Storiesonline.net
-------

                          Dee Saves the Program
                              by peregrinf

Copyright© 2013 by peregrinf


-------
Description: She's tall, athletic, joyously bisexual, and one of her first challenges is saving the Naked in School Program at Central High. But first there's a pep rally to run. This will be the last volume in Dee's story. If you haven't read of Dee's earlier adventures, begin with Carl and Beth do Sex Ed in Middle School or you'll be lost. Better yet,start with Carl Naked in School. Story codes will be added as needed.

Codes: MF mf Mf FF ff Ff cons rom les bi het inc mother dau oral anal exhib sch
-------



-------

Chapter 1


"It's going to be very dull around here without you."

It was a soft whisper in my ear, a hot breath on my cheek, a tender lick, all warming my heart, and other parts of me. The reminder of graduation, only days away, scared me a little, but the body embracing me kept those fears at bay. I was left with a pang, though, because I knew this, one of the sweetest moments of my high-school career, was a one-time thing, the only chance we had.

"Oh, I'm sure you won't get bored," I answered, still catching my breath from our first glorious orgasm. It had been as wonderful as I'd hoped, made more precious because of who I'd shared it with. In the afterglow I knew I had given as well as I'd gotten, and that had made it extra special.

"I don't know about that. Like now, you never cease to amaze me. But before you even crossed the threshold you took on -- what was it you called them? -- Tweedle something? -- on the front steps."

"Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber. You mean Misters Cagney and Lacey. I didn't know you knew about that. But of course you would. Nothing escapes you."

"You were so confident, so sure of yourself."

"I was scared to death. Haven't you figured it out? When something scares me I get pissed and my philosophy is that the best defense is a good offense," I confessed, hoping this reminiscence wouldn't lead to "he-whose-name-still-will-not-pass-my-lips."

This was a night for reminiscing, but that I didn't want to remember.

"I might have known. And before the month was out you'd cleaned them both up, very nicely.

"And then there was the homecoming dance. My god! you wore that gorgeous dress like a queen. You were so tall and slender, elegant, a goddess among the overdressed rabble with their superficial glitter and sequins. Those rubies..."

"Synthetic," I confessed.

"Synthetic - schminthetic. What did you have on under it, by the way?"

"The dress?" I chuckled. "Nothing, of course."

"No one but you could have gotten away with it."

"I was a skinny kid, but that's a wonderful thing to say. Thank you." I gave a squeeze. Oh, I remembered that night well, and happily. How we'd danced, Greg and Kathy and me, how we had flirted and teased and aroused each other, at the table and right there on the gym-become-dance floor. And afterwards -- at the home-to-be, where I now lived with my Moms -- we'd made love, oh how we'd made love, first barely inside the door, then later in that big bed, and the pool, and the shower...

"I've always wondered. Where did you find it? I've never seen you wear it since. Do you still have it?"

So, I still had some secrets. "I wouldn't part with it for the world, but it requires a very special occasion, and I've grown. I'm hoping I can let it out. I'd like to wear it to the senior prom. Whatever I wear has to go with the jewelry."

"Of course. Even if it's just the jewelry -- now there's and idea! -- wear JUST the jewelry!"

"You'd like that."

"I would. So would you, don't deny it. Anyway, worn at your first big high school dance, and last. That has a nice symmetry."

Silence for a moment, for touches and tastes, sensuous delights.

"You were the envy of everyone there. All the girls were wishing they looked half as elegant and sophisticated as you, while the guys wished you were their date. And there you were, with two of the most strikingly beautiful escorts at the dance. You shamed the snots who deserved to be put to shame. The rest of us could only admire and envy you."

"Being bisexual does have its advantages," I responded with a sensuous snuggle.

"Indeed it does. But where'd you find the dress? You must have had help. Pardon me for saying so, but back then your fashion sense was -- uh -- underdeveloped."

"Rudimentary, you mean. I wasn't even fourteen. Still a tomboy."

"Some tomboy! So give!" The tweak to my nipple added emphasis. "And who did your hair? What happened to the tousled look?"

Ah, to tell or not to tell? That was the question. At the time I'd been sworn to secrecy. But Heather had been a senior four years ago and had graduated with her class, of course, so she was long gone, the makeover a lasting reminder of all she'd done for me.

"I had a lot of help there," I admitted. "A makeover at that beauty shop that had just opened at the mall. It was a grand opening special, you might say, or maybe I was the Grand Opening Special."

"You were the girl in the front window! I remember the picture in the paper, but I wasn't sure it was you. I didn't recognize your -- ah -- vertical smile at the time." A finger insolently stroked the slit between my thighs, made me shiver.

Henri still did my hair -- he maintains his phony French accent with me, but has dropped his put-on gay-ness, to my pleasure -- and that lovely, dusky-skinned cosmetician with the talented fingers still waxed my pussy, even when it didn't really need it. Sometimes, not often enough, when business was slow, I again got coifed and waxed in the front window. I was going to miss those occasions, too.

"But about the dress..."

Should I tell about the dress? I'd promised, but the reason no longer applied. Heather's coterie had fallen apart by spring of my freshman year in an amazing display of claws and back-biting. Somehow she'd emerged from the catfight virtually unscathed, and as a result found much wider acceptance with the student body, though her romantic life was always cramped by her experience. Mongo had been her date for the senior prom, maintaining their mutual fiction. I could only hope that he'd be more comfortable with his sexuality at Harvard. I'd heard she'd met a nice guy in college.

What harm could it do now to tell?

"I had help," I admitted, deliberately teasing. "We found it at that SPCA thrift shop."

"Way out there? They've got nice stuff. But who helped? Who's 'we?' Come on, give."

"Promise never to tell?"

"Of course!"

I relished the surprise. "Heather MacKenzie."

"You're kidding! You were sworn enemies back then..."

"As the old saying goes, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend.' You know what -- or who -- we had in common, and for some reason she insisted she owed me."

That was about as close as I wanted to come to mentioning him.

This silence was tense, both of us remembering what we'd rather forget, but never could.

"We actually became close. Very close, for a time, but hid it, rather than be shunned by our own groups. You know cliques."

"Too well. Watching your Lunch Bunch and the Bee Hive in the cafeteria was like watching the Hatfields and the McCoys without the gunfire.

"But thanks to her, what an impression you made at the dance! And then there was the Homecoming Pep rally. You were the first freshman ever named Miss School Spirit."

"And almost certainly the last." I was relieved at the change of subject, sort of. That had not been my finest hour. What is that Chinese curse? May you live in interesting times? It certainly had been interesting. "That was Heather's doing, again. I think she meant well."

"Somehow you held it all together."

"Somehow is right! Maybe if I'd been warned I could have done an even better job," I grumbled.

"Quit fishing for compliments. You pulled off a miracle and you know it." Distracting fingers traced a warm line, from the base of my neck all the way down my spine to the crack of my naked ass, soothing away the sting of that gentle rebuke. Delicious goose bumps trailed the touch every inch of the way down, and that was a lot of inches. During my sophomore year I'd finally stopped growing, topping out at six-foot-one with, as Coach put it, the wingspan of an albatross. I resisted the urge to raise my bottom in invitation, contenting myself with a squirm and a snuggle against warm skin. It had taken me four years to arrange this rendezvous, and I was determined to make it last and savor every delicious minute of it.

"It was a miracle I survived."

"But you did."

"I had -- a lot of help -- from my friends," I admitted, my breath catching at the way the fingers insolently probed the valley of my butt even without my encouragement, an intimacy I'd hardly dared to dream of four years ago. I returned the favor with nips here, and touches there, even as I remembered how the great MSS adventure had all come about.

Once again, I'd owed Heather for the opportunity, and the work she'd done with the cheerleaders. All things considered, it had come off better than we deserved, and in the end I was still standing, though my feet were bruised and spattered with pumpkin guts.

-------

The moment I heard my name over the PA I knew who to blame.

I was a freshman, a nobody, and certainly not a cheerleader. Only once before had someone other than a senior cheerleader been named Miss School Spirit. That time the football team's star running back (a senior, I think) had used his clout vindictively trying to embarrass my brother's girlfriend, junior class geek and future valedictorian Beth Finch. It had been a clumsy attempt to humiliate her which completely backfired.

In the years since then the old tradition had been upheld so I'd thought I was safe. I should have listened to my best friend and former lover Missy when she'd warned me I might be chosen. Now it had happened. Not that I could have done anything to avoid it.

Shit! I knew only two people who had the influence to pull off such a coup, but I couldn't help wonder why they'd done it. As Head Cheerleader Heather had to have instigated it. What had I done to her to deserve it? I thought it was all fine between us.

Since the football team made the actual selection she must have enlisted Matthew "Mongo" Mozilla, football team co-captain and star wide receiver, in the plot. Somehow she'd convinced him to lobby the team on my behalf. But why would he do such a thing to me?

Maybe they thought it was an honor. Maybe I should have told them what I thought of the whole stupid Miss School Spirit thing, but the subject had just never come up.

An honor? In whose world? Certainly not mine! The position of Miss School Spirit was nothing more than the product of testosterone-fueled sexism. And by "position" I do NOT mean on her back, legs spread, a burly linebacker between her thighs, as previous nominees had been rumored to pay for the "honor." Some even offered themselves before the fact in hopes of improving their chances of being chosen.

It sometimes worked, I'm told.

Since she had been in The Program, Beth had performed her MSS duties wearing nothing more than body paint and a smile.

Strange. Every MSS since had been a program participant. What a coincidence!

NOT!

I wasn't in The Program, but I was no fool. If I didn't do it in the nude it would be a scandalous disappointment.

What the heck. I'd already I'd spent more time naked in school than I did dressed, so it wasn't any big deal. The major problem was that I had only two days to somehow produce a pep rally worthy of kicking off the big homecoming football weekend. On game day my main assignment was simply to motivate the players to efforts greater than even naked cheerleaders could inspire.

Good luck with that, I thought, given my lack of pulchritude.

"You're tall, you're beautiful, you are Sexy," my ever present mental companion and professional nag The Stick whispered in my ear. I'd long ago learned not to argue with her.

Tradition was that my term in office concluded with a post-game appearance in the team's locker room, along with those members of the cheerleading squad willing to put their bodies on the line, either to celebrate the victory or console the losers. Should I choose to partake in that I'd experience first hand what it was rumored that Beth Finch had enjoyed, or endured, if that's the word I want.

But getting back to the nitty-gritty, how was I going to produce a pep rally that stirred the team and the crowd to a patriotic frenzy, given my total lack of show business experience, scrawny physique (Stop that! The Stick ordered) and meager talents? Granted, I would be bolstered by martial music from the band and frolicking by pulchritudinous cheerleaders, but I needed a dramatic entrance and a stimulating routine to rouse the crowd.

Beth had arrived on the back of her buddy Stephanie's gelding Bucephalus, brandishing a blazing emergency flare to light the bonfire. Then, after leading us (yeah, I was in the audience) in a pulse pounding cheer the rally was capped off by a professional pyrotechnic display, courtesy of her daddy's connections.

How could I top that?

Shit! I needed help. Beth had combined her own brilliant creativity with a willing and energetic stay-at-home Mom, a well-connected Daddy, a boyfriend in the band as well as a lesbian horse lover to supply the steed...

No, the horse wasn't lesbian, Steph was -- oh never mind.

I wasn't anywhere near as creative as Beth. I wasn't as curvaceously blessed as Beth was, no matter what The Stick kept telling me. I was a too-tall freshman jock with limited connections and even more limited funds. While I had friends, the demands far exceeded the talents of my Lunch Bunch. No way could I drop any of this in my working mom's lap, she had enough to deal with.

Who could I put the touch on? I needed someone with theatrical experience.

Ah HAH! I knew just the person! Who could be better suited than the current president, former vice-president, and frequent producer of and star in the drama club's presentations? This particular someone, also Head Cheerleader, by some happy coincidence just happened to be the person who had gotten me into this MSS mess in the first place.

It was table-turning time.

"Hi, Heather!" I greeted her brightly in a carefully orchestrated "accidental" hallway encounter.

"Congratulations!" she responded politely, butter not melting in her mouth. As Head Cheerleader she'd been short-listed as a MSS candidate, but I knew it was the last thing in the world she'd wanted, which was probably one of the reasons she'd set me up as the fall-guy.

And before you get the wrong impression, in public we maintained a cool facade while privately exploring a tentative friendship if not lover-ship, if that's a word. I liked her, the REAL her, not the persona she donned as Queen Bee of The Hive at lunch.

Putting on my best hungry-puppy look I quickly went into my song and dance, figuratively speaking of course, that here I was, faced with a monumental challenge for which I was totally unqualified.

"And you wouldn't want to see shame brought upon the noble office of Miss School Spirit by my clumsy efforts," I concluded as she did her best to bite back a knowing smile.

"You want me to produce and direct the Pep rally for you," she concluded wryly, batting her big baby-blues at me naively. I knew better. She was anything but the dumb blonde she made it a point to appear.

