http://www.mrdouble.com



The woman you are about to meet is a real person. I emphasize the 
second word -- person. This story is based on verbatim notes taken 
during several interviews, during which she consulted the rather 
detailed diaries she's kept for most of her life. The alterations are 
only to protect identities. The young woman in the story is extremely 
unusual: bright, articulate, thoughtful, mature far beyond her years, 
poised, analytical and gifted with a discernible talent for describing 
people, events and situations. We -- she and I -- would like to think 
her memoirs will be revealing and educational. 

CHAPTER ONE 

[The first time?  No, I don't want to talk about that. Maybe later -- 
I doubt it, though. But not now -- 

[The first time I *liked* -- Oh; okay.]

I was living in Toledo, on the East Side. There was Dad, Mom, my two 
sisters and my two younger brothers. It was a big old house, with 
brown shingle siding and a little yard. I was -- let's see...10, by a 
couple of months. It was late May. My birthday is in August.

I was always sensual -- and I don't mean "sexual." I enjoyed sensual 
pleasures: the taste of ice cold pop, the smell of fresh-cut rhubarb, 
the shock of fresh snow rubbed on my face, the heat of the good sun 
baking into me. I could lay for hours simply rubbing the satin edging 
on a blanket or close my eyes and nearly faint from the ripe smell of 
popping corn.

Anyhow, I was ten-and-a-half and finishing the sixth grade at St. 
Cornelius school. We didn't have much money, but Mom clipped coupons 
and Dad worked an extra night job so all of us could go to Catholic 
school. 

I was a fair student -- I hated to study -- and did alright. But in 
the spring of my sixth-grade year, two things happened.

For one, I discovered I could write. It was an accident -- serendipity 
is what my phantom stepbrother would have called it -- because I wrote 
a composition on assignment. It was about springtime. And I had a 
teacher, Sister Jannera, who talked to me about it. She recognized 
that I had a talent for words, and she took it upon herself to 
encourage this. I can't completely convey what a remarkable thing it 
was. For one thing, I was only ten-and-change; for another, I was a 
girl. This was 1965 in a blue collar section of a so-called city not 
known for its sophistication, and she was teaching in a Catholic 
school -- a bastion of conservatism. For her to recognize my talent 
and then encourage it was amazing; no other word is really 
appropriate.

[My phantom stepbrother? Oh, okay. Mom was Dad's second wife. His 
first had left him -- I think he drove her away -- about six years 
before. My stepbrother, Dan, was -- is, really -- five years older 
than me. He's not just smart; he's scary smart. He -- Oh, never mind. 
He's also very sweet and sexy. And inhibited, unfortunately. Anyhow, 
he used to visit about once a year, from New York, where he lived with 
his mom.]

The second thing that happened was -- Well, you may have noticed I 
have these tits, hahaha! I started, shall we say, "developing," when I 
was ten -- Anyhow, I wasn't much past ten. By May of that year, I had 
noticeable tits, noticeable even dressed in my white starched St. 
Cornelius blouse and plaid skirt. As a shorter than average sixth 
grader with a "cute" -- I hated that word even then -- round little 
face, they seemed bigger than they were.

Oh, sure, I'd asked about a bra -- at the dinner table, like a dope. 
Dad laughed and said that with a bra, I'd look like I'd been bitten by 
two mosquitoes. Sweet, eh? But by May, I had gen-u-wine little tits, 
not just mounds of baby fat. I remember using the Sears catalog as a 
guide to take my measurements. Sears decreed that I needed a 25-A cup 
at ten-and-change. Of course, there was no such thing as a 25-A bra, 
just those stupid -- and too small -- training bras. The rest of me 
hadn't developed yet, which made my boobs more noticeable, since I had 
a 19-inch waist and 24-inch hips.

So, anyhow, every summer, the church held this carnival -- lots of 
games of chance and, of course, bingo -- as a fund-raiser and there 
was -- 

[What? Oh, yeah, that's significant because that's when I started 
keeping a diary. A journal, as my phantom stepbrother would put it.]

Segue to summer. All during the last weeks of school and the first 
weeks of summer, the more "advanced" boys had been trying to get close 
to me -- or, more precisely, my tits. So here it was, late July and 
the preteen training bra -- the only thing I could get that was small 
enough for my bust measurement -- was just a little tight in the 
elastic for me, especially in casual garb. If you recall, cutoff tee-
shirts had become popular in the summer of '65. That's significant.

The carnival was only four streets away, but Dad and Mom spent a lot 
of time there. Dad was an electrician and Mom was a great little 
organizer, and the two of them were always over at the church. 
Everyone said they were terrific. Of course, no one thought to ask 
them about the kids -- 

[Yeah, it is kind of a cheap shot. There's a reason.]

Anyhow, it was the Thursday before Memorial Day. Back then, we didn't 
have these arranged three-day weekends, Memorial Day fell on Saturday, 
so everyone got beat on the holiday. I couldn't get too annoyed, 
though. We were in final exams, and when you finished your exam, you 
were cut loose for the day. I finished my last exam at a quarter past 
eleven on Thursday morning, and after that, I was free to enjoy the 
sudden, midsummer-like heat wave that had hit Toledo. 

As soon as I got home, I changed into my two-piece suit and a cutoff 
tee-shirt. I pulled on a pair of loose white shorts and slipped into 
my sandals, grabbed my Coppertone, then went down the block to Lisa's 
house. We were best friends, even though she went to Rossford Public. 
She was already finished with school for the summer.  Lisa had a big 
ol' Coleco above-ground pool in the back yard, out behind and to one 
side of the garage. 

[The tee-shirt? I couldn't wear the halter for my suit in public; it 
was too small. It was this little bit of stretch fabric, and I would 
have looked like an advertisement for baby sex. Besides, it cut into 
me and hurt. It's not like I had really big tits or anything -- not 
like later -- but on top of my little-girl waist and little-girl hips, 
even the little boobies I had were really noticeable. They seemed 
bigger than they really were.

[Look, these days it's not that unusual for a girl to start budding 
when she's ten years old. In 1965, it was pretty rare, and no bathing 
suit company provided for it, because people wouldn't buy them -- they 
couldn't admit that their little honey-pies might be growing full-size 
tits that young. And think about this: If they wouldn't admit to 
themselves what they could see with their own eyes, how well do you 
think they dealt with explaining the facts of life to a ten-year-old, 
let alone talking about love, commitment, birth control or venereal 
disease? So in '65, when you grew tits at ten, you learned the 
unpleasant way -- usually, from grubby-fingered assholes who just 
wanted to squeeze a boob. Okay?]

When I got to Lisa's house, Brenda -- her older sister -- was just on 
her way out. Brenda was sixteen and had this terrific figure and was 
real pretty and boys were always after her. She was going to the 
marina where someone was taking her out on a boat for a ride on the 
Maumee.

Anyhow, Brenda told me Lisa had gone with her mom to the new mall, 
over on Woodville Road, but I was welcome to hang out and swim. She 
left and I took her up on the offer. I figured the place was empty, 
since Jerry -- he was thirteen then -- had a route delivering the 
Toledo Blade in the afternoons.

I raided their fridge for a beer. Yeah, a beer at the age of ten. I'd 
had sips and even a half a small glass at cookouts at home, but I was 
feeling a bit flaky and adventurous, so I took the churchkey and 
popped a can of Blatz. Then I changed and went out back. I was going 
to get wet and then lay on the picnic table near the bushes and start 
my tan. I'm a lot darker than any of my brothers or sisters and I tan 
well. Besides, I liked just laying there and letting the sun soak into 
me.

But the bathing suit top was still tight on me, and just before I went 
out, I took it off. There was a girl in the seventh grade who already 
had real big boobs, and her life was miserable. The girls didn't trust 
her, the boys her own age always giggled and older boys were always 
grabbing her. I remember hoping mine weren't going to grow like that.

