In through the door

They arrived at Mark’s to find the door was unlocked, as always... but there didn’t seem to be anyone home. Peter let Stacy lead the way over the threshold. Her short cut skirt flipping up over fashionably laddered tights as she skipped her way inside. The girl was full of beans still; that nervy, potent energy she seemed to swell with whenever she had a chance to fulfill her erotic cravings. Which itself only seemed to grow more intense as she was played with for longer. Peter wondered how Mark would react to seeing her so bubbly, after a day trapped in school by himself…

Their third half was nowhere to be seen, not until they’d swished through several of the sets of bead curtains that sufficed for doors in this household. Nor was his mother… though that was not unusual. Mark had a habit of only inviting them around when she was out at a yoga class, or something similar. Despite her always being so accepting and welcoming to their little group, the boy had always seemed a little embarrassed or ashamed about his only parent present. Pete had never really been able to work out why… as far as he could see the woman was a breath of fresh, clear air after his own overbearing excuse.

When they found him, Mark was sat slouched upon the sofa. Watching junk television with an unimpressed eye. All present recognised Grumpy Mark as a character all to himself; arms folded and brow creased. Stacy was not the kind to be put off by such pouting however, especially not in her current state. She leaped straight into his lap, filling his vision with a hyperactive angel of suburbia. Her legs waved out and she immediately poured her tongue into his face, enforcing a kiss of sloppy enthusiasm. Pete saw his old friend try to resist being sucked in to that insistent engagement... but there was only so far anyone could refuse such earnest, if amateur, passion. Still, he seemed determined to maintain angsty composure when he could finally pull her off of him. His voice was gruff and accusing.

“Seems like you two had some fun today then…” The sarcasm of a wounded soldier left behind simply dripped from him.

There was no putting a downer on the girl bouncing side-saddle across his knees though; she ignored his demeanor completely.

“Oh we did! I’m so sad you couldn’t get out of class too Marky! We made such an awesome thing together! Pete’s an IT genius! You’ve got to see how great it looks all finished--”

Mark cut her off mid-flow. “Yeah, yeah, yeah… I’ve seen enough of the big man’s website designs to last a lifetime and I was there for most of the photoshoots…”

He swept his gaze up to pin Peter against the wall. “I take it you made a few more… ‘Happy Memories’ while you were at it…?”

Stacy finally seemed to take stock of the mood in the room, sucking whatever over-excited rant she was going to move on to next, back in… However she was still not going to let anything sour her own personal bubble of elation.

“Well… Of course! You wouldn’t have wanted poor old Pete to go through all those dirty pictures of me without getting a taste of the real thing, would you? That would be TOO cruel…”

A teasing grin spread across her lips. “Besides you should have heard his Mom when she came in, oh-so-worried about her perfect-little-angel… Oh, I had such an urge to jump out of the wardrobe and tap her on the back, naked and coated in angel-spunk!”

This time it was Mark who had to deflate and try another angle… he wasn’t going to win any petty **** this way… With steady hands he carefully scooped the girl off his knee.

“Well I guess I’ve got some catching up to do then… Bend over that footstool Stace…”

Stacy caught her hands upon the indicated piece of furniture she’d been dropped toward, looking back over her shoulder at a boy undoing his belt. There might have been a slight lump in her throat for a second, before it was flashed over by a determination in her eyes.

“Okey-doke!” She declared, in that same sing-song voice. Without a hint of misgiving over what was being asked of her. She leaned forward and over, pressing her breasts to the stool; presenting her tights-covered ass with waggling confidence and flipping her skirt up for good measure. She wasn’t wearing panties, of course, Mark could just about make out the folds of her womanhood through a dark haze of fabric. There was a glint in his eye too, both gleeful and hungry. A petty delight in this prostration so willingly provided for him. Peter watched on anxiously, but Stacy was far more stubborn. She locked onto that glint with laser like focus, daring it on with yet greater heights of feigned cutesy innocence. ‘Oh dear, have we upset you?’ Said the voice she did not speak. ‘Whatever are you going to do about it?’