"Would you at least, maybe, provide me with a concept, some kind of dramatic entrance? And maybe, since you're Head Cheerleader, you could coordinate things with them? And the football team will be there, of course, but maybe you could talk to Mongo -- I mean Matt -- so that they could be part of it, instead of just standing around looking macho? And then, there's the band, and lighting the field, and lighting the fire, and..."

"And how about the Junior ROTC corps for a color guard while we're at it?" she suggested facetiously.

"What a good idea!" I agreed enthusiastically. "But we'll save that for the game. And maybe the Chemistry Club could come up with some suitably theatrical pyrotechnics!"

"You're forgetting the Astronautics Society," she added dryly. "They're always looking for an opportunity fire off some rockets. I hear both the Federal Aviation Administration and the SPCA have them on their watch lists after their latest flight."

"What's the problem? They missed that little plane, and the mouse survived, didn't it?"

"Yeah, but the pilot almost had a heart attack. He filed a complaint. And that poor mouse never ran in his exercise wheel again. Whoever heard of a mouse with PTSD? They should have just used an egg or something. - Maybe you'd like me to get the Blue Angels for a flyover."

"Could you?"

She shook her head. "You are something else again."

For a moment I was afraid she was going to turn me down, or worse, pull out her patented and guilt-inducing "I'll do it, but only because I owe you" rationalization.

"Okay, you know I love a theatrical challenge. This'll be more fun than the Great Homecoming Dance Dress Hunt and Makeover Campaign. We'll need to set up a brainstorming meeting, and that's got to be this afternoon, right after classes, 'cause pulling this together is gonna take some fast footwork by all concerned."

"I've got to model for Kathy Powers this afternoon, with Greg," I mused -- which thought, as always, triggered that good feeling in my pussy, even as it made me think of a request for Kathy, which I quickly tucked away for future action. "Can you get the people? And could we have the meeting in the art studio? If I don't move too much while I'm posing I can contribute, or at least listen to what you're planning."

"Yeah, I'll round up the usual suspects -- and some unusual ones, too, come to think of it. Getting those geeks in Chem Club and Astronautics all moving in the same direction will be like herding cats. But if you're posing the way I think you will be they'll all want to be there. Multi-tasking, are we?"

"It's the only way! Hey, thanks a million. I've got to get to German. See you this afternoon."

I scampered off before she could come up with some excuse she couldn't do it, confident that somehow she'd manage to get everyone there. She can be very persuasive!

Which is how I wound up that afternoon in the art studio naked (as usual), down on my knees (not unusual), with Greg's cock up my ass (unusual but enjoyable) while Kathy Powers, all luscious five feet ten of her, also naked (as usual), was behind us, shaping clay. She'd been glad to agree to the idea I'd proposed to her, but more about that later.

With Greg to my south, backing me up, so to speak, my north end was facing, in no particular order, both co-captains of the football team (one of whom was Matt Mozilla), the band's drum major (the band director unable to attend, much to his regret, I'm sure), the Junior ROTC Cadet Commander (in full uniform -- yum!), plus, as Heather had anticipated, the full memberships of the Chemistry Club and the Astronautics Society. It was a critical mass of nerd power. Who knew what might happen?

Also there was the Head Custodian, responsible for assembling materials for the bonfire as well as managing the field lights at the rally. The head of security was there to insure our safety, and a representative from the fire department to limit our pyromania. Heather had thought of everything!

She was doing dual duty, or should that be triple? In addition to chairing the meeting she was Head Cheerleader, coordinating them, and would be charged with the overall choreography and staging, such as it was given the lack of rehearsal time.

It made for a crowded room, and a hell of an audience to Greg's and my artistically posed buggery. Every once in a while Greg would start to soften, so he'd take a stroke. That usually resulted in a grunt or sigh from me while my eyes crossed. I also had a tendency to drool and lose focus and have to ask someone to repeat something, but then some of the attendees had similar attention deficit episodes, which I attributed to Greg's and my display.

I maintained my carnal edge by sneaking diddles at my clitty or probing my pinched cunt with a finger. Periodically Kathy would get a little hands-on with us to capture a tactile impression of our -- ah -- connection, which contact also stirred my lust as she fingered my dilated bung and Greg's dork or teased my pussy.

Before the meeting had opened, even as the ad hoc committee had begun assembling, we'd discussed going for vaginal penetration, but Kathy argued that it was not the same as anal -- well doh! -- and would not provide the same verisimilitude, if that's the word I want. She'd already finished her sculpture of Greg doing me doggy style and wanted this one to be more -- uhm -- earthy, you might say. Just so there'd be no doubt as to which orifice he was using, Greg's cock was only about halfway in, leaving a visible gap and the two of us hanging, so to speak.

It also threatened to be a long meeting. I just hoped I wouldn't wind up with serious fecal retention issues by the time it ended. After all, the valve back there was designed to keep stuff in, with only brief periods of relaxation to allow the stuff to be expelled. Even though Greg's appendage is of relatively modest diameter I was dilated by it for the duration.

Oh, I do suffer so for Kathy's art!

And yes, the spectators who had the good fortune to arrive in a timely fashion were MOST interested in our discussion and in the mechanics of the act, everything from the amount of lubricant being applied by Kathy to my back door (a lot!) and Greg's cock (ditto), followed by his gentle but relentless insertion into my -- Oh My!

Mercifully, Heather was an effective chair, moving the meeting right along, even managing to rein in a scrum among the geek squads and the Fire Marshall over payloads and propellants or some such. The Fire Marshall even came up with a way for me to make a suitably dramatic entrance, courtesy of their ladder truck and some specialized rigging.

As the meeting concluded and Kathy finished her sculpting, Greg and I at last began to seriously address the matter at hand, or rather to my rear, regarding orgasmic release. The concluding action was briefly delayed by multiple geeks offering to participate. That was stifled by a request from Matt on behalf of his teammate -- the equation being that two jocks overrule any number of nerds.

It seems Matt had offered any of my -- uh -- available openings as encouragement -- I won't use the word bribe -- to gain his co-captain's support of my candidacy

He did, however, stipulate that it would depend on my willingness to indulge him. Matt is a gentleman, after all.

Well, I thought, after all, a deal is a deal. Isn't that how politics works? As the saying goes, it isn't who you know it's who you blow. Raising my head, I offered my mouth and accepted the plummy head of the middle linebacker's impressive erection, grateful my rear was already engaged with a more modest prod. With both ends of my alimentary canal engaged while everyone looked on I felt a bit like I was on display at the fire department's annual fundraising pig roast.

And lest they felt discriminated against, I issued the geek groups a rain-check in the form of a promise to appear at their next meetings.

Oh MY! Oh jeez! Oh SHIT! I was really getting the shaft(s)!

Not that I minded, you understand.

Having been so occupied with me for some time, Greg fired the first salvo, but the linebacker wasn't far behind. Apparently he'd been more than somewhat aroused from simply watching, so while my ass was receiving an exquisite enema from Greg's dick I got a load of creamy mouthwash from the cock in my mouth. Hot jizz flowed thickly and copiously, until it spilled down my chin and ass to drip on the sheet covering the stage where we posed.

Was I coming? Oh God, was I ever! I admit, posing for Kathy is a tough job, but someone has to do it and I figured it might as well be me. Un-spitted by the guys, my arms and legs giving out, I sprawled on my face, licking my chops as my anus contracted to stem the flow of Greg's emissions from my butt. It was a relief to know my sphincter still sphincted.

The only thing lacking was a round of applause, which I really felt we deserved.

After that I was afraid the actual pep rally proceedings might be somewhat of an anti-climax, pun intended, but I was wrong. Come Friday evening, the sun nothing more than a glow on the western horizon, two firemen and I and some interesting hardware were sharing the absolute tip-top of the fully extended ladder of the fire department's tallest ladder truck.

The truck was parked out beyond the center field fence, its fully spread stabilizers digging into the access road to provide a stable launch platform. Being behind the field lights we were in near darkness, which suited our purpose nicely. In the distance there was a big pile of scrap lumber, pallets and retired furniture at ground zero, the pitcher's mound. It was crowned with an old office chair in which sat, all stuffed with hay, a pair of old jeans and the jersey of tomorrow's opponent. The straw-man's head was a grinning pumpkin, of all things.

As I'd climbed the ladder one fireman led the way while the winner of a best two out of three rock/paper/scissors contest followed my behind. The only thing between my skin and the air was a harness like a skydiver might wear, only I had no parachute, and Kathy's artistically applied swoops and swirls of the school's scarlet and gold colors.

Well, what else would a well-dressed MSS wear to a pep rally? If it was good enough for Beth it was good enough for me!

However, unlike her, I had refused to mess up my hair with mousse or dye. I was a natural blonde and my nice, new, well-behaved coif, courtesy of Henri, would be just have to do.

The very nice firemen were giving me hands-on assistance as they carefully, very carefully, checked the harness. I appreciated their thoroughness, and not just because my life depended on it.

That done, using a carabineer one fireman attached me to the wheeled gadget called a trolley that hooked over the zip-line. Checking his watch, the second helped me shift around so I was dangling below the cable reaching from the top of the ladder, out and out and out and down and down and down, to an anchor point attached to the backstop directly behind home plate. Dangling in the air many feet up gave me a deliciously scary feeling in my crotch, which the harness straps digging most enjoyably into my pussy only added to.

The firemen again reminded me to lead with my feet so I'd only be risking two broken legs, as opposed to a busted neck or a full-frontal smash if something failed. How thoughtful of them.

Thursday afternoon we'd tested the rigging every way we could think of and it had all worked just fine. A hundred and fifty pounds of potatoes -- no I do NOT weigh that much! -- had made the run three times and we got French fries at today's lunch instead of mashed.

I won't go into the details of the negotiations with Mom that finally convinced her to sign on the dotted line that indicated this was my wacko idea and no one else would be held liable should something go wrong. In spite of that, both the school and the fire department bought insurance policy riders that would pay my medical bills up to one million dollars. How comforting.

However, I found out those weren't very expensive, so I figured it was a safe bet. After all, what could go wrong, other than the trolley jamming, leaving me dangling ignominiously half way to my goal, for example, or my harness or rigging breaking, dropping me with a splat at second base, or being incinerated should the bonfire prematurely erupt in flames -- you do know, of course, that the pitcher's mound was between center field and home plate, directly under my flight path -- or me plunging face first into the pile of padding against the backstop, or missing that completely and getting diced by the fencing, or -- well, you get the idea.

I'd run all these scenarios through my mind, over and over since we got this idea. The fire department insisted that the system had been tested and used as a thrill ride at fire department field days many times, though never for more than about two hundred relatively level yards. My mental math told me I was starting more than twice as far from the finish line, more like a quarter of a mile from my destination, on a definite down-slope.

Oh well.

Scared? Me? You bet your ass I was scared! But I wouldn't have missed this chance for all the candy bars in Hershey, Pennsylvania!

What had me even more concerned than facing death or dismemberment was that we'd had no full rehearsal for all the rest that was supposed to happen. None! The various factions had supposedly studied their parts, but it was up to me to somehow pull everything together on the spot after I came in for a landing.

In the distance I heard the soft bass drum rumble that the band used to lead into the bold brass opening of Also Sprach Zarathustra.

The geek squad had greeted that choice of music with raucous joy, knowing it as the opening theme of 2001: A Space Odyssey. I didn't know the movie, but God knows I knew the music. Brother Carl had practiced his part on his trombone often enough.

"Twenty seconds," the fireman steadying me warned, the gentle breeze drying my nervous sweat as I hung there, gripping my harness with both hands, bobbing gently in the breeze.

I'd mentally counted down, and right on "five" there were muffled "pops-fizzes" as two emergency flares were lit behind me. I had to pry my fingers loose from the harness so they could hand them to me.

Shit! I suddenly needed to pee! Maybe no one would notice if I watered the outfield on my way in.

The firemen gave me a shove and I was off, about two minutes flight time from ground zero.

"baaahhh, Baaaahhh, BAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! Baaahh baaaahh," the brass blared.

"BOOM - BOOM - BOOM - BOOM -BOOM - BOOM - BOOM - BOOM - BOOM - BOOM - BOOM -BOOM - BOOM!!" went the drums.

"baaaaah, Baaaaaaaahhhh, BAAAAAAAAHHHHHH! baaaaah beeeee!" went the brass.

"BOOM - BOOM - BOOM - BOOM -BOOM - BOOM - BOOM - BOOM - BOOM - BOOM - BOOM -BOOM - BOOM!!"

I spread my long arms wide, Wide, WIDE, thinking dragon wings with fiery feathers as I went down and down and down the zip-line, faster and faster and faster, flames, smoke and sparks streaming back from the flares, the cable whining through the wheels of the trolley, a note rising to rival the music, the wind whistling in my ears, tugging at my hair, lashing my skin as the band played on, a mighty, soaring brass crescendo.

"WAAAAAAAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

That was unscripted, but I couldn't resist it. My voice echoed over the field as the band soared toward its triumphant peak. I WAS FLYING!

I came blazing out of the night like the scarlet dragon that was the school's mascot. I'd wanted to make my entrance breathing fire, but we couldn't figure out a way to do it without burning my face off, darn it. Even so, as far as I was concerned this sure as hell beat out clinging to the back of a stampeding Percheron or whatever it was Beth rode.

