The Barclay Girls (Part #1)

A teenage boy who recently lost both his sister and his mother is consoled by four sympathetic and hedonistic sisters. They do it in the sexiest way imaginable

Part One

In the spring of 1968, I, James Ryan, was living the life that one saw in a typical family unit portrayed on TV in those more innocent days. Dad was working a job that provided plenty of money for a family of four. Mom cheerfully stayed at home to tend to domestic duties and to make sure my sister Kimberly (who was two years my junior) and I were well fed and well taken care of. We always were. I was 15 years old and didn’t know how lucky I was. I had to learn the hard way that a perfect life can unravel in a hurry.

One day in April, Kimberly wasn’t feeling especially well. Mom kept her home from school and got her an appointment with our family physician, Dr. Williams. To make a long story short, within a couple of days Kimberly was diagnosed with leukemia. It was going to kill her. We just didn’t know when. The end might come within a year, five years, or perhaps even 20 years. Four turned out to be the accurate number. Kimberly, my sister and best friend, passed away at age 17. It was devastating, but it was just the first blow I had to absorb. Six weeks later, my dwindling family’s grief grew exponentially when Mom died in her sleep at age 45 from an undiagnosed heart condition. Dad and I were later told by the coroner that even if Mom had known about the fatal flaw in her aorta, it could not have been corrected by any surgery or medication in 1972. To his dying day, Dad claimed that Mom had really succumbed to a broken heart over having to bury her teenage daughter. To be perfectly honest, I thought so, too.

Luckily, Dad and I had a large support group of kindly neighbors and longtime family friends. They generously brought us wonderful meals and shared their love with us during these tragic and trying times. Both meals and love came in ample portions. The one thing I was not expecting was a special type of compassion from the four Barclay girls who lived across the street and six houses down from us in our suburban Michigan neighborhood.

During her brief life, Kimberly had been friendly with all four Barclay girls for a time, mostly when all the neighborhood kids got together for a wild snowball fight in the winter or a massive game of hide-and-seek in the summer, but she would not have ranked any of them among her closest friends. I was even more distant from them: I barely knew the four girls’ names, which was a little bit embarrassing since they had been our neighbors for more than a decade. Therefore, I was totally taken by surprise when the oldest of them, Madeline, who was 19 like I was and a former high school classmate of mine, phoned me out of the blue one Saturday afternoon about two weeks after Mom’s funeral.

When I picked up the receiver on the third ring and the voice at the other end of the line said, “James, this is Madeline Barclay,” I had to pause for a moment or two until it registered in my mind whom she was.

I said, “Ah, yes, Madeline Barclay...from across the street. How are you? I believe this is the first time you’ve ever telephoned me. How did you even know the phone number here?”

“It’s in the telephone directory, James, ” she said with the tone I deserved for uttering such a silly remark. “Anyway, I was thinking about you and how life has dealt you a couple of bad hands lately. Accordingly, I just wanted to invite you to come across the street to my house today. I’m all alone for a few hours and I want to cheer you up.”

My imagination immediately went into overdrive. Madeline, a cute, black-haired beauty with a slightly upturned nose on her pretty face, was at least an eight out of ten in the good looks department by any fair assessment. Any sort of cheering up she might give me would be wonderful. If it was the very personal kind my mind hoped for and my libido sought, it would be fantastic. I told Madeline that was very thoughtful of her and I’d be at her doorstep “in a matter of minutes.”

Dad, who had overheard the tail end of what I said into the receiver, inquired about the caller and where I was suddenly going with no advance warning. When I told him that Madeline Barclay was the caller, she was alone in her house and wanted to cheer me up, he gave me a smile. “I hope it turns out to be what I’m thinking, son!” he said with a chuckle. “You know, James, she’s right about this. You and I have had a rough couple of months. You definitely deserve to be cheered up in the best possible way. Good luck, my boy! Give Madeline Barclay a good screwing, if that’s what she wants—and don’t hold back!”

Part Two

I didn’t run to the Barclays’ house, but I didn’t slowly stroll there, either. I probably looked like an Olympic race walker when I crossed the street. I arrived in under a minute.

Madeline greeted me at the front door. She was dressed very casually in Capri pants and an oversize sweatshirt bearing the logo of Stanford University. She led me to the living room and offered me a seat in a cushy chair. I looked around to take in my surroundings as I had never been in the Barclay home before. Madeline asked me if I wanted a cold drink. I said that would be lovely. She poured me a tall, icy glass of lemonade in the adjoining kitchen and brought it to me. Then she got straight to business.

“James, you have my sincere condolences. I didn’t really know your mother, but I was present at your sister’s funeral. My whole family was there. The turnout was enormous, so you might not have seen us.” I insisted that I had, which was only a half-truth. I remember seeing Mr. and Mrs. Barclay that day, but no one else from her family. But, as Madeline said, the crowd of mourners was overwhelming.

