close around it, and my clit tingled.

His eagerness should have set off warning bells in my head, and I should have backed out, turning all shy and girlish so that he took pity on me. But I didn't – all because I had this older guy's thick penis in my hand and was getting sexual shivers down my spine.

I started pumping his cock gently, not sure what sort of self-control a guy his age would have, and not wanting him to come right away. If I'd known his stamina I would have gone for broke before I got caught up in it. As it was, I had to keep switching hands as the other one tired.

I was in no doubt about the virility of his external sex organs, or that he was enjoying what I was doing to him, but I was starting to wonder if he'd had a vasectomy or something.

To stimulate him more I unbuttoned my shirt with my free hand and let him see my white bra.

"Would you consider taking it off?" he asked as if he knew what a big favour he wanted.

I stopped pumping with my hand and stared at him.

"It would be so much more stimulating if I could see your tits bare," he said.

I think my toes curled when I heard him refer to my 'tits', but I was more certain about the sensation I felt around the entrance of my vagina. Only Martin had ever made me feel quite like that before.

I took my hand off his cock and slipped out of my shirt. Unhooking the bra I pulled it down my arms and let it fall to the car floor on top of the shirt. The night was warm, though I shivered as I heard the intake of breath from the direction of the driver's seat.

Martin's father was staring goggle-eyed at my chest.

"I didn't know they were so beautiful," he enthused. "They're gorgeous."

I felt pleased. "Would you like to feel your cock on them?"

"Oh, yes!"

I bent across the handbrake, took his organ in my hand again, and placed it where I'd promised. I think we both closed our eyes for a moment.

"They're so soft!"

I rewarded him by rubbing the head of his cock around my nipples, knowing I was behaving like a slut. When pre-cum leaked out on my skin I just about wet my pants.

"I want to go all the way," I heard him say.

"So do I," a girl's voice came back in a reply that I hardly recognised as my own.

It didn't occur to me that he would want us to do it outside, but he opened his door then came round and opened mine, shedding his pants on the way. Our bare skin looked white in the moonlight, and our remaining clothes had lost their colour.

After I undid my skirt and clawed it down with my pantyhose and briefs Martin's father turned me round to face him. He used his foot, still in a shoe, to pull everything from around my ankles. My sandals came off in the process.

Now I was as naked as he'd probably thought about more times than I wanted to know. My cunt was aching from my eagerness to undress and from the thrill of everything taboo I was doing.

"Can I tie you up?"

"What?"

"I'd like to fuck you with your wrists tied," he said, his eyes bright with desire, so much like Martin's.

I knew some older guys got off on bondage but I didn't think I'd ever get in that sort of situation. I guess it was something he couldn't ask his wife to take a role in.

"Okay," I said, feeling as if I had no willpower.

He stooped and picked up my pantyhose then tied my wrists behind my back. My cunt started quivering and I almost came.

Hell, I thought, I'm only eighteen; this can't be happening! I wanted to pinch myself but my arms weren't free.

I watched Martin's father come round to my side, admire my breasts again, then lay my shirt across the bonnet of the car. When he bent me forward I expected it. My breasts flattened, and I could sense the touch of the warm metal under the cloth.

I didn't start feeling defenceless until he nudged one ankle then the other with his foot to indicate I should move my legs apart. Cooler air hit my butt crack and pussy as my thighs and cheeks split.

I'd heard about guys wanting anal and I just hoped it wasn't on his mind. Martin had never shown any inclination.

'I wish I could stop thinking about Martin!' I told myself.

The tip of his father's cock was suddenly at my door – the place I'd hoped I'd one-day birth Martin's children from. Not that it seemed so likely anymore after what I was doing with his father. How could I ever become his daughter-in-law knowing what I did?

My little pussy flaps were rolling back, the puffy outer ones squeezed to each side by the big thing I'd held in my hand before. It was entering my hole from behind. I marvelled at how easily it was plunging up into my body, and at how gentle its owner was being. Then the first slap landed on my buttocks, towards my right hip. I leapt, but his cock held me pinned against the car bonnet, and was so rigid it hurt me when I tried to straighten up.

Another slap landed, sharp but not quite so forceful. My butt cheek burned and, strangely, the sensation worked across between my legs.

"Oh yes, smack me," the less than familiar female voice begged. "I've been a very bad girl."

There was an instant response, the fingers now spread. My over-stimulated cunt went into a spasm but the short orgasm did not satisfy me.

The man's voice said from behind me, "That's very naughty of you."

"I'm a very wicked girl and I'll keep doing it unless I'm punished severely."

"Is that what you deserve?" He tapped me lightly on the place that was already sore.

"Oh much more than that!"

I felt his cock withdraw, and then a resounding slap landed low on my butt and across the tops of my thighs. Tears sprang to my eyes. After a moment I could feel my cunt again, and it was hotter than ever. A second slap landed on the same spot and lifted me up on my toes. As I came down his cock entered me again.