Shit! Was I going fast!

Man! If I hit the chain-link backstop I'd be sprayed all over the people in the expensive seats! They'd have to bury me in a bucket!

But I didn't have time to worry about it. Timing was critical. I was approaching ground zero at what felt like the speed of sound, coming in like a bomber on the final run. I had to lead my target. Some geek in the Astronautics Club had done some calculations and paced it off, so at a chalk stripe about halfway between second base and ground zero I dropped the flares.

Whoops! We hadn't allowed for the straw man! Grabbing my harness I lifted myself and led with my feet...

God bless calculus! It was a perfect shot. I was directly above the flares when they hit the base of the bonfire to be. An explosion of sparks became fast spreading flames thanks to the "accelerant," as the Fire Marshall so delicately described it.

The geek had just earned himself a blow job.

But no time for that now! My feet decapitated our nemesis in effigy with a hollow WHOCK! pumpkin pieces splattering in all directions, the soles of my feet stinging from the impact. I was glad he'd been pretty much cleaned out and carved, and if I'd hit the old office chair that would have really hurt!

A wave of heat licked my naked ass. The fire had spread almost too fast.

What else might go wrong? Lots! I was fifteen feet in the air, coming in right over the center of home plate, a sinking fast-ball well above the strike zone.

Well, maybe I was more of a knuckle-ball.

Or perhaps a screwball?

Man that backstop was approaching fast!

Bracing myself, I was just about to kiss my ass goodbye when the hook on the trolley caught the braking cables with a mighty TWANG! With a creak and groan, springs and shock absorbers soaked up my momentum, making me swing and bounce wildly. Two trained volunteer firemen, senior football players, bless their muscular hearts, caught me on the rebound, deftly released me from the trolley and set me tottering on my feet.

As they helped me strip off the harness I thought Shit! It was over! I wanted to do it again!

But I was quickly brought to my senses when Gail, Meredith, and Cynthia, fellow members of our county championship girl's medley relay swim team came running over. I'd drafted them because they knew my patented and trademarked Mojo Bounce routine. They were naked of course as they joined me at home plate.

This I could do on autopilot, though I was still catching my breath. The band had fallen silent except for a soft, steady, deep rumble from the drums, the crowd hushed, wondering what we were doing. The only other sound was the bonfire's crackling. We huddled up, arms around each other's shoulders, just like old times, warm skin to warm skin, looking at each other, grinning like idiots.

"What're we gonna do?" I asked, just loud enough for the front rows to hear, bending my knees, beginning the gentle bobbing motion of our Mojo Bounce, getting us in sync with the drums.

"Win!" they answered together, again softly. It was music to my ears.

Bounce, bounce, bounce.

"What're we gonna do?" I asked, louder, bouncing a little higher, just a little bit, we had a long way to go in building this.

"WIN!"

Bounce, Bounce, Bounce -- higher, stronger. Letting go of my group, we reached out, our huddle growing as, right on cue, the senior cheerleaders joined us, again wrapping arms around each other's shoulders. Heather suddenly was to my right, bless her, grinning at me, the flickering light of the bonfire dancing in her eyes. She was loving this!

"What're we gonna do!!" I asked louder.

"WIN!" they all responded, still louder, bouncing harder.

Bounce! Bounce! Bounce! Bounce!

"What're we gonna do??" I asked again, still louder, bouncing harder even as we broke the huddle to draw in the rest of the cheerleaders.

Bounce! Bounce! Bounce! As the circle grew it took longer to get synched up.

"WIN!!" they answered, louder yet!

I could feel the audience beginning to throb with us, the rhythm section of the band growing stronger, the conga drums joining the bass drums, thumpa, thumpa, thumpa.

Bit by bit, bounce by bounce, it grew and grew.

BOUNCE. BOUNCE. BOUNCE. Rising on our toes now, opening our ring, they held on to me as I led the line to encircled the football team, just as naked as we were, milling like a bunch of confused buffalo, not knowing where to look or what to do. Man did they look vulnerable lacking their padding and helmets, but wowie! What a sight, all those bobbing dicks!

"What're we gonna do???!!!" I yelled, the girls joining me as the team hesitantly joined our bouncing.

"WIINNN!!!!!" the men shouted when we girls all pointed at them.

Okay, so it wasn't Busby Berkeley and yeah, I do know who he was. I'd seen some of his old movies!

JUMPING! JUMPING! JUMPING! I let go and waved to the ring to descend on the football team, reaching to grabbed Mongo's hand, each cheerleader grabbing the hand of a player.

With me at one end, Heather at the other end of what was now a line we could drag them around to form a circle around the dying bonfire. Hand in hand we circled the bonfire, bouncing, bouncing, bouncing. Almost by magic the girls shouted almost together, "WHAT'RE WE GOING TO DO?"

The men answered "WINNNNNN!!"

Over and over, it grew louder and louder and louder, the grandstands groaning as the spectators joined the rhythm, stamping their feet.

When we'd rotated me back to home plate I stopped us circling, but still bouncing, as I let go to turn toward the crowd, my back to the fire. Facing the stands, I raised my hands high, pumping my arms, jumping high, jumping, jumping, jumping adding "CHUFA! CHUFA! CHUFA!"

Heather and Mongo leading, the cheerleaders and players unwound to spread along the baselines, all of them picking up the "CHUFA! CHUFA! CHUFA!"

"CHUFA! CHUFA! CHUFA!" the crowd joined, jumping and stamping their feet harder.

By now the bonfire was already well down, the scarecrow long gone, and people were getting winded. Thanks to Coach and his wind sprints, I was still going strong. I pumped my fists high, waved my arms, getting everyone's attention, then spread my hands wide as I pumped. I began folding fingers, one by one, an obvious countdown -- five, four, three, two one in time with CHUFA! CHUFA! CHUFA! CHUFA! CHUFA!!! cutting them off with a wave.

Silence. Pause! Like a conductor, my arms swooped and brought out a ragged "WOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOO!" even from the band instruments.

As it echoed over the field I dropped my arms and the lights went out, behind me the only light a mound of charcoal with dancing flames where the bonfire had been.

What timing! A series of small rockets began launching along the outfield fence, the first two going up from the foul poles -- WHISH!

God bless those geeks! The whole thing was computer controlled and worked perfectly!

Pair by pair marching in toward center field, trails of sparks shooting up -- whish, whish, whish, whish, whish, whish -- rockets reaching for the stars. I lost count. I didn't know they'd be able to get so many of them ready. They must have had 'em stockpiled and still worked their asses off!

Okay, so they were toys, models, and they only went up maybe a hundred feet, and they weren't loaded with the huge chrysanthemum blossoms Beth had arranged, but the smaller "crack! crack! cracks!" of the payloads, the alternating scarlet and gold bursts thanks to the chemistry club's magic, were darned impressive, as little parachutes blossomed to return the rockets themselves gently to the outfield grass where the geeks could recover and re-use them for their experiments.

The whole crowd was on their feet cheering.

ZOWIE! We'd done it!

-------

God what a memory!

"What about the football game?" I was asked as we caught our breath after another wonderful ride up the orgasmic mountain together.

"What about it? We won, of course!"

"After we'd gotten our butts kicked in the first half," I was reminded. "What did you tell them in the halftime locker room? In the huddle before your Mojo Bounce to start the second half? They came out of that breathing fire, especially Mongo!"

What did I tell them? They'd gone into the locker room like wilted celery, like limp dicks, their heads hanging, especially the damn quarterback after the last interception he'd thrown.

"I told them 'Pick up your damn heads, stand tall! You're big, you're strong, you're tough, you're better than that, better than they are. Go get 'em! Pluck 'em like the chickens they are!'"

Here in the dark, in this warm embrace I didn't add, that I'd told 'em I'd be there in the locker room for them after they won. I like to think that maybe that had been the motivation they needed.

Shrewdly, a soft question in the darkness. "And what happened in the locker room after the game?"

I snuggled close. "What happens in the locker room after the game stays in the locker room," I answered softly. "That's the rule."

What I didn't say, couldn't say, was that I'd been joined in the locker room by some of the cheerleaders, but not all of them, and not Heather, definitely not Heather. And while they helped, they were available, I was obviously the team's trophy, the Grand Prize. I'd been handed around like a toy. Apparently each of 'em wanted a piece of me, as if to prove something to me, and they did, each got his piece, and I loved every moment of it.

All my openings -- but one -- got a hell of a workout from all of them -- but one.

My ass was Mongo's, and nobody else's. After the Mojo Bounce at the end of halftime, as the second half kickoff was in the air, Mongo on the sideline waiting to see where they'd start from, I'd whispered in the ear-hole of his helmet. Deliberately putting my hot breath right in his ear I'd promised him that if he won the game for us my skinny, boyish ass was his and his alone. I said it in just those words, 'cause I already knew what kind of an ass man he was and I knew that given the chance he would take advantage, even of a girl like me.

Maybe he'd be fantasizing about a guy, but the ass he used would be mine!

When he ran out on the field he was so stoked with adrenalin and testosterone he could have run through a brick wall.

In the locker room after the game he burned off the last of his glandular cocktail by plundering my butt with gay abandon, you might say.

He'd earned it. He had caught the game-winning touchdown pass.

He was big, and strong, and hard, and hot, and he filled me and filled me and filled me, his powerful hands bruising my waist as he held me down, bent over the training table, pounding into me -- in oh the most gentlemanly, considerate Ivy League fashion, I assure you -- until he finally emptied his balls into my bowels and I sang my joy to the cheers of the whole fucking crowd.

But that was only for my treasure box of memories, not the consumption of anyone else, certainly not my present companion.

"Have I ever told you how much you mean to me? How grateful I am for all you've done for me?" I whispered, blinking back tears of gratitude.



-------

Chapter 2


"Have I ever told you how much you mean to me? How grateful I am for all you've done for me?" I whispered, blinking back tears.

Oh God. How maudlin. I'm a big girl now, I shouldn't be fighting tears, even tears of joy, but it was so good exchanging confidences here in the dark, just the two of us, nothing between us.

"I'll never get tired of hearing it. You mean just as much to me, and the school owes you a huge debt of gratitude.

"But that's enough patting each other on the back. How about patting something else? Like this?"

I shivered at the touch, welcoming the digression into the erotic. "Oh yes. And how about this?" I asked, returning the favor.

I was rewarded with a heartfelt sigh, a gasp of pleasure that resolved itself into "Oh, yes, indeed!"

"And here?" I asked, only to be beaten to the punch, so to speak.

"Brilliant minds."

"And similar paths," I responded, reaching even as I was reached, touched as I was touching.

It became a loving contest of who could find the most erogenous zones. It was amazing how many we found to stimulate, and amazing the ways we found to stimulate them, the two of us soon awash in touches and teases, kisses and licks, lips and tongues, fingers and even noses and toes, the wondrous sensual joy of exploring each other's bodies yet again. Nothing was sacred, nothing profane, nothing prohibited, nothing restrained. We were totally free with each other, in access allowed, in liberties taken.

The feel, the flavors, the aromas, the sounds, even the sights, dark as it was, if you got close enough, and closeness drew us onward to ever greater efforts. Both of us were determined to give as good as we got, and the more we gave the more we received -- a positive feedback loop if ever there was one -- until we were straining against each other, synchronizing our pulsations, milking every drop we could out of the ecstatic peak.

Inevitably it had to fade. Such pleasure was unsustainable, but as it receded it left behind a wash of warm affection and good feelings. We clung together, panting and sweating and kissing and snuggling, sated -- for the moment, at least.

"You saved the program."

I wrestled with my conscience, but finally yielded, knowing that false modesty would be met with scorn.

"Yes, I did," I answered in a matter-of-fact tone, suppressing a giggle.

"Oh you are so full of yourself!" That was delivered with a tickle to my ribs, which naturally invited retaliation, and for a few minutes were middle-schoolers at a sleepover, until we were both gasping.

"But not alone. I had a lot of help," I added seriously. I was remembering those weeks of meetings, challenges and confrontations. "I couldn't have done it without all the support I got."

"But you led the way."

Maybe so, but I remembered when I distinctly felt like I was dragging an anchor.

-------

Another afternoon chairing a meeting of the Student Advisory Committee for the Naked in School Program...

Try turning that into a decent acronym. SACNISP? I don't think so!

I was ready to scream. Six weeks. Six fucking weeks we'd been meeting and we hadn't accomplished a fucking thing.

This day it didn't help my mood that I was also getting over a cold, which Mom blamed on my naked fly-in to the pep rally.

Oh it was a whole bunch of stuff. I was still growing, more up than out, which meant my knees hurt if I forgot to take my selenium. I blamed that for my diving only getting worse, though I suspected -- no, don't go there.

Swimming practice was an exhausting slog of endless wind sprints -- in my case interrupted while I hacked gobs of snot into the pool's gutters. Coach was trying to get us into condition for the season that opened in November. And my boyfriend Greg was beating me regularly, darn it. The weather had been unusually sucky, not helping my cold and making Missy's and my morning jogs less than joyous, while the house was in chaos because of our imminent move.

