Storiesonline.net ------- Becky by Al Steiner Copyright© 1999 by Al Steiner ------- Description: Visiting his cousin at her father's farm. Codes: mf 1st inc cous ------- ------- It has come to my attention that the copy of Becky I posted here so long ago was missing the entire second half of the third chapter. I have written no more on this story, nor do I plan to any time soon, but here is the repost of the complete story, freshly edited and complete to the point I stopped writing it. Enjoy. ------- Chapter 1 The summer that I was fourteen my parents took an Alaskan cruise, the first vacation they'd had alone together since my brother Jeff was born four years before me. Jeff, now eighteen and in college presented no problems. He was left at our house in Seattle for the three weeks of my parent's departure (at least my parents thought this would present no problem. Have you ever seen the movie "Risky Business"? A similar drama was taking place at our suburban home during my parents' absence, but that, as they say, is another story). Mom and Dad however, were not about to leave me to my own devices while they were on the ship, nor would they allow my brother to watch me. The solution it was eventually decided (without my input I can tell you) was to send me to stay with my Uncle John and Aunt Mary who lived in the Northern California town of Wheaton. Wheaton is a rice farming community in California's Central Valley. It has a population of 1100. It's the kind of place where the main mode of transportation is a mud-splattered pick-up truck (American made of course) with a shotgun rack mounted behind the seat. It's the kind of place where the height of social activity is church on Sunday, getting drunk on Saturday, and going to meetings at the Grange hall on Wednesday. It's the town where my father grew up before he escaped into the Army and an assignment in Vietnam at eighteen. I once overheard Dad say that Vietnam had been an improvement. Uncle John owned a five-acre spread on the outskirts of this lovely community. Though he and his family grew vegetables and kept cows, they did no commercial farming with their land. Uncle John was Wheaton's Baptist minister. My last name is Benton as, obviously, is my father's and Uncle John's. In the town of Wheaton the name Benton is synonymous with the clergy. It was tradition for the first-born son of each generation to enter the ministry and eventually take over the First Baptist Church of Wheaton. My old man was the second born son of his generation. He once told me when he was drunk that he thanked the God that he didn't believe in anymore that he'd not been born first. As you can imagine, the pressure on the first-born was enormous. After leaving, or escaping, Wheaton and after being discharged from the Army, my father took up residence in Seattle, eventually finding his way to the Seattle Police Department where, at the time of this tale, he was a lieutenant in the patrol division. I hadn't been to Wheaton since I was ten. My father and Uncle John had had a minor falling-out that year on the subject of how he and my mother were raising my brother and I. Uncle John thought it was a crime that we weren't being sent to church and Sunday school to learn the word of the Lord. Dad advanced the opinion that forcing a child to attend church and especially Sunday school were a form of mind-control; forcing beliefs upon someone while they were still too young to decide upon a matter for themselves. As you can imagine, Uncle John hit the roof over this opinion. Some angry words were exchanged and we left a week early that year. For another year the two brothers did not communicate with each other in any way. Eventually however, things cooled down and they began to correspond with each other, though very carefully, once again. The yearly trips to Wheaton, however, did not resume and I thought I'd seen the last of the place. And then Mom and Dad had found themselves in need of a babysitter for three weeks and a phone call was placed to Uncle John. Uncle John said he would be glad to keep me. I protested of course. I don't think my parents quite understood the horror I was feeling at the thought of being sent there all by myself. Uncle John would make me go to church. I'd have to say grace. I'd have to listen to endless lectures on the subject of God and the bible without hope of my father's kind voice telling John that maybe the lad has heard enough of that for now. It would, in short, be in a kind of living hell. My protests were futile. I was told that I was going, period and that furthermore, I would be under Uncle John's rules and would do what he told me to without problems. I would attend church as required (he'd even bought me a suit), I would say grace when asked, without any smartass comments, and I would do whatever chores I was assigned around the farm. I was told it would be a great "learning experience". As it turned out, that's exactly what it was. My plane landed at Sacramento Airport on the First of August that year. I walked off the PSA 727 and into the jetway where I was greeted by Uncle John himself and his oldest daughter Rebecca, who was the same age as I. Uncle John looked pretty much the same as last time I'd seen him. He'd put on a few pounds and was a little grayer around the temples but that was about it. Rebecca, on the other hand, had changed considerably. The last time I'd seen her she'd been a tall, gangly, awkward girl with terminal shyness. Now she'd plumped up to the pleasing proportions of a farm-girl. Her hips were full, her breasts were healthy in size, pushing against the conservative button-up shirt that she wore. Her hair, which had been almost blonde four years before had darkened to a mousy-brown. It was pulled back in a ponytail. Her knee-length skirt revealed shapely legs peeking below. I found myself feeling a sexual stirring within me as I gazed upon her. I felt no shame about this. After all, I was fourteen years old. I felt sexual stirrings when I looked at boxes of soap. Uncle John greeted me, shaking my hand warmly and spiriting me off to the luggage carousel to collect my bags. Shortly after this we were in his Ford F-150 heading north. I sat in the front seat and Rebecca sat in the back. I remember feeling slightly guilty that Rebecca had been banished to the uncomfortable back of her own family truck. Uncle John, I would come to realize, made a firm distinction between those of the male and those of the female sex. Rebecca said little on the trip back, as did I. The conversation on the ninety minute trip was dominated by my Uncle who repeatedly told me how great of a time I was going to have staying with a Godly family and how much I was going to learn. I braced myself for an unpleasant three weeks. For the most part things went just the way I'd predicted they would. I was forced to go to church each Sunday and listen to my Uncle deliver the word of the Lord. I was forced to say grace each night and afternoon at dinner and lunch. I was made to say evening prayers before bedtime. I was subjected to endless lectures on God and the bible and the heathen life I was being exposed to in the "evil city". I did chores each morning until my hands bled, my muscles cramped, and my back ached. But there was one bright spot in all of this: Rebecca. For the first three days she didn't talk too much to me. She seemed to be watching me, trying to figure me out. When she wasn't doing this, she was reading something. A voracious reader was Rebecca, as was I. I'd happened to glance into her room once and saw that, like mine, every spare square inch of storage space was taken up by books of all shapes, sizes, and subjects. It began to occur to me that Rebecca and I had a little in common. I found myself wishing she would warm up to me a little, if only just to give me someone my own age to talk to. On my fourth day I got my wish. After chores and lunch Rebecca asked her father's permission to go ride her horse. He gave it absently, which was his manner with her and then she asked if I might like to go along on David's horse. David was her older brother who was currently off at some school somewhere learning, surprise surprise, how to be a minister. John seemed to think about this for a moment, much longer than he'd considered Rebecca's request, and then said he thought that would be fine if it was okay with me. I quickly agreed, even though I'd never been on a horse by myself before in my life. I was desperate to escape from my prison for a little while. Once out of her father's jurisdiction, Rebecca became an entirely different person. She took me out to the barn and pulled out two horses. While teaching me how to saddle, the first thing she said to me was, "Please, call me Becky. I like that name a lot better. Just don't use it in front of Mom or Dad." "Okay," I'd replied and she smiled, the first smile I'd seen her offer. She gave me the basic course on horsemanship, her manner chatty and relaxed now, and we shortly took off on our ride. She led me off of their property, through the neighbor's property to a horse trail of sorts along the Feather River. As we rode we talked of inconsequential things, warming quickly up to each other. She asked me what it was like to live in Seattle. She'd never been to a large city before. I told her about my mundane life there and she seemed fascinated. We then talked of books that we'd both read and this took up the bulk of our conversation. We'd hit upon what were both of our interests. In that first two-hour ride we became friends, smiling, giggling, comfortable companions with each other. After the first one, our after-chore rides together became a routine. We stayed out longer each time and talked more comfortably to each other as the days went by. On, I believe it was the sixth of our rides, while we stopped the horses beside a small stream to let them rest and we ourselves sat against an oak tree, she revealed one of her secrets to me. She had her back-pack with her and she was fidgeting with it nervously, as if full of indecision. Finally, she said, "Kevin, can I show you something?" "Sure." I shrugged. "What do you got?" She gave me a weak smile and then hesitantly reached into her backpack. She pulled out a plastic baggie and unrolled it. It was full of a green, leafy substance. I'd seen marijuana before of course. One did not go to school in Seattle without seeing it from time to time. I was shocked however both by seeing the drug in Becky's possession and by seeing the amount that she had. Her bag contained at least an ounce. "Where did you get that?" I asked, open-mouthed. Becky smiled. "I grew it." "You grew it?" "Yep," she told me, pride evident in her voice. "It's amazing what you can learn how to do with books from the Wheaton library." She chuckled. "It's a good thing Dad doesn't know that book is there. He'd have a shit-fit and make them burn it." "I guess," I said, using an expression I'd picked up in my time in Wheaton. "I have a couple of plants in the back corner of our field, behind the corn where Dad or Mom never go. I learned how to cultivate it and take care of it real well." She winked. "It's some killer shit." "Jesus Becky," I said, uttering a swear that would have earned me a stern, half-hour lecture from Uncle John had he heard it. "You ever smoke it before?" she asked. "No," I told her honestly. My father had given me lectures on the dangers of marijuana, punctuating them with horror stories of his exposure to it at work. "You wanna try some?" she asked next. "I don't think so," I answered. "I heard it'll get you addicted, or turn you into a heroin addict." Becky scoffed at this. "That's just what they want you to think. I've been smoking it for almost a year now and I'm not an addict. And I don't take heroin either. Or even think about taking heroin. All it does is gets you high. Makes you feel good all over. Let's you think. C'mon, give it a shot, you'll like it. If you don't, you never have to do it again." I considered for a minute and then finally decided. What the hell? "Okay," I told her. "Maybe I'll try a little bit." "Bitchin," she said, reaching into her bag again and pulling out a can of Pepsi. She opened the can and then poured its contents out onto the ground, making a fizzing brown puddle. She then began twisting the popping tab in her hands, trying to remove it. "What are you doing?" I asked her, puzzled. "Making a bong," she explained. "Something to smoke it out of. A soda can is the best thing. It smokes good and is disposed of easily." "Oh," I said, not getting her at all. She dented the side of the can about an inch and then reached into her pocket and pulled out a folding knife (in Wheaton, everyone carried a folding knife). She used the knife to poke a series of small holes where she'd dented the can. She then made a larger hole near the base of the can. She held up her creation for my perusal. "You see?" She smiled. "Kind of," I told her. She opened up the baggie and withdrew a healthy pinch, which she placed in the dented portion of the can. Keeping the pile of pot carefully upright, she reached in her pocket again and pulled out a disposable lighter. "Now watch," she told me. She flicked her bic and applied the flame to the pile of pot, putting the hole in the can where a person would normally drink to her lips. She began to suck, the pile of pot flaring to life to my fascination. She drew deeply and then removed her thumb from the hole on the side and continued for a moment. "Mmmm." She smiled through pursed lips. After a moment she exhaled a plume of smoke. "Now it's your turn," she said, reaching into the bag again. She instructed me through my first hit, which caused me to cough violently. By the third hit, however, I had gotten the hang of it. I think we took a total of six apiece before she crumped up the can and tossed it and stowed her baggie back in her backpack. "When will I be high?" I asked her innocently. She smiled knowingly. "You probably already are," she answered, "and you just don't know it yet." While I puzzled over this cryptic statement I started staring at the horses. They were placidly drinking water out of the slow-moving stream. I watched their fat, long tongues lap at the liquid and began to marvel at this. They were drinking stream water. Becky had told me on our first ride that I should never drink the water out of the streams. It had germs and organisms in it that would make me violently ill ("you'll shit your asshole out", is how she'd put it). So why was it that the horses could drink with impunity from the same stream? Did they possess some sort of super-immune system that mere humans weren't capable of? And look at the size of them. They were at least ten times my weight, yet they let me ride unprotestingly upon their backs. Why? If they wanted to, they could toss me off in an instant and stomp me to death. How was it that this animal had evolved to allow a human being to ride upon it? And then there was the stream they were drinking out of. What was its origin? It probably, I figured dreamily, came out of the mountains and fed into the Feather River which fed into the Sacramento River which fed into San Francisco Bay which fed into the Pacific Ocean. The water would then drift out to sea, be evaporated into a giant cloud which would then drift over California and rain the water down upon the mountains to be, eventually, put back into this same stream. "Whoa," I whispered, in awe of the thoughts I was having. Things I'd never considered before were suddenly making perfect sense in my mind. I followed this trail of thoughts into the subject of geology. After a period of intense speculation, I figured out why the center of the Earth was molten. It had to do with the incredible pressure from above mixed with original heat from when the Earth was first formed. You add in the miniscule amount of heat transference as a result of... The sound of giggling interrupted me just as I was about to come to an exciting thesis in my mind. I looked over at the sound and saw Becky staring at me in amusement, holding her hand over her mouth. "You're stoned, aren't you?" she asked. I stared at her for a moment, realizing that she was right, and started giggling too. She hadn't been kidding, it was a very pleasant sensation. "Yep," I finally answered. "I do seem to be stoned." We broke up for nearly a minute before returning to a normal, such as it was, conversation. "So my father," Becky said, "has been feeding you all of his bullshit about God and the bible." I nodded. That was definitely not a deniable point. "Yep," I answered. She smiled cynically. "You buy all of that shit?" "Well..." I started, not wanting to talk ill of her father in front of her. "It's okay," she said. "Believe me, you're not gonna offend me. I think all of that God shit and organized religion shit is just a bunch of mindless crap." I stared at her, flabbergasted, amazed that she would talk such a way about the