 |
| Stories Bingo’s Home Bingo’s Lair |
|
The
Pullover Chapters 5 and 6 |
|
| Chapter
5
Loving Elizabeth, which I thought I did, little knowing how deep a love could be, expanded my world in many ways. I saw a new Tyler and walked its streets with a new awareness. The next month and a half were, for Elizabeth, the happiest time in her life. She told me repeatedly how much knowing me and having me as her man gave her so much, so many times, in so many ways. It wasn't all idyllic. I gave the money each night to my sister and she checked up with Elizabeth the next day to see if our numbers corresponded. Dot kept strict records and watched out for Elizabeth as few girls would their classmates. If Elizabeth told Dot fourteen, I had better have given Dot three fifty the night before. If I lost a dime or had fifty cents too much I was severely punished, which I had the impression Elizabeth enjoyed watching. Elizabeth and I acquired a reputation as time went by. It wasn't uncommon that on the way to Clancy's a car would pull alongside us. We were given a lift and for a few minutes, while I watched from the front or not, the driver and Elizabeth fucked in the back seat. I held a warm quarter in my hand. It didn't take too long to realize that what Elizabeth gave the others held little similarity to the treatments I received regularly. My fascination turned to sorrow as I looked at theirs and realized they'd stopped before it was too late, unlike foolish me. Elizabeth relished having her hole poked as much and often more than the men who used her. With cooler weather our schedules changed. Morning treatments still continued but lunchtime Elizabeth was busy in the ravine with others, classmates who thought I was a fine fellow for sharing his girl. My impression was they said other things behind our backs. I collected quarters, nickels, dimes, and pennies from a steady stream who went down into the ravine below me to spend a few minutes in Elizabeth who was stretched out naked, no matter how cold, by the log. Sometimes Elizabeth gave me money she'd made before lunch. A kiss, sometimes still tasting of a boy, a hug, and she'd be eager to rush off to help me work off my debt. After school I had another treatment, my second for the day and we'd go to Clancy's. When the weather turned frosty the men at Clancy's begged the proprietor and he finally relented. Elizabeth used a back room for a flat rate of three dollars a night; the men who visited her paid the bartender. I dislike the taste of beer or liquor, otherwise I would have ended up like my poor father, a spendthrift drunk. They kept a supply of coca-cola for me, a bottle of which I tried to nurse through the night. Elizabeth's tips or extras paid for that and gave us the bit to spend for a sandwich for the both of us. Partway through the night was my third treatment and it was the one I enjoyed the most. The room was warm, spartan with a mattress on the floor, soiled bedding and a washstand. We could barely hear what passed outside the walls; it was the only time we were truly alone. Elizabeth always had a spunky smell, less strong in the mornings if she'd had a chance to wash. By evening the smell almost made my eyes water. Not that it smelled bad, it didn't. Just different and strong and animal like. As the days passed I was able to overcome my inclinations and sometimes did pass the hour limit set by Dot. She'd purchased a stopwatch with Elizabeth's earnings, the expense duly recorded in the memo book as more I owed, and Elizabeth religiously kept track of my progress noting the times in the memo book. I did so well because of Elizabeth's tricks which helped me more than Dot's beatings. Sis was unmerciful some nights after she'd tied me to my bed, a pair of my shorts stuffed in my mouth so I wouldn't disturb my mother or the twins, though I think the twins watched, eyes big as owls'. I never saw for sure. Elizabeth's tricks boiled down to distraction and the best distraction for me (she said it was good for her too — sometimes she forgot what she was doing) was to lie on my back and have Elizabeth straddle my face. She gave me orders for what I should do which I tried with all diligence to carry out. I already knew what my come tasted like. Her soppy pussy was a melody of tastes, different each time. The slippery surfaces, sometimes tangled with her hair, were a landscape that I visited and tried to map with my eyes closed. It was a different landscape than the one I'd briefly seen a number of times. There were ridges, valleys and the tight deep well which had a different texture. There were folds and a tender knob which Elizabeth wanted special and very specific attention paid to. "Lighter," she'd say. "Lighter still." After a minute, "Faster," and when I did it right she gave a shake: a wrench on my cock and a bump on my nose. Elizabeth never tied me though I secretly wished she would. I kept myself as rigid as possible, never moving my hands or arms, unless she told me. Walking home late at night, hand in hand, we were lovers, we talked about what we wanted. Elizabeth wanted a new dress; she got one even though the expense went in the memo book. Elizabeth wanted one day to go to Chicago, to make real money, and have a fur coat. She wanted to see a movie, though she saved her nickels and did without. Her family was poorer than ours; it surprised me how poor people could be. If it was warm enough, we sat on the front porch of her house. There was no furniture. We sat on bare pine boards, our feet dangling over the edge. We kissed repeatedly and if she wasn't too tired she played with my