Mike finished droning through the minutes so I dragged myself out of my gloomings. "Do I hear a motion that the minutes of the last meeting be approved as read?"

At least my sinuses had cleared so my skull didn't resonate like a barrel when I talked.

"So moved," Heather responded, as usual.

"Seconded," Matt agreed mechanically.

"All in favor?"

Mumbled "ayes" and I banged the gavel -- gently so my ears didn't ring.

"Old business," I began, looking at the agenda. "Mrs. Devers, please tell me you have something good to report on the towels issue?"

She shook her head. "I wish. It's been bucked up to the Board of Education for them to find money for it. It's on the agenda for tonight, but it'll probably be referred to the budget committee for recommendations, which'll take another two months, knowing them. I suspect there are dark forces aligned against us," she added ominously, like something out of Lord of the Rings, but didn't elaborate.

"Why isn't there any money? Isn't The Program funded by Washington?" Matt asked.

"It is, and the funds should come out of The Program budget, but thanks to some unauthorized expenditures by -- well, you know who -- what little money that's left is frozen."

I groaned. Every time I thought the Worm was forever out of my life someone turned over a rock and there he was. Turns out he wasn't just a predator but also a thief.

I distracted myself studying Mrs. Devers's tits -- nice and firm, imagining my fingers curling around them so I could gently pinch her stiff nipples.

She drummed her fingers on the table. "About the towels, I'm not optimistic anyway. Men don't secrete the way women do and don't realize how -- ah -- open to infection we are. Of the seven members on the Board of Ed there's only one woman and she's so repressed she probably can't even end her sentences with a period. It has to be a 'full stop.' I think she blow-dries herself after peeing, rather than touch her crotch."

That got a snicker. Given our reason for being here the discussions tended to get rather bawdy.

"Personally," she went on, "I'd like the Office of Social Awareness to stick all school board members in The Program for a week. We're just lucky our unions are smart enough not to have protested our policy requiring staff and faculty do it. On the good side, I'm seeing an attitude adjustment in those who've taken part.

"As for the Board of Ed and towels, until we can somehow convince them it's a serious problem I think we're stuck. Meanwhile the nurse is taking swabs when and where she can, running up lab costs to get a head-start if we do have an epidemic of something ugly and unpronounceable, and the custodial staff is putting in more and more overtime -- at time-and-a-half -- sanitizing everywhere a naked girl or guy might sit. Next they'll be running out on the soccer field when someone slips and lands on her ass.

"All we can do is remind participants to bring their own towels and encourage potential participants to have a towel with them just in case their number comes up. But they forget, and frankly, for some families a clean towel a day is a strain.

"So, that's where we stand, or, rather, sit."

"Thank you, Mrs. Devers." Tearing my eyes off her boobs -- she'd noticed my look and gave me a smile as she cocked an eyebrow -- I looked around the table. "Anyone have any ideas?"

All I got were head-shakes. We were all in Program Uniform, of course, sitting on our own towels. Interestingly, as the committee sustained this tradition I noticed that everyone sat up straighter. Max Wang, a pudgy junior class boy, had even been motivated to switch to salads and take up Tae Kwon Do and it was having an effect.

It is to be noted, off the record, of course, that there's no causal relationship between Max's name and his better-than-average endowment. Furthermore, it is undeniable that his demure but naked classmate Samantha's admiration of said member has a stimulating effect on him. That may explain why Sam and Max have become somewhat of an item.

Wrenching my mind back to the towels got me thinking. There was a Board of Ed meeting tonight and towels were on the agenda. Hmmmm.

I decided to let my subconscious mull that over and moved on in the agenda.

"Retta, has your committee come up with any alternative to using The Program as punishment?" God I envy her great big milk chocolate tits with their Special Dark Chocolate Kiss nipples! Though on me they'd look ridiculous. She took a deep breath, which resulted in an awe-inspiring display.

"We didn't meet last week because of illness. We're scheduled to get together Wednesday," Retta answered. "It's complicated, 'cause some of us think it makes sense to give program bullies a taste of their own medicine."

I gave a silent sigh. It was always something, and she, herself, was of the "some of us" faction.

"Thank you. Please work on it. Consider reserving 'program as punishment' for only those offenses and come up with something else for spit-balls.

"Matt, does your committee have any alternatives to corporal punishment for program participant infractions?" God, reading from the agenda made it sound so stilted!

He looked unhappy. "We've met, but have yet to come up with anything."

"Next week, Matt? Please?" I begged, getting a nod in reply, which I interpreted as meaning in my dreams! Both subcommittees were struggling to come up with alternatives.

"Is there any other old business," I asked, making little check marks as we worked our way down the agenda. Mike's thumbs were busy as he took the minutes on his smart phone.

Silence.

"Does anyone have any new business?"

"Last week's incident during lunch?" Mrs. Devers ventured.

Cue the chorus: "Eeeewwwwww!"

We were all too familiar with what she was referring to.

"Does that fall under our charter?" Matt asked.

"It did involve a program participant," Heather pointed out. "What can we do?"

Matt made a face. "Take chili off the lunch menu."

"Add Kaopectate to the beverage dispenser," Retta Jones suggested.

"Diapers," Max Wang put in.

"Diapers would be a violation of The Program's 'no cover up' rule," Samantha Keeler pointed out in her usual dry, meticulous style. A slender, soft-spoken, mousy-haired but pretty junior in glasses, she was the committee's authority on Program rules and a stickler for details. She claimed to have memorized the pamphlet the day after orientation, when it was handed out. In fact, she was one of the few to even read it before she was put in The Program. She'd even researched endless pages of fine print on the Office of Social Awareness web site.

Getting students to read the pamphlet before their number came up was another issue on my list of things for us to do.

But getting back to Sam, I'd heard that at the age of twelve she'd announced she wanted to grow up to be a librarian or a lawyer. I loved her, but what is it about middle-of-the-alphabet professions?

"So our hands are tied when it comes to containment, though a towel certainly would have been of some help," I decided. "Basic cause is the kitchen's responsibility, and decontamination is the janitors' problem. Let's move on. How many complaints have we had from participants regarding unreasonable requests?"

"So far this week, none," Walter Miflin, the sophomore boy, responded.

I'd suckered him into fielding those while we sought a better solution. By default, in the absence of an official Program Coordinator, we committee members had become the recipient of Program violation complaints. It wasn't the sort of responsibility any student should take on, but word about the committee had gotten around and people came to us.

Most complaints he could resolve by simply quoting the program guide. The tough ones he referred to Mrs. Devers, who was herself like the little boy with his finger in the dyke -- I mean dike. In committee speak she was Program Coordinator pro tem and de facto, meaning she was stuck with the Worm's job. The appointment of a new Program Coordinator was pending, and probably would be for some time to come. The Worm's arrest had set off a tsunami of lawsuits and finger pointing stretching from here all the way up to the Federal Office of Social Awareness. Congress was getting involved. Heads were likely to roll like a bowling tournament. Everyone wanted to know how that miserable predator had slipped through.

"It's only Monday," Mike pointed out. "What've we been averaging?"

"Three a week," Walter admitted glumly.

"You've been doing a great job, Walt. I'm sure we'll come up with a better system for dealing with them soon," I pointed out. His hesitant smile and nod made me feel a little better.

For lack of anything better to do, we all batted the problem around and, as usual, reached no conclusion. My feeling was that the Student Guide would have to be rewritten to clarify things, and to provide for some sort of a panel to resolve the inevitable disputes. That was way beyond our responsibility, but in the absence of leadership from above we might just have to do it anyway.

In the end we finally adjourned, once again having accomplished exactly nothing.

But all was not lost. My devious subconscious had come up with a plan to motivate the school board on the towels issue. Without sharing the scheme with her, a brief consultation with Mrs. Devers confirmed the board's schedule and agenda, and she assured me that students were welcome at the meeting. In fact, she thought it was a good idea for us to be there to remind them who was actually at risk while they dithered.

I hoped she wouldn't regret having been so eager. I was going to kick some ass.

I waited until I got home before I gave the now well-programmed speed-dial on my cell a workout as I marshaled my forces. The response was truly gratifying and we rendezvoused in the high school auditorium early enough to set the trap without being caught, the custodial staff having set the stage and gone to dinner.

By the time the Board of Ed and their minions emerged from their scheduled executive session in the conference room -- supposedly dealing with personnel matters -- we were occupying the auditorium's first row. With me sitting tall in the center, flanked by my fellow SACNISP members -- no that really doesn't work very well, does it -- supplemented by my Lunch Bunch accompanied by suitable male escorts we were, you might say, a noticeable presence.

Especially since, as alums of The Program, we were all nude, boy - girl - boy - girl. We ladies had our naked legs demurely and uniformly crossed, right over left, while all of our male members' members were up-standing, shall we say.

Tripping over their own feet at the sight of us the Board of Ed made its way to the seats behind the long table at stage center. The chairman was in the middle. The lone woman on the board, on the far right, flushed bright red at our display.

Mrs. Devers had followed them out and by the look she gave me she immediately realized that Something was Up.

I gave her my best "innocent" look, along with a smile and a little wave.

Not being a member of the Board of Ed, but a mere employee representing the Principal, who had somehow managed to avoid this meeting, she took a seat to one side, next to the clerk taking the minutes, and I heaved a silent sigh of relief. That avoided collateral damage. My target was the Board of Ed's dignity, not hers.

Just as the board went to draw out their chairs to sit down, by pre-arrangement we naked ladies flashed our charms by gracefully uncrossing and recrossing our legs -- from right over left to left over right -- in perfect unison, making sure the board got a clear view of our goodies.

The distraction worked perfectly. Not one board member was looking at what they were about to sit on -- uh -- in. It was clear, cold, and wet, nicely contained in seats carefully curved to cup a bottom. It took only a few seconds for our deposit to soak through their clothes. As it did they bounced back up like Jacks-in-the-Box -- Jack-in-the-Boxes? -- their chairs shooting backwards. They reflexively reached for their asses, and quickly regretted it.

They were not happy.

Being front and center, and tall, made me the obvious target. The chairman of the board, Albert Wilson, vented a naughty word before fastening his eyes on me, shaking goop off his fingers. He knew me from my opening speech at the dedication of the Spirit of Central High statue, a speech that had gotten a lot more attention than his had.

"Miss Walker!"

"Sir?" My legs once again primly crossed, my hands in my lap, I looked as innocent as I possibly could, while I felt some of my companions jiggling as they fought their giggles. The rest of the audience, maybe twenty or thirty adults, Mom and Elaine among them, murmured. Most of them had no idea what was going on. I had prepped Mom and Elaine, which was why they were there. Knowing what I'd planned they wouldn't have missed this for the world, and I had a role for Elaine to play in this little drama.

"What is the meaning of this?" He flushed, plucking awkwardly at the soggy seat of his pants. "And why are you here naked?"

"Is something wrong, sir?"

"Our chairs! They're wet with -- with -- with something disgusting!" the woman protested weakly. Having found her bottom she was now trying to find something to wipe her hands on.

"What have you done?! I'll -- I'll..." Mr. Wilson was reduced to sputtering.

"We're naked because we are representing the Naked in School Program," I answered his second question first in an effort to keep him off balance. "We've heard there's a matter of interest to us on the agenda."

Wilson shot a sharp look at Mrs. Devers, who could only sit there and raise her hands palm up and look as innocent as she was.

"This is ... this is revolting!" the woman shrieked, mopping her hands on a lacy hanky totally inadequate for the job. We'd used a lot of aloe -- a LOT of aloe.

"It is only aloe gel, ma'am." I'd chosen it specifically for its gooey viscosity. "It is sanitary, odor-less, non-staining and easily washed off. In fact, it is good for your skin.

"But I think we've made our point. Someone please take Ms. Pierce a towel, and the rest of the board, too, of course." I'd done my research, and anyway, her name was on a little sign on the table in front of her place.

Right on cue, members of my crew rose to their feet, two of them carrying stacks of towels liberated from the athletic department closet. Like high-class waiters they filed up on the stage, handing each board member a spotless hand-towel. Then they all got busy wiping off the seats. As they finished they spread a fresh, dry towel on each chair and courteously eased it back to be reoccupied.

"And what, exactly, was your purpose with this little prank?" Wilson asked acidly as he dried his hands.

I respectfully stood up. "Sir. It was a means of getting your attention, sir. We wanted to make sure we'd be allowed to express our opinion regarding the agenda item with respect to towels for program participants," I responded. "Sir," I added respectfully.

Mr. Wilson was a large, dignified man in a three-piece suit. He was boiling, his bald spot glowing red, but was there just the slightest hint of a smile at the outer corners of his lips? I could only hope he appreciated my ingenuity and would listen to reason.

"Being heard is one thing, but this..." He ran out of words.

"This was my way of making sure we'd be heard -- not just heard, listened to. I respectfully beg your indulgence. And this was my idea and mine alone, should you feel disciplinary action is deserved, but I hope you'll listen to me before throwing me in jail, or whatever it is you decide to do."

"Let her talk," Elaine shouted as he started to open his mouth. There was a wave of applause.

Snatching up his gavel he swung it so hard I thought he'd break the handle. "I will do so, madam, if you'll kindly shut up!"