beliefs her parents held sacred. "Sometimes I wonder," she continued, "if my father even believes all of that shit. I mean really. All of mankind evolved from Adam and Eve four thousand years ago? All of humanity wiped out in a great flood except for Noah's family? And that Ten Commandments crap." She spit contemptuously into the dirt. "That's nothing but a load of horseshit, obviously put in there as a form of mass behavioral control." "Wow," I said, unable to think of anything else to say. For a fourteen-year-old, Becky was very articulate, though crudely so. If the church knew that one could form such opinions as hers by mere reading, they would have banned books a long time ago. "So do you believe any of that shit?" She asked. I looked at her, noticing that she was really sort of pretty. Her face was plain but was unmarked by pimples as so many faces of her age bracket were. She had thick glasses perched on her nose but the eyes behind them were a shade of deep blue, the color of the ocean. The skin of her neck looked soft and I wondered what it would be like to kiss it. How would it feel against my lips? Against my tongue? My eyes dropped to her breasts, which were bulging from beneath her T-shirt. They were pleasantly plump and they jiggled as she rode her horse. I'd heard of girls getting turned on and even coming from horseback riding. Had Becky ever experienced such a thing? Had she ever... "Hello?" she said, interrupting my lecherous train of thoughts. "Huh?" I said dumbly, staring at her. She giggled. "I said, do you believe any of the shit my father spouts?" "No," I answered truthfully. "I don't. It doesn't make any sense." She smiled. "You think just like I do," she told me. "C'mon. Let's go ride for awhile. We gotta stay out until this shit wears off." After that day a new routine was established. We would finish our chores as quickly as possible and then saddle up the horses for a ride. Once we were beyond the sightline of the farmhouse, we would dismount and break out the Pepsi can. We would then ride to some secluded spot, usually the streambed, and talk. Our conversations were fascinating, the sort I'd never experienced with anyone else. We talked of God, of religion, of UFO's, of the government, of nacho cheese chips. It didn't matter, we sat and bullshitted by the streambed about anything and everything like the best of drinking buddies. I'd never met anyone in my life as easy to converse with as Becky. One evening, in my second week there, just as we were finishing up the dinner dishes, the telephone rang. Aunt Mary answered it, listened for a moment and then handed the phone to Uncle John. He listened, nodding and offering some consoling words to whoever was on the other end. He said that they would be right over and hung up. "What is it John?" Mary enquired, her eyebrows spiking up excitedly. She was a voracious gossip and delighted in each tidbit that her husband, by virtue of his profession, was able to provide her with about their fellow townspeople. "It was Mrs. Wilson," he said sadly, shaking his head. "She just got a telegram from the government." "Yeah?" Mary prodded eagerly. "Her boy was just killed over there in Beirut. Apparently some Palestinian machine-gunned the bus he and his squad were riding in. Three of them were killed. Tommy was one of them." "My goodness!" Mary exclaimed, feigning shock. "That poor woman." "She wants us to come over and help her through this," John said. "I told her we'd be right there." "Of course," Mary replied. "Let me fix my hair real quick." "Don't worry about your hair woman," John commanded. "Mrs. Wilson doesn't care what you look like. Let's go." She seemed about to say something to him but thought better of it. Instead, she turned to Becky and I. "Rebecca, Kevin, you two finish up this kitchen and then clean the rest of the house. Don't forget to feed the dogs." "Yes Mom," Becky muttered, handing me a dish to dry. "And get yourselves to bed at a decent hour," John added. "Okay Dad," Becky said and then she cast a mischievous wink at me, a wink that silently said to me, "watch this", before turning to her father. "Dad, why did that man shoot Mrs. Wilson's son?" "Because he's a pagan," Uncle John answered immediately. "An infidel who is blind to God's path and who is bent on destroying our way of life. He'll be judged harshly come the rapture." "Oh," Becky, who seemed to be suppressing a smile, answered. In a flash, they were out the door. As I dried the last dish I heard the sound of the F-150 firing up and then pulling away. "Can you believe that crap?" Becky scoffed once they'd gone. "Bent on destroying our way of life. Jesus. It's just a bunch of mindless people fighting a mindless war over some worthless piece of dirt. Doing the same thing the human race has always done." She smiled at me, her demeanor instantly changing to cheeriness. "Let's go get stoned." I looked at her, my mouth gaping. "You mean now? What if they come back?" "They'll be gone for hours," she assured me. "They always are when they're comforting someone whose family member has bitten it." "But won't they smell it?" I asked. "You know, when they get back?" "We'll do it in the barn," she told me. "C'mon, it'll be different." I shrugged, convinced. "Okay." Becky retrieved a can of Pepsi out of the fridge and dumped it down the sink. Twenty minutes later we were quite lit. We sat next to each other on the couch, a baseball game playing on the television before us. I couldn't have said who was playing but I was concentrating intently upon the screen. I'd spied a Marlboro advertisement near the scoreboard and was in the middle of intense speculation about the nature of indirect advertising practices. "Hey Kevin," Becky interrupted me. "You want to see something really cool?" I looked at her, noting a queer sparkle in her blue eyes. I shrugged. "Sure." "I'll be right back," she said. She trotted up stairs and I went back to my perusal of the game, this time thinking about the baseballs and how many of them were lost to foul balls each year. Becky returned, carrying something in her hands. She sat down next to me, closer than she'd been before, and slapped a small hardcover book down on the coffee table in front of us. I looked at it, my face immediately flushing. THE JOY OF SEX was the title. "Where'd you get that?" I asked. "The library?" "Are you kidding?" she laughed. "They have a copy of it but I'd never be so dumb as to check it out. That old bitch librarian would be on the phone to Dad before I could even make it to my bike. My friend Mary Beth gave it to me a couple of months ago. She found it in her parent's room. You ever seen anything like this?" I was embarrassed. "No," I told her. "Not really. I've seen, you know, Playboys before but never an instruction book." Becky laughed. "An instruction book. I like that." She flipped open the cover. "Here, check out some of these pictures." Though I was embarrassed to be looking at an adult book with a female, my curiosity got the better of me. The pictures in the book were unlike anything I'd seen before. Playboys had photographs of naked women. This book had drawings of men and women participating in a variety of sexual practices and positions, some of which I'd never considered before even in my endlessly horny imagination. I felt myself, to my horror, starting to get a hard-on as we looked at them. Would Becky see it? What would she do if she did? I averted my gaze, keeping my face towards the book but not looking at the pictures, willing my erection to subside. Becky giggled. "You ever do this?" she asked. I looked and saw that she was pointing to a picture of a naked man masturbating. I nearly choked. "No!" I shouted. "Never! I ain't no fag!" "What does being a fag have to do with it?" she asked. "Why would jacking yourself off make you a homosexual?" This stopped me. I had no counter-argument. "Well, I just don't do that," I assured her. "It's gross." It goes without saying of course that I was lying. I was fourteen years old. If I didn't get to whip off at least once a day I had withdrawal symptoms. But, like any adolescent, I had the screaming horrors of anyone knowing that I did this. I wouldn't have admitted it under torture. "Girls do it too you know," she said next. "What?" I asked in disbelief. This was certainly news to me. I figured she was teasing me. "Yep," she said, smiling. "Look." She flipped a few pages and lo and behold, there was a drawing of a naked woman lying on her back rubbing her pussy. There was even a close up view of what should be rubbed. "Everyone does it," she told me. "And despite what Dad says, it's not a sin. It's a natural thing to do." "Do you do it?" I blurted, my intention being to embarrass her the way she'd embarrassed me. But this backfired. "Yep," she told me matter-of-factly. "All the time. It's better than the pot." My mouth dropped open at this admission and my dick lurched in my pants as I envisioned Becky laying on her bed naked and rubbing herself the way the woman in the book did. "Of course the best thing," she continued, looking at my blushing face, "is to do it after you've smoked pot. Being high really intensifies the orgasm." "Have you ever, you know..." I stammered, desperate to change the subject from masturbation, "had sex?" "Not with a guy," she told me, making my mouth drop again. I couldn't help but conclude that since she hadn't had sex with a guy, that left only one gender in the human race. "You mean..." I couldn't finish. She giggled, blushing. "I can't believe I'm telling you this," she said. "But you won't tell anyone, will you?" I shook my head, speechless. "When Mary Ann showed me this book we decided to try masturbation together. We did it for a while and then pretty soon she put her hand on my pussy and started rubbing it for me. It kind of freaked me out at first, she was a girl after all, but then it started to feel good, better than doing it myself. And then..." She paused, as if unsure how to go on. "Well, you see, I think Mary Ann might be a lesbian. I'd always kind of suspected it but, you know. Anyway, after she rubbed me for awhile and got me really crazy she put her face between my legs and started licking me. I kept telling myself that it was sick, letting a girl do that to me, but I couldn't make myself tell her to stop. It felt so good, what she was doing. After a while, I came but she didn't stop, she kept on going until I came three times on her mouth." Listening to her story had made my dick as hard as diamond. The thought of Becky's girlfriend eating her pussy and making her come had come close to making me come, without even the stimulation of touch. "Are you a lesbian?" I asked her. "I don't think so," she said doubtfully. "I mean, I liked what me and Mary Ann did and all. It was nice. But when I fantasize about sex I think about guys and dicks, not women and pussies. And I couldn't bring myself to lick her in return, although I rubbed her with my hand until she came. And I couldn't kiss her or suck her boobs or anything like that." "Wow," I said, unable to think of anything else for a moment. I shifted uncomfortably on the couch, trying to adjust my straining penis, which had actually become painful. "But I also didn't stop letting her do that to me," Becky said. "We've done it about six times since then. I still haven't done it for her, I just rub her off after she does me, but I still like it." She thought for a moment. "It's nice." An awkward silence developed as I envisioned what I'd been told. "How about you?" Becky asked. "Have you ever had sex? Now back in Seattle when someone asked me that I would tell them that I'd had plenty of sex, that I'd bagged girls left and right with my twelve-incher, making them beg me for more. And of course I was lying. I found myself unable to embellish my sexual history to Becky after what she'd just shared with me. "No," I told her. "Not really. The daughter of one of my mother's friends let me kiss her and feel her, you know, her boobs one time, but I haven't done anything further than that. She's the only one I've ever even kissed." "Did you like it?" Becky asked, her eyes shining. "A lot," I told her. "Even though I kind of got the impression that she, well, that she'd done stuff like that a few times before." "How come you didn't fuck her?" Becky had a knack for shocking me with her bluntness. "Well, uh, there wasn't really time or a place to do it." And I had also been too scared and inexperienced to further the encounter, I didn't tell her. In retrospect I probably could have laid my mother's friend's daughter that night but when she'd playfully and not very seriously said that we shouldn't be doing these things, I'd readily agreed and called a halt to the encounter. It was something I'd regretted ever since. "Tell me about it," Becky said, her eyes shining. "And don't leave anything out." "Okay," I muttered, and then began to describe it. It didn't take long. "Did she have nice boobs?" Becky asked when I was finished. I shrugged. "They were okay I guess." In truth they were kind of small and the girl herself had been more than a little chunky. Her face had been dull and stupid looking and she had chewed a large wad of queasy smelling bubble gum throughout the entire encounter. But when you're thirteen and someone offers you what she was offering, you don't let such nuances as unattractiveness or unpleasant aesthetics get in the way. "Were they nicer than mine?" she asked softly. I blushed, hearing myself say, "well, I've never seen yours before." Now it was Becky that was blushing. I mentally kicked myself, my mind screaming that I shouldn't have said that, that Becky would never talk to me again. But I was wrong. "Do you want to see them?" she asked, her face red as a tomato now. "Well..." I hesitated. I desperately wanted to see them, I'd fantasized about them from my first day in Wheaton. But the pot and my own inexperience made me unsure of myself. It seemed a trick question. "C'mon," she said, offering me a nervous smile. "You either want to see them or you don't." "Okay," I finally croaked. She widened her smile, reaching down to the hem of her T-shirt. She pulled it up and over her head, tossing it to the floor and revealing her chest and white bra to me. Her chest was pale, dotted with goose bumps. Without hesitating, she reached behind her back and undid the snap that held her bra together. She pulled it off and tossed it down with her shirt, allowing her breasts to bounce free. They were beautiful. Very pale, nicely proportioned teenaged tits. Firm and unsagging as they undoubtedly would do later in her life. The nipples were larger than I'd expected but they were erect, as was my dick. "Well?" she said nervously, pushing her shoulders back and displaying them. "What do you think?" My mouth had gone dry, and not just because of the marijuana we'd smoked. "They're uh... they're uh... they're very... very nice," I offered. "Better than hers?" she asked. I nodded. "Much," I assured her. She beamed. "Thank you. I always thought that maybe they were too, you know, flabby or something." "No." I shook my head. "You have, uh, nice ones Becky. Very nice." She stared at me for a moment. "Would you like to touch them?" I nodded, speechless and she moved closer to me. I reached out my hands, palms outward, and pressed them to her tits. They were unbelievably soft, firm yet yielding. I felt her hard nipples pushing into each of my palms as I squeezed gently (perhaps the one thing I'd learned from my previous sexual encounter had been that girls do not like having their tits squeezed roughly). Becky hummed pleasantly through her lips as I did this. "That feels good," she told me. "It's different when a boy does it. It feels more..." She thought for a second while I continued to caress. "More right." "Right," I agreed, lost in the feel of her flesh. She leaned back into the couch, putting her hands over mine while she did so to keep me from losing contact. I felt her for another minute or so and then I could restrain myself no longer. I leaned forward and took her right nipple into my mouth. "Ohhh," she said, surprised, but unprotesting as I began to suckle. Her nipple was firm, warm, covered with ridges and bumps that I could feel with my tongue as I licked and sucked it. Her hand came up to the back of my head and rested there, her fingers twirling through my hair. "That feels so good Kevin," she moaned. "Do the other one." I switched my mouth to the left nipple, which necessitated moving my body further atop her. My crotch was now pushing against her right knee, creating a pleasant pressure. "Kevin?" she asked, in awe. "Do you have a hard-on?" I pulled my face from her breast and looked into her eyes. They were shining and lustful, fascinated. Embarrassed, but quite lustful myself now, I nodded. "Can I see it?" she asked, almost desperately. "Please? I've never seen a hard one before, I've only seen my brother's when he came out of