Wearing just the cutoff tee-shirt and the bottoms, I went out. I 
slipped into the pool. I knew the tee-shirt would be plastered to me, 
but with the tall bushes all around the yard, I figured there was no 
one to stare. I bobbed around in the pool for a few minutes, then got 
out and lay on a towel on the picnic table. I rolled up the bottom of 
the tee-shirt till my tits were almost showing and then just lay 
there, enjoying the sun's weight. Every now and then I took a draw on 
the beer and eventually emptied it.

After a while, I rolled onto my belly. The towel bunched up a bit 
between my thighs, but I was feeling too lethargic to do anything 
about it. Besides, one of the folds was right under my little pussy 
and, the pressure on my clit felt nice and tingly. 

Anyhow, I looked around: No one in sight. I pulled off my tee-shirt 
and lay flat. The sun was so heavy on me that I dozed off. I don't 
know how long I slept.

Suddenly, my eyes were open. What had awakened me? I figure it was the 
sound of Jerry putting his bike in the garage, because he was striding 
toward the back steps. He was wearing sneakers, cutoff jean shorts and 
nothing else, if you don't count the newspaper bag and the rubber pad 
for his shoulder, where the strap rested.

I don't know what possessed me. Probably it was a 12-ounce can of beer 
in a 62-pound body that had been baking in the sun for too long.

"Hi, Jerry."

He froze in midstep, turned and spotted me. 

Jerry was 13 and really had a nice build, all lean and with his belly 
like a washboard, and he was cute. He had lots of curly dark hair -- 
all plastered down by sweat at that moment -- and his jeans were real 
tight. I mean, you could practically see his ... stuff through them.

He looked at me, blinked and stared -- and his jeans got snugger.

I liked the way they got tighter. 

"Would you do me a favor?"

"Sure, Marie."

"C'mere."

He shifted the carrier bag around so it hid the good stuff. I was 
already feeling a definite urge, though, and hiding his crotch only 
left more to the imagination.

He stopped about three steps from me, standing slightly behind me. 
Didn't matter; I knew what he was looking at.

"Would you mind putting some lotion on my back?" I folded my arms and 
rested my face on my forearms. I knew that folding my arms revealed 
the sides of my little tits to him, and I knew he was staring at them.

I heard the carrier bag hit the grass, and then I heard the cap coming 
off the Coppertone. The bottle had been in the hot sun, and the oil 
was warm and sensuous. He poured some right in the middle of my back, 
between my shoulder blades. He rubbed it around in about a two-inch 
circle. Shy.

"More? Please?"

"...sure."

Slowly, the circle widened. I raised myself slightly to rest on my 
elbows, momentarily revealing most of my tits to anyone who was paying 
attention. And he was paying attention, because the spreading of 
lotion hesitated, then became erratic. I let myself back down flat on 
the towel.

"Lower please?"

By now, his hands were wandering closer to my sides. He froze for a 
moment, then more oil hit my back, and he started working it lower, 
into the small of my back and down to the beginning swells of my 
little butt. I reached back with both hands and rolled the top of my 
suit bottom down about halfway, maybe less.

I could hear his breathing as he lightly rubbed the oil on the upper 
slopes of my ass. I flexed my butt a little and his breathing got 
heavier.

"That feels so good and I feel so lazy ...." I parted my legs 
slightly. "Would you mind doing my legs. I can reach them, but your 
hands feel so good -- "

"...sure."

He started at my ankles and worked his way up my legs. I have good 
legs and always have. He was enjoying kneading the taut muscles, and I 
was enjoying the manipulation. I let my legs part more when he reached 
my knees, and the higher his hands went on the insides of my thighs, 
the better I liked it, and the more my legs opened. Part of what let 
me like what was happening was that he was a little intimidated by it, 
I was the leader and the aggressor, so I was in control. This was new, 
and I liked it.

And then he was massaging the lotion into the smooth flesh adjacent to 
the crotch of my suit...and his fingers began to brush my now-soaked 
slit through the material. I hummed tunelessly and pushed up and back 
a little. He took the encouragement and worked one finger under the 
edge of my snug suit and began rubbing my cunt lips. It felt great. I 
raised my butt a little, but he didn't know what I was seeking.

"Mmmmmm -- hold your finger right there for a minute," I said. He 
froze, undoubtedly afraid I was going to stop him. Wrong-o, Jerry.

I pressed my cunny down so my clit was rubbed against his finger. I 
gasped, "Right -- there -- is the -- place -- okay?"

He started rubbing my swollen little clittie and it wasn't more than 
30 seconds before I was groaning, and my hips were moving. Another 30 
seconds, and I was clenched in a tight little orgasm. I shook for a 
moment, then relaxed back onto the towel. My hips were still moving, 
and his finger had lost its place. Now he was probing my cunt lips, 
trying to find the opening.

"Wait, wait, wait," I said soothingly. I reached blindly behind me and 
felt his hard belly, then trailed my hand down to catch the waistband 
of his cutoffs in my fingers. "C'mere." I led him around to stand 
beside the pool table and turned my head to face him. The bulge in his 
cutoffs was impressive. I ran my hand down to it and pressed it 
through the denim. He sucked in a breath.

"I liked that," I said. "Did you like it?"

"Oh, yeah!"

"Do you jerk off?"

"...I guess."

"You're not sure?"

He blushed madly. "Well, sure."

"What do you think about when you jerk off?"

I was rubbing my hand back and forth over that promising bulge.

"You know -- doing it."

"With whom?"

"Girls."

"Any particular girls?" I rubbed a little faster.

"Not really." He was lying.

"What do they look like?"

"Y'know -- all grown up."

"With big tits."

"Yeah."

I rolled onto my side. He stared at my tits. I sat up, fought off a 
moment of wooziness caused by the heat of the sun, the heat in my 
crotch and the single beer. His eyes followed my tits, drawn to them 
as if they were magnets. I brought my other hand over and unsnapped 
the waist of his jeans. I tugged the zipper down and then pushed his 
shorts down. He was bare underneath them. His cock came out, so stiff 
it was almost bouncing off his belly. It was a nice 13-year-old's 
cock, about five or six inches long and average thick. He had some 
nice soft hair around the base of it and his balls looked hard and 
tight. I gripped his dick lightly -- the first time I'd ever wanted to 
touch a hard, naked penis; I felt a little sizzle of excitement run 
through me -- and began sliding my hand on it. His knees began to 
tremble.

"Bigger tits than mine, huh?" 

"You have real nice tits for a kid -- " he blurted. "I've been 
watching -- "

He suddenly realized what he was saying and clamped his mouth shut.

"So you've been watching me, huh? Looking at my tits, huh?"

He nodded. I skinned my hand up and down his cock quickly a couple of 
times, then stopped and wriggled out of my bottoms. I sat naked in the 
sun on the picnic table in front of him.

"Would you like me to jerk you off?" I asked, again gripping his dick. 
"Would you like to touch my tits and my cunt again?"

He nodded.

"Then I want you to do something for me." I stood on the grass beside 
him. He was much taller than me. He smelled of sweat and Coppertone 
and excitement.

"Anything!'

"I want you to kiss my pussy -- right where you were rubbing with your 
finger."

"You mean -- with my mouth? Down there?" He sounded dubious.

I nodded. "Lay down on the picnic table, and you kiss me down there 
while I jerk you off."

"I dunno," he said. "I can jerk myself off."

"So can I, but I can't lick my own pussy."

"And I can't suck my own dick..." That sudden boldness surprised me, 
but not enough to put me off. His hands were wandering over my tits. 
He was surprisingly gentle after the first careful squeezes -- testing 
their firmness -- and his caresses were exciting me even more. When he 
began playing with my nipples, I decided.

"Alright," I said. "I'll suck you and you suck me."

He nodded and stepped out of his cutoffs, then climbed on the picnic 
table and lay back on the towel. His dick throbbed furiously in the 
sunlight as I climbed over him, facing his feet. I straddled his chest 
with my knees and back up. He was so much bigger than I that my legs 
were quite wide open. I felt his hot breath on my mound and stretched 
forward till his dick was touching my mouth.