Madeline continued. “Anyway, James, I assume you are dealing with plenty of grief right now. I figured you could use someone or something to cheer you up. I have the house to myself this afternoon. Of course, I’ve wanted to have a fuck with you since I was 12. So, without giving it a whole lot of thought, I called you on the phone. I’m glad you accepted my invitation. Do you want to have a fuck with me, James? I think it would be fun.”

I almost choked on the sour lemonade but I managed to give Madeline an affirmative reply. Then I said, “You’ve wanted to fuck me since you were 12? Honestly? Why didn’t you tell me back then? I would have happily obliged, Madeline!”

“James, I thought you were a little bit out of my league, to be completely honest with you. You were the first boy in our elementary school whom I really fancied. In fact, I used to think about you while I masturbated...and it worked every time. The thought of having sex with you always got me wet.”

I found that tidbit of information to be highly flattering. It was the greatest compliment I’d ever received from anyone. Without saying a word, I rose from my chair. Madeline rose from hers, too. I embraced her and gave her a long, passionate kiss. “Lead me to your bedroom, Madeline, ” I happily told her. “You don’t have to pretend you have me. Today I’m really here!”

As Madeline disrobed, which didn’t take very long, she explained that she, like her parents, were dedicated hedonists and libertarians. She sought pleasure whenever and wherever she could find it—and she firmly believed that any sort of behavior was okay as long as it didn’t harm anyone else. “That’s why I like meaningless sex, ” she explained without being asked. “It’s fun; the guy enjoys it as much as I do, and no one gets hurt. Now get undressed, James, so I can suck on your penis. I’ve waited seven long years to do that.”

I was happy to follow such clear orders. The next 30 minutes was a blur of carnal delights. Madeline did deliver as promised with a terrific blowjob which got my manhood as stiff as it ever had been in my 19 years. I returned the sexual favor by licking her pussy vigorously for ten minutes, only stopping when Madeline warned me that she was “a bit of a squirter.” She wasn’t exaggerating. It was actually an understatement. A cascade of liquid was launched—that was an accurate verb—from Madeline’s highly stimulated vagina. We both laughed at the sight.

“You’ve laid down the gauntlet! The pressure is on me now, ” I stated to my sexy and sweaty bedmate. “Now I have to ejaculate with the same force or better. Let’s see if I’m up to the challenge. I hope so.”

I wasted no time in inserting my sizable erection into Madeline’s hairy pussy and thrusting away like a man possessed. It felt wonderful! Without a doubt, it was certainly the most enjoyable fuck I’d ever experienced, although I had only three others in my past to use for the purposes of comparison. I wrapped my arms around Madeline for an ultimate level of physical closeness until I was ready to fire my load. A few sucks on her average-sized tits put me over the edge.

Madeline sensed what was about to come—me! “Pull out, James. I don’t want to get knocked up.” I had never heard a female use that crude term before, but for some odd reason I found it sexy when Madeline uttered it. I obeyed. I removed my throbbing rod from Madeline’s pussy, gave it a few tugs, aimed it nowhere in particular, and fired my warm semen high into the air. Most of it sexily splattered down on Madeline’s torso after reaching its apex. I was pleased that I had painted her jiggly tits and filled her navel with my thick, white goo.

I took a deep breath and assessed the outcome. “All in all, I’d say that cum shot wasn’t too bad, but I think your orgasm has mine beaten, Madeline. I gracefully accept defeat. I did my best; that’s all I can do.”

“I think this is what you call a win-win situation, James, ” she replied without missing a beat. Wow! Not only was Madeline Barclay a truly great fuck, she possessed a wicked sense of humor, too! From that moment I hoped our screwing would become a regular shared activity for us. Twice a week would be heavenly for me.

We spent the next half hour cuddling together, fondling each other’s private parts, and engaging in trivial chitchat. I finally got around to asking Madeline a serious question: With six people in her family, how did she end up alone in the house on a Saturday afternoon?

“My parents are at some weekend nature retreat 50 miles from here, ” she answered, “which probably means they’re screwing outdoors amongst the trees and flowers somewhere. My three sisters are all visiting various friends this afternoon. By the way, they all knew what my plan was for today when I found out I’d be alone. They’re hedonists, too—all three of them. They’re all anxious to hear my recap of what happened with us because if I enjoyed our sexual encounter, they’ll all want a romp in bed with you, too, James. They’ve already told me so.”

That news excited me, but startled me even more. “You have to be kidding me!” I declared. “All three of them? Seriously?”

“Yeah, I’m totally serious, ” Madeline insisted. “I suppose if you bag all four of us, you’ve achieved a grand slam of the Barclay girls. That will be a family first. No one’s ever done that before.”

Curiosity got the better of me. I asked Madeline, “So...what will you tell your sisters?”

Madeline had a devilish grin on her pretty face when she replied, “Let’s just say you can expect to receive three telephone calls similar to the one I made to you about an hour ago.”

