The story of Al becoming Alistaire was such a big hit, I decided to go ahead and write a sequel series with all the ideas I had but never used in the original. These tales will be a little more disjointed, and jumbled up chronologically. Please understand that a few things in the early parts of each entry in this second series may overlap each other, the endings are arranged chronologically.

I’d like to make a special shout out to the readers and commenters who responded so wonderfully to Alistaire’s main tale. His further adventures are dedicated to you.

THE WHERE THEY GRADUATE

———-

Bridget lay flat on her stomach on her dorm room floor, her face buried in a pillow to muffle her own screams of delight. I lay atop her, her sweet round Ass pressing against my stomach as I drove myself into her Pussy with the desperation of a guy who was on the verge of climax and knew this would be the last time he ever came inside his partner.

Somehow, the two of us had decided upon saying our sexual farewells in Bridget’s dorm room. We had never so much as made out in there, and it seemed appropriate to try someplace new for our last time. Mostly, it had worked out great, but we had, in the space of a few thrusts on our first round of actual intercourse, discovered that dormitory beds appeared to be actively engineered to squeak like a rusty vault door if used for Sex, and the rest of our various rounds of coupling had been on the floor.

But now, cocks had been sucked, pussies had been eaten, and the brains had been fucked out of both of us in several positions. We were exhausted, which says a lot, since Bridget and I are both in excellent aerobic condition, and we were hungry too. We could not miss either our final dinner as students, nor the headmaster’s Senior Cigar Sendoff. And so, I slammed into Bridget for all I was worth, desperately trying to hold back my Orgasm until I felt her give way beneath me so that we could climax that last time in unison.

To be honest, I was wishing that she would just go ahead and come already.

The feeling of my cock stroking into her was amazing, and I knew it was stroking her in very most favorite interior spot. I knew it well, but even if I had not, the way she writhed beneath me was ample evidence.

And I could not stop myself. I hissed, “I’m coming, dammit!” With a groan, I let myself go and felt the rush of semen blast forth from me. I was surprised after our marathon that I had that much volume to give. Beneath me, Bridget’s whole body spasmed. Her Pussy grabbed my cock in wild, ragged spasms, and her hands against the floor pushed up so violently that she nearly managed a push-up with my on top of her. Her face made good use of the muffling pillow as she yelled wild, incoherent words into it, still loud, but hopefully not enough to be heard beyond her walls.

I tried to keep going, not wanting it to end. I managed a few, feeble, final thrusts, but that was all I could muster. I felt my body sag, and I pulled us over onto our sides, so I would not drop my whole weight on Bridget. We spooned there, my cock still inside her, but it was softening fast, and soon I would never be in her again.

Bridget sagged as well. She tossed the pillow aside and muttered, “Jesus-Fuck, Alistaire! I didn’t think you were ever gong to come. It was killing me, waiting for you!”

“Wait,” I said, starting to laugh. “You were waiting for me? I was waiting for…” We both giggled uncontrollably for a moment, and then I was weeping uncontrollably.

My exhausted body, so recently wrung out by a marathon of sexual gymnastics, now shuddered in sobs. Tears dripped down and over Bridget’s naked shoulder where I buried my face. My dick gave up the ghost and shriveled its way completely out of Bridget.

I felt Bridget crying too. “How,” she sobbed, “are we crying after such amazing Sex?”

“Because I’m not crying about Sex,” I sniffled. I hugged her, trying to keep my hands away from any erogenous zones, which was hard with Bridget. I gave up, and slid away from her, just enough to not touch her. She rolled over and we stared at each other.

“I’m crying about… endings… about changes,” I said. “Look, you and I will always be friends, right? That’s obvious,” I said, and she nodded, eyes bright in reply. “We will text. We will email. We will even talk on the phone,” I went on. “And we will probably meet up at Alumni Day reunions. But that will just be ‘catching up’, or ‘checking in’.” I took a deep breath. “I kills me to face it, but I have to. The chances are very good that the two of us will not ever even be physically in the same state for more than a day or so for the rest of our lives, Bridget! I will never have you in my life the same way again… the way that was most important to me… The way that I so desperately needed.”