He began to kiss and lick my cunt, and I gasped and opened my mouth. 
He hunched his hips up, and about half his hard teenage dick was in my 
mouth. I closed my lips around his dick as he closed his hands around 
my little butt, and then I closed my eyes and sucked for oil. I didn't 
know -- then -- all the little movements that make a good cocksucker, 
but this kid didn't notice. I put my hands on his hips to moderate the 
thrashing of his fucking movements and sucked and pulled with my lips. 
I knew it was going to be about 20 seconds before he came.

Even so, I started cumming first. He didn't know anything about cunt 
licking, but he knew how I responded the first time his tongue brushed 
my clit, and he knew I sucked harder when he did that, so he got a 
liplock on the little bud and went to town, trilling his tongue tip 
over it as fast as he could. 

I started cumming and didn't stop, not even when he worked one finger 
into my cunt. I felt a little tension and a moment of discomfort, 
nothing more, and I was distantly surprised it hadn't hurt more. But 
since I was on top, and I wasn't being controlled or forced or 
anything -- well, it really didn't bother me. On the contrary -- my 
pussy grabbed that finger and squeezed it. I came then as I cum now: 
clenched and almost frozen, bucking toward the source of pleasure -- 
in this case, his lips and tongue and finger.

The combination of that finger-fucking and his prolonged arousal along 
with my desperate sucking sent him over the edge. His hips jerked, 
driving half his dick into my mouth, and then he was cumming. I hadn't 
planned to swallow, but there was no escape before he started to flow 
and I swallowed by reflex and then the deed was done, so I kept at it. 
His semen was so thick!

I was sucking and cumming, and he was licking and cumming, and both of 
us were moaning and cumming. I kept swallowing -- it was swallow or 
drown -- and he kept cumming, more than I'd suspected was possible. 
When he finally stopped spurting, I sucked as hard as I could, and 
from somewhere in his teenage balls summoned forth a last gob of 
sperm. He groaned, and his hands fell away from my butt as I released 
his spent -- but still half-hard -- dick from my spermy lips. 

I lay sprawled on him in the hot sun for a few minutes, my pussy 
backed against the underside of his chin and my hips slowly, languidly 
revolving. His dick stayed half-hard against the side of my face.

Finally I climbed off him and got down to the grass. It felt crinkly 
and warm between my toes. I was still tingling. 

He sat up slowly, as if exhausted. His face was slick with my juices, 
as were the insides of my thighs. I gathered my stuff -- and the empty 
Blatz can -- and turned to him. He was climbing down from the table. 
"I need to clean up, Jerry. Can I use the shower in the basement?" I 
knew about it because when I stayed over with his sister, we 
frequently sat up in their basement recreation room -- such as it was 
-- as late as we could get away with.

He nodded. "Sure. You know where everything is?"

I reached out and gently stroked his half-hard dick a couple of times. 
"I do now." His prick began hardening again. Thirteen.

He took his shorts and stuffed them in his delivery bag, and we 
scurried into the house. I headed down the basement stairs for the 
shower. I heard him climbing the stairs to the second floor, to his 
room. I knew there was a full bathroom up there and figured he'd use 
that one, and I'd use the one downstairs and that would be that.

I figured wrong.

MARIE2

CHAPTER TWO


The basement was divided into three sections. The main part of it was 
sort of a rec room, with an old sofa and some old armchairs and an old 
TV and stereo, et cetera. Off to one side was the laundry room, which 
contained pretty much what you might expect in a laundry. In the 
corner of the laundry room was the cinderblock shower stall. I grabbed 
the soap, turned on the overhead light -- it was set up so you 
couldn't reach the switch from inside the stall -- checked the floor 
of the shower for nasty little multileggers and stepped in for my 
shower. I adjusted the spray so it was like needles pounding down on 
me, hot and sharp. I stepped right into the middle of it and closed my 
eyes and just savored the feel of the water sluicing over my flesh. I 
damn near came again just from the sheer, sensual pleasure of it.

After a while I stepped out from under the spray long enough to pour 
some K mart baby shampoo directly onto my head. I worked it into a 
thick lather in my thick, dark hair, then stepped back into the spray 
and let the water pound the soap out. Then I stepped out of the spay 
again and grabbed the big, industrial size bar of Ivory from the soap 
dish. I worked it into a thick lather all over my skin and savored the 
slick firmness of my own body. I tried to grab my nipples, but the 
soap made my fingers slip off them -- and I did it over and over 
again, simply because it felt so good. Naturally, one thing led to 
another. 

In moments, I was leaning back against the wall with the spray 
adjusted to hit my pussy. I had my legs open and used my fingers to 
spread my pussy lips. The spray hit my clitoris, and I shuddered and 
shook. I was so close to cumming, it was almost unbearable. I finally 
slipped one finger inside my pussy. It was just the slightest bit 
uncomfortable -- but the good feeling more than made up for that. I 
was right on the verge of cumming when the curtain was pulled back.

Jerry.

"Can I finish that for you?"

I practically dragged him into the shower. He got on his knees and 
kissed my tits and sucked my nipples. The hot water was pounding both 
of us. He probed my pussy with one finger, and it felt awfully good.

But not good enough.

I pulled his head away from my breasts and stood straight. I reached 
for a towel as I stepped out of the stall. My other hand was tugging 
his to follow me.

He didn't need a lot of encouragement.

We barely made it into the recreation room. I dropped to my knees and 
sucked the head of his hard dick into my mouth. I kept my hands on his 
lean 13-year-old hips to restrain his natural impulse to jam the whole 
thing into my throat, and after a minute or so of that, I kind of 
pulled him down next to me and urged him to lay back on the towel. 

I straddled his hips and trapped his cock between his belly and my 
cunt lips. I stroked along it a few times, more for my pleasure than 
his. The underside of his dick, turned upward, dragged over my swollen 
little clittie. He pulled me down so my face was against his neck and 
my tits were scrunched against his lower chest, I reached around 
behind my little butt and held his steel-stiff cock steady while I 
slithered backward. 

Both of our bodies were wet from the shower, and it was hot and sweaty 
in that little recreation room, so we slid against each other. I felt 
his dick's head pressing into the furrow of my cunt lips. As soon as 
it was settled in place, he hunched his hips up and began pushing it 
into me.

His cock wasn't very thick, but I was only ten-and-a-half and wet as I 
was, it was still a tight fit. It went in slowly, very slowly, bit by 
bit. My little cunt was so tight that if he hadn't had all that 
teenaged rigidity and enthusiasm, it never would have gone in at all.

But he did, and it did.

I loved it.

Feeling his dick slide into me was like having an itch scratched 
before you knew it was itchy. His prick was spreading and opening me, 
filling a void that somehow hadn't existed until it entered. The 
cavity of my cunt was so narrow that I hadn't really imagined it could 
be in need of this until it happened. I certainly had never imagined 
it could feel so damn good.

Jerry had little in the way of style. He just put his hands over the 
hard little mounds of my ass and pressed down, while his hips rammed 
that stiff, throbbing young cock up, relentlessly up.

I was so little that my pussy lips were stretched tight and my 
clitoris was fully exposed -- it might have been anyhow, since it's 
always been a bit prominent -- and the feeling of his dick invading me 
and my clit being rubbed by my stretched cunt lips and...

Well, it all rolled up together inside of me, and I started cumming. 
And I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. My pussy went into spasms and all 
I could do was press down as hard as I could on him and feel his cock 
sliding slowly into me, spreading and filling me. I planted my mouth 
against his collar bone to stifle my own screams and just gave myself 
over to it.

By the time he'd gotten his dick all the way into me -- and it must 
have taken a good five or six minutes -- I had already had about a 
zillion orgasms. When he finally hit bottom, and that scrawny thatch 
of pubic hair was pressing against my clit, I was totally lost in my 
cumming.