the shower." "Well..." I started, now unsure of myself. I'd never shown my dick to anyone before. What if it was too small? What if she laughed at it? "Oh please?" she pleaded. "Just let me look at it? I showed you my tits." "Okay," I said, sitting upright again and then standing. She licked her lips eagerly as I reached for the button on my shorts. I imagine beginning skydivers feel much the same sensation as they leap from the airplane for the first time as I did when I opened my button, unzipped my fly, and pushed my shorts and underwear down to my knees, allowing my five-inch cock to spring free into the air. My embarrassment and nervousness were almost overwhelming. I was allowing a girl to see my most private body part. "Wow," Becky muttered, her eyes drinking in the sight of my dick. "It's so big." "It is?" I couldn't stop myself from saying. It was a word I never would have used in honesty in relation to my penis, a word I still wouldn't use today. But I guess to Becky, who'd never seen one before, it probably looked enormous. "Yesss," she hissed. "It's beautiful. It's so hard. Can I touch it?" Inexperienced or not, I wasn't dumb. "Sure," I told her, thrusting my hips forward. She reached out her hand, hesitated for a moment while inches away, and then grasped me around the head. Her hand was rough, toughened by years of farm chores, but it felt wonderful. Someone other than me was actually touching my dick! My pelvis thrusted involuntarily towards her. She began to move her hand up and down, creating a delicious friction. "Ohhh," I moaned softly. "Am I doing it right?" she asked. Speechless, I simply nodded. "If I keep doing this, will you squirt?" she asked next, her mouth agape. "Uh huh," I managed to mutter. "I wanna see it," she breathed. "I wanna see you come. How far will it squirt?" "Uhhh," I cried, my knees weakening, my mouth unable to form words. My time at the farm had put a definite kink in my usual schedule of jack-offs (Uncle John insisted our doors be open when we slept). I hadn't come in nearly three days at that point, an eternity, and I was already feeling the tingle of inevitable orgasm straining up my spine. "Becky I'm gonna..." I panted uncontrollably. "Oh God, Becky, I'm gonna..." "You're gonna come?" she asked excitedly. "Right now?" I nodded, closing my eyes in rapture. I wanted to warn her that it was bound to be messy, that it would probably, in fact, soak her, but I couldn't. My mouth wouldn't form the words. My pelvis started thrusting as it never had before. I put my hand on the arm of the couch to support myself. Becky, visibly excited, moved her face closer to my crotch to see what was going to happen. I knew I should warn her to at least move her face but I was beyond that. My knees buckled as orgasm approached and only my supporting hand kept me from falling. "Uhhhhhhh!" I whined, my voice high-pitched as the most intense orgasm of my life slammed through my body, starting in my crotch and quickly enveloping my entire body. My dick began to shoot gobs of sperm through the air. The first shot struck Becky directly on her nose, hitting with enough force to bounce off and land on her left tit. Her eyes widened in surprise. I have to give her credit however. Even through her shock, her hand instinctively kept jacking on my pulsating cock. The second burst hit her on her upper lip, remaining there. She was too flabbergasted to even move. Further bursts moved their way south, hitting her chin, her neck, and then her tits. Finally, the spurts dribbled to a halt, the last two falling harmlessly to the carpet at my feet. When I was finally spent, her hand dropped away and she looked at herself. I looked too, feeling incredibly guilty and ashamed at what I'd done. She was absolutely dripping with my sperm. It was smeared on her face, her neck, her chest. Her hand was saturated with it. She held her hand before her face and looked at it wonderingly. She then touched her lip with her clean hand, gathering up the sperm on her finger and staring at it also. Finally catching my breath and able to regain my balance without assistance of the couch, I began apologizing. "Becky," I told her quickly. "I'm sorry. God I'm so sorry. I didn't mean..." "Holy shit!" she interrupted, touching a glob that was running down her tit. "I never thought anything like that would happen. I thought it just dribbled out." "No." I shook my head. "It doesn't. It..." "Did you see that shit fly through the air? Holy Christ!" She seemed fascinated. "Does it always do that?" "Well," I said, confused. She didn't seem to be pissed off at all. "Yes. It does come out with, uh, with force." "Fuckin' aye." She smiled. "That was bitchin'. I did that to you?" I nodded. "Yeah." "How much comes out?" she asked. "Jesus, it's everywhere. That was bitchin'," she repeated. "Did I do it right? Did it feel good?" "It felt very good," I assured her. "Wow," she said, fingering some of the sperm on her neck. "This blows Mary Ann and her tongue right the hell away." She considered. "It's a little messier though." This struck me as funny for reasons I still don't understand. I started giggling. When Becky joined me I started laughing. We laughed for nearly five minutes in a fit of hysteria, Becky with sperm drying on her beautiful skin, me with my wilted dick flapping in the breeze. We stopped only when the telephone rang. Becky quickly composed herself and walked over, her tits bouncing saucily, giving me the beginnings of another hard-on. She picked up the phone and said hello. Her face soured. "Oh, Hi Daddy," she said into it. She listened for a moment and then her face soured more. "You are?" she said. "She is?" Another pause. "They are?" Another pause. "You will? Okay. Goodbye." She slammed the phone down and made a dash for her clothes. "Shit!" she yelled, near panic. "What?" I asked her, alarmed myself. "Dad's on his way home right fucking now! Mom is staying the night with the Wilson chick. Jesus, we gotta clean this place up." I didn't know how close the Wilsons lived to the farmhouse, but I knew enough about Wheaton to savvy that no matter where they lived it was not possible to be more than a ten-minute drive. "Oh shit," I said. Becky quickly took charge. "Go feed the dogs and pick up the living room as fast as you can," she told me. "I'm gonna go take a shower real quick and get in my pajamas. When you're done, sit in front of the TV like nothing's happening. For God's sake, know what's going on on the TV! He'll ask, the prick. If he gets here before I'm done, tell him we just finished chores and that I wasn't feeling well so I decided to take a shower and maybe go to bed early. My symptoms are body aches and a little cough. Repeat that!" she ordered. I gaped at her, but repeated what she'd said. She nodded her approval. "Good," she said, dashing towards the stairs. "Better get to it. When he talks to you, look him in the eye. Don't look around the room or he'll know something is up. Whatever you do, be calm, be cool, don't panic and don't change our story." When Uncle John walked in the house eight minutes later he found me sitting on the couch watching the baseball game placidly. I was extremely nervous. This was my first encounter with trying to pretend I was not stoned in front of someone. It felt to me like I had the word "marijuana" printed in red neon upon my forehead. "Hi Kevin," he said, tossing his keys onto the television. "Horrible business. Sometimes this is the most unpleasant job." He looked around the living room. "Where's Rebecca?" "Oh," I said, my words sounding incredibly thick and insincere to my ears, "she wasn't feeling too well and decided to take a shower to see if that would help." He raised his eyebrows enquiringly. "Really?" he asked. "What was wrong with her?" "She said her muscles ached and she was coughing," I told him, forcing myself to meet his eyes, which were probing into mine. "I see," he finally said. "Did she take some aspirin?" This was not part of the story! What should I do? I remembered Becky's words and didn't panic. "I'm not sure," I said. He shrugged. "Well, she's got sense. She probably did." He glanced at the TV. "Giants and Padres?" he asked. I nodded. "Yep." "Who's winning?" "It's a blowout," I told him. "Eight to three Giants in the seventh. I was just about to give up on it." He smiled. "Yes," he said, and then uttered the closest thing to a blasphemy that he was capable of. "I don't imagine even God could help the Padres now." I laughed as if this was the funniest thing I'd ever heard and shortly afterward, he left the room, heading upstairs. Faintly, I heard him talking to Becky for a moment. A few minutes later he came back down. He sat down on the couch next to me and it wasn't five minutes before one of his lectures began. This one had to do with those un-Godly Eastern religions. ------- Chapter 2 The day after she'd jacked me off to orgasm, I didn't have a chance to be alone with her until well after lunch. We had our morning chores to do and our mandatory bible study period, all performed with the oversight of Uncle John, who sat at his desk for the most part, preparing his sermon for the following Sunday. I was nervous, ashamed, uncertain, a variety of emotions assaulting me throughout the morning. I could not get a read on how Becky felt about what had happened between us. Her demeanor around the house, in the presence of her parents, was cool and emotionless, as it always was. Did she hate me? Would she never talk to me again? Finally, after the last lunch dish was put away and after the kitchen table was wiped and after the kitchen floor was swept and mopped, she turned to me, offering a slight smile. "You ready to go for our ride?" she asked. I looked at her face, which was still devoid of emotion. Becky would make a good poker player. "Sure," I answered. "Let me go get my hat." California's Central Valley is a miserable place to be in August. During my three-week stay in Wheaton, the lowest daytime high temperature we experienced was 94 degrees. That was a particularly cool day. The average was closer to 98 and there had been two days where the mercury had peaked at 104. I was from Seattle where the hottest summer day rarely got much above 80 degrees and though I'd been to Wheaton before it had always been around Christmas when the weather was pretty much the same as Seattle's. I had never experienced oppressive heat like that before. It sapped the strength right out of you, leaving you drained and headachy. Becky had found it necessary to teach me basic heat precautions when we began having our daily rides; knowledge that the valley residents apparently were taught from birth. I had been completely unaware that this sort of heat could make you very sick or even kill you if you weren't careful. She taught me to always wear light colored clothes; shorts and white T-shirts were the best. She taught me to always wear a hat while exposed to the sun, explaining that it's glare on my unprotected skull could fry my brains. She taught me to always take water or Gatorade along and to drink it frequently, before thirst established itself. And, most important of all, she taught me to always wear some sort of sunscreen when I went outside in the sun for more than forty minutes after 11:00 in the morning. She'd punctuated this last instruction with a horror story of the time, when she was twelve, that she'd neglected to do this and had received a second degree sunburn on her shoulders and neck which had blistered and eventually resulted in an overnight stay at Wheaton Memorial Hospital for rehydration and pain control. But Becky, being Becky, was able to find a bright spot even in that. "They gave me some Demerol in my IV," she told me, nostalgia in her eyes. "Talk about a killer high." Our normal routine was to apply the sunblock to our bodies in the kitchen, covering all exposed areas of skin before we went out to saddle the horses. Today, however, when I opened the pantry to get the family size bottle of sunblock that usually sat there, it was gone. I turned to Becky, who was behind me, to see if she'd already retrieved it. She had her backpack in her hands but no bottle of sunblock. I opened my mouth to ask her where it was and she held her finger to her lips, hushing me. "We're going out for our ride now Daddy," Becky called towards the living room where Uncle John was still copying passages out of his large, leather-bound bible. "Okay," he said absently. "Have fun. Did you two put on your sunscreen?" "Yes Daddy," she lied, causing me to raise my eyebrows. What the hell was she doing? Did she want to get me sunburned so I could experience the killer high of Demerol also? It seemed a high price to pay. I gave her a questioning look but she just nodded towards the door that led outside. She opened it and stepped out into the afternoon heat. I followed her, closing the door behind me. As we walked towards the barn I asked her why we hadn't put our sunblock on. She glanced over her shoulder nervously, her eyes probing the windows of the house. "Because," she told me, "I thought it might be kind of fun to, you know, put it on each other." She smiled a little. "Just to make sure we don't miss any spots." Apparently she wasn't mad about what had happened the previous night. It sounded like she wanted to do more. My dick began hardening already at her words. "Good idea," I told her, deadpan. "We wouldn't want to miss any spots now, would we?" As we saddled up the two horses, she asked me, "Kevin, you're not, uh, mad or anything about what we did last night, are you?" I looked at her, a sexy fourteen year old dressed in cotton shorts and a Central Valley Bible Camp T-shirt. Her breasts swelled the shirt nicely, stretching the blue letters and curving the fish emblem. I could see that her nipples were hard, visible through her bra and the shirt. I remembered what those breasts had looked like, had felt like last night and I felt dizzy all over with anticipation of seeing/feeling them again. "No." I shook my head. "I liked it Becky. I liked it a lot. I was wondering if you were mad at me." She smiled. "No," she told me. "I'd never been so turned on in my life as I was last night. Not even with Mary Ann." She dropped her voice a little. "I played with myself last night after I went to bed. I thought about what we did and rubbed myself off and I came so hard, I almost screamed." "Oh God," I moaned, feeling myself pulsating in my pants. I'd never known before that mere words could almost make you shoot in your pants. She fastened the last hitch on her saddle and then came over to help me; I would never be as fast as she would in many ways. "Let's do it," she told me when David's horse was saddled. "Right," I replied, leading the mare out of the barn. We climbed aboard and lit off towards the stream and privacy. Uncle John was standing on the porch as we trotted off. He raised his hand towards us. We raised ours in return, not slowing. The ride to the stream took about twenty minutes. We talked little on the way, each lost in our own thoughts. Our clearing, as I'd come to think of it, consisted of a slow-moving portion of the stream surrounded by towering oak and willow trees. It was nicely shaded, meaning the temperature stayed in the low nineties, and the water was warm and deep enough to swim in. We had never done any swimming though, Uncle John would no more have let us go off by ourselves with bathing suits than he would have let us fire up the Pepsi can bong in church. The ground at the streambed was soft dirt with patches of wild grass here and there. We dismounted the horses and allowed them to walk to the stream to rehydrate themselves. Becky reached in her saddlebag and withdrew a blanket, which she tossed onto the ground by one of the oak trees. I licked my lips nervously as she did this. She'd never brought a blanket before. I wondered just how far things might lead today; something I'd not considered before. Vaguely I realized that she was my cousin and that we should not be doing things sexual to each other, that it was wrong, but these thoughts had no force behind them. The reality and availability of Becky drove them far into the back of my mind. She was a willing female and I was a horny teenager. The big head was shot down by the little one without even a token battle. She sat down on the blanket and patted the ground next to her, smiling. I'd always sat next to her before without so much as a second thought but this time it felt as if I was crossing over some invisible line, that a conscious decision was required. I hesitated for a second and then sat next to her. She opened her backpack and withdrew a can of Pepsi and the baggie. "First things first," she said, popping open the can and then upending it on the ground next to her. We smoked a little more than we usually did, passing the can back and forth and making mundane conversation, much of which I can not even remember now. Finally, when we were both