I looked at her brow furrow a little. “I’m talking about what you have meant to me and my life for the last four years, not the last eight weeks. I owe all or at least part of everything that I am to my friendship with you. I owe the shape I’m in, and the way I dress, and how well I handle friendships to you, Beth, and Carla. And yes, I also owe the insane sexapalooza my life has become… to you.”

Bridget snorted, her own mood lightening at that. “You had a good head of steam going on that before you and I first…”

“Not what I mean,” I laughed. “I mean that your friendship, and the friendships you helped me build with other people, guys and girls alike, made this possible for me… Made all my life possible for me.” I stopped and looked her in the eye. “And tomorrow, I will get a piece of parchment that will mark the official amputation of my best friend.”

Bridget looked at me, fresh tears on her face. “I get that same parchment tomorrow too, you know,” she said.

“I know,” I cut in, whining now. “But you made…”

“Shut up, Al,” Bridget snorted. “You changed me too. You have, throughout our four years here, always been just what I needed. When I was a freshman, and I was the next big thing on the Cross-Country team, I was a cocky little bitch who got no respect from the older girls. I didn’t even know if I wanted to stick with running. But running with you, talking to you about running… I don’t know, being your ‘mentor’ kept my own mind straight and made my motivations stronger.”

“And you taught me that guys are humans, honestly,” Bridget went on. “From you, and the open, honest, dependable, fun way you were always there for me, I truly understand how much I can expect to have good male friends, with or without Sex.”

We looked at each other for a moment.

She snickered. “And I’m just going to say it: once we firmly established the value of a friendship that wasn’t going to ever be about Sex… You showed me just how mind-blowing Sex can feel.”

“Yeah,” I dead-panned. “I guess, now that you mention it, I will probably miss the Sex too…”

She threw her pillow/gag at me. “Come on, asshole,” she said, sitting up. “We have to get dressed before we start missing the Sex too much and miss dinner instead.”

We cleaned ourselves up as best we could and got dressed. But we couldn’t quite bring ourselves to part quite yet. We sat apart in the room, in approved inter-dorm visitation manner, with at least three of our feet on the floor, and indulged ourselves in a final bull session.

I suddenly found myself relaxed, the grief well and truly expressed was fading to the dull background ache it would forever remain. Bridget was my last ‘goodbye’. There had been no way I would have allowed it any other way.

Poppy, the last girl I had hooked up with, was also my first goodbye. We said our wordless farewell (which actually involved a lot of words shouted at the top of our lungs) at her home near the school. Again, beds are just the absolute best when it comes to Sex. I highly recommend that you pick one up.

Jenn and I ended up where we began. I met up with her, as we had planned, late one evening. She surprised me by actually wearing a skirt, instead of her ubiquitous corduroys. She hauled me, laughing down the basement corridor to the once again locked entrance to the Science Annex. There, she showed me that she had worn the skirt for a reason, and I fucked her silly against the wall in the alcove, almost fully clothed but right there in a public, if out of the way, hallway. It was such a scary rush, even though we did not even get close to being caught that time.

Carla and I, of course, had no last hurrah. But we did have a long, long lunch, sitting by ourselves in the dining hall. Yeah, I cried for that one, too. The only other time I got teary was two days before graduation, with Adam of all people. I felt bad once or twice, in those waning days that neither Adam nor Trey had gotten swept up like Ben had in the sexual insanity of my final days at school. I guess, as with all good D&D campaigns, they needed to do a better job of developing their characters…

Much as Ben and I both lobbied for it to be otherwise, we were denied. Our final hurrahs with Beth were at the same time.

Sigh.

Petra and I did manage once or twice to step out on Bridget, as it were. The Sex between just the two of us was awesome each time. But it lacked the connection I’d had with my other fellow students. She and I just did not have the social history I had with the others. But whatever she decided about her bisexuality, and I got the impression from Bridget that that was very much still an open question for both of them, I was left with no doubt about Petra’s affection for dick…

Bridget and I kept on talking, but we were thinking that I really need to go. Just because we were cleaned up, we were not necessarily showered up, and that was very important before we went and partied with the rest of the class and the faculty. I was about to leave, when Bridget’s door banged open, and Jenn surged into the room.

Bridget and I looked at each other in good-humored horror. We had just engaged in a multi-hour tour de Sex in her room, and neither of us had remembered to lock the door!

