It was a dark and stormy night.

Debbie left cheerleader practice in a rush, only having time to slip an anorak over her St Augustine College cheer-squad uniform. She scurried through the wild winds and rain, not wanting to be too late the first time she had babysat for Mr and Mrs Bates.

But despite the weather, she was as high as a kite. Virginity found favour with the Lord and her family, and she had stayed behind and signed her abstinence and purity pledges in front of the squad. That was so important to her given her besties, Milly, Molly and Mandy, shared her commitment to avoid alcohol and other drugs and to remain chaste till the day they married.

Debbie proudly clutched the pledges to her E-cup breasts as she rang the Bates’ doorbell.

Mr Bates opened the door, his eyes welcoming and predatory. A 1970’s style pornstache gave off hints of sexual lasciviousness though with the downside of being out of touch with current fashions. That was lost on Debbie whose media was still subjected to parental locks, despite having turned eighteen.

But her eyes did linger on the cream linen shirt he wore, though not the lower buttons which were, in the words of that Queen song, under pressure. There was something about a thick fake-gold medallion hanging from a neck-chain and nestling in his luxuriant dark chest hair. Something that caused an unfamiliar and unexpected tingle to run through her body.

“Cum Inn,” he said, his double entendre totally lost on the naïve Debbie.

“Thank you, Mr Bates, sorry I am a little late.”

“Better late than never, Debbie. I’m Randy, so call me that.”

As Debbie slid off her anorak, blond pigtails fell free. Randy’s eyes were drawn to her cropped cheer-top, which showed more of her taut stomach than those tops usually did, as a greater than normal amount of material had to be assigned to the task of covering what was the most impressive rack in the cheer squad.

Her pleated skirt was a tad shorter than that of her friends. It had shrunk a little in the wash and her mother was dis-inclined to spend more on such frivolous things.

The barely covered Debbie blushed as lecherous eyes ran over her body. She felt her nipples harden, but concluded that must be the cold. Then the tap, tap, tap, of stilettos across the tiled floor, drew her attention, though not Randy’s, away from her nipples onto the arrival of Mrs Bates.

Fanny Bates sashayed across the room in a scarlet Versace dress and matching seven-inch stilettos. Her braless breasts, accentuated and strengthened by the good Doctor Wong, who she was still paying off blowjob-by-blowjob, stood out firm and proud. Her nipples, which she had just run an ice cube around, were pokies like Debbie’s.

She clasped Debbie to her ample bosom, kissed her on the cheek, and whispered, “Welcome to chez nous. We call our home Vegas.”

“Thank you, you have a lovely house.”

“Look at us,” Fanny said with a giggle, having cast an obvious eye over both sets of nipples, “Both a little cold, I know just what we need, the spa-pool in our heated conservatory.”

Fanny grasped Debbie’s hand and, having intertwined their fingers, led Debbie deeper into the house. Debbie did have a moment’s anxiety about hand-holding. But Milly liked to hold hands and Milly had, after all, assured her she wasn’t, thank God, a lesbian.

“But aren’t you going out?” Debbie asked.

“Too cold,” Fanny replied, “Hotter here.”

“I’ll get dad to pick me up as you’re staying in.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Not if you’re cold.”

“Are the children upstairs, can I say hi to them?”

“Um, …”

“They have gone to my mother’s” Randy finally replied.

“Why did you need me then?” Debbie asked.

“Um, …”

“Sudden decision,” Fanny said.

“We’ve got a prayer meeting early in the morning,” Randy added a little desperately.

Debbie smiled, “Oh, can I come?”

“I think you will,” both Bates said, exchanging smirks as they reached the conservatory, replete with flowers, scented candles and a spa-pool bubbling in the corner. Another double entendre Debbie missed.

Fanny took the pledges from Debbie’s hand and placed them on the couch next to the spa, saying, as she placed a paperweight on them, “Your pledges are safe with us.”

Debbie’s more streetwise friends wouldn’t have felt quite as reassured as they would have recognised the purple paperweight as a Feeldoe.