It was obvious what he now wanted and I gave it to him with all the enthusiasm I could muster. My vagina worked his cock with the crazy bucking gyrations of my hips until I became too sensitive to stand the friction anymore. I pulled off him midstream, the last of his ejaculate shooting down my bare thighs.

"I'm sorry, Sophie! I'm so sorry!"

I straightened with difficulty and turned round. "It's all right," I said. "I wanted you to."

"You were incredible!"

I giggled. "There were a lot of things I didn't know about you before."

He looked embarrassed. "I hope they'll stay between us."

"I wouldn't hurt Martin by letting him find out."

"No," he said, a sad expression coming over his face. He started untying my wrists by reaching round me, his cock bumping against my belly. "I guess this won't ever happen again."

I reached for my shirt because it was closest at hand, and put my arms into it.

"Will it?" he asked hopefully.

The answer I gave would later lead to a double-life. I got to know some of the fathers of other boys at my school, and the insides of a number of cheap motel rooms. By day, for another year, I remained Martin's teen princess.

Then my parents found out about the older company I had been keeping.

Sequel 3:

[The story so far – In his bedroom, Martin is with his girlfriend, Sophie, and his best friend, Rolf.]

"Oh I don't know," Sophie was grinning, teasing us now. "It doesn't seem such a bad idea to me."

Martin was lying on his bed recovering from the effects of a drug Sophie had brought with her. She had suggested she go next, but Martin had been against it, and Sophie had reacted.

I was sitting on the edge of the bed, with one knee raised on it and the other foot on the floor. Sophie was perched on the end with her legs crossed in front and her short skirt tucked modestly between her thighs, though not without having flashed a brief view of her white knickers as she settled.

Her hand was resting in her lap and holding two pills.

"Don't blame me if there are consequences," Martin said.

"Party pooper," I said to him with a good-natured grin.

Sophie ignored her boyfriend's concern, moistened her mouth with saliva, and popped one of the pills.

"It's your funeral," Martin said.

"You can talk," she said.

"You won't like the hangover afterwards, and if my parents get home while you're stoned Rolf can take you down the fire-escape."

"I'd be glad to," I said.

Sophie smiled at me, annoying Martin. "Thank you, Rolf."

It didn't take her long to start feeling woozy, and Martin let her lie beside him, on the same side I was sitting.

"How do you feel?" I asked her.

"Out of this world!"

Martin looked like he couldn't understand why she didn't just pass out in the way he had. Maybe it affected girls differently, or wasn't the same drug. The pills weren't a matching shape.

Sophie's cheeks and neck looked flushed, and her chest was more noticeably rising and falling. It would be just our luck for her to have a seizure, with everything ending disastrously.

"You okay?" Martin checked.

"It's cool! I couldn't feel better!" Her voice sounded unnaturally euphoric. She hugged herself. "I'm cuddly warm all over!"

"You certainly look cuddly," I said.

"Do you want to cuddle me?" She put out her arms.

"I'll leave that to Martin."

"Pretty please," she said. "He won't mind. Look at the kind of dreams he has when he's stoned."

"I called them nightmares," Martin pointed out.

Sophie giggled. "One man's nightmare is another man's..." She didn't know how to finish. "Besides," she said to me petulantly, "he's annoyed and doesn't want to cuddle me."

"He just doesn't want you to have your wicked way with me," I teased her.

Her big blue eyes lifted to look at Martin with a drug-induced innocence. "Is that the truth?"

"That's the truth," he humoured us.

"Not even a little way?" She brought her thumb and forefinger close together with difficulty.

"He said he doesn't want to cuddle you."

I corrected, "I actually said I'd leave that to you."

"I bet he wouldn't refuse seeing my pussy," Sophie was still locked into the silly argument with Martin. "None of the other boys at school would turn down the chance."

Martin placated her as if she was drunk, "I'm sure they wouldn't."

Her eyelids drooped then lifted again. "You are a party pooper, like Rolf said."

"I'm saving you from doing things you'll regret afterwards," Martin said reasonably.

"You're spoiling all the fun," she retaliated pettishly. Then she wheedled, "You and Rolfy want to see my pussy don't you? I'll let you stroke it."

I didn't expect to hear Martin say, "Okay, if that's what you want."

I thought she'd back off, having had her bluff called, but she said, "Then make more room for me."

Martin got up, looking the worse for wear. Sophie fumbled over to the middle of the bed, every movement seeming to be done in slow motion, like when she spread her knees.

I thought maybe Martin was still under the influence of the drug when he bent over the bed and lifted the hem of Sophie's pleated skirt onto her belly. I watched even more intently as he pulled the crotch of her white panties to one side.

She had the loveliest short golden hair over her mound and donut.

Like Martin, I'd never seen the Paris Hilton video but, if I did, and it showed her cunt, I'm sure I would have thought Sophie's was as gorgeous.