“Bridget!” Jenn began, as she burst through the door. “I’m looking for… Oh, you’re here Alistaire.” She blushed a little. Then her eyes widened. “Oh God! I’m sorry! Were you guys about to, uh, say goodbye?”

While Jenn was pretty much in the loop on everyone I was horsing around with, she had heretofore held herself a little more aloof than most of the rest of my special friends, even Poppy. I realized suddenly that I had not been in the same room with Bridget and Jenn once that spring.

“No,” Bridget said, stretching idly. “Alistaire just finished making me walk funny for a day or so.”

Jenn snorted. “Heard that.” She paused awkwardly. “Hey, Bridget… sorry.” She searched for words, which was fucking rare for Jenn. “This is pretty awkward… you know, being part of a whatchacallit, a harem I guess, isn’t it?”

Bridget laughed. I swiftly and sternly cut in, “I do not have a harem. I have a board of governor’s! Bridget and Beth have the harems.”

“Ignore him, it’s usually safest,” Bridget said, climbing off her bed. “I should have made sure we talked more, Jenn, before we got here, to the end of all things. Welcome to the Sisterhood of Alistaire’s Traveling Penis,” Jenn laughed in surprise. “The secret handshake is fist bump, handshake, high five,” Bridget added dryly.

Jenn wordlessly executed the set of gestures (that Bridget had just invented… I think) flawlessly. “Wait,” she said. “You have a harem, Bridget?”

“Co-ed,” I observed, not liking how easily I still got talked about like a lab animal whenever multiple women who knew me talked together. “Me, and Petra.”

Jenn, shrugged. She already knew that Petra and I had been together, and she knew that Petra and Bridget had dated, though I don’t think I had ever let on about the threesomes. I hadn’t wanted to look like I was fishing for one with Jenn and Poppy. I retrospect, I should have fished. “Ok, I knew that, but can you have a co-ed harem? Anyway, I had not heard that Beth liked girls,” Jenn said in surprise.

“Ha!” I snorted. “She most certainly does not. I begged.”

“I was talking about Beth’s BDH,” Bridget said. A week ago, none of us would have told tales like this, but any remaining discretion was fading with the hours left in our school lives.

“BDH?”

“She calls Ben and me her Big Dick Harem,” I laughed. I found it interesting that I was quite amused and comfortable at being described as being part of someone else’s harem, but I did not like the idea that I had one myself.

“Wait,” Jenn said, suddenly talking to me, her eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me Ben is hung like you!”

“I understand he does very well for himself,” laughed Bridget, who had not shown any interest in first-hand knowledge.

“Having seen it up close and much more personally than I still am comfortable with,” I chuckled, absently pulling out my phone, “he’s plenty big. Speaking of Ben, I’ve got to track him down.”

Me: Dude. Where are you?

Ben: Hanging out by the pond with Adam and George. Why?

Me: Looking for you. Going to be there long?

I wanted to text, why are you wasting time hanging with that douche George, but the guy might have seen it.

Ben: A little while longer. Dunno. What’s up?

Me: Nothing. I may swing by.

“Ben’s hanging out by the pond,” I told Bridget. “I’ve got some shit to give him, but I’ll wait for later tonight.”

“Well, I’m still sorry to interrupt you guys’ goodbyes,” Jenn said, and excused herself swiftly.

Bridget watched the door close, then started laughing. “I’m guessing she came here to see if I knew where you were because she’s Horny and looking to scratch an itch.” Bridget nudged me with her elbow. “Do you want to chase her down?”

I looked quite seriously at Bridget. “You are the last goodbye. There was never any way that it wasn’t going to be you.”

“So now she is off to get a good look at Ben to decide if he is Scratch-Worthy,” Bridget chortled.

“I know,” I said, picking up my stuff. “That’s why I told her where he is.”

Bridget slapped me on the Ass. Hard.

“Hey! They are both my friends. I look out for my friends.”

I would never again get laid as a high school student. But Ben would…

*

When I got out of the Shower, I was a text notification on my phone. Still dripping in my towel, I picked it up.

Mary: Hey, when is your graduation?

Me: Tomorrow. Yours?

Mary: This morning.

Me: CONGRATULATIONS {Sent with confetti}

Me: So, how are things with you? Got a guy in the picture?

I was suddenly very interested in Mary’s current Love life. I hoped the fact that she was texting me was a good sign that she did not have one.