Fortunately, and I'd counted on it, he did have a sense of humor.

"Unless I hear an objection we will postpone the reading of the minutes of the previous meeting," he sputtered, the words running together. "The chair recognizes Miss Walker.

"Speak your piece," he added to me gruffly.

"Thank you, sir. I suggest that if you resume your seats, now that we've dried them off, you'll find that the clean, dry towels we provided will quickly absorb that which has made your butts cold and sticky. My apologies for the discomfort, but I felt that a demonstration of what we encounter every day in the high school might encourage prompt action on what is an important matter."

I took a deep breath, mentally reviewing what I intended to say. Heaven forbid I should have bothered to make notes! I decided to get right to the point.

"Sirs -- and ma'am -- there's no delicate way to put this. The fact is, we ladies leak, almost constantly. Not a lot, but when we're naked there's nothing to contain it. Even naked boys often leave something from their behinds -- uh -- behind -- sweat, if nothing else -- for the next student to use that chair, stool, bench or desk to sit in -- on -- whatever.

"Whether we're in the program or not, almost every day we are in danger of encountering something very much like what you just experienced."

As I spoke the board members had gingerly returned to their seats. They squirmed as they listened.

"What's more, about every four weeks a sexually mature female's leak problem is particularly messy. While we of course apply or insert protective measures, accidents happen. When they do it is monumentally embarrassing and unsightly."

The Board of Ed was developing a distinctly green tinge. Ms. Pierce looked like she wished she were anywhere else but here. Good! I had their attention.

"Also, it is not just a matter of appearances, discomfort or embarrassment. There is a very real threat to our health. As I hope you are all aware, ladies' vaginas are, by their very nature, moist and warm... ,"

I touched my bare pussy as I drawled out the last three words sensuously.

" ... making it a perfect home for germs and yeasts and funguses -- or should that be fungi? -- even athlete's foot if a couple has been into toe jobs."

Mildred Pierce was clutching at the table like she was riding out a storm on a ship.

"That's why I'm here. As most of you already know, I chair the Student Advisory Committee for the Naked in School Program. Six weeks ago, at our first meeting, we requested that towels be issued to Program participants to deal with this issue. A good towel can absorb even the worst mess, and can be discreetly folded and tucked away, rather than leaving an ugly, potentially infectious splotch behind for the next person to sit in, just as you sat down tonight. Per our wishes, Vice Principal Devers promptly conveyed that request to higher authority.

"It has been six weeks and nothing has happened," I pointed out forcefully.

I paused for a deep breath, my anger building.

"Nothing! Twenty-four students have since been in The Program, numbers twenty-five through twenty-eight are in it this week, and nothing has been done!"

As I'd gone on I'd gotten more and more steamed up. Much as I tried to hide it I know my frustration showed.

"Today Mrs. Devers told us it's a budget problem. The athletic department says it's not in their budget. The nurse says it's not in hers, building maintenance says it's not their responsibility!

"The Naked in School Program's budget is frozen because of -- larceny!

"Mrs. Devers also said that the custodians are piling up overtime sanitizing the furniture in an effort to prevent the possible spread of infections, while the school nurse is taking swabs and having them analyzed so she has some warning as to what she may have to treat.

"All that must cost something, don't you think? Where's that money coming from? Why can't some of it be used to provide us with clean towels instead of just pissing it way!?"

I finally ran down, and I was having a hard time fighting back tears. Damn! Why do I cry when I get mad?

"I'm sorry, but I've gotten really frustrated. I guess that's all I have to say."

I started to sit down before I remembered my manners. "Thank you for your consideration."

I plunked myself back down, fuming, and Heather passed me a leftover towel to dry my tears, while the audience rumbled before bursting into applause and the Board of Ed meditated.

"Mr. Chairman, may I be recognized?" It was Elaine, rising right on cue and speaking straight out of Robert's Rules.

"Yes? And for the record, who are you?"

I knew for a fact he knew her. It was "Elaine" and "Al" between them. She was his wife's doctor.

"Doctor Elaine Smathers, OB/GYN ... Board Certified," she added, as if it were an afterthought.

Wilson was visibly bracing himself. He knew her alright. "The Chair recognizes Dr. Smathers."

He had read Robert's, too.

"Thank you." She spoke clearly and carefully so everyone could hear her as she stepped out into the aisle, certain she had their attention.

"I'd like to point out that the chances are at one time or another you men may have had experience with what we doctors call Tinea Cruris, more indelicately known as jock itch or crotch rot, a fungal infection of the groin, or one of its relatives. It or similar organisms affect women as well, though less often. Imagine how unpleasant that can be for a woman should it infect the vaginal area, and how hard it is to treat.

"There are any number of opportunistic infections which flourish in warm, dark, moist areas, all uncomfortable, some of them potentially quite serious if left untreated, and young ladies so infected are often embarrassed to report the problem, which only makes it worse.

"Trust me, I know.

"If the eyes are a window to men's souls, and the stomach a way to their heart, a woman's cunt is the route to her reproductive guts, while a bladder infection has an open road to her kidneys.

"Sharing is easy. Transmission does not require sexual activity. We've all seen how quickly a common cold can spread through a school, or athlete's foot through a shower room.

"If what Miss Walker says is true, what you've created with this Naked in School Program, as you're running it now, is a superhighway to an epidemic.

"At naturist resorts, where nudity is voluntary, everyone from the littlest toddler on up carries a towel to sit on. It's simple courtesy which serves a sanitary purpose. Your NiS Program participants, on the other hand, don't volunteer to be naked, you require them to be naked. Most are probably unprepared for it. Who's going to lug around a towel just in case they might be chosen? Once into the Program, for some families the cost and labor of supplying a clean towel every day for a week is impractical to impossible.

"Frankly, it is some kind of a miracle that there hasn't been a very ugly epidemic already, which would invite a lawsuit on the grounds that the school district has been grossly negligent in protecting the health of its students. I'd be happy to be an expert witness for the plaintiffs, pro bono, because you'll have given me more than enough business to retire on.

"I respectfully suggest that you now get up off your damp asses and find the money fast. It will be a lot cheaper to issue towels NOW than deal with the consequences later."

Her little speech drew a round of applause.

"Thank you."

She returned to her seat next to Mom, who patted her hand and kissed her cheek.

"You could always kill the program!"

I whipped my head around at that loud comment, recognizing the voice from our home answering machine.

"Sir, you are out of order, and that is not on the agenda," Mr. Wilson responded promptly and forcefully.

"When will it be?"

I was scanning the small crowd, trying to spot the guy. He'd been harassing me on and off ever since I was named chair of the committee, always leaving the same message on the answering machine.

"KILL THE PROGRAM!" You could practically hear the capital letters and the exclamation point.

I'd put it down to some crank and tried to ignore it. Guess maybe I'd better pay more attention to it after all. He obviously knew our schedules so we'd never pick up on him, or maybe he was that hang-up I got sometimes.

Shit!

"I've told you before, it is Federally mandated and it is out of our hands. However, if it would satisfy you, we'll take your request up when it is properly submitted to the Board of Education, in writing, over your signature, not anonymously, and then at the discretion of a majority of the board," Wilson retorted. "Now sit down, please, sir."

They'd obviously had this exchange before. Who was this creep? Damn! Whoever he was, he was back in the shadows under the balcony. Before I could get a good look at him a door back there was cracked open and he slipped away, a shadow. Shit! I wanted to put a face with that voice so I'd know who to spit on.

We'd had the usual pickets, especially after the Worm affair surfaced on the news and just as quickly submerged again. I'd ignored them, hoping they'd go away. Unfortunately it looked like they were gathering strength among the religious fundamentalists. The Restored Temple of the Holy Redeemer Reformed Evangelical One True Church was the most persistent. I don't even like to think about what they've started calling me. I think "Whore of Babylon" is the mildest.

But somehow this guy didn't seem to fit there. He was coming from somewhere else.

It looked like maybe we were going to be fighting a battle on more than one front.

Shit.

-------

"Problem?"

"Nothing," I answered, snuggling closer, not wanting the memory to spoil what we were sharing, determined to preserve this precious encounter, untainted, to carry with me when I left this place.

The hand stroking my bare back was soothing and caring. She knew me well enough to know when something was bothering me, but kind enough not to pry. Instead her lips found my ear and she breathed heat into it, into me before her tongue began to explore its curves and hollows as if seeking something.

Oh God yes, that felt so good! My hand cupped her modest, soft, warm breast, my thumb flicking a stiff nipple. After toying with it a few minutes, my hand slid down her trim, fit abdomen, lower, over the yielding bulge of her pussy with its carefully trimmed thatch. I pressed my own smooth mons against the wing of her pelvis, gently rubbing heat into my clit, squirming to get closer, ever closer to her.

My hand cupped her crotch and I felt the heat and humidity, but still put off letting a finger invade her crevice with its appetizing slippery folds.

"Oh Dee," she sighed, "you are a tease!"

Me? Tease her? I was teasing myself. I had my goal, but knew that getting there would be half the fun, more than half the fun. I dipped my head, my lips finding the rubbery nubbin topping her breast to nibble on it. Yum! I tongued it, gently nipped it with my teeth, drawing a groan from this wonderful woman.

From the moment I'd first seen her, outside her office, listening intently as a student confided in her, I'd wanted her, but only now did we dare to risk such an encounter, now that I was teetering on the boundary between student and graduate, when we were no longer subject to the restrictions imposed by protocol and her responsibilities as vice principal.

Abandoning her breast, my lips and tongue began a long, leisurely journey lower, savoring her satin skin, her trim fitness.

Mrs. Devers -- Helen she was to me now, here -- moaned. "Oh, Dee!" her hand stroking my head, ruffling my oh-so fashionably trimmed bob.

I purred in response, licking, tasting the sweat from our earlier activities. I'd lost track of time, of orgasms. Every one had been different, a new experience as we'd discovered new ways of stimulating each other. Now it was her fingers tickling my left ear while my right one, pressed to her sternum, picked up the drumbeat of her heart, and then, as I slipped lower, a soft gurgle from her gut. She was so alive, so vital!

Oh how I looked forward to pleasuring her! My desire only made me linger all the more. My tongue skated the verge of her navel, finally slithered into the crater to probe, convulsions in her tummy muscles my reward.

"Please," she begged, "Let me love you again! Please! While we still can."

In response I scraped the swell below her belly button with my teeth as I squirmed around. A wriggle, a writhe and her arm slid beneath me, drew on my hip, her mouth now hot on my flesh as my legs straddled her. We were getting closer and closer to paradise and I could smell her arousal, her trimmed bush scratching my lips, my cheek. As my face dipped between her thighs her mouth found my cunt, and we sipped from each other the sweet, intoxicating liquor of our mutual passion, a passion made all the more wonderful by our love and respect.



-------

Chapter 3


"I am so going to miss you guys so much. I wish we'd had more time together, but this year's been so crazy," I murmured softly.

Even snuggled close, side-by-side, my queen-size bed was cozy for the three of us. The only illumination was the rippling glow of the pool lights on my ceiling. Usually hypnotic, tonight they were sensuous.

We were all naked, of course, and I was squirming inside. When I'd originally invited them I'd been thinking of nothing more than dinner, a swim and a sleepover. But my libido had its own intentions. As I should have expected, our skinny-dip had taken a sexy turn, lots of skin-to-skin contact. A three-way ducking contest had degenerated into a circle jerk, if you could call it that when two of us were girls.

Now, up in my room, along with the faint scent of chlorine on our skin lust was in the air, but I was afraid there wasn't a breath of it to spare for me. They were such a tight couple, how could I come between them, even for this one night?

"What're you thinking?" Her soft question broke a companionable silence.

How could I answer that? At that moment I was remembering his stiff dick bobbing in front of my face in the pool, thinking how good it would feel tucked into that warm, welcoming pocket between my thighs. I wasn't sure I wanted them to know.

"I'm thinking if it weren't for you I don't know where I'd be today," he mused, and I breathed a sigh of relief. But was he talking to me? "Remember when we met?"

Oh shit. After years of therapy hadn't he left that behind? But I glanced over and relaxed. He was asking her and, as usual, she was doting on him, her blonde curls on his shoulder, blue eyes deep and mysterious in the near darkness. Happy for them, still I felt a pang, remembering when I'd exchanged looks like that with Greg.

"How could I forget?" she whispered warmly in the dark. From the way her butt-cheeks were clenching I was guessing his arm was down by his side, his hand nestled in her warm, soft, damp pussy-folds. My hand crept into my envious crotch, a feeble simulation of what she had to be feeling.

I remembered. Just the thought of that middle-school sleepover was enough to make my asshole pucker. No game of "Truth or Dare" before or since had ever topped that one. At the time she'd been in sixth-grade, the two of us in eighth, he the only male, and a troubled one at that. It was supposed to be a hen-party.

For them it had been love at first sight, and I'd had the joy of teaching them, right then and there, safe ways to share their love. Ever since they'd been joined at the hip, even when he was in high school and she still in middle school. Now between classes they walked the halls hand in hand, sharing secrets and fond looks over lunch. What they had was deeper than a childhood crush. With her by his side his protective shell was softened and warmed by her sweetness, her innocence tempered and defended by his hard-earned wisdom.