But when he started moving inside me, it was all over. I came so hard 
and so long that I was afraid I was passing out. I might have gone 
unconscious, in fact, but I wasn't aware of time or space or place. 
All knew was the shattering, shredding pleasure ripping through my 
little body. My pussy was tight to begin with, as you'd expect of a 
near-virgin cunt, and even tighter, considering how small and young I 
was. Add the clenching spasms of my orgasms and-- 

Well, it only took a couple of minutes of that and Jerry was cumming, 
too. His dick swelled inside me, and then he was throbbing and jerking 
in there and groaning about how hot and tight I was and how good it 
felt, and we were cumming together. 

Again, it seemed like he would never stop cumming, but when he did and 
his dick shriveled and even my tight twat couldn't hold him inside, 
enormous quantities of juice poured of me and drenched his thighs and 
the towel beneath us.

For a long time, we just lay there, with me sprawled and crushing 
across his hard young body. My hips kept jerking and rolling as little 
aftershock orgasms rocked through me. We were both still moaning and 
panting when we heard the car in the driveway.

I lifted my head and we stared into each other's eyes for a moment. 
Then the realization and panic hit us. We were like a pair of wild 
mice, scurrying and running. Jerry somehow stuffed himself, all sweaty 
and drooling, into a pair of shorts from the clean laundry, and I ran 
back into the shower and started it running. By the time Lisa and her 
Mom were in the house, I later learned, Jerry was looking through the 
fridge, and I was standing under the hot shower, again trying to make 
my knees work as the water stung my flesh. Their Mom told him to go 
take a shower before he did anything else.

That was great. In the twenty-five years since then, I've only met a 
few women who'd done it that young -- ten-and-a-half -- and none of 
the others enjoyed it. For most, it was an unpleasant thing that was 
done TO them. I was really lucky to have had so much fun -- lucky and 
rare. Part of it was that I had as much control over what was 
happening as the guy, and that made a difference. But I'd learned that 
it could be lovely and pleasurable -- oh, so pleasurable! -- and that 
was a revelation.

Anyhow, with the exams over for me and the carnival going on, I was 
pretty much on my own and at loose ends for a couple of days. Lisa's 
exams were still going on and there were all these other things the 
public schools did, so I took advantage of it and Jerry and I fucked 
away three afternoons of the next week. Then Lisa was free and home 
too much -- I mean, she was my best friend, but I wasn't about to 
confide to her that I was fucking her brother. She was still a ten-
year-old herself and would've said something to him, even if she 
didn't do it out of jealous spite for me. 

Then we were well into June and Lisa's Mom's routine kept her home 
most of the time. Jerry and I had less and less opportunity for 
fooling around, and he got very interested in this girl his own age. 
She had big hooters -- the kind he'd admitted fantasizing about -- and 
I was forgotten. What he learned with me wasn't forgotten, though. She 
benefited from his practice on me when it came to cunnilingus. Or so I 
learned, later.

In the meantime, another carnival was approaching -- the town's, this 
time, rather than the church's -- and my civic-minded Mom and Dad 
started spending most of their free time at that. It was much the same 
story as with the church carnival. 

[Sure, I'm a little bitter. I understand now -- I may have understood 
then -- the importance of it. For Dad, it was contacts for part-time 
work as an electrician. For Mom, it was social contacts, widening the 
circle of acquaintances beyond the inbred little crowd at the church 
and on the block. I understood some of that; it didn't ease my 
resentment.]

So I went to the carnival -- it was only four streets away -- and 
there was this really cute guy working one of the hot dog stands. He 
was 14 and even though he was cute, he wasn't really popular because 
he had a reputation as a -- well, nowadays, we'd call him a "nerd."  
His name was Marty. It so happened that Marty and I had a common 
interest: amateur radio. To me, it was something mysterious and far 
away. To Marty it was very real and -- 

[What fascinated me about it? The idea of being able to press some 
buttons and throw switches and be able to talk with people in far off 
and mysterious places. Okay?]

Anyhow, he said he had a rig. and I wanted to see it so he invited me 
to come by his place after he finished his turn in the booth and he'd 
show me the works. And I agreed. And he hardly ever stared at my tits 
or anything like that, so I figured it was okay; it being Saturday and 
all, his folks would be home.

Well, his folks weren't home, just his brother, Phil. Phil was 19 and 
home from college. Their parents were over in Port Clinton visiting 
someone. But Phil didn't seem interested in anything except this 
ballgame on TV -- the Indians and the Tigers; I remember it clearly -- 
and drinking beer. He just grunted when we came in, didn't even look 
at us.

We went up to Marty's room, which was very tidy. I took that as 
another good sign. His rig was set up on shelves against one wall. He 
powered up, and while we were waiting for the tubes to warm up, he 
asked me about school and stuff like that. 

When the rig was ready, he invited me to sit in the chair and run the 
set. As he got up, I accidentally -- I think -- brushed his arm with 
my breasts. His eyes widened and he stared at my chest as if he'd just 
noticed it. I was all sweaty -- that room was hot up there under the 
eaves in summer -- and where I'd brushed him, the tee-shirt was soaked 
right to my bra. Which wasn't concealing much, because my tits were 
still growing and the bra was still much too small. 

[The bra? No, not for support -- not at that age! --but too keep them 
from bouncing all over the place.]

My nipples were getting hard -- visibly, right through the bra and 
tee-shirt.

I looked up at him -- he was about five-foot-seven and I was still 
only four-foot-four -- and he said, simply, "Wow."

Then he blushed and grinned like a nut and gestured for me to sit. And 
I realized I was enjoying the way he blushed and the way he seemed a 
bit intimidated. I noticed the hard bulge in the front of his shorts, 
and I liked the fact that I had done that to him. 

I sat down at the rig and followed his instructions, all the time my 
nipples hard as rocks and the sweat pouring off me. I asked if he had 
a fan or something, and he said no, and he was sorry it got so hot up 
there and peeled off his shirt. It was soaked, too. He didn't have as 
nice a build on him as Jerry, but he was okay.

"Well, that's not fair," I said. "If you can do that -- " And I peeled 
off my shirt. It was a helluva lot cooler, not having that hot cotton 
plastered to me, and it was a helluva lot hotter, sitting there with 
my breasts all shiny and swelling up around the sides and top of that 
pathetic bra.

He was staring at them. 

"You don't mind, do you?" I asked.

"They're beautiful," he said. "I never saw such big, beautiful breasts 
on such a little girl..."

It was sheer flattery, I thought, but: "Thank you."

"Can I -- "

"Touch?"

"If."

"If what?"

"If you promise to be gentle, and if I can touch, too."

He frowned, obviously puzzled. So since I was obviously more 
experienced than he was at that stage, I put my hand over the steel-
hard bulge in his shorts.

He jumped as if I'd burned him, blushed even more furiously and then 
stepped forward. I squeezed the lump, and he gasped. 

"Take it out."

He fumbled at the zipper and finally drew it down. The white Jockey's 
underneath were strained by his 14-year-old's rigidity. I unfastened 
the waist-snap of his shorts and then pulled the shorts and the briefs 
to his knees. His dick sprang up and throbbed right in my face. It was 
about six inches long and thoroughly average in every way.  His balls 
were tight and firm in their wrinkled little sack and looked so cute 
-- !

I put my hand around his cock and squeezed again. The throbbing 
doubled. He groaned softly. 

He said, "Now, your turn ..."

I reached around and under with my other hand -- I was always very 
limber, almost double-jointed -- and pried open the snap of my bra. It 
felt so good to have the pressure off! I shrugged and pulled it off, 
releasing his hard young cock just long enough to remove the straps.

He reached down with one finger and rested just the tip against my 
left nipple. He pressed carefully. My breasts were so firm that it 
hardly gave at all. He put his whole hand on my tit and squeezed 
carefully, and the sensation sent a rush right through my body to my 
pussy. I had learned how pleasurable it could be to fuck, and I was 
turned on by the prospect of doing it again. 