well into the stratosphere, she crumpled up the can and tossed it into a thick bramble of bushes. She stowed her pot back in her pack and removed the bottle of sun block. Her eyes were twinkling. "Would you mind putting the lotion on me now?" she asked softly. I shook my head, my mouth too dry to speak, and took the offered bottle of lotion. She spun around on the blanket, so her back was facing me, and lifted the hair off of the back of her neck. "Better start here," she said. I squeezed a few dabs of the greasy liquid into my palm and then placed it on the back of her neck. Softly, I began rubbing it in, sliding my hands in little circles. Her skin was soft and sensual, especially with the added lubrication of the sunblock. Her hair was silky against my palm, tickling the back of my hand. I dipped slightly below her shirt, onto her shoulders and upper back, feeling the strap of her bra at the far reach of my probing. When she was well greased in this area, she spun around, facing me. She spread her legs, draping her thighs over mine and sliding closer to me, so that her face was only inches from mine and so her boobs were nearly touching my chest. My breathing had quickened as I felt her nearness, as I felt the soft skin of her upper thighs meshing with mine. Becky was breathing faster also, her face flushed. Her boobs heaved up and down softly with the ebb and flow of her respiration. "Do the front of my neck," she told me. "And then you can do my legs." I nodded, speechless, cognizant of the painful erection in my shorts. Quickly I greased her neck, forehead, face. She smiled dreamily at my caresses, enjoying them, closing her eyes as I massaged the liquid into her skin. I then squeezed a generous portion onto my palm and, reaching slightly behind me, dropped my hand to the calf of her right leg, just above her sock. She opened her eyes again, looking at my face as I began rubbing the lotion into her calf, her knee, and her thigh. Her legs were well muscled, not the least bit flabby, and they were smooth, soft, feminine. They twitched a little as I rubbed them, sliding closer and closer to the edge of her shorts. Looking down I could see a small hint of white peeking out from beneath the legband of her shorts. Her panties, I suspected. An actual pair of female panties that were actually covering a human vagina. And I was seeing it! "Your hands are nice," Becky told me in a whisper. "I like the way you touch me." "So are your legs," I returned. She looked down at my rubbing hand, which was less than half an inch away from the crotch of her shorts. Her skin here was as soft as anything I'd ever felt before and I was entranced. "Do you want to feel my pussy?" she asked quietly, her voice breaking. I took a deep, involuntary breath in. "Yes," I told her. "Can I?" She nodded, reaching down to the button on her shorts and unfastening it. She slipped the zipper down, revealing the white face of her panties in the gap that had been created. She scooted backwards, her legs dropping off of mine and coming together. The bottle of sunblock fell from my trembling hands as she raised her hips and slid off her shorts and panties. She tossed them aside and slid back into her previous position, spreading her legs and allowing me to gaze upon her most secret spot. She had a nest of black hair there, kinky, very similar to that on my own crotch. A pair of red pink lips showed faintly in the middle of the nest. They were swollen and puffy, giving off a sharp, musty odor. "Touch me," she said. "Put your hands on me. Feel me." I put my left hand between her legs and lightly touched her vaginal lips with my middle finger. They were soft, slippery, and very wet. The tip of my finger slid easily between them to the first knuckle. I moved my finger up and down a few times, smearing the moisture around and causing Becky to sigh. She put her head forward, resting it on my shoulder. Her arms went around my back. "Slide it all the way in," she told me. I did this, finding the passage unimpeded. Her muscles gripped me in a twitchy, excited manner. Becky began to pant a little. "That feels so good," she told me. "Move it in and out." I began to pump her slowly at first and then picking up speed as she became more excited. She pulled her head off of my shoulder and stared into my eyes. I gazed back for a moment and then our mouths came together in a kiss. We kissed each other's lips for a moment and then began probing with tongues, tentatively at first but we quickly evolved into a full-blown, sloppy, slurping French kiss. Her hips began to thrust against my hands, meeting my probing hand. Her odor grew stronger, rising around us, enveloping us, and making my head spin. My free hand slid up beneath her shirt, forcing it's way beneath the bra-cup of her right breast. I began to knead and caress it. One of her hands dropped into my lap and began undoing the button on my shorts. She slid the zipper down and put her hand inside, fishing around through my underwear for a minute and finally closing around the bare skin of my cock. "Mmmmmm," I moaned as she fondled me. "Ohh God," she muttered around my lips. "Cock feels so fucking good." She suddenly broke our kiss, pulling her face back, looking at my face with lustful eyes. "Can I suck you?" she asked. "Huh?" I answered, thinking I must have misunderstood her. Surely she wasn't offering to suck my dick. Girls didn't really do things like that. "I want to suck your cock," she said. "I want to make you come with my mouth. Can I? Oh please? Let me?" "Sure," I answered finally, my mind on overload. "Take off your shorts," she said, scooting backwards again and giving me room. My finger slipped out of her with a wet slurp as she did so. It was soaked with her secretions. I repeated the motions that she'd made just a few minutes before, tossing my shorts over with hers. My dick was once again hanging in the air for her perusal. There was less embarrassment this time and more excitement. She'd already seen it and approved of it. She was now going to make one of my fantasies come true and suck on it. Would she let me come in her mouth? "Lay down," Becky told me, pushing gently with her hand. I went to my back on the blanket and felt her grasping my cock once again. She stared at it for a minute, jacking it softly with her hand. Finally she gave me a last smile and lowered her head, taking it into her mouth. I felt myself swallowed into a warm, teasing, wetness. Her tongue swirled around the head, her mouth sucking gently upon me. I could barely breathe, it felt so good. My hips thrust upward with each of her downthrusts. Her free hand glided over my legs, feeling them, up to my hips, and finally into my crotch where they cupped my balls gently. She felt the texture of them as she continued to suck. Her mouth began dropping further down my shaft, taking more and more of me into her mouth. Her hand flattened out around the base, giving her face room to work. She made excited little grunts and groans as she ministered to me. Finally, I could take no more. Orgasm was not just approaching, but was attacking. "Becky," I moaned. "I'm gonna come." "Mmmmm," she said, redoubling her efforts. The spasms slammed into me once again and I began to spurt what felt like gallons of semen. Becky never took her mouth off of me for a second, she continued to suck, her mouth and throat working like mad as she swallowed it down. I groaned loudly, in ecstasy. Finally, when I was satiated, she pulled her mouth off of me, my deflated dick popping from between her lips. There wasn't a drop of semen left on it but it glistened with her saliva. She licked her lips slowly, seeming to analyze the taste. "That wasn't bad," she said. "It wasn't bad at all." She looked at me. "Did you like it?" "Uhhhh," I groaned, still incapable of speech. She sat up again, spreading her legs out obscenely before her. "Did you like the feel of my pussy?" she asked. I nodded. "Yeah." "I'm so horny right now," she told me. She dropped her right hand down between her legs and, to my astonishment, began to masturbate herself. Her fingers made a wet, squishing sound as they swirled around and around the top of her slit. "I've just gotta come," she said. "I'm gonna bust if I don't." I stared at this most erotic sight, my dick already beginning to harden again. Even through my haze, I'd caught her hint. "Can I help?" I asked. "Do you want to eat me?" she asked pointedly. "Like Mary Ann does?" I took a deep breath, wondering if I could do it, if I could put my face in her pussy and lick her. The more I thought about it however, and the more I inhaled the thick, sensual odor of her rising into the hot air around me, the more appeal the idea had. I nodded. "Tell me how to do it." "Put your mouth on me and lick between the lips," she said. "That's the best way to start." I moved forward, lying on my stomach, my head between her spread thighs. Her pussy was now only inches in front of me. I stared at it, memorizing its lines and folds. To this day I can still picture it perfectly in my mind. It was beautiful, the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen before. I dipped forward and stuck out my tongue, bringing it gently between her lips. The taste was tart but pleasant, filling my nostrils and tastebuds with sensation. I drove my tongue into her, bringing my hands up to grip her thighs. "Yess," she sighed. "Just like that. Keep doing that." I licked and slurped, running my tongue from top to bottom and then thrusting inside. After a minute she told me to start sucking the small bump on top. I locked my lips around it and began suckling. Her groans grew louder, her hips thrusting into my face. "Yess, yess, yess," she moaned, her hands pulling me tight against her, her legs now wrapped around my back. I sucked harder and suddenly she began to thrust uncontrollably and to pant. "Oh god," she breathed. "You're making me come! Keep it up! Don't stop! Oh God!" Her legs tightened around my back and she let out a yell, her pubic area mashing repeatedly and rapidly into my face, smearing her wetness all over it. Finally her vocalizations petered out and the thrusting slowed to a stop. "God Kevin," she told me, pulling my face upward by the hair. "That was great! Come here and kiss me." She pulled me upward and my body slid on top of her. Our chests, still covered with our shirts and her bra, were pressing together. My naked legs were atop hers for a moment and then she opened them, allowing me to fall neatly between them. I felt my still wet, once again hard dick pressing against her mound of pubic hair. Her mouth found mine and we began kissing madly, our tongues swirling together on a film of saliva. I could taste myself in her mouth, as I'm sure she could in mine, but it wasn't gross, it was sexy. I sucked her tongue, nipping at it and she sucked my lower lip, making it swell. My cock, meanwhile, had been sliding around in her crotch, the head tickled by her hair, until it found itself pressed against smooth wetness. Involuntarily I pushed my hips forward a little and the head slid between her lips. She gasped as she felt this, instantly breaking the kiss, staring into my eyes. Seeing her expression, I stopped instantly. "You're fucking me," she said wonderingly. "Sorry," I muttered, scared, terrified that I'd gone too far. I pulled myself out of her and was about to climb off but was stopped by her hands on my butt, pulling me back down. "I like it," she said. "I want you to fuck me. Put it all the way in. Not just the head, but the whole thing." "Are you sure?" I asked, indecisive. "Yes!" she nearly yelled. "I want you to! I want to feel it!" She pulled sharply on my ass and my dick slid between her lips once again. They were soft and pliable but very tight. I found myself unable to penetrate any further. I pushed, forcing myself in another half an inch but the pressure became painful. I slid out a little and then pushed forward again, sinking a little further. "Ohhh," Becky moaned. "C'mon, put it all the way in." "I'm trying," I gasped, thrusting forward again. This time I sank all the way to the hilt, feeling my pubic hair meeting hers. A warm sheath, a pulsating, alive muscle, was now gripping my dick. It felt wonderful, exquisite. I found myself groaning also. "Yes," Becky said, thrusting her hips back at me. "Fuck me now. Start moving." I slowly withdrew and then pushed forward again, the sensation sending chills throughout my body. I did it again, and again, moving faster, thrusting harder. Becky's hips began to rise up to meet mine. The friction became looser as she adjusted to me, allowing me to vary my tempo. Her arms slid up and down my back, up and down my arms. She kissed my neck, sucking gently from place to place as she moaned. I snaked a hand beneath her shirt again, probing until I found her breast which I began squeezing, a little firmer than I had before, but Becky didn't seem to mind. Her mouth locked onto mine again. Shortly after, she began to hitch and groan, throwing her head back as another orgasm overtook her. The spasms of her pussy during this brought my own orgasm close to the surface. My hips began to thrust spasmodically, driving into her. "Wait!" she yelled, just before the point of no return. Her hands landed on my shoulders, pushing at me. Confused, I stopped my thrusts, shame rising up to my head. I figured that she'd had a change of heart, that she decided that she didn't really want to screw me. She'd sure picked a hell of a time to come to that conclusion. She pushed me off of her, sliding out from beneath me. "You can't come in me," she said, her face dripping sweat. "I can't get pregnant." Understanding finally hit me. Of course! Girls got pregnant from this act! That was, in fact, it's purpose. What in the hell was I doing? How would we explain it if Becky turned up pregnant? "I'm sorry," she breathed, panting still. "Believe me, there isn't anything else in the world I would rather feel right now than you coming inside of me. But you can't. Not right now." "Okay," I grunted, feeling a frustration unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. I looked at her pussy, which was puffy and dripping with moisture, the lips still open to accept me. Part of my brain screamed at me to just slam it in there anyway. Part of me also knew that Becky would let me if I did that. But in this case, the big head prevailed, his first victory in my lifetime perhaps. I drew my eyes away from the tantalizing sight of her vagina and rolled onto my side. "I'm sorry," Becky said again, leaning next to me. "Let me suck you off again." She dropped her head down between my legs and took me into her mouth once again. It was still very pleasant, but it wasn't the same as the last time. It took me longer to come but I finally did, shooting another large load down her throat. Again, she swallowed every drop. She then slid up next to me, taking me in her arms. We kissed a few times and then she curled her head into my shoulder, just lying there. A few minutes later, she was asleep. ------- Chapter 3 "Kevin!" she barked at me, her voice concerned. "Wake up!" "Huh?" I started, reluctantly opening my eyes. I was drenched in sweat, particularly on my chest, where Becky's warm body had been lying. My hair was matted to my face and my balls ached dully. I didn't know how long I'd been asleep, but it had been a while. I was no longer stoned. My mind was slightly groggy from sleep and the aftermath of marijuana intoxication, but when I'd drifted off after Becky had sucked me to my second orgasm, I'd been peaking, at the pinnacle of my high. The absence of any remaining intoxication meant that at least two hours had gone by since then. "Are you awake?" she asked, still naked from the waste down. She was sitting up next to me Indian style. Her pubic hair was matted and exuding a strong odor. Her skin was as moist with sweat as was my own. Her eyes showed mild concern. "Yeah," I finally said, locking my eyes onto her slit. I couldn't help it, I was fourteen. My dick, reacting to the visual input, began hardening immediately at the sight. Becky, seeing where my eyes were glued, slapped playfully at my head. "Would you take your mind off my pussy for a second." She giggled. "We've been asleep for hours! It's almost two o'clock!" "It is?" I asked. That got through a little bit. That made it nearly three and a half hours since we'd left the farmhouse. "Yes." She nodded. "And Daddy's gonna wonder why we were out so long. We're usually not gone for more than two hours." "Oh," I said, still staring at her pussy. Her lips were no longer swollen, nor was her clit. None-the-less, those two lips were the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. My cock had been inside of them! I had fucked her! I was no longer a virgin! I felt myself stiffening as I pondered doing it again. "Oh?" she asked, shaking her head and standing up. Near the stream the two horses were still standing