cock, a special treatment that ended with me coming in her mouth and us sharing a final kiss. She'd button her dress, say goodnight and go inside, her eyes bright as she looked one last time at me. At my house I went upstairs, put the money on my bedside table, and undressed. Dot slipped in, tied my hands to the bedstead, took the money and always told me I never appreciated fully what Elizabeth and she were doing for me. It was true. I didn't understand everything that happened around me, didn't understand my feelings for Elizabeth or hers for me. Years later I wish I knew where she was so I could thank her. Dot has been thanked, by both Nancy and I, though there were things Nancy felt needed to be redone in her own fashion. Dot handed me a ring one morning, something she'd bought in the dime store; a cheap code ring made of stamped tin. "Give it to Elizabeth," she said. "You owe her this at least." I asked, "Why?" Dot gave me a funny look. "You don't know a thing, do you?" I shook my head. I confess I was often in a state of total ignorance. "Give the ring to her. She's wanted one but was afraid to tell you." I dropped the ring in my pocket. "I added the dime to your tote. Do you have any idea how much you owe?" I shook my head, got my schoolbooks ready. "Thirteen dollars and forty-six cents. Plus interest." "What?" That woke me up. She grinned at me and left for school. It was after school, after my treatment, on our walk to Clancy's that I gave Elizabeth the ring. It was on Talmudge, right in the center of town. All I could think to say was, "Wear it for me." She held the ring and began to cry. She slipped the ring onto her finger but it was too loose. She held her hand out so I could squeeze the ring ends tighter. She couldn't talk she was so overcome with emotion. I held her close to me, felt a tap on my shoulder. Two men wanted to use her; I wanted to put them off for at least a minute or two because of our emotional state. "Back here," Elizabeth said to them. She gave me a kiss and I wiped the tears from under her eyes. She took my hand and the men followed us to an alley. They gave me a dollar and I was thankful I had change. They leaned Elizabeth against a damp brick wall, pulled her new dress up and took turns. I stood next to her, facing away, holding her hand which gripped mine tightly. She made a little whimper after the first one was done with her, moaned a high keening moan continually as the second fucked her. I knew what fucking was now and hoped, God willing, that some day I'd be able to be inside a woman. The men talked to me about it, before or afterwards, while waiting as others took their turns. They told me, mostly in simple terms, what it felt like and how they enjoyed it. They often treated me as if I were a partner in some astonishing adventure with them. At first fucking fascinated me, how men looked, how big their cocks were, how much smaller I was sure than mine, how Elizabeth looked, what they did together, for how long. Then I became sad always watching the same thing over and over that I wanted to do but couldn't. The ax those times would have been kinder. I could still have been Elizabeth's man, could have been a partner or comrade with a host of fellows in our adventure through life as they used her. It would have been no different except I had a cock and couldn't because, at times like these I could have hurt myself or worse, of my ignorance or lust. I was paying for that manyfold and I was just sixteen. What would it feel like years from now when I was twenty-five, forty, sixty-three? Would I reach the point where I could no longer bear it and kill myself at seventeen? Would Elizabeth always cherish the ring I gave her, not knowing how stupid I was, and that Dot made me give it to her? Would she still think of me years later when she'd made her place in the world; had a family and a husband who was truly her man and not just her pimp? They left us and Elizabeth let her dress drop. Her new dress was an indigo print, very small white flowers on a very dark blue field. The dress was pretty and very little stained. "Just a minute, Charlie," she said. "I have something to tell you. You may want your ring back." "The ring is yours," I said. Her eyes began to tear and she gave me a crooked smile. "Charlie, I'm pregnant." No one had sat down with me and explained the birds and the bees. No one had explained the simple facts of life in plain words. I knew nothing and what I'd seen the past weeks had been filtered through a personally constructed worldview. "You've been careful not to touch their belly buttons with yours, haven't you?" She looked at me and began to grin. "Only yours, Charlie." She cast her eyes down. "I'm afraid it wasn't an accident." "What do you mean?" "We'll have to get married now." I wasn't sure if I was old enough to get married. "Can we do that?" "My parents married when they were fifteen. They lied to the judge." "Oh." "You'd marry me, wouldn't you?" She touched my hand, took my finger. "Even if we couldn't . . ." "Are you sure it's mine?" She nodded and I believed her. "Let's talk to Dot first," I said. She gave me a look. "You're still my man, even if we don't get married, aren't you?" Her face was flushed, eyes bright, red lips parted. I could see the impression her nipples made against the soft dress fabric. Her fingers squeezed mine, stroked my finger like they'd stroked my cock a short while earlier. I wanted to hold her close to me. I said, "I love you, Elizabeth." She grabbed me and pressed her face against my shirt. "You're my man forever and ever, Charlie. I love you so much."