With him standing next to the chair, his dick was almost level with my 
nose. I pulled him close and bent his prick down slightly. I turned in 
the chair to face him and rubbed the silky flesh of the red, throbbing 
glans against my right nipple. 

"You're gonna make me shoot my stuff," he gasped.

"Wouldn't you like that?"

"It'll get all over everything!"

"Can't have that." I kept rubbing and squeezing and when he started to 
spasm, I raised his dick, brought my mouth down and sucked the head 
into my mouth. His juice was very thick and a little vinegary. And 
there was a lot of it. I knew how to suck and swallow -- I'd had some 
practice with Jerry, remember -- and how use my tongue a little. I 
kept my lips locked around his shaft and kept jacking him with my 
hand. I think he came for about a half a minute. I had to swallow 
twice. His hips kept flailing away even after he stopped shooting, and 
his dick hardly lost any of its stiffness.

I realized then that I had my free hand between my legs, and I was 
squeezing and rubbing my pussy. I was getting very, very turned on. 
The fact that he wasn't pressing me or forcing me, that I felt in 
control of the situation -- that had a lot to do with it; I felt 
comfortable and unthreatened.

I let go of his prick and pushed his shorts to his ankles. He stepped 
out of them, and I stood and stripped. My white cotton panties were 
absolutely soaked.

"Can I just -- look at you for a minute?"

"Look all you want, honey." I caught sight of my reflection in the 
mirror on the closet door. Let me tell you, I was damn foxy looking! 
My complexion is almost swarthy, and ample time sunbathing had 
darkened it to a kind of smoldering shade. My hair was long and 
straight in those days, down to my shoulders, and my face was round 
and had a lot of baby fat then. I had good legs -- not great -- but 
they were nicely shaped and in proportion to my hips. My tits were 
very firm, of course, and looked big, and my nipples were hard as 
pebbles. My belly was flat and my waist and hips were exactly right 
for a healthy almost-11-year-old. I had no hair on my pussy yet, so I 
was all sleek and shiny with perspiration and all lithe, with hints of 
the curves to come. I got turned on even more just looking at myself.

I raised my arms over my head and slowly turned in front of him. When 
I was facing him again, he just stood there with his mouth hanging 
open. But he was standing there naked and with a rock-hard erection, 
too. 

"I want you to do something for me," I told him, sidling closer.

"Anything," he breathed.

"I'll let you do it to -- with me, but first I want you to kiss 
me...down there."

He frowned. "You mean -- down there?" 

This sounded familiar, but I knew how to deal with it, now. I stepped 
closer and let my tits press against his stomach. His cock was jabbing 
my stomach.

"Yes."

"Is it clean?"

I nodded and began turning back and forth, slowly, so my sweat-slicked 
breasts were rubbing against him.

"I don't know how -- "

"Do what I tell you, and you'll learn. You may even enjoy it. Besides, 
I'll suck you again."

He seemed dubious, but I grabbed his dick and pulled him with me 
toward the narrow bed. I sat on the bed, still holding his prick, and 
pulled him close to me. I leaned forward to kiss his cock. Then I let 
go of his dick and laid back, my legs a little apart.

"Start by kissing my tits," I told him and boy, was he eager! He was 
trembling when he crawled on the bed and bent his head down to my 
tits. He kissed them all over. His breath was hot, even on my warm 
flesh. He kissed them, pressing his lips against the firm curves. He 
kissed my nipples as gentle as a fly landing and then got a little 
adventurous and sucked one lightly into his mouth. I couldn't stop my 
gasp of pleasure or the little shiver that went through my hips. I 
took one of his hands and put it on the breast he wasn't kissing at 
the moment. I led his thumb and forefinger to my nipple.

"Now very gently, pinch it -- ah!" The sensation was maddening. He was 
a quick study and very attentive and quickly got the knack of drawing 
the pads of his thumb and forefinger up from the base, barely grazing 
the hard little spike until they reached the tip -- and then tugging 
lightly on it. It didn't take too much of that before my hips were 
rolling and my legs were opened.

I pushed his head down over me and he kissed and licked and nibbled 
his way down past my ribcage, down over my flat ten-and-a-half-year-
old's belly and abdomen, down to where the fever was. I swear, I could 
feel my pussy pulsing with eagerness.

I held his head in both hands and directed his mouth right there, to 
the top of my little mound. When his lips pressed my clit, I came. 
Damn! I just lay there and shuddered with the pleasure of it. By now 
my legs wee wide open, and my hips wee rolling around and rubbing my 
cunt all over his face. He didn't seem to mind the taste too much! 

I tasted blood and realized I had bit my lip, trying to stifle any 
noise. I let go of his head, and he looked up and said, "Are you 
alright? Did I hurt you?"

"Honey, I am totally right and you did it right! Lick me a little, 
will you?"

I didn't have to ask twice. He plunged in eagerly, lapping away at my 
bald little cunt like a puppy with water. He even tried pushing his 
tongue inside a couple of times, but I was too tight. At one point, he 
pulled my legs up and over his back, so my thighs were on his 
shoulders and my vagina was aimed right up into his mouth. 

He was holding my little butt. His hands almost covered my cheeks. He 
pulled my cunt up to his mouth and gobbled. And let me tell you, it 
didn't take him long to find the most important place. He got the tip 
of his tongue on my clitoris -- it felt like it was swollen as a big 
as a marble -- and played with it, and I was lost.

I reached back and pulled a corner of the bedspread up to stuff in my 
mouth, and then all hell broke loose. I came and came and came. It was 
like some kind of seizure. Even though he later denied it, I could 
tell the pressure of my thighs had hurt, because his ears were all 
red.

I finally had to drag his head away from my little pussy; I simply 
couldn't take any more. It was almost hurting from that direct 
manipulation. 

I pulled him up on that skinny bed next to me and rolled him onto his 
back and sprawled on top of him. He was gasping and I was panting and 
we were both absolutely covered with perspiration, which made us all 
slippery against each other. 

"Have you ever been inside a girl before?" I asked him. He shook his 
head. I rolled on top of him and straddled his waist, kneeling. I 
reached back and found his cock, hard and hot, throbbing just behind 
me. I leaned back a bit so I could feel it press into the upper 
separation of my ass cheeks. He groaned a little bit.

I leaned forward onto him and gave him a big wet kiss right on the 
lips, and we tongued each other a bit. His hands had come up to stroke 
and caress my back and slide down to squeeze my ass.

"You just lay there a minute, and I'll get this under way," I told 
him. I knelt up and moved back, then crouched over him. His dick was 
standing up so stiffly it was at maybe a 45-degree angle to his 
stomach. I grabbed his prick in one hand and lowered myself till it 
was against my cunt.

My pussy was all red and swollen, and I was incredibly wet. Still, it 
was a good thing he was so hard, or it never would have gone into me. 
As it was, the fit was so snug that when maybe a third of him was 
inside me, I stopped and tried to relax.

"I don't think I can hold it," he groaned.

Well, I wanted him to hold it, because it felt so good going in -- but 
I wanted him to feel as good as he made me feel, so I said, "Honey, 
you just relax and let it shoot."

He sighed, and I pushed down and back, thrusting more and more of his 
dick into me, and he started cumming. His hands pulled my ass down and 
I had almost all of him in me before he stopped shooting. I could feel 
his spasms, but I was already so wet I didn't feel his jism in me. 

But he stayed mostly hard, and when I finally got the last of his dick 
in me, I started sliding around. I let myself fall forward onto him, 
so my titties were pressed into his upper stomach, and I just let my 
hips go, rolling and rocking and sliding up and down.

In no time at all he was hard as a rock inside me again, and I was 
starting to cum again. Unlike the orgasms when he was eating me, this 
one built and built and built, like a wave coming in, and when it 
started, I could feel my little cunt close even more around him. He 
was jerking his hips up, thrusting into me crazily. I sat up and back 
and let all 64 pounds of me press my cunt down hard onto his stiff 
dick. I glanced down, past the barely jiggling mounds of my hard tits 
and the swollen-to-bursting points of my nipples, and I could see his 
dick stretching into my little pussy, my cunt lips pulled wide to 
accommodate his shaft. 

