“What do you mean?"

“You know what I mean.”

I did. As the only guy in the group, I'd always gotten teased pretty mercilessly. Five teenage girls (six after Neevie joined) wanted to push their boundaries and test out their feminine wiles on the males of society, and there was no practice dummy better than me. If one of the girls wanted to figure out the optimal angle for tossing her hair, batting her eyelashes, and flashing a coquettish look over her shoulder, she'd try it out a few times on me to perfect her technique before bringing it to school and using it on a guy they'd actually date. Wanted to check out a guy's reaction to her new bikini before wearing it to the beach? Bring it over to Matty's house, sashay across the pool deck a few times to make sure he got a good look at some T&A, and see if he popped a woody. I constantly had cleavage pushed up into my face. The girls kept bending over at the waist to pick up something off the floor. I got touched... a LOT... My chest, my shoulders, my arms. My Legs got rubbed underneath the table just sitting in a booth at McDonald's.

But no matter how much the girls teased me, I NEVER took advantage of them. Not once had I ever grabbed a juicy ass uninvited. Not once had I pawed at a boob, even when it was within easy reach. You know: the kinds of things that would get guys slapped. Okay, in fairness I may have gotten a bit of side-boob with my fingertips giving one of the girls a back massage, and I HAD gotten in some serious groping when the girls grabbed my hands and put them on their goodies from outside their clothing. But the cardinal rule was that I NEVER initiated, only accepted whatever they felt comfortable giving. This was the reason the girls all trusted me. I was Matty, the “safe” guy. So all of them continued to tease me, even Belle.

Taking a deep breath, I exhaled and told her seriously, “You know I don't mind. I love it.”

“But don't you ever wish we would let you do more?" Belle gave me a skeptical look and turned a Little more sideways in my lap. I became consciously aware that her cute plaid blouse was unbuttoned to her navel, exposing a white tank top scooped low enough to give me a great downward view into her 32D cleavage. And noting my gaze, she thrust her chest forward a little, making damn sure I was looking.

I frowned, not sure yet where this was going or what it had to do with

Darryl. Instinctively, I started to make up a dismissive comment about how we were all friends and that I respected the girls too much to think of them that way, but this was Belle asking me and she knew the truth anyway. She just wanted me to say it out loud. Although I'd briefly glanced down at Belle's tits, I focused on her pretty face and answered, "Of course I do. You're a bunch of super-hot girls and I'm just as much of a sex-obsessed bastard as Darryl is."

“No you're not. How many times have I sat in your lap just Like this?”

“Uh, more times than I can count."

“And how many times have you ever grabbed my ass?"

“Never.” My eyes narrowed.

“Did Darryl grab-"

“No, no," she cut me off. "I already told you he didn't touch me."

I settled down and exhaled slowly.

Belle reached a hand up, caressing my cheek and turning my face to hers so that we were only inches apart. Again, the height difference was such that we were basically eye-to-eye.

“Do you wish you could grab my ass?"

"Yes."

"Do you wish you could grab my tits?”

"Yes."

“Do you wish you could throw me down across my bed, sliding your aching dick deep into my pussy, and fuck the shit out of me?"

“Jeezus, Belle." My eyes popped open wide and I leaned back a bit.

"Do you?"

"You're Like my sister, B."

“But do you?"