Chapter 6 Dot didn't have one kind word for me that night. After tying my hands above my head, counting the money on the nightstand and pinching my nose shut for several minutes she said, "So you got Elizabeth pregnant, did you? By touching navels no less. Why doesn't it surprise me?" I squawked; she put her hand over my mouth. "Elizabeth is the best thing that's ever happened in your life, outside of having me as a sister, and you don't even realize it. One day, and knowing you, it will be sooner than later, she'll be gone and you'll wonder why." I tried to let my eyes speak for me. "I want to see the both of you at lunch tomorrow. You'll have to explain to your buddies that Elizabeth and you will be elsewhere. Of course you'll have to make up the lost income." She released my nose since I was turning blue. I wanted to ask her how come I was always so far behind since Elizabeth and I were working our butts off already but I knew better. Dot was relentless. She tapped my cheek. "You, my boy, are going to be punished for being bad." She got off the bed, pulled my covers down and off the bed leaving my bare skin exposed to the frigid night air. She took an extra moment to stare at the source of all my problems and shook her head. "If Elizabeth weren't so found of you, I'd cut it off. And you," she said to the twins. "Keep your mouths and eyes shut or else you'll end up like him." I could hear them burrow under their covers. As I shivered I tried to remember all the ways in which I was blessed by good luck. I had a dear sister who loved me which meant she probably wouldn't kill me tomorrow. Especially not since I owed her so much money according to the memo book. Plus the interest. I was lucky because my sister was so smart. And besides being smart she was ingenious. I almost wanted to see what she'd do to me next. I never expected to, at sixteen, have a girlfriend like Elizabeth who would let me take so many liberties with her. I knew Elizabeth in ways the men who enjoyed her body never dreamt of. Of course they were freely able to use her hole which was something I could only in my wildest fantasies imagine being able to do some day. Elizabeth and Dot were loyal to me. That meant a lot. Once I was done with the plus sides of my life the negatives weighed down on me. I was cold, had to piss in the worst possible way. So bad that crossing my legs didn't help one iota. I'd gotten my girlfriend pregnant. I shocked even myself at my stupidity. But the worse part was, no matter how hard Elizabeth and I worked my debt grew each week. I couldn't see how. The only thing I could think to do was raise the price from a quarter to thirty cents. A nice round number. Three dimes, six nickels. I tried to think of anything but my present condition. What I came to realize was that if Dot ever found out about my arrangement with Clancy's (which had made perfect sense at the time but now I wasn't so sure). Three dollars was a lot of money, but then Elizabeth was probably visited by more than twelve men. My thoughts didn't save me that night. What saved me was Dad coming home, stumbling up the stairs and falling into Mom's bed. Dot got out just in the nick of time. As she was arranging the covers in my bed so they'd cover her, but not me, I told her I really, honestly and truly, cross my heart and everything, had to go. She ignored me at first but realized if I had an accident she'd be swimming in the same pool as me. She untied me; I used the bedpan and meekly resumed my position. She tied my hands and covered the both of us. She poked me with her elbow and said, "I know what I'm going to do. Ask Sally. She'll know." Dot was exactly right. "I'll play hooky in the morning, meet you and Elizabeth down by the river, by the bridge." "Thanks, Sis." "You'll still be punished, you know." I nodded. I knew. She turned over so her back was to me and was silent for a few minutes. "While I'm whipping you watch Elizabeth and see what she does." I already knew what Elizabeth did. She played with her pussy and looked at me so closely that it scared me. If I'd had my pants on, I'd think my zipper was down. * * * Elizabeth and I shared one class, art, with Miss Nichols. Once we began to go together, Elizabeth persuaded, in a way I can guess, the boy who sat next to me to move so she could have his seat. Miss