obediently, lapping at the water now and then, not paying us the least bit of attention. "What do you mean 'oh'? We need to come up with a story for why we were out so long. Christ!" She suddenly put her hands to her shirt and pulled it over her head, tossing it to the blanket. She began undoing her bra. She stopped, staring at me. "Well?" she demanded. "Are you going to get up, or what?" My dick, unconcerned with such things as Uncle John and his thoughts on why we'd been out for three and a half hours, was quite 'up'. In fact it had become quite turgid as I watched Becky undo her bra, freeing those glorious tits. She tossed her bra to the blanket, near her shirt and the jumbled mess of her shorts and panties. Standing there naked she noticed for the first time the state of my cock. Her eyes widened. "My God," she proclaimed. "Are you getting all horny again? We're about to get majorily busted, about to have the horses taken away, and you're getting horny? Are you crazy? We need to get cleaned up and get the hell out of here. If we're not back at the farm in the next twenty minutes we'll never leave that house again! Now quit staring at my tits and cunt, get your clothes off, and get the hell in the water so we don't smell like we just fucked each other!" With that she turned abruptly and marched into the water. I watched her ass jiggle as she entered. I then stood and removed my shirt. When I was naked as she was I followed her into the water. It was pleasantly warm, refreshing, and I began to submerge myself. "Don't get your hair wet," Becky warned, scrubbing herself with her hands. "He'll know we'd been swimming and he'll be forced to wonder what we were wearing while we were swimming. Just get clean and then get out so we can dry off and get dressed. "Okay," I agreed, moving towards her, still completely unconcerned about my Uncle's reaction. I was watching Becky rub herself across her tits, through her dark pubic hair. My dick was now straining. I came up next to her and took her in my arms, feeling her warm, wet flesh pushing against mine. It was the first time I'd been completely naked against her. "What the hell are you doing?" she yelled as I began pawing at her tits, making the nipples stand up with my caresses. "We need to get out of here!" I pulled her to me and put my mouth to hers, thrusting my tongue between her lips. My hand dropped down to her butt, feeling her firm cheeks. I ran my hand between them, squeezing the pulsating flesh. "Kevin!" she yelled, breaking the kiss. "We don't have time to..." I interrupted her with another kiss, pushing my body more firmly against her. She protested physically for another ten seconds or so and then her arms went around my neck, pulling me tighter, her tongue began to duel with mine. Her wet, bare tits pressed into my chest, the nipples hardening. I pulled her towards the shoreline, until we were in less than six inches of water. She allowed me to do this, continuing to kiss me the entire time. I then pushed her backwards, forcing her to lie down in the water and muck. She did so willingly, spreading her legs as I lie between them, my dick searching for a target. "Remember," she whispered, breaking our kiss for an instant and staring into my eyes. "Don't come in me." "I won't," I said, thrusting forward and finding her opening. I slid in easier this time, finding the friction much more pleasant. Soon her arms went around my back and my hips were a blur, slamming in and out of her. I'd done this before. I was now a veteran! Our motions sent water and bottom muck spraying in all directions. She moaned her way through an orgasm and a minute later I felt my own approaching. I pulled myself out of her, going to my knees before her supine body, taking my cock in hand and spraying my seed all over her legs, pussy, stomach, and tits. The fact that I was masturbating before her, an act I'd sworn that I'd never done before, never even entered my mind. When I finished she stared up at me a little breathlessly, her eyes shining. "Can we get cleaned up now?" she asked. I smiled, looking at my white sperm beading up on her body, which was half-submerged in the stream. "Yeah," I said. "I guess we can." Ten minutes later we were fully dressed and galloping the horses towards the farmhouse. Becky, over the thunder of the horse's hooves, was explaining to me what our story was. I listened carefully, memorizing my lines. I could not help but be impressed by the depth of my cousin's conniving nature. She not only came up with a story that made sense, but she also included multiple side-tracks to it, covering potential questions that Uncle John might ask in reaction to the story. In the fifteen-minute ride she'd drilled my part into me and left me with no time for self-doubt. As we rounded the last group of trees and headed for the barn, we saw Uncle John standing outside of it, watching for us. Even from a distance we could see, simply by his posture, that he was anxious. "You ready for this?" Becky asked me as we slowed the horses to a cantor. "Yeah," I answered. "I think so." "Just remember," she told me. "No matter what, stick to the story." "Right." We rode to him. He was glaring at us as we approached. "Where in Heaven's name have you two been?" he asked us. "You've been gone for hours!" We dismounted the horses slowly, feigning exhaustion. Becky began explaining her careful tale. "I'm sorry Daddy," she told him. "But we were riding over by Smoky Ridge and we came across a bunch of cows that were wandering around by the river." Uncle John looked at us for a moment, trying to read our faces. "Cows?" he asked. "What are you talking about?" "They were Mr. Bradford's cows," Becky explained. "Just drinking out of the river and eating the grass. They had his brand on them." "Nick's cows?" Uncle John said, raising his eyebrows. "Yes." Becky nodded. "Five of them. They'd gotten out. We herded them back to his fence." She looked at me and giggled. "You should've seen Kevin trying to corral them. It was pretty funny. I guess they don't teach you that in the city." "I did my best," I protested, trying my best acting. "I never thought it would be so hard to get cows to go where you want them to though. Aren't they supposed to be dumb animals?" "You were a help," Becky agreed, totally into her fiction. "But anyway, we herded them back to his property and found where they'd gotten out. He's got a section of fence down on his west property line." "He does?" John asked, seeming to buy the bullshit we were spouting. In fact, on a ride more than a week before, before we'd become intimate together but after we'd began smoking her pot, she'd pointed out a loose section of fence along that particular piece of property. She'd told me that she'd noticed it down the week before I came to Wheaton and had rigged it back into position. A simple, neighborly thing to do. She had not mentioned this fact to anyone since it had seemed trivial and since she did not particularly care for her father knowing where she was in the habit of riding. But the repair she'd made then was perfect for her story now. "Yes," Becky said, nodding furiously. "About fifteen feet of it. It took us a while but we managed to get the cows back through the hole in the fence. Once they were through we put the barbed wire back up the best we could. It should keep 'em in for now, but you'd better call Mr. Bradford and let him know about it. We didn't have stretchers or anything so he's gonna have to go out and fix the fence or they might knock it down again." "You got the fence put back up?" John asked, not knowing what to think. Becky then pulled her piece d' resistance on him. "Yeah," she said. "I cut my hand doing it too." She held up her palm, showing him a superficial scratch that she'd made with her own folding knife. "Good thing I had a tetanus shot last year." "Goodness," he said, stepping closer and examining the wound. "Are you all right?" "Sure Daddy. It's nothing. It hardly bled. But you better call Mr. Bradford pretty soon. I wouldn't want his cows to get out again." "Of course not," John said. "Good work you two." He patted me on the back nearly hard enough to knock the wind out me. "So what do you think about your first roundup Kevin?" "It was a lot of work," I said, keeping an expression of weary sincerity on my face. "We don't do things like that in Seattle." "No," he said with a grin. "I guess you don't." I then took a chance. "It must've been God's will that we happened along at that time." From the corner of my eye I saw Becky's eyes shoot towards me for a moment and then return to the perusal of her father. I could tell that she was fighting hard to suppress laughter. Her hand came up to cover her mouth. But John beamed at me, as if he was seeing Jesus Himself in my teenaged face. "I think maybe it was," he said. "You must take things like this as a sign." "Really?" I asked, my face showing intense interest. "A sign from God?" "Yes," he said, nodding enthusiastically. "The Lord works in mysterious ways. You must always be on the lookout for His guidance." He turned to his daughter. "Rebecca, you can take care of the horses can't you?" "Huh?" she said, still fighting down chuckles. "Oh, sure Daddy." "Good." He nodded. "I'm proud of both of you. Especially you Kevin. Let's go inside and discuss the ramifications of this event together." He turned and began walking towards the house. I glanced for an instant at Becky. She was chortling softly and waving me towards the house. The crisis had passed. Aunt Mary came home from her mission of comfort and gossip retrieval in time to make dinner for us. Uncle John delighted in telling her about how I was starting to see the signs of God at work. She beamed at me along with her husband. I kept my eyes well away from Becky's face during this discussion. I knew that if I looked at her, made eye contact with her, I would start braying hysterical laughter. God's will manifested in loose, fictional cows. What an idiot my Uncle was. Even at fourteen I could see that. I began to fully understand my father's drive to get out of this place, this family. I could see how even a hot war in Vietnam was preferable. After our evening chores were completed, as Uncle John watched a baseball game on television and Aunt Mary sat on the couch knitting a comforter, Becky and I went out to the porch. "To enjoy the sunset," she'd told her father. Actually we just wanted to talk in privacy. The evening was muggy and warm, the air still and tinged with an ugly brown haze. Becky had told me once that the haze was smog that had drifted over from the Sacramento area. Mosquitoes buzzed around us, desperately wanting to feed upon us but kept at a distance by the repellant we'd sprayed on ourselves prior to leaving the house. That was Wheaton for you. Sunscreen during the day, mosquito repellant at night. Only in the mornings did you not have to put some sort of chemical on your body in order to survive. We sat on the porch swing and watched the sun sinking below the horizon, turning the brown haze into beautiful hues of orange and red. Becky looked at me for a moment and then started laughing. "God's will?" she chuckled, slapping playfully at me. "You're a fuckin' master Kevin. Jesus. I almost lost it when you started spouting that shit." I shrugged, admiring her body in her shorts and T-shirt, remembering what it had felt like naked against mine. I couldn't wait to do it again. Now that I'd had a taste of her, I was insatiable. "It was the first thing that came to mind," I said, sliding a little closer to her. Maybe I could feel her up a little? "He bought it, didn't he?" "Oh fuckin' aye he bought it," Becky nodded, eyeing my creeping suspiciously. "You pushed exactly the right button." She gave me a stern look. "Just ease on back over to your side of the bench." She told me. "What's the matter?" I asked, hurt. "Don't you want to be next to me?" "More than anything," she said sincerely. "But they're right inside the house. We have to be very careful. If they suspect that we have so much as kissed each other, we'll never be allowed to be alone again. You'll just have to wait until our rides. You can do that, can't you?" I sighed. "I suppose." Already I was adding up how many days I had left here: nine of them. That meant nine more encounters. Only nine! I had never thought that I'd be wishing to stay in Wheaton beyond what I'd already been sentenced to. "And there's one more thing I need to talk to you about," she said, lowering her voice a tad. "When we do it, you can't put it in me anymore if we don't have a rubber. I can still get pregnant you know, even if you don't shoot it in me." "What?" I asked, shocked. "A rubber? Where in the hell are we going to get a rubber? Its not like I can go into the drug store and buy some." Becky smiled. "I would have thought you'd have more faith in me than that by now," she said. "I have a plan. Today is Friday. Tomorrow we'll just have to do without, you know, the big event." "You mean we can't do it tomorrow?" I was bitterly disappointed. "We can't do the grand finale," she said, reaching over and giving my hand a sensual squeeze. "But we can do some of the other things we've learned." She licked her lips lasciviously. "But on Sunday, that's when we're gonna score the rubbers." "Sunday?" I asked. "That's church day." "Exactly. And it's fitting, if you think about it. God's will even." I laughed about that for a moment and then asked, "but how?" "Well," she said, "let me explain operation acquire condom to you." She began to talk. Saturday was a good day. We finished our chores early and went out for a long ride. We smoked her grass, got pleasantly stoned, and then spent about two hours experimenting with various ways that two teenagers could pleasure each other without actually making vaginal/penile contact. I licked her pussy for more than forty minutes, listening to her careful instructions on what felt good and what did not. I gave her several orgasms with my tongue and another with my fingers. She sucked my cock for more than thirty minutes, experimenting with various techniques and pressures, eliciting instruction from me on the finer points, and finally taking a monstrous load down her throat. We took a shot at anal sex but were forced to abort the attempt due to lack of lubrication and severe pain on Becky's part. After washing my cock off, she sucked it once more for me, putting all of her new found knowledge to work and bringing me off in less than five minutes. We cleaned ourselves up and headed for home. As we moved the horses along at a gentle walk, both of us sweating in the heat but also basking in the afterglow of multiple orgasms, Becky asked me, "are you ready for your big acting debut tomorrow?" I made a sour face at her. "Sure," I said. "I'm just a little embarrassed at what I have to fake. I mean, are you sure there isn't another way?" She looked at me, offering her cynical smile. "Oh sure, there's lots of ways I can think of," she said. "I could matchstick the tires on the car making him have to stop for air. I could drain out some of his oil so that the warning light comes on and forces him to stop for oil. I could siphon out the gas and make him have to stop for that. I could do a lot of things but you still have to have an excuse to go into the bathroom and the more details you add into a plan, the more likely it is something will go wrong. Trust me, this is simple and it will work. Just remember to start playing it up about a half-hour after breakfast. But don't play it up too hard or Mom will make you lay in bed all day sipping chicken soup." Her eyes gleamed. "I have better plans for you later." "And you're sure they'll fall for this?" "Please," she said mildly. "Whenever I fake an illness I always fake one based on fact. I have a copy of a medical book in my room just for such occasions. I research extensively before putting anything into practice. This will work, believe me. It's the exact, textbook definition of irritable, food oriented, gastroenteritis that I've given you. If you follow my script you could fool a fucking doctor." "I'll take your word for it," I told her. "But it's still embarrassing." "You'll get over it," she said, offering me a sexy smile. "Probably about the time we leave for our ride with those rubbers in our hands. Just think, you'll be able to shoot off in me." My dick stiffened a little at the very thought, which brought me to a subject that I'd been dying to bring up with her since the first night she'd mentioned it. "Hey Becky?" I asked. "Yeah?" she said. "Your girlfriend Mary Ann. How come you've never introduced her to me?" Becky looked at me knowingly, probably reading my very thoughts. "Why do you want to meet her?" she asked. "Are you thinking about watching her eat me out and suck my tits? Or do you maybe want to try and fuck her too?" "No no!" I protested, shaking my head strenuously. "I was just wondering. I wasn't thinking about anything like