When I returned home, Dad insisted on knowing If I had been consoled to my liking. I eagerly spoke the truth. “Madeline Barclay is a great fuck, Dad. That was positive enough, but she told me I could expect her three sisters to all phone me very soon for sex dates, too! What do you think of that?”

Dad gave me an incredulous look before sadly whimpering, “Hey, what about me? I need some consoling, too!”

I just laughed at his response. My reaction did not go over well.

“Why are you laughing, James?” he asked. “I’m completely serious about that.”

Part Three

Leslie Barclay was a year younger than Madeline. Indeed, she did call me less than a day after hearing Madeline’s positive review about my sexual capabilities. It was flattering to hear, of course. I knew absolutely zilch about Leslie, but after I accepted her invitation the following Saturday when this time she had her house to herself, I realized I had badly underrated her. She was a couple of inches shorter than her older sister, but she was prettier and bustier and had the same hue of jet-black hair. This time I did run across the street when Leslie told me over the phone that the coast was clear.

“I love the beauty mark on your left cheek, Leslie, ” I told her sincerely when we started to chat in the Barclay living room. “It sort of looks like the state of Texas.”

Leslie looked at me as if I had two heads. “You are the first person to say that to me--ever. Frankly, I think my so-called beauty mark is actually unbecoming. I really wish I didn’t have it, ” she claimed. “Maybe I would if I were a Texan.”

“Okay, I like your sexy breasts better than your beauty mark, ” I joked.

Leslie replied, “Now that’s what I hear far more often, but usually not so directly.”

“I came here to be consoled in my personal grief by having sex with a beautiful girl, ” I reminded her. “I’m ready to start anytime.”

“There’s no use in delaying things, is there?” she asked me rhetorically.

“Nope, I want to poke that pussy of yours until my dick explodes—and I want to start doing it now. I don’t like it when my erection is trapped in the confines of my trousers. It’s painful. Be a good girl. Ease my pain in every way possible, Leslie.”

“Madeline said you had a great sense of humor, James. She was right. Yeah, let’s start our fucking with no further interruptions. Follow me to my bedroom, James, if you please.” Leslie led the way. I followed obediently.

I took the initiative to undress Leslie. I removed her pink panties before her beige brassiere so I could caress her vagina and her bum while standing before I focused on her fabulous set of tits. The moment we hit the sheets, I promptly took a position beside Leslie so I could grope her attractive assets as thoroughly as possible. I also inserted my erect phallus in her vagina without delay to get double the pleasure while screwing her in the “spoons” position.

“I wouldn’t mind doing this for the next ten years, ” I told her. Leslie didn’t react; she just softly moaned in rhythm to my phallic thrusts. As great as Leslie’s fabulous body was, Madeline had her beat with her level of sexual enthusiasm. Of course, I wouldn’t throw Leslie out of bed—far from it—but I did love bedding a girl who was overly excited to be there and let me know it. Leslie had her charms of course. This was proven when I ejaculated in under ten minutes, spewing sperm mostly onto her big, beautiful breasts. The load I dropped onto her sister was definitely bigger and stronger, though. I spent the next 25 minutes screwing Leslie from behind—doggy-style, if you prefer that term—eventually achieving a second orgasm that was nowhere near as powerful as the first one.

Leslie asked me if she had lifted my spirits by taking me to her bed. She seemed serious. “Yes, ” I told her sincerely, “they definitely rose, as did a certain important part of my anatomy. Did you enjoy the fuck, Leslie, honey? Please tell me if you were disappointed with me in any way. I’m always striving to improve.”

“Oh, James you were fine, excellent, in fact, ” Leslie told me. “I loved receiving your dick. It filled my pussy perfectly. I think I was made to have it inside me. We’ll have to do this again, very soon.”

“When exactly?” I asked excitedly.

Leslie paused and said, “I suppose it will be when my turn comes around again. My two younger sisters, Vicki and Mandy, haven’t enjoyed you in their beds yet. You can expect a call from Vicki soon after she hears me praise you.”

When I told my dad about my quest for a grand slam of the four Barclay girls, he shook his head in sheer wonderment. He then said something I hadn’t really considered.

“James, ” he said, “these obliging neighbor girls took pity on you because you’ve recently lost your only sibling and your mother in short order—and you’re turning this into a sexual free-for-all! Tell me something: Does that fact bother you on some level?”

I gave Dad an honest and succinct answer. “No, not really, ” I told him.

“Yeah, it wouldn’t bother me, either, if I were in your shoes, ” he said after a slight laugh. He added, “You realize your mother would be having a fit over this if she were still alive.”

“That’s likely true, Dad,” I agreed. “Kimberly would think it’s hilarious, though. She always laughed at any jokes that were even the slightest bit sexual in nature. Somewhere in the Great Beyond, I suspect my dear sister is looking upon me with a twinkle in her eye. She’d be very amused by my horizontal achievements. Actually, I think she’d be rooting me on.”