My phone binged again, and a picture appeared. It was very nice shot of Mary and Maddie, flanking Carrie Croenke in the middle. They wore their graduation robes hanging open, revealing very short, very cleavalicious white dresses underneath. The three had their arms around each other and were grinning happily.

Me: I hope we have as much fun tomorrow

A few minutes passed as I dried my hair.

Mary: Notice what’s not in that picture?

Me: Not sure…

Mary: Any guys

*

The dinner that night for the Seniors was mediocre, as the school’s food always was, but it was a much higher cut of mediocre than usual.

Afterward, we all walked over to the headmaster’s back yard for the traditional graduation smoking of cigars. It was a tradition dating back to before the school was co-ed. I think a number of girls were suddenly pining for the days of Male Privilege once they found themselves having to light up under the Old Man’s eye. I had never seen human beings literally green about the gills before that night…

After that, we all trooped back to unwind in the common rooms of our dorms. We were emotionally both keyed up and exhausted, so it was generally an early night. I’m not saying a certain amount of contraband alcohol and pot did not get drunk or smoked, but everyone was low-key about it. It would not have done to get busted with twelve hours to go.

The next morning dawned with parents and families crowding onto campus and milling around Graduation Courtyard. I swung by to see my parents and grandparents before the ceremony, but did not stay long. The school had us doing a last-minute, supplemental rehearsal, since the first rehearsal two days ago had been such a shitshow.

The graduation went off without a hitch. Our class speaker was hilarious and engaging. Our commencement speaker was the father of a girl in our class, a semi-famous novelist. He was… less hilarious and engaging.

Afterward, we all mingled, parents and graduates alike, with the teachers milling nearby. Later that evening, there would be the traditional after graduation party with the students and faculty. It was not the debauch it allegedly used to be, since the legal drinking age went up, but the school did very specifically tell parents that if we attended, there would very likely be alcohol brought in by us. And since we were all now alumni, not students, that was on us, not the school. As long as things were kept to a dull roar, the cops tacitly left the Commencement Party alone. No police officer wants the heat of busting a party with a scattering of billionaire’s kids.

Ten members of our class, whose parents were apparently manufactured by Sikorsky, were denied permission to attend and would therefore hate their parents forever.

I got caught up in the after commencement crowd and separated from my parents. When I tracked them down, I kind of freaked for a moment. My mom was chatting happily with Poppy’s mom, Sloane!

Hoo boy.

I had not spoken to Sloane since the day we had fucked, and then got caught fucking by Poppy. Even better, I now realized that Poppy was standing happily next to Sloane and my mother. My father was standing to the side, giving Sloane a good visual going over. At least, I hope he was mentally undressing Sloane, and not Poppy…

I took a deep breath and stepped toward them. Mom and Sloane were laughing as I approached. “There you are,” I said. “We did it Poppy!”

“Done and dusted,” she replied and we shared a solemn fist bump. “You know my mother, don’t you, Alistaire?”

She fucking emphasized ‘know’. I winced. Sloane’s eyes widened slightly. Then she cut her eyes at Poppy for just a moment. And she smiled. I did not like the look of that smile.

“It is interesting to hear where you live,” she said to my mother, continuing their conversation. “Poppy’s father is taking her brother on a fishing trip to Montana this summer for his eighteenth birthday. I plan on taking Poppy to the beach with me for a counter-vacation. I’m looking at the coast near you. Do you recommend it?”

“Oh heck yes,” my mother enthused. “It is a little far for us for frequent day trips unfortunately. But it is one of the best beaches I know anywhere. Not too over-developed. At least not yet.”

“Well, if we choose there, Poppy can contact Alistaire. I usually rent a larger VRBO than we need. If he’d like, he can come stay with us and enjoy the beach. The two of them can have one of those ‘Alumni Meetups’.” She looked at me. “Poppy does have your number, right, Alistaire?”

“I do, Mom,” Poppy put in with an edge to her voice. But there was a twinkle in her eye.

Moreover, I thought I saw a twinkle in Sloane’s eye too.

Christ.

If that visit were to happen, it had the potential to be an apocalyptic shit show.

There was no way I would not go.

My father nudged me aside from the ladies. “So you have finally succumbed to The Name, huh Al? I did my best for you, but it seems like half the school is calling you Alistaire.”