that." Becky chortled. "The hell you weren't." She gazed at me. "But I'll tell you what. Maybe a little meeting can be arranged before you leave." She nodded. "Yes, I think that would be very interesting." Sunday morning promised to be another hot, miserable day in Wheaton. By the time Aunt Mary served us breakfast, which consisted of fried eggs, sausages, hashbrowns, and toast, the mercury had already climbed well past eighty degrees. I stuffed Aunt Mary's food into my mouth voraciously. Whatever else she was, that woman could cook. About thirty minutes after eating, just as Becky and I were finishing up kitchen duty, I began to go into my act. When Mary passed by, looking for vegetable oil in order to grease up her iron frying pan for storage, I clutched my stomach a little and grimaced, as if uncomfortable. "Kevin?" she asked, employing her motherly voice, her eyes searching my face. "Are you all right?" I straightened up, pretending to shrug off whatever was bothering me. "Sure Aunt Mary," I replied. "Just a little stomach cramp. I guess I ate a little too much today, you know?" She smiled, reaching for the oil. "Sometimes God doesn't tell us to stop soon enough," she sermonized. "It's understandable." I smiled back. "Especially with your cooking," I told her honestly. She beamed at me and went about her business. Over the next forty-five minutes, while we were getting dressed for church, I made both Mary and John aware that I was experiencing minor stomach complaints. I shrugged off their inquiries each time, stating, as Becky had instructed, that my stomach was simply cramping a little and rumbling. I assured them each time that it was nothing. They expressed concern for my condition and then went about their business. At nine-thirty we piled into the family station wagon, dressed in our suits and dresses and headed for the First Baptist Church of Wheaton. Services actually began at ten o'clock but Uncle John, as the minister, was always there early in order to greet his congregation. John fired up the gas guzzling, American made, eight-cylinder engine, and began piloting the vehicle into town. I sat in the back, next to Becky. Our target for the mission was a Union 76 gas station on the outskirts of the town. As we approached it, Becky gave me a furtive look and a barely perceptible nod. I nodded back and reached quietly down with my left hand, between my seat and the back door of the car. Becky had stashed a saturated sponge there earlier. My fingers found it and squeezed it, wetting my hand thoroughly. I looked in the rear view mirror and, when I was certain that John was not looking backwards, raised my wet hand to my face and spread the water there. Once my face was dripping to my satisfaction I began to groan lightly, clutching my stomach. Uncle John and Aunt Mary, hearing my cries, both looked back at me. They saw my wet face and the look of misery I'd manufactured and their eyes showed immediate concern. "Kevin?" Mary asked, turning in her seat. "Are you all right?" "Yeah," I said, breathing heavily. "It's nothing." "You're all sweaty," she said. "What's the matter?" I gulped, as if suppressing information. But finally I said, "my stomach feels funny." I looked forward, seeing the orange and white gas station sign approaching. "I need to, you know... ?" "To what?" John demanded. "What's the matter?" "Can you uh..." I panted, "stop at that gas station for a minute?" I pointed up ahead. "I have to, you know, go." "You can't wait until we get to the church?" John asked. "No," I groaned, feigning pain and doubling a little. "I don't think I can." "John!" Mary proclaimed, alarmed. "He's sweating! You'd better stop." "Okay," John nodded, speeding up a little. "A little stomach problem. Will you be okay?" I groaned again, doubling over more. He spun the car into the parking lot and I made a big show of fumbling with the door lock and finally exiting the vehicle. I trotted, stooped over, towards the men's room on the side of the building, ripping open the door and slamming it behind me. In Seattle, such a door would have been locked, had it existed at all, but in Wheaton they were a little more trusting of their fellow man. The bathroom was nothing short of disgusting. It appeared not to have been cleaned in the better part of a year and the smell was nearly enough to make me puke. The toilet was clogged with old feces, waterlogged cigarette butts, and damp, disintegrating toilet paper, the water line approaching the rim. Illiterate graffiti covered every available surface, including the toilet seat. But my target was there, just as Becky had promised. It was a condom machine offering four different varieties, mounted just behind the toilet. I reached into my pocket and retrieved the packages that Becky had given me earlier that morning. They were quarters from her piggy bank wrapped lovingly in tissue paper so they would neither clank nor make a noticeable bulge. I began feeding them into the machine, choosing the unlubricated Trojans. They popped out of the little slot at the bottom and I stuffed them into my suit pocket, getting twenty of them in less than ninety seconds. I figured that would be a sufficient supply for my remaining time in Wheaton. Becky had assured me she had a suitable hiding place for them. I believed her. When I exited the bathroom my face was clean and I put on an expression of relief mixed with mild embarrassment. "Are you okay?" John and Mary asked in unison as I resumed my place in the car. "Much better," I told them, slamming the door. "I don't know what came over me." "Probably something you ate," Mary opined, searching my face for signs of lethal infection. "It happens sometimes. Are you sure you're okay?" "I think so," I told her with shaky confidence. "I feel a lot better now." We continued our drive. When John and Mary were looking forward I held my hand near my lap and gave Becky a thumbs-up signal. I exhibited no further symptoms of my "stomach ailment" neither during the long, boring, mindless church service nor on the ride home. Aunt Mary diagnosed it as a simple case of "indigestion" and let it go. Becky and I did our afternoon chores and then went off for our ride as usual. The condoms were not quite what I'd expected. They were easy to apply, you simply rolled them down the length of your cock, but when we tried actual penetration we encountered our first problem. They were unlubricated condoms. My cock slipped about a half an inch into her wet pussy and then stopped hard, going no further no matter how hard I pushed. "Come on!" Becky begged. "Put it in! Fuck me!" "I'm trying!" I cried. "It won't go in!" After some simple experimentation we figured out how to lube the condom with saliva (hers). Once I was inside of her the going was much easier. She seemed to enjoy herself but I noticed a distinct difference between fucking her this way and fucking her sans condom. The sensation was not quite the same, less intense somehow, though the actual gripping of her tight pussy was unchanged. But it was nice to blast off my load while still thrusting inside of her. When we finished I pulled off the rubber and tossed it into the stream. We watched it float downstream until it disappeared. "I liked it," Becky told me when it was gone. "I like the way your body feels when you come. You get all tense." "You do too," I told her, leaning my face forward and kissing her. Our tongues met and a second later my wet dick was regaining life. We broke our kiss and Becky looked at it. "Again?" she asked, putting her hand on it and fondling it back to complete stiffness. "We have nineteen more rubbers to use," I said seriously. "Well let's get to work." ------- At the dinner table that night the subject of Timmy Wilson dominated the talk. His body was due to arrive at Sacramento Airport at 11:30 the next morning. From there it would be transported to the local funeral home for viewing prior to the funeral which was scheduled to take place the day after that. Uncle John, in combination with the funeral home owner, was heavily involved in all aspects of the planning. He would officiate at the services, for which a marine honor guard was flying in to give the traditional salute. "We have to leave the house by 9:30," John was telling his wife, "so we can drive down to Sac with the Wilsons in time for the plane." He shook his head sadly and said, for perhaps the hundredth time, "awful business, just awful." "Will there be news cameras there?" Mary asked. "At the airport?" "I imagine there will," John said solemnly. "It's just horrible how the news hounds people when such a tragedy happens." Her voice was stern but I could see in her eyes that she was excited at the thought of appearing on camera with her husband. I would have been willing to bet my remaining condom supply that she would spend an additional hour or so on her hair and make-up. "How long will you be gone tomorrow?" Becky asked casually, as if she couldn't stand the thought of them absent from the house for long. "Probably most of the day," John said, stuffing a huge piece of roast beef into his mouth. He continued to talk as he chewed. "After we take the body to the funeral home we'll have to stay for the viewing of course. I'll have to stay late planning the funeral and so forth, but I imagine Mom will be able to come home in time to fix you two dinner." "Oh," Becky said thoughtfully, her poker face firmly attached. "That's good." "Will you two be able to find your own lunch?" Mary asked. Becky glanced at me for a moment. "Oh, I imagine we'll be able to put a few things together." Later that evening Uncle John was regaling me with yet another of his lectures. He was somehow equating the American armed forces with those fabled Christian soldiers from the hymn. It seemed what we were really fighting for over in Beirut was Christianity and the godly way of life. He assured me (as if I was worried about it) that our brave fighting men would be ultimately victorious over there and that religious freedom and God would prevail. He of course had no way of knowing that in about two months a man even more fanatical on the subject of God than he was would blow up more than two hundred of those Christian soldiers and that shortly after that, they would all be pulled out of there, leaving the place to the wolves. I had long since learned to pretend I was paying strict attention to him as he talked, making "uh huh's" and "really's" in all of the right places. I was doing so that night, keeping my eyes firmly to his face, nodding on occasion but actually watching Becky out of the corner of my eye. She was talking on the telephone in the kitchen, something I'd rarely seen her do, but I was more interested in her attire. She was dressed for bed, wearing a long T-shirt that came to her knees. When she was sure that her father was not watching her, and when she was sure that I was, she gave me a wicked smile and lifted the hem of her shirt over her hips for an instant. I nearly choked and only through monstrous effort was I able to keep my face neutral. She was not wearing any panties under her shirt. She licked her lips and then put her shirt back down, continuing with her conversation while John continued with his. "You are evil," I told her later, in the hallway outside our bedrooms, just before we went to bed. "Yep." She nodded, stepping closer to me. She cast her eyes to the stairway, seeing that neither John nor Mary was ascending it at the moment. "Do you wanna see it again?" she whispered to me. Without waiting for a reply she pulled the shirt up once more, revealing her black bush and her swollen lips. I reached forward with my hand and put my fingers on her slit. It was hot and wet and my fingers slid easily inside of her, making her groan a little. "Yes," she groaned, starting to hump my hand a little. "I'm so wet and horny right now. I've been running around without panties on all night, just thinking of your cock in me. God I wish we could fuck right now." My cock had hardened instantly and was pushing the front of my sweats out. Her hand reached out and began rubbing it. "Me too," I told her, knowing it was impossible but trying to imagine a way that we could try. My fingers were now dripping with her secretions as they plunged in and out of her. I saw her nipples harden under the cotton of her shirt. "We'll have lots of fun tomorrow," she whispered to me, making another check of the stairway and then, finding it clear, reaching inside my sweats. Her cool fingers surrounded my cock and began to stroke gently. "They'll be gone all fuckin' day. Do you know who I was talking to on the phone?" "No," I said, adding another digit to her pussy. "It was Mary Ann," Becky told me. "I asked her if she could come over tomorrow." "Yeah?" I said, interested. "Yeah," Becky nodded. "She said she could. She doesn't know about you and I you know, but maybe, just maybe, she'll find out." As I imagined the possibilities of that, Becky gripped me tighter and began to stroke faster. Even though I'd already come twice that day the combination of the excitement of being jacked off in the hallway while my Aunt and Uncle were right downstairs and the thought of what may happen with Mary Ann brought the familiar tingle up my spine. I held onto Becky's shoulder for support and blasted her hand with come. When I was done she pulled her hand out and licked the semen off it. "Better throw away those underwear and put another pair in the laundry pile," Becky told me as she headed for her room. "Mom will notice the stains if you don't. See you tomorrow." I stood there for a second more and then went into my room. I did as Becky advised. ------- "You kids be good while we're gone," Uncle John advised us as he and Mary left the house the next morning. "We will," we replied. When the car disappeared from view Becky pulled a Pepsi out of the refrigerator and dumped it down the sink. I had heard Mary comment several times about the amount of Pepsis that Becky drank. Little did she know that well over half of them were simply dumped down the sink in order to make bongs for marijuana smoking. It was actually quite amusing when you thought about it. We took the can to the barn and commenced smoking. "What time is Mary Ann coming over?" I asked Becky after blowing out my third hit. I was starting to feel the pot working on me. "You horny bastard," Becky chuckled, grabbing a fresh pinch from her bag. "You don't even know what she looks like. What if she's ugly?" This honestly hadn't occurred to me. In truth I didn't even really care. When you are fourteen and have a chance of getting into a slit, the girl in question has to be truly grotesque before you will turn it down. I shrugged. "Is she?" Becky smiled. "No," she told me. "She has small titties but she's pretty cute. You'll like her. Hopefully she'll like you too. Like I told you before, I think she might be a lesbian." "Well," I opined, "how could she know for sure unless she's tried it both ways?" "Good point," Becky allowed. "So what time?" I repeated. "About eleven o'clock. Just enough time for a little warm-up, don't you think?" "Yeah," I said eagerly. "Let's do it in Mom and Dad's bed," Becky suggested. "How often do you get a chance to do that?" "Not very often," I answered. We had a long, hot sex session on Uncle John's bed. Becky had put a towel down before we'd started to avoid having any of our secretions stain the comforter. Afterwards we took a shower together, cleaning ourselves off for Mary Ann. Taking a shower with a girl was something I'd fantasized about ever since I started thinking about girls in a sexual way. I was pleased to find it was everything I'd thought it would be. I soaped up her tits, sliding my hands across her slippery, hot flesh. I probed between the cheeks of her ass, sliding the flat of my hand back and forth in there. I fingered her cunt for a minute and then dropped to my knees and ate her to orgasm while water and soap sprayed in my face. She soaped up my cock and balls, jacking me slowly and sensuously. I wanted to come but she wouldn't allow it. "Gotta save some for Mary Ann," she told me, releasing my straining cock. Though I badly wanted, needed to come, I agreed. As I dried myself and got dressed afterward, my cock refused to deflate for more than twenty minutes. Mary Ann pedaled up on her bicycle at precisely eleven o'clock. She did not look at all as I expected. I was picturing a farm-girl type wearing bib overalls with pig-tails in her hair and calluses on her feet; like the chick in Hee-Haw (perhaps the most-watched program in Wheaton). Instead she had short, honey-blonde hair and a pretty, delicate looking face which was damp with perspiration from her ride over. She wore the standard uniform of summertime Wheaton; blue jean shorts and a T-shirt. She was small and thin, her knees slightly knobby. Her breasts, as Becky had mentioned, were small, making only slight bulges in her shirt. Becky invited her in and gave her a