Fanny surprised Debbie by kicking off her stilettos and letting her dress puddle at her feet. That gave Debbie her first glimpse of many, many things; a shaved cunny, nipple piercings, a Queen of Clubs tattoo, a Queen of Spades tattoo, the absence of tan lines, and gigantic mammaries that were even more upstanding than her firm teenage bosoms.

“This feels so good, you should join me in the spa, Debbie,” Fanny said, as she sunk into the water, her smile as fake as her tits and her tan.

“But I don’t have a suit.”

“If God wanted you to wear a suit, you would have been born with one.”

That seemed so logical to Debbie that she instinctively slipped her top and skirt off. Pausing, uncertainty was then etched on her face, until Fanny said, “It’s just us girls, nothing to worry about.”

“I guess,” Debbie said. As she pulled her sports bra over her head, she heard Randy step behind her. He grasped her knickers and rent them asunder, tearing them like tissue paper. And she was left standing naked in front of someone for the first time. Fanny’s smile was reassuring, but not used to being the centre of attention Debbie scurried into the spa, intent of concealing herself in the water.

“Come sit next to me,” Fanny said. Debbie did and got the shock of her young life when she sat on a water jet that pulsed against her virgin cunny. Her shock though was tinged with something altogether unexpected. Those new sensations captivated her, so much so that she barely perceived Fanny’s hand as it went around her shoulder and her extremely long fingernails pressed against Debbie’s nipples, still firm from the cold.

“I think we need a glass of champagne,” Randy said, his eyes captivated by the four buoy-breasts bobbing on the waterline.

“But I signed the pledge,” Debbie said, whimpering, given the combination of the water on her clitty and Fanny’s fingernails scraping across her nipples.

“Champagne isn’t hard lickher,” Randy said, “And it’s French; that’s a Catholic country, remember.”

“Oh, I never thought of it like that,” Debbie said, surprised that no-one had previously pointed out that sipping champagne was okay with the Lord. Randy contemplated whether this was his second Guinness Book of Records event, the first time a pledge had been broken within an hour of being signed.

The ladies tasted their champagne. The water and Fanny’s fingers danced across erogenous zones that, for Debbie, had remained, until then, dormant. And completing the trifecta from the Bates’ Seduction for Dummies playbook, Randy slipped his shirt and trousers off. Then with a flourish, his boxers hit the floor, unveiling a schlong that would impress a porn star. The one Fanny called the footlong meatball sub, because it was twelve inches and she was such a subby bitch to that meat and two balls.

It was the first cock Debbie had seen and so she had no preconceived notion of the standard endowment.

“Isn’t it beautiful baby,” Fanny whispered, licking Debbie’s ear, causing the younger woman to feel what was for her an unexpected stickiness in her cunny, “Would you like to touch it?”

“But my pledge …”

“That is about sex, baby. Not about touching.”

On autopilot, Debbie reached out her hand grasping the stiffening meat, encircling as much as she could in her hand. It felt so steely and silky and, as she stroked it, the schlong stiffened even more. And when Fanny whispered, “You want to suck that cock, don’t you, baby,” she could only nod.

Her mouth didn’t seem big enough, yet she bobbed and bobbed as she sucked Randy’s cockmeat deeper and deeper each time. She knew what to do and so she opened her throat, and twelve inches slid all the way into her virgin mouth. With hands on her head, Randy began to face-fuck her, her tongue expertly caressing the sensitive underside of the invading cock-meat.

And just when she thought that pleasure couldn’t be more exquisite, she felt two of Fanny’s fingers with their super-long fingernails twist into her, till then, unviolated snatch.

Who knew fingernails could be so sexy, Debbie thought, as Fanny finger-fucked her squishy fanny as hard as Randy was face-fucking her? But seemingly out of nowhere a craving sprouted in her virgin mind. She let the penis slide from her mouth and looked up at Randy with doe-like eyes. “You want to fuck me? No one ever has, you know. Big boy!”

Fanny sat on the edge of the spa, spread her legs, her pussy sticky with strands of her goo. “Lick my pussy baby and Randy will fuck you like a little slut.”

“But I’m not a lesbian,” Debbie said, though her fond remembrance of Fanny’s fingers in her snatch did undermine her self-assurance about the accuracy of that statement.