I just kept cumming and cumming, and then he whispered that he was 
going to cum again. I grabbed my nipples and squeezed and ground my 
cunny down till my clit was mashed into the little pubic mat around 
the base of his cock. I felt his dick flex as he creamed inside me, 
and each throb sent me deeper into my orgasm.

I toppled forward onto him as he finished and lay there with his dick, 
finally shriveling, still clamped in my puss. I thought I would pass 
out; he had.

I pulled myself off him. My cunt held onto his limp prick and 
stretched it out till it popped free and flopped back onto his belly. 
A thick mixture of juices, his and mine, seeped out of my tight slit. 
His dingus looked cute now, all curled up and shriveled like a little 
boy's. 

I put my panties back on, mostly to keep all that stuff from draining 
down my legs, then my shorts and my bra. My breasts were still swollen 
and very tender. My tee-shirt was too drenched -- so, for that matter, 
was the bed -- so I rummaged through Marty's dresser and took one of 
his. It was way too big, which was just fine by me.

I let myself out of his room and walked slowly downstairs. Phil was 
still in front of the TV, now with a sandwich and potato chips in 
front of him along with the beer. The game was still on.

"Who's winning?"

"Indians." For the first time he looked at me. "Who're you?"

I told him. He shook his head and looked back at the game. "Funny. I 
thought you were eleven or twelve."

"I'll be eleven in a couple of months."

He looked back at me, staring quite openly at my figure. "Damn. You 
have one hell of a figure for a kid your age."

"You don't have to sound sad about it."

"I wish you were old enough for -- never mind." He laughed. 

"For what?"

This time he gave me an appraising look. "Where's Marty?"

"Upstairs. I asked him to show me his ham station. You still didn't 
tell me what you wish I was old enough for."

"Nothing a kid like you should be hearing." He turned his gaze firmly 
back on the TV. "I'll be seeing you around, Marie."

"Be seein' ya'," I said and let myself out of the house.

So I had made this discovery, see? I could find and be close to and 
even have sex with nice men, and I could turn men on and still have 
them treat me right and it could be fun and sweet and pleasurable and 
not hateful or hurtful or scary. All the way home, five blocks on the 
East Side of Toledo on a hot summer day, boys would stare at me and 
some men, too, and most of them would look away when they saw my face 
and realized how young I was, and it didn't scare me. That was 
important: It didn't scare me.

And since it could be fun and didn't scare me and felt awful nice, I 
determined to do a lot more of it.

When I set my mind to something, I do it. This was no exception. I had 
just been warming up, so to speak.

CHAPTER THREE


I saw Marty a couple of more times in the next few weeks and we tried 
all sorts of things when we could. I somehow got the feeling Phil 
suspected what was going on, but he didn't say anything to me, and if 
he said anything to Marty, Marty didn't tell me.

Then my phantom step-brother came to visit for a week or so. I 
purposely bought a new two-piece suit in a size that fit my waist. In 
other words, it was far too small for my bust. Then I made sure I was 
sunning myself on the picnic table out behind the kitchen window when 
he came in from the airport. He didn't even recognize me at first. 
Then he just shook his head and looked away from the window, the one 
that looks out on the back yard. He was, let's see, 15 then, and damn! 
what a fox! But he always behaved properly toward me -- I could tell 
he was a little uncomfortable -- and nothing happened, no matter how 
much I tried to provoke it. And I tried.

But my best friend, Lisa, got a terrible crush on him, and the way he 
dealt with it was so sweet! He treated her like a regular grownup 
person, not like an 11-year-old with a crush, and very gently steered 
her away. Hahaha! I remember when she gave him a present -- a bag of 
potato chips. He accepted it and thanked her for her thoughtfulness, 
and she jumped up and gave him a little kiss on the cheek and ran 
away. He sat there, blushing like mad, and just opened the bag and 
offered some to me. I was laughing at Lisa, and he demanded that I 
stop.

"Oh, Dan, she's just got a terrible crush on you! It's puppy love!"

He looked me right in the eye and told me he thought she was sweet, 
pretty and nice, and then he said: "Besides, Marie, do puppies hurt 
less than grown dogs?"

I stopped laughing.

And that was the thing about him: He understood things you already 
knew, and he could remind you of them. 

Anyhow, by the time Labor Day rolled around -- the last weekend of 
summer -- Marty and I were on the splits. All there'd ever really been 
between us was sex, and I'd figured out he wasn't the only boy I could 
get. He was nice enough, but he was, well -- dull. My eleventh 
birthday came and went in August.

The problem was that I loved sex, and I'd gotten used to getting it 
pretty much when I wanted it. And I was horny as hell.

On the Friday night of Labor Day weekend, Alexis -- my sister, she's 
almost five years older than me -- was out on a date, and Mom and Dad 
had taken my two baby brothers with them out to Genoa, to Uncle Van's, 
to watch the fireworks show. I knew they'd be late getting back, so I 
decided to treat myself to a hot bath and little Yellow Pages fun --

[That's what I called masturbating. You know: "Let your fingers do the 
walking?"]

The only other one in the house was my younger sister, Jeanne. Jeanne 
was exactly 11 months younger then me, and she was a beauty. She was 
less like me than like Alexis -- who's a natural platinum blonde with 
a peaches-and-cream complexion and ripe red lips. Jeanne was sandy 
blonde and already had this lovely face and long legs. My phantom 
step-brother used to call her the fawn, because she was so lithe and 
graceful. 

[Right, I was sort of the missing link. Grandma used to say there'd 
been a nigger in the woodpile where I was concerned, because I was so 
swarthy and built completely different. I found out years later that 
there was a reason I was different, but Grandma had been way off the 
mark...]

Anyhow.

I had drawn a hot, hot bath and filled it with bubble bath, this stuff 
I'd gotten for my birthday from some cousin or other.
I lay in the tub and spent some time just savoring the heat of the 
water and the scent of the bubble bath and then started fooling 
around. Pretty soon, I was all worked up. My fingers weren't just 
walking; they were dancing and diving. I was rubbing my clitoris like 
I wanted to rub it right off, and when I came I made some kind of 
noise and sloshed water, because Jeanne banged on the door and asked 
was I okay.

I told her I was okay, and she kept wanting to know what I was doing. 
Really spoiled it for me. So I got out of the bath and toweled off and 
opened the door and stood there naked in front of my little sister. 
Jeanne was just wearing a tee-shirt and panties, and she looked so 
pretty...

"Something private," I said and took my towel down the hall to my 
room, still naked.

She followed me.

"I know what you were doing."

"What?"

"Playing with yourself."

From down the hall, I heard the last of the water sucked down the tub 
drain.

"That's right, Jeanne." I started to turn away, then changed my mind. 
"How did you know?"

"I know you've been doing it for a while, now."

"Do you do it?"

She blushed just a little and shrugged and nodded. "I guess so."

I noticed that beneath her loose tee-shirt, the little nubs of her 
nipples were hardening. "What do you think about when you do it?"

"...stuff."

"What stuff?"

"Just ... stuff." She was obviously uncomfortable with this. So I was 
going to pursue it.

[Yes, I was being a bitch.]

"What do you think about?" she demanded abruptly.

"Doing it with boys."

"Doing wha -- you mean, IT?"

I nodded. "And I like it."

"You've done it with a boy? When? Who? Did it hurt? Did you like it? 
What did he do?"

"For one thing, they never made me stand around all wet." I started to 
dry myself. She was watching. 

"Did they grab your boobs?"

"Sometimes, but I made them stop if they hurt me."

"Did you like it?"

"It can be very nice."

"I wish I had nice boobs like you." She was watching them bounce and 
move as I dried myself.