They completed each other.

"What about you, Dee? What're you thinking?"

Uh oh. Now she was asking me.

"I'm thinking about how high school is almost over," I responded vaguely, knowing it was a bunch of blather. What I was actually thinking was how much I envied them, and how much I wanted him. You'd think that by now my hormones would have settled down, but the pool frolic had roused feelings in me I hadn't anticipated. I was horny, very, very horny. I wanted cock, but not just any cock. I wanted his cock. I wanted him so much it hurt.

He and I shared a sexual history, desperate couplings to wrench him free of his nightmares -- therapeutic fucks, to put it kindly, rather than born of love. Now she was his and he was hers, and I loved her dearly for her sweetness and fidelity. How could I possibly ask her to share him with me?

So did that stop me? Nosirree! The Stick took over with her usual take-no-prisoners strategy -- act first, apologize afterwards.

I reached for him, without looking, as if that way she wouldn't see my hand brushing his thigh, seeking. I couldn't help fearing how he'd react, what she'd say.

Couldn't she see? It wasn't that dark. He could tell what I was doing. Why didn't he stop me? He should stop me!

When I found his cock unoccupied I almost fainted with relief.

To my amazement, it wasn't hard! His girl was pressed to his side, his knuckles nestled in her cunt. She was stroking his chest, and his dick was no more than fat noodle between his thighs, warm and soft.

Maybe it was 'cause he'd had a couple of nice comings during our swim, one time his pearly semen making swirling jellyfish shapes in the blue water before dispersing, while we girls' pussies had pulsed sympathetically in the cool currents. The second time he'd been sitting on the edge in the shallow end while she stood tit-deep in the water, arms on his thighs, cock in hand, his cream vanishing down her throat. I'd watched from nearby, enviously diddling my own pussy, trickles of cool pool water tickling my twat.

Which had only made me hornier, of course.

Maybe that meant he'd last longer -- if my flank attack succeeded. I fingered his swelling dick gently, my thumb lightly brushing that nerve packed spot just under the rubbery head. I didn't dare look. Was he looking my way? Was she? He had to know it was me. She had to know...

"Would you like me to warm him up for you?" she asked softly.

Busted! I yanked my hand back. "Oh God! Oh shit! I'm sorry!"

"Why?"

"I -- he's..." All I could do was stammer.

"Really, Dee, would you like me to warm him up for you?"

She said it in the sweetest way. I couldn't believe she wasn't being sarcastic, but she gently took my hand, brought it back to him, actually curled my fingers around his slowly expanding penis.

"I mean it. I know you want him, and I don't blame you. If you'd rather get him up yourself, that's okay." She giggled. "I guess I sorta sucked the stuffings out of him in the pool. I think he needs a fresh touch."

"You're -- you can't -- I..." I couldn't finish. His cock, like any man's, had a mind of its own and was coming to life in my hand.

"Dee, don't you think we knew what would happen?" he asked softly, his breath warm, the planes of his face shadowy in the darkness. "We talked about it before we came. It's okay! I'd love to make love to you -- with you. I want you, too. Can't you tell?"

"We know you, Dee." She gently squeezed my hand as I gripped him. "We're not stupid. You're like a big sister to me. What's mine is yours."

It was a gentle scold.

"I'm sorry." I felt like such a fool. I wasn't even sure quite what I was apologizing for -- for my dumb scheming, or for insulting their intelligence. Her sweet generosity made my eyes sting.

"But there is something else I think you should know, another reason," she added shyly.

"What's that?"

"I'm a virgin," she admitted with a self-conscious giggle.

That did surprise me. They'd been an item for, like, four years! "You're kidding!"

"Technically a virgin, anyway. We've got an agreement."

"No fucking until she's sixteen," he explained. "When I'm at her house we neck and pet up a storm on the sofa, then I go home and beat off. At my house she shares my bed, but..."

" ... no fucking. We made a promise, to each other and to my parents, and we'd never break that. We do lots of other yummy stuff, though," she admitted with a dirty giggle.

I kicked my brain into gear. I sometimes wished I'd had as much sense. "Oh wow! A virgin until you're sixteen? But that'll be..."

"Only two more years. You know there are other ways we can show our affection," she drawled wickedly. "After all, you taught me how to relieve his pressure, our pressure, so to speak. Remember?"

I had, and I'll ever forget the morning after the sleepover. As she'd skipped down the front walk to her parents' car, her full white skirt swirling around her still girlish calves, she'd been wiping her mouth with a dainty lace hanky. As they pulled away from the curb she'd given a teasing wave of her fingertips and blown him a kiss, by then wearing the white gloves her mom had handed her.

Now, as if to demonstrate her oral skills again -- she plays the clarinet after all -- she snuggled her cheek down on his six-pack abs and gently licked my fingers along with the head of his stiffening dick. Then her soft lips closed around his glans, the sweetest, most intimate of all kisses and I felt her humming softly against my fingers, his cock buzzing in tune.

Oh wow!

Meanwhile his fingers were delicately exploring my slit, sweeping away any lingering reservations. Oh my.

Him playing with my pussy was enough to make me groan, and he sighed as she took more of his dick in her mouth. I moved my fingers, wet with her spit, out of her way onto the curls of his bush.

With a mixture of love and lust he was watching her suck his cock, one hand free to stroke her hair, his other still busy in my crotch. She didn't need encouragement, happily taking in more of him before withdrawing again, while his finger slipped inside me, a hot worm into its burrow, my pussy salivating at the invasion.

"I know how much you've done for us, especially for him," she admitted, admiring his now spit shiny dick.

She dipped for another, deeper slurp at his rod.

Did she really know everything about him, his troubled past, about us, even the frantic get-him-out-of-the-nightmare fucks?

Of course she did. He wouldn't have kept any secrets from her.

She interrupted her cock sucking again. "And we know it's been a while for you, since Greg."

When Greg and I had split up it hadn't hurt as much as I'd feared, but there hadn't been anyone like him since and I still missed his cock.

Shit, I thought. Was this a gratitude fuck? Or a pity fuck? Was that what this was going to be? Why can't people just...

"But that's not why we're here, doing this," she went on, as if she'd read my mind.

"Then why?" I had to ask why. I always do, even though I may not like the answer.

"Because you invited us!" she said between sucks.

"Because we want to be here, with you," he explained, his finger burrowing further into my welcoming pussy.

"Because we love you, both of us love you, and I love him, and we know you love us," she concluded.

She slurped him again.

"I know he's really gonna miss you. I will, too, but not the way he will. He told me he wants at least one really good fuck to remember you by," she said between sucks on his now fully erect cock. "He's afraid he might not have another chance."

She dipped her head again, and gave him another long, incredibly sensuous slurp, a strand of saliva and pre-come linking them when her head came back up.

Was it that, or her sweet words that were stoking my fire so much?

She licked her lips. "As for me, well, I'm told that, for a boy, there's nothing to compare with the feel of his cock sliding into a hot, wet cunt."

The crude words coming from her young, soft, sweet lips tweaked my lust, made me shiver.

"He's been very patient. He's too sweet to complain, but I know he really wants what I can't give him yet. I'd much rather it was your cunt than some other girl's."

She gave him another suck. She has sweet cupid's-bow lips that looked incredibly sexy around his dick.

"Also, I really wanna watch. Just thinking about watching him fuck you really makes me hot. I want to see his cock going into your hot cunt. I want watch it, to be here share it, and I want it to be tonight. It has to be tonight!"

She slurped at the sensitive knob of his dick, wrenching a groan from him. She obviously knew how he liked his cock sucked. I hoped she didn't accidentally set him off.

But then again, if she did we'd have the fun of starting all over again.

"I'm not jealous. I know you're not going to steal him from me. You're going away, he's staying here, and anyway he loves me at least as much as he loves you..."

"I love you more," he assured her, his voice choked with emotion, or maybe lust. "No offense, Dee."

"None taken," I answered, my own voice husky.

"Thank you," she told him politely. "I love you, and Dee, too. So it really is all very logical," she concluded.

Abandoning his now very solid hard on, she crawled over him to stretch out on top of me to kiss me, lips to lips, our tongues quickly becoming fully engaged. Her naked body was soft and warm and exciting against mine. Her mouth was sweet, scented with a delectable hint of his musk. I kissed her back, the last of my worries boiled away by her words, her kisses, my hands enjoying the satin softness of her bare skin, cupping her lush tush.

From the way she kissed me I could hope she was looking forward to being a delicious night-cap. We would have such a good time, with her boyfriend looking on!

"Now shut up and get busy," she concluded, slithering off me, cuddling beside me.

He rolled toward me to kiss me.

"I'll even help, if you'll let me," she added hopefully.

"I'd love it," I assured her. He nodded agreeably.

His hand withdrew from my sopping cunt to cup my breast, his thumb toying with my alert nipple. As he lifted and shifted I happily made room for him between my thighs, my pussy licking its chops. He and I swapped spit and fondled each other's naked bodies, squirming skin to skin, while his girlfriend snuggled against us, one of her tits soft and warm against me, the other on him, her thigh embracing mine.

Oh God yes, this was what I wanted, his weight on me, his cock nuzzling at my pussy, and knowing she was right there, feeling her sexy warmth against me only made it better!

True to her word she was slipping down beside me so she could see, so close her breath was hot on my hip. When he lifted a little to give her room her fingers directed his dick to my drooling pussy. We were all more than ready for this. She carefully worked the tip of his hard tool into my very, very hungry cunt, and oh, it felt sooo gooooood. She steadied him as he took his time, poking into me with a series of short, teasing pushes while I tangled my fingers in his hair and tried to suck his tongue right out of his head.

Oh God, it felt so good to be filled again -- not just my cunt but my heart, too!

She got her hand out of the way once he was fully seated and he began a slow, very sensuous fucking. She was cuddling both of us, squirming the muff of her pussy against my hip, her cunt painting my skin with its juices. Virgin or not, this girl was hot as a pistol and already had all the moves. When they finally got to do the deed she was going to give him the ride of his life!

I reached to encourage him to push harder, drive into me, and found her fingers already probing the crack of his ass, spurring him on and he responded most enthusiastically. I was just along for the ride as he rose on his elbows for better leverage, stroking in harder, steadily stronger thrusts. He didn't settle for just a straight shot, either, but angled every drive into me, left and right, up and down, and oh sweet Jesus it was definitely a fuck to remember! His cock was stirring my twat to a froth while my clit was being hammered into a pleasure paste by his pubic arch and he was sucking on my neck, his teeth digging into me.

I was gonna have a hickey the size of Texas! Oh well, it wouldn't be the first time. Mom would just cock an eyebrow, while Elaine would tease me. If they were doing what I suspected, they were leaving their marks on each other.

Then he hit my G spot and I exploded. Where the hell had he learned to fuck like this? Much as I wanted to wait I was coming, wave after wave, and he was still drilling me and drilling me, until he finally shoved in hard, like he wanted to run me right through, and he began pumping me full of his hot semen, shot after pulsing shot, and just when I thought he was beginning to fade -- and so was I -- she must have dug a finger deeper in his butt, because he pushed even harder, sending me over the top yet again, and we held on to each other while his balls were wrung dry. And all the time, she was humping my thigh like mad, fingers buried in her twat. Then the three of us sagged into a weary, sodden heap of come-drenched flesh, panting happily as we kissed off each other's sweat.

"You don't need to worry about a thing when he finally gets to do you," I assured her once I'd recovered enough to talk, giggling and kissing both of them with him still between my thighs. "He'll do you just fine."

"I'm not worried," she assured me as we snuggled together, his shriveling dick still nestled cozily in my swamped twat.

I had to ask him. "Where'd you learn to fuck like that?"

"I been reading some books. Beth -- I mean Sis -- turned me on to them. Did I do okay? This is the first time I got to use what I read."

I snickered. That's Beth for you. And he called her "Sis!" They really were family! "You did just fine!"

We got untangled for a less distracting snuggle, his limp, soggy dick slithering out of me, and for a while we just lay there. It felt so good, basking in the afterglow.

"What was your freshman year like?" she asked in the comfortable darkness, the pool lights having gone out. "Mine's so dull!"

My first reaction was to say, "Be grateful it is!"

"No, really, I'd like to know," she insisted. "You've done so much! How'd it start?"

Oh wow! How do I handle that one? In my first few weeks I'd spent more time naked than clothed. I'd been raped, sent the rapist to jail, gotten named to chair the committee to sort out The Program's problems. At the Homecoming dance, dressed like a queen, I'd danced up a storm with two beautiful dates -- one male, one female -- only to fuck them both afterwards, in this very house, the first time on the cold, hard vestibule floor, almost before the front door closed, later in the pool, on my mom's future carnal bed with its overhead track lights and mirrored ceiling, in the shower.

A week later I'd helped dedicate a nude statue of my brother's girlfriend, outside in the warm, sunny afternoon, naked in front of a bunch of dignitaries and spectators on the school lawn,. The following Wednesday the football team chose me to be Miss School Spirit, first time ever for a freshman.