“You know you want to,” Fanny said, as she scooped some honey from her pussy and painted Debbie’s lips in her favourite Eau de Poutain lipstick. One taste and Debbie knew the meaning of addiction; on her knees, muff diving, she expertly ran her tongue through Fanny’s weeping folds.

In leaning forward Debbie’s hips rose and she presented her arse and sweet virginal pussy to Randy and he didn’t need a second invitation. He grasped her hips, pressed his cock head against Debbie’s opening and thrust. Driving his cock hard, a foot into her virginal pussy; stretching her is such an understatement given this was a Guinness Book of Records amount of cockmeat in a previously unsullied pussy.

“God, yes,” Debbie whimpered, her words vibrating deliciously on Fanny’s fanny.

“Fuck me like a two-bit whore,” Debbie then screamed.

Her understanding of the price point for her services astonished the Bates. But her needy desperateness was no surprise. After all who can resist a big cock and pneumatic tits?

Randy jackhammering her tight pussy, while she slurped on Fanny’s folds soon bought Debbie to the point of her first-ever orgasm. Her scream of anticipation triggered Fanny who gushed her cum into Debbie’s mouth, some dribbling down her chin and splattering her tits.

That first taste of molasses cunt-cream accentuated the orgasm cresting from Debbie’s core. She came and came in rolling waves, again and again and again.

And just when she thought she could cum no more, Randy smacked her butt and said, “Beg for it you bitch and I will fuck your arse.”

Debbie knew arses were dirty, and yet the idea of twelve inches of cock-meat up her bum excited her beyond reason.

“Fuck my slutty arse, Master. Make me your anal-whore,” she screamed. Like a hot knife through butter, the monster cock slid into Debbie’s virgin arse, the feel exquisite, the burn delicious.

“Maria Schneider has nothing on you, baby,” Randy said, as her stretched arse milked his now throbbing cock. That movie allusion would always have been lost on Debbie, but doubly so now as her orgasms bubbled to the surface again.

“Oh fuck, Jesus Christ,” Debbie testified, “Master Bates, Master Bates, I’m cumming.”

Debbie’s whole, recently de-virgined, body shook in rapturous orgasm which rumbled on and on. Her tight and, to that point, unviolated arse throbbed with pleasure.

After half an hour, as her orgasms subsided, Randy said, “On your knees, bitches, I’m going to cum.”

And cum he did, ropes of ejaculate splattering on his wife and their new fuck-toy’s face. Some filled their mouths and some dripped off their faces and splattered on their huge tits. Yet, as every woman ever born instinctively knows, Debbie and Fanny had to kiss, realising that the point of an MFF is, under the gaze of the male who created it, tongues swirling and swapping his delicious cum.

“Is there anything else you would like, baby?” Fanny asked.

“A Jamison’s, before dad picks me up,” Debbie responded, wondering why she had ever signed those stupid pledges.

The fiery liquid caused her to sputter, the contrast with how easily the cock-meat had unchained her slutty pussy and arse obvious even to a blond.

After they had dressed, Fanny said, as she handed Debbie her pledges, “Remember. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Let me show you the downstairs before your dad arrives.”

In the basement there was a big rumpus room, “Perfect for a sleepover, Debbie,” Randy said, “You should invite Milly, Molly and Mandy.”

“Teenage virgin cheerleader sleepovers are such a porn cliché,” Debbie said, clutching her pledges against her ample bosom wondering what her besties would think of her now.

“Only if you order pizza,” Randy replied.

“Or invite the pool boy,” Fanny added, her voice dreamy.

“What’s in that room over there?” Debbie asked, pointing to a door in the corner of the room.

“Oh, that’s Fanny’s aquarium,” Randy said, “I have never understood the attraction of tentacled sea creatures.”

“Milly, Molly, Mandy and I love nature and adore David Attenborough, his voice is so sexy,” Debbie said excitedly.

“Randy is away next Wednesday,” Fanny said, “Why don’t you and your friends have a sleepover here. And I will show you what my tentacled babies are all about.”

Fanny kissed Debbie tenderly, then whispered in her ear, “You want to help me turn your virgin cheerleader friends into pledge-breaking lesbian sluts, baby?”

Pussy-honey dribbled down Debbie’s inner thighs with the thought of it.