"It's not so much the boobs as the nipples, Jeanne." I stood and 
looked down at my breasts, then reached up with one hand and rubbed 
the stiff nodule of one nipple. It swelled even more. I pinched it 
gently and couldn't help sighing with pleasure. "Definitely, the 
nipples," I said. I looked up at her. "You don't have to have big 
boobs to enjoy having your nipples kissed and licked...and sucked."

"But if you don't have boobs, they don't pay much attention to you 
above the waist."

"Too bad they don't, isn't it? It's really nice ... " I rubbed the pad 
of my forefinger across the other nipple. "Try it," I said.

She misunderstood.

My baby sister -- not little, cause she was about three inches taller 
than me -- reached out and brushed her fingers across my nipple. She 
caught me by surprise, and so did the sensation of having someone else 
touch me like that. In particular, having a woman touch me like that. 
My sister, even.

The tingle that went through me was intense; I was afraid I was going 
to have an orgasm -- bang, just like that. As it was, my knees got a 
little weak.

"You mean like that?"

I nodded. "Or like this -- " I reached out and lightly caught one of 
those little pencil-eraser-size bumps under her tee-shirt and squeezed 
it, oh, just ever so lightly, between my thumb and forefinger. Her 
eyes half-closed and her lips, those lush, pouty young lips, parted 
slightly. I dropped the towel. Without releasing her nipple, I did the 
same with the other nipple and stepped closer to her, carefully 
twisting the swollen little buds. Her breath was shallow, but hot and 
sweet on my face. Her lips looked so sweet, I just had to -- 

So I kissed her, right on the mouth, kissed her the way I liked to be 
kissed and apparently, our genes ran true. She gasped and kissed me 
back, and after a few moments our tongues met. She brought her hands 
up and began caressing and feeling my breasts. I raised her tee-shirt 
and found her tits had just begun the slightest of swellings around 
the prominent nozzles of her nipples. I licked her little mounds and 
then lavished my tongue on her nipples. Her knees kept buckling. 

I led her to the bed and pulled her tee-shirt off. "I'm going to show 
you how nice it can be, sweet Jeanne." She lay back readily and I bent 
over her, licking and kissing her nipples, her budding breasts, her 
throat and her mouth. She kept running her hands all over me, but 
never quite touched the place that most craved touching.

It wasn't long before we were laying side-by-side on my bed, kissing 
and caressing each other passionately. Finally, when I was on top of 
her, I leaned to one side and put my hand between us, on the mound 
within her wet panties. I rubbed my fingers carefully around her pudgy 
little cunt, and she started bucking her hips up toward me. I pulled 
her sodden panties down, exposing her fledgling pussy in all its 
perfect, hairless loveliness, and then I rolled to poise on all fours 
over her.

"I am going to make you feel wonderful now," I said. "Okay?"

Her eyes were closed in her flushed face, and she merely nodded and 
moaned. Then I twisted on the bed and began lapping at my sister. 

Yes, I ate her. I loved it. Not just the sweet, fresh taste of her 
juices or the slick feel of her naked pussy under my lips and tongue. 
That wasn't all of it. For one thing, I loved the way she kept moaning 
and moving with pleasure beneath me. For another, I was getting the 
chance to lick her in exactly the way I'd wanted to be licked, as I'd 
tried -- and failed -- to train Marty to lick me. Best of all, it was 
like telling the world, "Fuck you! This is how sweet and good and 
beautiful it is at heart -- not the dirty, secret hurtful thing you 
make it out to be!"

She came in long, gentle, rolling waves of pleasure, all clenched and 
slippery and writhing. She was so beautiful in her innocent passion!

Finally, I lay back with my face wet with her juices. I stretched out 
next to her and pulled her face to me. She hesitated -- and then we 
tongue-kissed again. Her mouth was soft and sweet and seeking, and she 
seemed determined to lick all of her own secretions of my mouth. She 
sat up and over and began kissing my breasts, pausing to suck my 
nipples, and kissed her way down, down, down over my flat belly and 
down to my thighs. She kissed the insides of my thighs for a long time 
and then -- 

And then she began licking me. As soon as her tongue touched my cunt 
lips, I began cumming, and when she located and locked in on the 
fervent bud of my clitoris, the sensation was exquisite. My cunt 
clenched wildly. I reached out and pulled her over me so her legs were 
astraddle my head, and then I pulled her precious little cunt into my 
mouth, and we began sixty-nining. I begged her to put her finger in 
me, and she complied hesitantly -- until she comprehended my response; 
then she worked that finger around and around happily, setting off 
explosions within me like firecrackers on Chinese New Year.

I didn't even think about what I did next until I was almost doing it 
-- and then it was her response that gave me pause. I had one finger 
poised at the clamshell-tight lips of her cunt above me, about to 
probe within, when she tensed. I remembered how it had hurt me the 
first time; I didn't want to do that to my baby sister -- hurt her, I 
mean. So I merely traced my finger around her swollen cunt lips while 
my tongue worked busily at her clit.

But after a time -- a minute? Five minutes? I dunno -- she raised her 
head and wailed, "Dammit, Mar, stop teasing me! Put it inside!"

Whatever you want, baby sister. 

I slipped it in carefully, to the first joint, always ready to stop 
and withdraw at the first resistance of hymen.

But my finger slid all the way into that unbelievably tight little 
cunt, right to the base, and when my sister came this time, she was 
like a madwoman -- and she vented it all on my cunt.

The two of us bucked and arched and came, over and over again. When we 
could finally stop, I pulled her up to me, and we lay in each other's 
arms, panting and kissing and hugging and still tingling. 

When I could speak, I told her, "I was afraid to put my finger in. The 
first time usually hurts."

"I know," she said simply.

I opened my eyes wide and stared at her. Her eyes were wide and clear 
and knowing, inches from mine.

She said nothing. After a moment, I understood -- as she'd known I 
would. We had something else in common. We held each other tightly for 
a long time, quietly comforting and bonded in a shared experience.

[No, I don't want to talk about that. Not now.]

CHAPTER FOUR


Jeanne and I got to be regulars at that, sneaking into bed together 
whenever we got the chance -- and that was every few days, at least, 
since who would suspect a ten-year-old girl and her eleven-year-old 
sister -- even if the eleven-year-old was developing the kind of 
figure I was?

[Oh, yeah, well -- strange as it sounds, they didn't seem to be 
growing that fast right then, as if there was this first spurt and 
then it slowed down a more normal pace. I was kind of glad, in a way. 
I mean, they had stabilized at too big for a training bra, but I still 
wasn't able to wear even a 32-inch bra, the smallest they sold in the 
stores. I only measured 25 inches at the bust.]

 The problem was, I wasn't growing taller or wider, either. I was only 
about 4-foot-5 and my waist was still 19 inches and my hips were just 
about 24 inches, so I still looked surprisingly busty. If it hadn't 
been for Dana Connolly --

Dana and I had gotten to be pretty close friends, mostly because she 
and I were the two girls always getting hit on by high school kids. 
Dana was tall -- about 5-foot-3 or -4 -- for her age and she had a 
real figure, all nice, sleek curves. She had these real long legs and 
lots of blonde hair. Dana wasn't pretty, but she was attractive, and I 
could see the boys found her sexy and knew why: She had a way of 
walking and moving...Mmmm. She was sexy and she knew it and she 
flaunted it. And she was adventurous. She'd try just about anything. 
With anyone. She told me things -- 

[No. I promised I'd never tell, and I haven't ,and I won't. even 
though she betrayed me two years later. We haven't spoken since. But a 
promise is a promise.]

Where was I -- ?

Right.  Well, if it hadn't been for her, I probably would have gotten 
all the wrong kinds of attention for all the wrong reason. As it was, 
when we hung out together, boys who came on to me got lured away by 
Dana -- which was just fine.

No, I hadn't lost interest -- quite the contrary, my dear! -- but the 
kind of high school boys who come on to a sixth-grader were not the 
kind I wanted to deal with. Dana seemed able to handle them -- and did 
she enjoy handling them!