Two days later, wearing nothing more than a coat of scarlet and gold paint, flares blazing in my hands, I'd ridden a zip-line from beyond the baseball diamond's center-field fence to the home plate backstop, where I led the pep rally's cheers. Next day I'd motivated the football team on to victory, and afterwards celebrated with them in the locker room.

And that had just been for starters! The rest of my freshman year had been just as eventful. Now here I was, a graduating senior and looking back on it I wondered how I'd survived.

I decided to evade the question.

"Maybe you'd like to handle that one?" I asked him. "You were there, too. What was your freshman year like?"

"I was in therapy. It's all just a blur to me now," he countered, grinning at me.

"You rat!"

That resulted in tickles and giggles, of course.

"What do you want to know?" I asked carefully when we settled down again in a new configuration that got me closer to her. She smelled good -- like sex.

"Oh, I don't know," she murmured into my boob. "Like I know you were Miss School Spirit, and I think I know what that involves..."

"Some things are not for your -- technically -- virginal ears," I warned her, framing the modifier with finger-hooked quote marks.

"Really? Like what?" she persisted.

"Like what goes on in the locker room after the homecoming game," he answered wryly.

"You're not helping," I told him, exasperated.

"But..." she persisted.

"What happens in there, stays in there," I answered her firmly, not about to go down that road.

"Oh."

"Yeah," I said flatly. It wasn't that I hadn't enjoyed it. It's just that, well, it's like I was a member of some secret society. We former Miss School Spirits don't talk about it, which of course leads to lurid rumors, none of which measure up to the reality.

She did at least drop that subject, but she wasn't going to give me a rest.

"They say you saved The Program. That if it hadn't been for you it would have been eliminated."

"Well, I don't know about that." I wasn't comfortable taking the credit. "The Program was saved, but saving it involved a lot of people, and more than a little luck."

"How so?"

I decided to give her the benefit of some of my own hard won experience without venturing into areas best not exposed. "It happens all the time. People do some innocent little thing and never realize what a difference it makes down the line."

"Like who? What?"

"Well, you guys, for example."

"Huh?" "Us?" That got the attention of both of them.

"Yes, you two."

"Get out of here! We didn't do anything! I had nothing to do with The Program," she protested. "I was still in middle school! Remember?"

"I'm not necessarily talking about The Program. I'm talking about, oh, random acts of kindness, I guess you could say. Sometimes you might do something and never realize it has consequences -- hopefully good ones -- ones you never know about.

I turned to him. "For example, do you remember, in our freshman year, when you told me about that middle school girl she was worried about, the new one in eighth grade?"

"Not really. That was four years ago, after all." I felt him rock his head again.

That got him a poke from her. "Don't you remember? I asked you to talk to Dee about the girl 'cause she was acting funny."

I wondered. "Why have him ask me?"

He looked at me, his fuck-dazed wits recovering. "I talked to you?"

"Are guys always so clueless?" she asked me. "I asked you 'cause I knew how much you'd helped him."

"Yeah," I agreed amiably. "Guys are memory impaired. But they're useful for some things," I added, wiggling his dick back to life.

"We sure are," he agreed, squirming against us. I loved the feel of his body against mine, and hers -- it was one of those really neat three-way snuggles.

She wasn't about to drop the subject. "You must've done something. I know something happened, 'cause she began to change. Took a while, though."

"What'd you do? What're you talking about?" He was still trying to get traction on what we were talking about.

"Don't you remember? It was a Friday, and I met you guys outside middle school at dismissal time so I could see this girl she was worried about," I explained to him patiently.

"Oh, I remember now, I think."

"You must! Remember how the guy that picked her up after school drove past all those stopped school buses?" I asked. I looked at her. "You told us he did the same thing, every day, that no one tried to stop him. That really pissed me off."

"I noticed," Alice giggled.

"So?" he asked, his interest growing, but not, I thought, about this story. His fingers were exploring me again.

"So I decided I needed to do something about it," I answered, doing a not-very-good job of trying not to sound smug.

She was pinching my tit -- was it curiosity? Or something else? My body was certainly hoping it was something else, especially given the way her boyfriend's fingers were dancing in my playground again.

"Did you?" she asked. "Do something, I mean? I remember that one day the next week -- don't remember which day -- a lady cop was there, to ticket him for passing the buses. That was the last time he did it. I thought she happened to be there on an anti-drug program or something. That was you?"

I sort of shrugged modestly -- a good trick, given that I was naked and being fondled.

"It was! You should've seen that chick! She wasn't very tall, not like you, Dee, but built like a fire hydrant with -- uh -- big bazooms." She gestured with her free hand. "He pulled away from the curb and came roaring down the line, just like always, and she stepped out from between the first two buses and faced him down.

"He jammed on the brakes so hard he left skid marks, stopped maybe six inches from her! She didn't even flinch. She was in her uniform, all decked out with badge and gun and stuff, and had cap on, and those neat dark sunglasses they wear -- made her look tough! She was one hot babe, I tell you!"

One hot babe indeed! Setting the bust up had required some very sensitive negotiations between me and a certain undercover detective named Maria Sanchez. I managed to keep my mouth shut, rather than revealing just how hot a babe she was. Now, four years later, she still discretely dropped by from time to time for what she called recruiting talks, not that we necessarily did that much talking. Sometimes actions speak louder than words.

She was now a Senior Detective. For some reason just thinking about the diamond decorating her nostril still made my insides go all soft and squirmy, made my pulse race. Maybe it was her satin smooth skin the color of warm butterscotch, or the sparkling dark eyes I could lose myself in, or her killer bod -- generous boobs and great hips -- on a short but sturdy frame.

Or maybe it was her courage and commitment to my safety. The seeds of what became a very personal relationship been planted at our very first encounter, the strategy meeting to take down the Worm. When I'd dropped off the radar during the sting to nail the bastard she was ready to tear the school apart. Fortunately someone told her where to look before she started kicking down doors.

And oh, was it fun to remember the negotiations that got her on board with my plan. They'd gone on all night.

-------

When I got home that day, after watching outside middle-school with them, I dealt with the usual KTP as I called it -- the "kill the program" message -- on our home answering machine. Christ, didn't they ever get tired? The calls came in at least twice a week, not always the same day or the same guy, but always a guy, and every time the same thing -- "kill the program, kill the program, kill the program." Thank God they always came in before Mom got home so I could get 'em off the machine before she heard them. I didn't feel threatened so I hadn't told anyone about them, rather than have her worry. I'd had heavy breathers before, this was just a variation on the theme as far as I was concerned.

But the careless driver really bugged me. Him I had to stop, before he ran someone over. Then maybe I could help the girl, too. She was obviously troubled, but that wasn't enough to get anyone official involved. The driver was a good reason to call Maria -- strictly for her professional assistance, of course.

Yeah, right, The Stick had snorted skeptically as I hauled out my cell phone. Maria's was one of the numbers Elaine had put on speed-dial.

"Hola, Dee."

Maria's second-generation American, but she proudly clings to her Hispanic heritage, for reasons other than its value in her undercover work.

"How'd you know it was me?" I asked suspiciously. I do not give out my cell to just anyone. Not that I shouldn't have given it to her, I just hadn't thought of it.

"Caller ID," she responded smugly.

"I know that! Did my Mom tell you my number?" I asked suspiciously.

"A good detective never betrays her snitches," she deflected me primly. "So, what can I do for you? Got another perv for us to get off the streets?"

I had to admit to myself that all I had was a hunch and an asshole driving past stopped school buses. The girl getting into the car had looked like a whipped puppy, ignoring everyone as she made a bee-line for her ride, but that wasn't enough for a bust.

"Is this a bad time? Want me to call you later?" I suddenly felt stupid for bothering her. For all I knew she was ready to take down a major drug dealer or something.

"Paper work that I'm glad to interrupt. Speak, Chiquita," she ordered.

"Chiquita my ass!" I retorted. "I know enough Spanish to know that 'Chiquita' means 'little gift.' I've got at least six inches on you." She always treated me like a grownup, which I liked, so it was easy for me to forget she was one. She didn't seem to mind when I did.

"You might have the reach, but I have the muscle. You wanna wrestle?" she challenged.

Now that was an offer I'd happily take her up on, even knowing I'd lose, but this was not the time to discuss it. "Can you write a traffic ticket?"

"You called me to set up a traffic stop? Are you kidding me? My days as a Meter Maid are way behind me, Chick-eee-tah." She deliberately stretched it out.

So I explained the situation to her.

"'Child abuse maybe?" she asked.

"The girl looked totally beaten down," I answered. "She hides behind her hair, doesn't do any extra-curriculars, doesn't seem to have any friends, ignores people who try to be friendly. I've got nothing more than a hunch."

"I can't pull him over on a hunch, Dee."

"But what I do have is the way he drove past the school buses while they were loading. That alone should be a felony! He could kill someone. Maybe if you pull him over you can spot something -- uh -- hinky."

"Hinky? What shows do you watch?"

"Reruns of Law and Order?" I ventured. "Anyway, it shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes of your time. I'm told he does the same damn thing every day. When the buses pull up to load he's already parked right by the 'Buses Only' sign, so they have to work around him. She gets in the car and he pulls out and around them, ignoring all their flashing red lights and stop signs. He's a menace. Sooner or later some kid's gonna chase a ball or something and get run over."

"Isn't there a cop there anyway, or a school resource officer?"

"Lost him in the last budget battle," I explained, remembering the worthless donut-muncher that used to stand out there ogling eighth-grade girls. Fat lot of use he'd been when Missy was mobbed.

"Budget cuts," she muttered. There was a long silence. "Okay. You gotta point. I wouldn't do it for anyone else. I'll have to dust off my uniform and my old ticket book, so it's going to cost you."

"Anything!"

"Anything? I like the sound of that!"

"Anything," I assured her, liking the sound of it myself, knowing we were thinking the same thing. There'd been hints that had triggered my gay-dar during our little adventure a few weeks before. Later encounters had only reinforced the feeling she was interested in me in other than a professional way.

"Okay. For starters, how about one of your legendary home-cooked spaghetti suppers?"

For starters? Oh yeah! "How'd you hear about those?"

"Your mama."

"Okay. When? Oh, and you know we've moved."

"Of course I know. You're living in a palace with a rich doctor. I'm a detective, remember? I better remember to wipe my feet."

"She's not rich, and it's not a palace," I argued, embarrassed. "When?"

"I'm free tonight. But we might need a whole night to negotiate," she drawled.

"A whole night?"

"I don't think your Mamacita will mind. She seems to think she owes me a favor."

"I think she does, too."

I mentally inventoried the contents of the freezer. Yup, I had sauce already made up. Mamacita? How well did she know my Mom? Then I remembered. They'd been together in the office while I was ... No! Don't go there, I told myself. I only released those beastly memories when I was talking with Ms. Andrews during our counseling sessions.

"I'll call Mom and Elaine to let them know you're coming."

"Ooooh! My favorite gynecologist will be there, too? See you tonight, Chick-eeee-tah!"

So of course I told Mom and Elaine exactly what was going on with Maria, including the "negotiations" I anticipated. Since I wasn't putting myself in harm's way, and considering who it was, they had no problem. They were, after all, in a somewhat kinky non-traditional relationship of their own. After supper neither of them raised an eyebrow when I led Maria upstairs, though Elaine gave me a dirty wink. I could tell by the way they'd been looking and touching that they were planning on doing some negotiating of their own in their room.

Maria was in one of her "undercover" outfits, which covered very little since it consisted of a tight red halter top and skin-tight, low riding, very, very cut-off jeans. The tiny diamond in her nostril was out sparkled by her navel decoration. Even though she was built like a brick-shithouse she could, and did, pass as a teenage Hispanic tart when she needed to, as more than one hopeful john had discovered trying to pick her up on South Street.

I wondered briefly if she had to take out the jewels when she was in uniform.

"Nice bed!" Maria observed after I'd given her my "what happens in this house doesn't leave this house" speech to reassure her that nothing we did would endanger her career.

"Queen size. " I answered, turning down the covers. It was a little big for the room, but gave me more room to play when I had company over.

When I turned back she was right in front of me, inches away, and it wasn't because the bed crowded the room.

"You're busted," she said softly, her dark eyes sparkling, a dirty smile quirking her full oh-so-kissable lips.

Still unsure if my hopes would be realized I was wearing a loose T-shirt and shorts. Usually I was naked at home, but with her coming over I'd restrained myself. I could only blush, and look down at my boobs, so shy compared to hers, noticing how stiff my nipples were. "Not really."

Her hands took my wrists. "Yes, really. You are busted," she whispered, moving in, and I suddenly discovered just how strong she was as she firmly forced my arms behind me, and how soft and warm and truly kissable those lips were. Our tongues tangled and I was helpless as she drew me close against her lush, full body, her crossing my arms behind my back as she did.

I was her prisoner, and I loved it.

Suddenly I was having a lot of trouble breathing. Oh I was soooo busted! I didn't even try to resist her, just melted against her warmth, welcoming the strong thigh she wedged between my legs to put pressure on my pussy. I wished I could just melt into her. When she let go of my wrists I felt a little pang, but wrapped my arms around her, discovering just how firm those wonderful breasts were, my own leg rising against her, feeling the heat and humidity from her crotch right through her cut-offs.