Nichols raised an eyebrow but that's all. Miss Nichols dressed severely, all in black, tight collar, long tight skirt, corseted bodice that made her body look hard. Her sleeves were to the wrist, even in summer. She was in her twenties but dressed like women did almost thirty years earlier. In spite the way she dressed, art class was adventurous. Miss Nichols expected us to draw from life, a draped form of course, and Elizabeth was her favorite model. For some reason Miss Nichols never liked my drawings and took every opportunity to critique my portrayal of line and form. She often put up my drawings so the whole class could see what I'd done so woefully wrong. Miss Nichols constantly reminded me to pay particular attention to form, often pointing out a part of Elizabeth's body and describing it in terms that made me blush and the rest of the class titter. I wondered sometimes exactly how many in the class had never seen Elizabeth in her alltogethers. Miss Nichols when talking to the class often stood next to my seat, her hand on the chair back. Sometimes she actually brushed me with her clothing or with a finger and I had the most peculiar sensations. Until Elizabeth, I'd often worshipped Miss Nichols from a distance, and those moments of contact were electric to me. There was something about her tall, stately form and the way that she bore herself that made me want to both cower and call attention to myself. Once Elizabeth and I became lovers, most of my attention was focused on her and not on Miss Nichols, though I was constantly aware of Miss Nichols' presence anywhere in the room. During class I passed Elizabeth a note telling her of our meeting with Dot. Elizabeth passed the note back with loose change wrapped up in it. Miss Nichols took the note from my hand, still unopened, and I froze. She sat at her desk, opened the note, and arranged the coins in neat piles on the desk. "Mr. Johnston and Miss Hubner. I want to speak with you after class." She looked straight at me, laid the note on the desk and said to the class, "We'll draw until the end of the period. Who will model for us?" Elizabeth's hand always went up. "You, dear." Miss Nichols looked around the room. Her gaze stopped at me. "And you, Mr. Johnston." Elizabeth and I went to the front of the class. Miss Nichols rose to her feet, walked slowly around us, said to the class, "Is anyone able to suggest a tableau?" A voice in the back said, "Make them kiss." Miss Nichols smiled. "A capital idea." She took Elizabeth's shoulders and shifted her to the right. After a moment Miss Nichols had her in position and stood back. "Mr. Johnston, I want you to kneel at her feet, your posterior facing the class." I knelt. "Taker her ring and kiss it. The ring is new, Elizabeth, isn't it? Let me see it." "It won't come off, miss." Miss Nichols held out her hand, Elizabeth laid hers in it. Miss Nichols glanced at the finger, squeezed Elizabeth's hand and let go. "Surely, Mr. Johnston, you could afford something in better taste." I said from the floor, "Uh." "Speak up, Mr. Johnston." "That's all I could afford." "There's a dollar twenty-three on my desk, sir." "One twenty-three?" Where were the missing two pennies? "You know very well what I'm talking about, don't you?" I was damned if I did, damned if I didn't. "Uh." "Kiss the floor, Mr. Johnston. Miss Hubner, Elizabeth dear, put your foot on his head." I could hear classmates titter when Elizabeth's foot rested on the back of my head. "Hands behind your back, Mr. Johnston." This was a damned awkward position. The floor tasted like it hadn't been cleaned in decades. "Class," Miss Nichols said. "Our tableau here represents the natural state of man. Mr. Johnston will only rise if Elizabeth relents. I hope she thinks twice before doing so." Miss Nichols sat at her desk; I heard the chair scrape. "You have twenty-five minutes to capture this very moving representation. Use your highest facilities. Best drawing gets an A for the week. Mr. Johnston, you get an F." She paused. "F is for failure, falsity and how foolish you look at this moment. Elizabeth, you get a C for being common." By the end of the period Elizabeth's foot couldn't help but press firmly on my head. I was beginning to think I was coming down with a cold. Go on to read the next two chapters. The
Pullover Page
|
|