brief, friendly hug before introducing me. "Mary Ann, this is my cousin that I told you about; Kevin." "How do you do?" I said politely, as my mother had taught me. She gave me a shy, nervous smile in return, saying nothing. It became obvious in the first few minutes that we weren't simply going to be hopping in the sack together. Despite Becky's repeated attempts to warm her up to me, Mary Ann only answered me in brief monosyllables. She tried every angle; books we'd both read, movies we'd both seen, but nothing could break the ice. I was becoming convinced that Mary Ann was incapable of forming complete sentences. Was she jealous of me? Did she suspect what Becky and I had been doing the past week and was mad about me stepping into her territory? I began to strongly suspect that was the case. I felt that the prospect of fucking Mary Ann and Becky was nothing more than a dream and I began to hope she would leave soon so that at least Becky and I could take full advantage of John and Mary's absence. After about a half-hour or so I excused myself to go to the bathroom. While I was washing my hands it occurred to me that the two girls had had sex with each other in the past. Maybe when I returned from the bathroom they would be kissing or something on the couch. Maybe Mary Ann would be eating her. In any decent porno story that would be the case and I could just jump right in. My dick twitched a little in my pants at the thought. I sighed as I exited the bathroom and found the two of them sitting exactly where they had been. An hour rolled slowly by with no change in the situation. The mundane conversation continued without letup. It really was a pity, I thought, casting occasional glances at Mary Ann as I told her about Seattle and life in a big city; about going to a school with over three thousand others instead of simply three hundred. She really was pretty. She had a fine array of pale freckles on her chest. I wondered if they were on her small tits too. I could ask Becky later I supposed. And her hair; that blonde color. Would her pubic hair be that color also? Again, Becky could tell me since it didn't look as if I was going to be finding out personally. I envisioned the two of them having sex, seeing Mary Ann's blonde head between Becky's thighs, lapping away. The image gave me a hard-on. God how nice it would be to see the real thing. When Mary Ann got up to use the bathroom an eternity later Becky turned to me and grinned. "Wow," she said. "She really likes you." I figured she was being sarcastic. "Yeah," I grumbled. "About as much as Mrs. Wilson likes Arabs." "No really," Becky replied. "I've never seen her so tongue-tied before. She's usually a fuckin' chatterbox." "From her lack of conversation with me you've concluded she likes me?" I asked. "Did it ever occur to you that people don't converse with those they don't like too." "Oh, its more than that," Becky assured me. "Did you see how often she was blushing. And I was watching her. She keeps glancing over at you when you're not looking, checking you out. Maybe she's not a full-fledged lesbo after all " "Really?" I asked, trying to figure out if she was jiving me or not. I was feeling warm just from the idea that she might like me. "Really," Becky said. "And when you went to the bathroom I asked her what she thought of you." "And?" Becky smiled. "And she said you were cute. Just like I told her you were." "No kidding?" "No shit," Becky affirmed. She looked at the clock. It was approaching one o'clock. "But we don't have a whole lot of time. I think it would be a good idea to bust out a little aphrodisiac." "Afro-what?" I asked, confused. "Pot," she said. "I didn't break it out earlier because if you get stoned with someone too soon after meeting them, it makes you shier than you already are. Now that you two know each other a little better..." "Know each other?" I said. "She hasn't said more than twenty words to me." "But she's listened to you. She knows you well enough. And she thinks you're cute, remember? Trust me on this. This party is about to get rocking." As usual Becky was right. When Mary Ann returned from the bathroom and Becky suggested that maybe a little grass was in order, she brightened up immediately. She also offered her first unsolicited phrase towards me. "You smoke it too?" she asked. "Oh yeah, all the time," I replied smoothly, playing the sophisticated city kid, used to prowling the back alleys and streets of the ghettos. The fact that I was from the suburbs and had never smoked pot before coming to Wheaton just didn't come up. We sat on the porch swing while Becky disappeared into the house to gather her pot and retrieve the bong she'd made earlier. Our conversation while she was gone was a little forced, but a little easier than it had been. I began to actually pick up the barest of indications that maybe she really did like me. When Becky returned she sat on the outside of me, forcing me to sit between the two of them. This allowed my bare leg to touch Mary Ann's; my first touch against her flesh. Her skin was smooth and feminine. I liked the sensation. I wondered if she did also. She could have pulled her leg out of contact if she'd wanted to, but she didn't. We commenced smoking, passing the bong back and forth between the three of us, keeping a careful eye out towards the road for passing cars that might contain potential finks. Soon we were flying high. The change in Mary Ann once she got a bloodstream full of THC was remarkable. She became giggly and chatty, starting to dominate the conversation. Her leg pushed more firmly into mine and she often punctuated her statements with little slaps on my knee. I relished each touch of her hand when she did this, imagining that hand wrapped around my cock. I fancied I could feel every bump and ridge along her leg as it rubbed back and forth against mine. I wanted to drop my hand to that thigh and caress it. My growing attraction to her was different than what I felt for Becky. With Becky it was mostly physical, with undercurrents of guilt and wicked shame thrown in because she was my cousin. There was the forbidden fruit aspect. We weren't supposed to be attracted to each other because we were cousins. I knew Becky could never be anything like a normal girlfriend. I enjoyed her as a person, I loved talking to her, and I especially loved having sex with her, but there was no possibility of anything but a covert affair, even if we were adults. With Mary Ann however, all of the forbidden aspects were taken away. She was attractive of course, but if we decided we wanted to be boyfriend and girlfriend during my stay in Wheaton we would not have to keep it secret. If we were discovered kissing or something by Uncle John or Aunt Mary we would not be thought sick perverts. If we decided we liked each other as adults we could continue our relationship openly. It was a little difference but it made for a vast contrast of feelings. "Why don't we go inside where it's cool," Becky suggested some time later. Though I was loath to remove my leg from Mary Ann's I agreed. I was having a bad case of dry mouth and wanted one of Becky's Pepsis. We got up from the bench and went inside. Becky retrieved drinks for us all and we sat down on the couch. Again I sat between the two girls, my bare thighs touching theirs on either side. It was a most pleasant way to be. Our talk flowed more smoothly now that we were stoned. We were able to get past the stiff formality that new acquaintances are forced to employ. Becky helped by using her standard vocabulary she used when no adults were around; ripe with profanity, especially the word 'fuck' or it's derivatives. She used it at least once in every sentence. I was now picking up strong vibes that Mary Ann was attracted to me. She touched my leg more frequently and leaned into me whenever she laughed, allowing me to feel the soft press of her body against mine. She began talking more to me, asking me more questions and her speech became flowered with nearly as much profanity as Becky's. Maybe Becky had been right when she'd said she'd been wrong. It seemed that Mary Ann was not a strict lesbian. Did she just like to have sex, no matter who was available? That was an exciting thought. Maybe, like Becky, she'd just been waiting for a willing guy to cross her path. A guy who would not blab about what he'd done with her to every person he met. I could be such a guy! I didn't even know anybody in Wheaton. Who could I tell? My stoned mind was so lost in these thoughts that I didn't even hear the question that Mary Ann asked me. She jabbed her elbow into my side playfully. "Earth to Kevin," she said. "Are you there?" "Huh?" I said, coming back to reality while the two girls giggled. "I asked if you had a girlfriend in Seattle," Mary Ann repeated, blushing a little. "Oh," I said, "sorry. When I get stoned my mind kind of goes off by itself sometimes." "I know the feeling," Becky said, sipping out of her Pepsi. "Well," Mary Ann demanded. "Do you?" I smiled, admiring the greenish tint of her eyes, the slight upturn of her nose. "No," I finally said. "Not at the moment I don't. How about you? Do you have a boyfriend?" "In Seattle?" She giggled, slapping my knee again, letting her fingers stay there a little longer than usual. "Or anywhere else?" I said, smiling back, almost forgetting that Becky was in the room. "No," she said. "I seem to be free at the moment." "Free's a good thing to be," I told her, locking eyes. She nodded back at me in agreement. Again it was Becky that really got things moving. We chatted for a few more minutes and then she turned to Mary Ann. "If I tell you a secret," she said. "Do you swear to never tell anyone as long as you live?" Mary Ann raised her eyebrows a little at that. "Well sure," she said. "Don't I always keep your secrets? Nobody knows about your little pot farm do they? Even though I've told you how much money you could make with it." "Yeah right," Becky snorted. "And how long do you think I could sell pot before someone got busted with it and ratted me out. No thanks. But anyway, this is more than that kind of secret. It's..." She thought for a moment. "It's the biggest fuckin' secret ever. And it's a little shocking." "Wow," she replied, obviously quite interested now. "What is it?" "Do you swear?" Becky demanded. "Yes, yes, I swear. Now what is it?" "Well," Becky started, taking a deep breath. "Since a couple of days ago Kevin and I, well, we've been uh, doing things to each other." "Doing things?" Mary Ann asked, crinkling her brow in confusion. "We've been having sex with each other," Becky spat out. This got a reaction. Mary Ann's jaw dropped open. "You have?" She gaped. "Really?" We both nodded. "It started four days ago," Becky explained. "The night that Mrs. Wilson called my dad to tell him Timmy had been killed. We got stoned out in the barn and then I showed him that book you gave me that time. The Joy of Sex. Do you remember?" "That book?" Mary Ann looked shocked. I could almost read her thoughts. She was wondering if Becky had told me about the encounters the book had initiated between the two of them. "Yes." Becky nodded. "We looked at the pictures in it and, well, you know what kind of effect those pictures have." "What do you mean?" she said, nervous, defensive. "You know what I mean Mary Ann," Becky said. "I'm sorry but I told Kevin about, well about the things you and I have done." Mary Ann was speechless in her horror, forcing me to wonder if Becky was choosing the correct approach to this thing. I could imagine her embarrassment. "You didn't," she finally croaked. "I'm sorry," Becky repeated. "But Kevin won't tell anyone. He doesn't even know anyone here. And I never thought you two would meet each other. We were being honest with each other and it just kind of came out. I've never told anyone else Mary Ann and I never will." "Neither will I," I put in. "It's okay, really. It's actually kind of sexy to think about it, you know?" "I can't believe you told him about that!" Mary Ann yelled at Becky. "That was private!" "So is what I'm telling you," Becky said. "I like what you and I do to each other. I really do. But I also like what Kevin and I do with each other. I like it more. And, well, I want you to feel it too." "What?" Mary Ann asked. "You're my best friend in the whole world," Becky told her. "The very best. And I know that you're as curious about sex as I am. Kevin and I started looking at that book and I got all wet." She giggled. "And he had a hard-on from it." Mary Ann looked at me for a second, as if wondering about my hard-on, and then went back to her stern appraisal of her betrayer. "Anyway," Becky continued, "we started talking about, you know, sex. I asked him what he'd done before and he told me. He didn't lie or anything about it. Do you remember when you asked Richie Watson if he'd had sex?" "Yeah," Mary Ann scoffed. "And he told me he'd screwed his teacher in fifth grade, all of his babysitters, and your Mom." "Right." Becky nodded, gaining confidence now that Mary Ann had actually answered her. "He lied his ass of. That's what most guys do. But Kevin didn't do that. He'd never been laid before and he told me the truth about it. I knew then that I could trust him with what you and I did. It was horrible of me to do that and I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have." "No, you shouldn't have," Mary Ann agreed. "But I did," Becky said. "And then, well, one thing led to another. Kevin told me about a girl whose tits he'd felt. I asked him if her tits were nicer than mine. Before we knew it, I was showing him my tits and he was touching them. Then he started to suck them." Mary Ann no longer seemed pissed off as Becky narrated this portion of the tale. In fact, she was looking quite interested. "Then I felt his hard-on in his pants. Oh God Mary Ann, you haven't lived until you've felt a hard cock that you've created pushing against you." "Really?" Mary Ann asked, wide-eyed now. "Really," Becky assured her. "So I asked him if I could see it. He showed it to me. And then I asked him if I could touch it. He said..." She told the tale of our encounters in graphic detail. She worked her way through my first orgasm on her body ("it fuckin' shot everywhere!"). She told about our encounter the next day with the sunscreen. She told how I'd thrown her down in the muck and mud and fucked her again after we'd awakened. She told about the condom snatching operation. She finished with the encounter we'd just had hours before in her parent's bed and in the shower. Through it all Mary Ann seemed to forget that she was supposed to be pissed off. I saw her nipples poking through the cotton of her bra and her shirt. I saw her continuously cross and uncross her legs, as if there were an itch between them. Mary Ann was fascinated by the tale. When Becky finally finished she looked at her, her face flushed. "So why did you tell me all of this?" she asked. "Because," Becky said softly, "I thought that maybe you'd like to try it too." "Me?" Mary Ann asked. "I hardly know him!" Becky shrugged. "You don't have to actually fuck him or anything if you don't want to. But wouldn't you like to see his cock? To feel it? To put your hands on it and make it come? Don't you want to see what it looks like when the come shoots out?" "I don't know," Mary Ann said, casting glances at my crotch now, which was bulging with my latest hard-on. "Oh come on," Becky said, smiling once more. "You know you want to. Look at it. It's all hard right now." She licked her lips and let her eyes drift to my bulge. She jerked them away as if she'd been looking at the sun. "How about this?" Becky asked, reaching for my crotch and putting her hands on me through my shorts. I groaned at the contact, raising my hips to increase the pressure. "I'll show it to you. You don't have to touch it if you don't want to, but you can watch what I do. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" She licked her lips again nervously. "Well," she said. "I suppose." "And Kevin won't mind, will you Kevin?" "No!" I assured them, eager now to get any piece of flesh that was not my own on my cock. "Good," Becky said, unsnapping my shorts and slowly pulling the zipper down. I kicked off my shoes and socks so she could pull the shorts down. She did so, leaving me sitting there in my underwear. Ordinarily I would have been deathly embarrassed by such a situation. I wasn't then. I was incredibly turned on. Becky gave me a few more strokes through the Fruit of the Looms I was wearing. And then she grabbed the waistband and pulled them down. My turgid cock burst through into the air. I heard Mary Ann gasp as she took it in. "Look at it," Becky said, pushing my underwear down my legs and off. She tossed them next to the couch. "Isn't it beautiful? You can't imagine how good it feels in your pussy Mary Ann." Mary Ann said nothing. She just continued to stare at my meat as if hypnotized. Becky took it into her fingers and began stroking it slowly up and down in a rhythm she knew I liked but which she also knew would not make me come. She gave me squeezes between strokes. "Do you want to try it?" Becky asked her after a minute. "It won't bite you." Mary Ann shook her head slowly. "Not right now," she croaked in a voice that sounded far from decisive. "Suit yourself," Becky told her. "Let me show you what else you can do with a cock." Slowly she lowered her mouth to me and slurped me in. I groaned at the contact, feeling her teasing mouth caressing me. "Wow," I heard Mary Ann whisper under her breath. Becky began bobbing her head up and down with increasing frequency, sucking harder on me. My hips began to move involuntarily up and down and I began to pant. Just as I was really getting into the blowjob, she pulled her mouth free of me, leaving my dick waving in the air-conditioned room. "Sucking cock is great," Becky told her friend, who was still staring at my dick. "You've just got to try it." "Well... " Mary Ann said doubtfully. "At least put your hand on it," Becky prodded. "See what it feels like." Hesitantly she reached out her small hand. She paused a half-inch away, seemed about to withdraw, and then suddenly grasped me. I sighed as I felt unfamiliar fingers encircling me. She felt it up and down, fascinated by it. She tweaked the head a little, probed at my piss hole, and then felt my balls. I kept my mouth shut, enjoying the caresses. "Jack it up and down," Becky instructed. "He likes that. Don't you Kevin?" "Yeah," I breathed, nodding. Mary Ann did as she was told. Her soft hand began to move up and down on me. It didn't feel as nice as when Becky did it, but at the same time it felt better. Fresher. "Am I doing it right?" Mary Ann asked me. "Yeah," I repeated, getting into her rhythm. "Suck it a little," Becky prodded. "Just put it in your mouth." "I don't want him to, you know, come in my mouth," she replied, continuing to move her hand. "I won't," I promised, eager to feel her sucking me. "He won't," Becky reiterated. "I'll let him come in mine." "You let him come in your mouth?" Mary Ann asked. "Yes," Becky said. "It's great. But he won't do it in yours if you don't want him to. So go ahead," she challenged. "Suck it a little." "Maybe a little," she offered and slowly lowered her head to my lap. My head slipped between her lips and Becky immediately began giving her instruction on the proper technique. In less than five minutes Mary Ann was sucking me like a twenty-year whore and making my hips undulate uncontrollably on the couch. I felt orgasm approaching. "Mary Ann," I croaked, not wanting to break a promise to her after we'd achieved so much. "I'm gonna come pretty soon." She jerked her head away quickly, as if she'd been sucking on something hot. But Becky quickly replaced it with her own. So quick that my rhythm was hardly even altered. I felt the tingle of pure pleasure slamming into my body and an instant later I was shooting gobs of come into Becky's mouth. She sucked it all into her mouth but didn't swallow it. When she raised her head up after the last spasm her mouth was still full of my offering. "What's it taste like?" Mary Ann, fascinated with what her friend had just done asked. "Let me show you," Becky said softly, leaning across my body and taking Mary Ann's face in her hands. Their lips came together and they kissed, tongues sliding into each other's mouth. I watched this closely, never having seen such a thing before. I could hear the wet swish as they orally stimulated each other. I knew that Mary Ann was getting a mouthful of my come courtesy of Becky. My dick, which had just blasted off a load, already started to harden once more. Seeing two girls kiss each other was almost more than I could take. To this day I have an obsession with pictures of women kissing. At last they broke the kiss. When their mouths parted a sticky stream of my ejaculate trailed between the two of them for an instant, like melted cheese from a piece of pizza, before it finally broke and fell away. They looked in each other's eyes, not seeming to notice that I was even there. "What do you think?" Becky asked softy. "It's not bad," Mary Ann said, her eyes now shining with lust. "Not bad at all." They leaned forward once more and began kissing. Since they were doing this right over my lap I took the opportunity to get in on it a little. I put my hands on their legs and began stroking them. I felt Becky with my left hand, moving my hand immediately up to the hem of her shorts. With my right hand I began stroking Mary Ann near the back of her thigh. Her leg was skinnier but softer. She offered no protest so I moved northward until I reached her shorts and the beginning of the swell of her ass. She pushed herself into me, increasing the pressure, so I wormed my hand under her shorts, feeling her tight ass. Becky broke the kiss again. "Let's get undressed," she told her friend. Mary Ann hesitated for the briefest instant and then said, "Okay." I whipped my shirt off and was naked in less than a second. Becky wasn't far behind me. She kicked her shoes across the room, yanked off her socks, dropped her shorts and panties in one swift movement, and then her shirt and bra in another. By the time she was done, Mary Ann had only removed her shoes and socks. She stared at our nudity, doubt showing on her face once more. "C'mon baby," Becky breathed, as turned on as I'd ever seen her before. "I know what you got and it's beautiful. Show Kevin." "Okay," she said and reached for the hem of her shirt. She pulled it off and dropped it to the floor. Her tits were encased in a white bra that was probably a training bra. She hesitated an instant more and then reached behind her back, unfastening it. She probably felt self-conscious about her tits but I found them to be beautiful, even if they weren't as large as Becky's. They were small mounds that peeked out from her chest a few inches, capped with small nipples. Her array of chest freckles, I was pleased to see, did in fact extend to the tits. I wanted to kiss those freckles, to suck on them. I figured I would be doing that before too long went by. She unsnapped her shorts and pushed them down, leaving her standing in a pair of conservative white panties. I didn't imagine that they even sold anything but those kinds of panties in Wheaton. At least not in junior sizes. The crotch of her panties was damp right about where her pussy was encased. The area of dampness was about the size of an egg. With a final hesitation she pushed her panties down and off, revealing her sex to me. It blew Becky's right out of the water I must admit. I'd never imagined a vagina could look so appealing. The lips were swollen and puffy, moist with secretions. The clit was protruding nicely from its hood. Her pubic hair was light brown in color and there was only a smattering of it on the top of her pubis and a fine fuzz along the lips. It did not conceal her pussy as Becky's did, but accented it like a picture frame. My mouth began to water as I thought about eating her. "What do ya think Kevin?" Becky asked me quietly. "You're gorgeous," I told Mary Ann. "Beautiful." She blushed furiously at my words, crossing her legs. "You've always wanted your pussy eaten haven't you Mary Ann?" Becky asked. "Yes." She nodded. "Kevin knows how to eat a pussy," Becky said. "He does it very well in fact." Mary Ann smiled and sat down next to me on the couch. "Prove it," she said to me. She leaned back into the cushions of the couch and slowly spread her legs. She was breathing heavily in her excitement. Her tiny nipples were standing erect and they heaved up and down with her respiration. Her vaginal lips were spread apart, revealing the small opening between them. A strong odor of musk reached my nose, making my nostrils flare. It occurred to me that Mary Ann, unlike Becky and I, had not showered recently and had ridden over here on her bicycle in the heat. This made her scent all the more powerful. This did not disgust me however, it turned me on. Thanks to Becky I'd developed a taste, as it were, for strong pussy secretions. Mary Ann's smelled similar but also different. I couldn't wait to taste her. I didn't have to. I brought my face to her beautiful crotch and dug in. My tongue slid between her lips, tasting her sharp flavor and she cried out at the contact. I lapped up and down, gathering her juices on my tongue, feeling the fuzz of her fledgling pubic hair tickling my face. I went at her like a starving man attacking a twelve-course meal. I'd learned well from my sessions with Becky and I gave Mary Ann my best. As I licked her she began to gyrate beneath me, making it difficult to keep my lips and tongue where they needed to be. Dimly I registered the fact that Becky had stood up and left the room. I didn't care. I was doing The Lord's work here and I continued to minister to Mary Ann, who was now moaning as well as squirming on the couch. About the time I began attacking Mary Ann's small clit with my tongue and lips, making her gyrations increase in volume and making her moans reverberate about the house, I noted the return of Becky. She dumped a few packages that I recognized as condoms on the coffee table. Cool, I thought as I began increasing my suction on the clit between my lips. Soon my cock would be happily buried in a vagina. Becky kneeled down on the floor next to the couch and lowered her face to Mary Ann's right tit. She slurped the nipple wetly into her mouth and began suckling as she squeezed and felt the other tit with her hand. Her free hand, I saw, was buried between her own thighs, rubbing furiously. The duel assault of our mouths was enough to push Mary Ann over the edge. She moaned and bucked beneath us, her pubis mashing into my face violently. When her body relaxed again, she sighed contentedly. Becky continued to suck on her tit so I kissed my way up her body, licking and sucking the cool, sexy flesh of her stomach and lower chest until I came to her left nipple. I took it into my mouth, tasting its firmness, sucking as much of her titflesh into my mouth as I could. "Ohhh," she cooed, running her hands through our hair and pulling us tighter against her. I left her tit behind and kissed my way to her neck, sucking lightly on it, and then to her ear, doing the same. She turned her face to me and suddenly my tongue was in her mouth, sliding along with hers. She kissed almost exactly like Becky, undoubtedly because they had taught each other how to French kiss. As Mary Ann and I swapped saliva and pawed each other's body, I felt Becky remove herself from her position next to us. I pulled myself more firmly atop Mary Ann. Our chests were now sliding together on the film of saliva left over from our tit suckling activities. Her nipples left wet little trails as they moved back and forth against my skin. My cock was pushing against her upper thigh, which was spread widely apart from the other thigh. Her wet pussy was against my lower stomach, burning into me, saturating the top of my pubic hair. I heard a ripping noise to my left, a noise I had become familiar with over the last few days. It was a condom wrapper being opened. A second later Becky's hands were on my hips, rolling me to my side. I went willingly, not even breaking my kiss with Mary Ann. Becky rolled the condom over my cock, as she'd seen me do, and then put her mouth on it, wetting it thoroughly with her saliva so it would be nice and slippery. When she was done she slid along the floor until her mouth was on Mary Ann's neck. She kissed her there a few times and then began to whisper in her ear. "Are you ready to get fucked, Mary Ann?" she breathed. "Are you ready for his cock in your pussy?" "Ohhhh!" Mary Ann groaned excitedly, sucking harder on my tongue. It wasn't exactly a yes, but it wasn't exactly a no either. I decided that silence implied consent. I rolled myself back down so I was covering her body with mine once again. I adjusted my hips until my cock was nestled between her slippery vaginal lips. I slid up and down a few times and she moaned louder, opening her thighs wider for me. I broke our kiss and stared into her green eyes. She was panting and gazing at me wildly. Becky continued to kiss and suck her neck. "Fuck me," Mary Ann said. "Go ahead. I want you to." I gave her one more gentle kiss and then slowly pushed my hips forward. Becky had done an admirable job lubricating the condom and it slid in without hesitation. Her pussy was tight. Tighter than Becky's and she gripped me firmly, encasing my cock as it sank to the hilt in her body. She closed her eyes and groaned in pleasure as my pubis met hers. "How does it feel baby?" Becky asked her, nibbling on her earlobe. "Oh God it feels good," Mary Ann cried, pushing at me with her hips. "Start moving," she commanded. "I want to feel it!" I'm nothing if not obedient. I pulled slowly out of her until just the head was still in. She was so tight around my cock that I feared the rubber would be pulled off of me from the friction. I pushed back in, burying myself once more. After three or four strokes she loosened up a bit and became wetter, easing my passage. I began to move faster within her, relishing the sensation of that tight puss gripping me. She began thrusting back at me enthusiastically, her hands dropping to my ass where they both caressed and squeezed it and pulled me harder into her body with each of my downthrusts. "Oh God," she kept saying. "It feels so good. Fuck me harder!" I sped up my rhythm, thankful that I'd already come twice that day. If not for that I probably would have shot off in her shortly after the third or fourth stroke. Next to us, Becky suddenly stood up. "I'm feeling left out here," she said. With that, she climbed onto the couch, straddling Mary Ann's face with her thighs. "Eat me!" she commanded her girlfriend, sinking down onto her face. I almost lost it there, seeing Becky's dark bush descending downward, just inches from my face, and seeing Mary Ann's pink, eager tongue flit out and plant itself between my cousin's pussy lips. Becky sighed in pleasure as Mary Ann went to work, lapping and slurping wetly at her. Somehow I held onto my sanity and my orgasm and continued to pound away in my new lover's cunt. Becky was the next to come. While Mary Ann captured her clit in her mouth and began assaulting it, I raised my head a little to where Becky's tits were bouncing before my eyes. I took her right nipple into my mouth and began sucking. Like Mary Ann before her, she was unable to stand up to the effect of two mouths on her erogenous zones. She bucked and screamed loudly, sending juices cascading over Mary Ann's face. Mary Ann wasn't far behind. Her pelvis began to slam rapidly against mine and she lost all concentration on Becky's cunt. Becky, satisfied for the moment, removed herself from her face and knelt down once more, kissing her wetly and deeply. I pulled Mary Ann closer and pushed my face into their kiss. Our three tongues began sliding and licking each other. Saliva ran down our faces as we probed back and forth. Mary Ann began to moan loudly once more and she came even more powerfully than the first time. "Yesss!" she screamed. "Oh my fucking God!" Finally I could take it no more. My third orgasm of the day began worming its way through my body. I slammed harder and harder into her, my hips a blur of motion. "He's gonna come in you baby!" Becky, familiar with my body rhythms, said excitedly. She moved away from us a little, allowing us to finish the act by ourselves. "Do it! Do it!" Mary Ann encouraged, squeezing my ass cheeks again. I did it. I poured another hot load out of my cock and into the condom, groaning as I did it. When I was finished I pulled quickly out of her and pulled the condom off my cock. I walked it into the bathroom and flushed it away, feeling a dull ache in my balls from all of the action. I took a piss in the toilet, flushing that away as well. My body was covered in sweat and smelled strongly of feminine musk. It's a wonderful way for your body to smell. It's the smell that says you just got laid. I wondered if I would be able to do anything else that day. My cock seemed to be pretty much used up. As I opened the bathroom door I heard a quiet moan from the living room. I recognized it as Mary Ann. When I walked back in she was sitting on the edge of the couch, her pretty legs spread widely. Becky was kneeling on the floor, eating her. Something she'd told me she could never bring herself to do before. I smiled as I watched them. Mary Ann looked up and saw me standing there. She patted the couch next to her. "C'mon," she said. "Join the fun." As I headed over my dick was already half-hard and working it's way to fullness. And I still had six more days to spend in Wheaton. Al Steiner 5-2-99 ------- The End ------- Posted: 1999-07-01 Last Modified: 2005-01-02 / 07:10:51 pm ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------