When we separated to catch our breath she reached for my Tee and I obediently raised my arms so she could lift it off over my head, briefly tousling the new 'do I was so proud of, tweaking the little studs in my earlobes. Then her fingers were busy at the waist of my shorts, and suddenly they dropped down my legs, and I was naked, naked, naked before her.

"Chiquita," she whispered, her fingers teasing my tits, "you are so beautiful!"

I reached for her halter, unfastening it behind her neck, reached around her, and it fell away, exposing her awesome breasts. My fingers fumbled with the silver buckle of her belt, ran the zipper of her cutoffs down and they fell away as easily as my shorts had. The shadow of her dark bush showed through the red lace of her bikini panties.

Her lush breasts were heavy but didn't sag, bigger than Mom's, probably a generous C cup, nicely firm. Her nipples stiffened in the open air, begging for a good sucking, which my lips took advantage of on the way down as I knelt to peel her panties down, bringing me face to face with her bush.

Finding her slit through that thick, curly hair was going to be a jungle safari to look forward to. I inhaled her lush fragrance on the way back up to my feet. Gosh, what a woman she was! I was taller but she had curves in places where I didn't even have places. My fingers discovered she was anything but soft, except where it mattered. Her age? Probably twice my 14, though she looked younger. If she didn't mind the difference I sure as hell didn't. I figured I was going to learn a lot from her tonight.

"How about a shower?" she asked. "Then we'll negotiate how to resolve your legal issues, Chiquita."

Tall as I was, the way she said it I did feel like I was a little gift.

Under the streaming water as I washed her I studied the way the rivulets ran down over her coppery skin, curved around her boobs, dived into the forest between her thighs. My soapy hands confirmed what I'd already discovered -- she was buff! She probably could have bench-pressed two of me. She was soft where she was supposed to be soft, but hard where she needed to be -- not just her arms and shoulders and legs but her tummy and back as well.

And her ass. Ohhhh, her ass was a work of art! I couldn't wait to explore that crevasse in depth.

I was flattered when she complimented my swimmer's muscles, her fingers stroking and testing my arms, my shoulders, my pecs, my traps, my glutes and quads. Her touch was sweet and gentle, but I could sense the fire within her as we toyed with each other, dried each other. I let her lead me by the hand back to my own bedroom, her lush butt flexing enticingly.

I was nervous, breathing hard, but her warm embrace and first soft kisses eased my mind. Giving the jewel on her nose a teasing lick I just had to fondle her breasts, fascinated by their weight and their firmness. Her nipples were big, her areolas proportionate with her lush masses. When we hugged her boobs were warm pillows, her mouth and mine growing more hungry and demanding as we kissed. When she lay back on my bed, drawing me down on top of her, cupping my skinny butt was a reach for her because of our height difference. Spreading my legs to straddle her ample hips stretched my groin.

We negotiated our positions with regard to the matters at hand -- and, in this case, mouth, me working my way down on her. Suckling on her tits was like taking on one of the monster ice cream concoctions they serve at the Sip'n'Dip, without a spoon. They were even topped with stiff cherries, and when I nipped at them with my teeth she wrapped her arms around my head and I almost smothered in her hot flesh.

Squirming and sighing and murmuring, we tasted our way around toward a 69. My lips and tongue toyed with her belly-button accessory on the way down to the forest between her powerful thighs, while she was plumbing my undecorated navel with her agile tongue before it danced the rest of the way to my pussy.

When she reached there it was positively electrifying. Hispanics have a way of rolling their "rs" that might have had something to do with it. Unlike the guttural German way, Latinos use the tip of the tongue. Zowie!

I had a wonderful time finding her slit, wandering through the forest, my fingers and tongue combing aside her curls until I exposed her grotto. Parting her lips with my thumbs exposed dusky pussy flesh, the rosy pink inner lips blossoming to engulf my face as I moved in, her hair tickling my cheeks as I explored her depths. She flooded my face with her hot juices and I burbled happily in her cunt.

I swear, she was actually spicy, or maybe that was just my imagination.

My tongue scooped up wave after wave of her goo before I abandoned her tunnel and sought the nubbin of her clit. More than a pearl, this one I could close my lips around and flick with my tongue, her hips heaving upwards into my face.

Oh, we came and came and came, one moment her back arching, lifting me, her mouth sucking at my gushing pussy, then dropping, her thighs clamping closed on my head as I drank from her from clit to cunt, tasted all of her.

Oh my! It was a good thing it was a queen size or we probably would have fallen out of bed.

In the post orgasmic darkness, back head-to-head, we snuggled and cuddled, and I felt warm and safe cuddled against her lush body with its pillowy protuberances. I was still at a loss on how to thank her for being there for me when I'd staggered out of the Worm's hole, for the charge she'd led to put his worthless ass behind bars.

"Thank you, Dee," she murmured. "You are the bravest person I have ever known."

I felt myself blushing. Me? Brave? She's the cop! She's the one who puts her life on the line every time she makes an undercover drug buy or penetrates some street gang.

"I was terrified," I confessed.

"It takes a brave person to overcome their terror," she countered, her hand stroking my head.

"I don't like to think about it," I grumbled.

"I understand. I don't either," she admitted.

I thought about asking her if she'd ever had to shoot someone, but decided I didn't want to know.

Without another word she began to love me again, this time her hands stroking me tenderly, her lips showering me with kisses. We were moving, just moving against each other, legs tangled, thighs pressing pussies, big breasts squishing against my girlish chest. Our mouths melted together in deep, deep kisses, tongues tangling, teeth clashing, her exhalations streaming in my mouth, filling my head with her fragrances, while my breath washed through her, and we became one, sharing sighs and moans as our orgasms washed over us.

We slept for a while, but sometime in the dark I realized I was awake and we engaged in yet another nose-to-tail-in-depth exploration. This time our tongues ventured further back, and I discovered the more earthy region between her buttocks. As her hot tongue set me ablaze by probing me I returned the favor. Maybe it was the dirtiness of the deed that made my coming so searing this time. After exploring every curve and hill and valley of Maria's terrain, and she mine, we again slept in each other's arms.

In the morning she assured me she'd show up outside the middle school within the next week to ticket the guy, and maybe get some feeling for what was going on with his passenger.

-------

"That bust wouldn't have happened if you hadn't asked me to see Gretchen when she left school that day," I pointed out. "He might have just kept on doing it, driving by those buses, until something worse happened."

"Gretchen! That's her name. That can't be the same girl who sings with the choir now!"

"It is," I assured her.

"Gretchen! Gosh she's a real fox, and she sings like an angel!" As he said this he was palpating me like he was looking for lumps, but I was hoping for action with her before the night was out. Well, I'd get him drained eventually, I decided, enjoying his attention to my boobs. "I hear she lost her mom to cancer not long before she moved here."

She shivered. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost my mom."

"She did lose her mom," I acknowledged, "and then it only got worse. Her dad couldn't bear to stay in the town where his wife died -- he loved her so much, everything reminded him of her -- that's why he moved them here. I don't think he even asked Gretchen. She not only lost her mom, she lost all her friends and was dropped into a strange school in a strange town.

"He was a wreck, so was she, but she was trying to be strong for him, be the woman of the house -- cooking, cleaning, laundry, the whole mess -- and prop him up while she was grieving herself."

I toyed with his cock with one hand, teased her pussy with the other. It's nice being ambi-sextrous.

"At the same time, he was all over-protective with her, hardly letting her out of his sight. He drove her to school every day, picked her up right after the closing bell," I went on.

"Ouch!" She winced.

"He'd lost his wife. My guess is he was afraid of losing his daughter, too," I explained gloomily. "But I didn't know that then. No one did. When I saw her leaving school that day all I knew was that something was awful wrong, that she needed help, but what could I do? I didn't even know her name. I couldn't just walk up to her and say 'you need help.'"

"So how does the cop fit in?" she asked.

"I know the cop -- she once said if I ever needed help to call her -- so I asked her to be there to catch him in the act."

"So?" His fingers were still playing with me. Oooo that was nice!

"I also told her that I thought something was wrong with the girl, Gretchen. Maria -- the cop, that is -- got his name on the ticket, and agreed with me something wasn't right, but there wasn't anything she could do. I did a little research and passed the info along to the right person to help them both."

"Ms. Andrews," he guessed.

I sometimes wished I got a finder's fee from Ms. Andrews for the business I sent her way.

On the other hand, she was so overworked she would probably be glad to see the last of me for the same reason. This year she'd tried to enlist me to teach sex ed in middle school, the way Carl and Beth had done, but I'd managed to foist that off on Missy and her beau Lacey. They'd done a fine job. My participation had been limited to a show'n'tell about lesbians, with the willing assistance of Kathy Powers, who just happened to be in town at the time. But that's another story.

"So, see? You got me involved. When I got the cop involved to stop the school bus drive-bys it eventually changed Gretchen's whole life, and her daddy's."

I didn't go on to tell them that it was just the tip of an iceberg. Or maybe it's more accurate to say I was tugging on a loose end that tied in to a threat to The Program I hadn't known existed. The whole thing had snowballed from there, to mangle the metaphor.

"I got to know her when he let her join the town swimming team the next summer," I went on, happy to drop that subject. "That's when I found out that her mother had sung in their church, and Gretchen had loved singing along with her. So the next fall, when she got to high school, I introduced her to some friends and got her involved in the choir. So you just never know where a good deed will lead."

By now my mind was on more enjoyable matters, like what was in my right hand, hot and ready again. John was on his back, Alice was on her haunches on the bed, his head between her thighs, toying lovingly with his hair and ears and giving him little pecking kisses. No one objected when I straddled him and aimed his cock up into my already sloppy cunt.

Alice hungrily watched me slowly lower myself on her boyfriend's dick, licking her lips. She had to have the self-control of a saint to stick to her vow of chastity. Her 16th birthday party was going to be one to remember, that was for sure! I hoped I'd be in town for it.

At the moment she was diddling her aroused pussy, fingers playing with her pink folds, one slipping up inside. Her back arched, presenting me with her lovely titties, and who am I to turn down an offering like that? They were so young and fresh, peaches tipped with ripe berry nipples that made my mouth water. Oh, I did so want her. When I reached for her she didn't resist, but rose on her knees. Leaning toward her, my lips met hers in a tender, loving kiss. When my tongue tip danced on her lips she let out a soft sigh and let me in.

For a long time I didn't move anything but my tongue, savoring her mouth and the feel of his bulk in my happy cunt. Then Alice gave a little jerk and a squeak, almost biting my tongue. I looked down to see John raising his head so he could flick licks at her open pussy with its shining pink ruffles.

Yes, they certainly did know how to have their fun without fucking.

The sight of her tits had my mouth watering again. I just had to taste them. It was a little awkward, but with a few readjustments I was able to suckle on her without dislodging John, amusing myself by trying to get one whole breast in my mouth by sucking, first one then the other. Every suck got a squeak and a sigh out of her, like I was playing with a doggy-toy. I'd get to her twat later, I hoped.

For a moment she fumbled behind herself, found a pillow and jammed it under John's head so he could relax as he ate her out. Then she did her best to help me, cradling my head to her bosom so I could continue feasting on her breasts, slurping back and forth between them, making her nips bulge, her chest sloppy with my saliva as I began to fuck myself on him while he sucked and licked at her blossoming pussy.

Oh, it was a gloriously juicy sexual buffet for all of us. Maybe it was because we knew this might never happen again, but we took a long time, moving together in a marvelously erotic ballet until we were all coming together, him jetting into my spasming cunt while he sucked down her gushing juices with loud slurps and she and I wailed a joyful duet into each other's mouths.

When his cock finally began to wilt she and I toppled to one side in our own warm embrace. Poor boy. He was done, at least for a while. Meanwhile she and I squirmed and snuggled for a time before I kissed my way down her sweet young body so I, too, could taste her pussy.

I had a fleeting memory from long ago -- the middle-school sleepover -- of trying to show this lovely young girl with my fingers how people fitted together in a 69. She certainly knew how now! Lying on our sides, my head on the inside of her thigh, hers on mine, she didn't hesitate to dive into my cunt swimming with its double load of his come. Her hands clutched my ass to draw me tight to her mouth so she could suck out his semen. It didn't take us long to eat each other to mutually glorious climaxes while he looked on, fondling us both.

"I love you, Dee," Alice whispered when we'd reoriented ourselves face to face again. "I can't thank you enough, ever, for bringing me John."

It was still a marvel to me the way she, so young and sweet and naive, had connected with John with his tormented past and unwelcomed experiences at Judy Liu's sleepover that night.

John was spooning me from behind, his exhausted cock nestled in the crack of my ass, his hands sandwiched between my breasts and hers. What could I do but smother her with kisses as I assured her I loved her, too, and John -- and that I always would -- before we all fell asleep.


-------
To Be Continued...
-------
Posted:  2013-01-19
Last Modified: 2013-02-21 / 04:33:39 pm
-------
http://storiesonline.net/
-------