It was fine with me.

The first half of my seventh-grade year was pretty uneventful. Oh, 
sure, I came on to a couple of eighth grade boys and a freshman at 
Rossford High -- I was successful with all but one, who got scared and 
ran away -- but it was always furtive and sneaking and there was never 
time to really enjoy it. Besides, mostly they just seemed interested 
in grabbing my tits and poking me with their fingers. One of the 
eighth graders was ready and willing to fuck me, but every time he got 
his cock near me, he came. This happened over and over again, to our 
eternal frustration. It was almost funny -- and it was amazing, too. 

One night, I got him alone in the back of one of the school busses 
parked in the school lot. We had time, and I was determined. He always 
amazed me when he came so fast, because there was a lot of it. He had 
really big balls, and even after he came, he got hard again.

This time, I figured, I would get him off a couple of times and then 
get him inside me. It was November, and it had been almost a month 
since I'd had a hard dick in me, and my sister's lovely tongue and 
fingers notwithstanding, there was no substitute for the real thing.

We were having a little bit of Indian summer, so the Saturday night in 
Thanksgiving weekend, we sneaked into the lot and into one of the 
buses in the back. I stripped us both to the waist -- from the ankles 
-- and went to work. Sure as a clock, as soon as he got between my 
legs, and I grabbed his dick, he came all over the place. I mean, on 
the bus seat, on my legs, on my cunt, my belly -- everywhere. And 
stayed hard. Mostly.

Fine, I thought, and proceeded with my plan. I stroked him a little, 
my hand all slippery with his cum, and when he was really hard again, 
lined up his cock with my pussy. And he came again -- just like 
before. Gobs everywhere.

And stayed mostly hard.

I told him, No problem; we're gong to lick this thing. And then I did 
just what I said and got down and started licking him.
He got stiff as steel and came in my mouth. I thought I'd drown.

Surely, I thought, after cumming that much three times in 20minutes, 
this time he'll last longer. I stroked him a little and had him lay on 
the seat. I managed to squat over him, and this time the tip of his 
dick touched my cunt. Success! I thought.

Wrong-o. He spurted again and left a lake of it dripping on his belly 
and pooling there.

This went on for about an hour and a half, and all together, he came 
on, around and over me about six times.

On the seventh try, he got the head of his cock into my pussy and 
started cumming immediately. I was on the back seat of the bus with my 
legs around his waist and him standing on the floor. As soon as I felt 
his dick enter me, I pulled him in the rest of the way. If I'd thought 
he'd cum the first six times, I hadn't seen anything. I think he 
must've cum in me for a full minute or more. The only reason he 
stopped was he passed out and collapsed. By then, the jism had filled 
my cunt and backed up and dripped out around his prick.

His cock was still hard.

I considered squatting over him and taking advantage of it, but by 
then I was tired and sore and hardly even horny any more. I woke him 
up and cleaned him up, and he told me how he loved me and how great it 
was, and we left.

Christmas and winter came and went. Dad got drunk a lot that year -- 
worrying about money, I guess -- and he got mean when he got drunk. 
Jeanne and I conspired to avoid him and were largely successful.

So then it was spring of 1966 and that was the first time I seduced an 
older man. It was over spring break -- we called it Easter Vacation at 
St. Cornelius.

I'd gone into Genoa to stay at Uncle Van's house for a few days. His 
daughter, Darlene, was a lot like me in some ways. Darlene was a 
little more than a year older, but she was all pudgy and baby fat, 
just starting to melt away. But was she ever boy-crazy! Darlene made 
even Dana seem tame. She'd do anything to get boys around her and keep 
them near here. She'd told me how she once pulled a train -- 

[Gang-bang. When a girl fucks several guys in succession, that's 
pulling a train.] 

She was almost 13. She'd done it when she was just 12, with a bunch of 
her brother's friends.

Her brother, Tod, was a real asshole. He was 15 then. A real 
blockhead. About 6-foot-2, maybe 220 pounds -- enormous for his age. 
But he didn't have a brain in his head -- and no sense of right and 
wrong, either. If he wanted something, he bullied his way around till 
he got it. He'd started fucking Darlene when she was nine. Raping her 
is more like it. If Darlene was twisted, Tod was why. Sometimes I 
wondered if she didn't provoke...No. I don't think any nine-year-old 
girl knows enough to do that. And I think Darlene may have been a 
little off, y'know?

Anyhow, Darlene and I got along pretty good, and besides, they had 
this terrific in-ground pool, and it was shaping up to be a hot 
summer, judging by spring, and besides, they had a finished basement 
with a pool table and stuff, and her folks were away a lot. Van 
followed the racing circuit, and they were always off somewhere or 
other. And I just wanted to get the hell out of Toledo for a while. 

It was nice. We sat up and watched scary movies from the Detroit 
stations, and we exchanged notes and secrets about mysterious doings 
with boys and -- 

[No. I didn't find her appealing in that way, and she didn't care for 
women that way.] 

They lived in this development off State Route 51 and their neighbor 
was this guy named Roger something-or-other. 

[Did you know that "roger" is now another word for "fuck"? No kidding. 
In upper-class circles now they talk about men rogering women. 
Everyone knows what it means, so why don't they just say -- Oh, never 
mind.]

Anyhow. Roger's wife had just left him, oh, not six months before, and 
the guy was a wreck. Darlene told me he was all messed up -- couldn't 
sleep or eat or anything. 

Roger was about twenty-seven and about six foot tall and had this 
great body that I saw sometimes when he was working in his yard. And 
he was nice-looking. Not a fox, like my phantom step-brother; just 
nice. But there was something about him that had me all achy and 
twisty-stomachy and wet and itchy inside just to look at him. Darlene 
told me his lights were on all night, and he always looked really 
tired, and sometimes you had to call his name two or three times 
before he noticed you. It was like he was still in shock from his wife 
leaving him. Darlene didn't know why she'd left, but said she was a 
real slut -- worse: a cheat. 

I knew he was a long-haul trucker, and when he was working, he'd be 
away a week at a time. I knew he was quite an amateur gardener. And 
Darlene had told me he sometimes let Uncle Van use his basement 
workshop, because his hobbies included cabinet-making.

That was my key. I waited for the right moment. It came two days 
later. Van and Aunt Irene were down in Kentucky for a race and Tod was 
passed out -- as usual when his folks were away -- from too much beer. 
Darlene had taken her bike to peddle over to Casper's Corners, this 
country-road intersection about three miles away where a lot of kids 
hung out.

I waited till I heard the radio from his house and then went over. It 
was about 70 degrees, but there was a breeze. I wore a light 
windbreaker and cutoffs that had faded and shrunk all soft to fit snug 
on my butt. Under the windbreaker I was wearing a thin tanktop and 
nothing else. I rang the bell. He answered, wearing a pair of jeans 
and a sport shirt. The jeans were nicely filled.

He didn't recognize me through the screen door for a moment, then he 
smiled. "Hello. You're Marie, aren't you? What can I do for you?"

"Uncle Van said you know cabinet-making, and I wanted to ask you about 
it. Can I come in?"

He held the door for me and asked if I'd like a Coke or some juice, 
and I said water would be dandy. While he fetched it, I looked around 
the living room.

Roger's house was identical in layout to Van and Irene's, but where my 
uncle's house was decorated to look like an Italian director's idea of 
a swinging Playboy pad -- all shag rugs and red drapes and such -- 
Roger's looked like one of those model rooms they set up in furniture 
stores. And everything was spotlessly, shining clean. There was a 
whole bookcase full of books. I looked them over: Reader's Digest 
Condensed versions. Ycccch. But at least he read books.

He returned, water in hand. I unzipped my windbreaker about halfway 
and thanked him. 

"I want to put a bookcase in my room -- not real big, just about this 
high -- " I held my hand even with my breasts. "-- and about this wide 
--" I held my arms wide apart. This caused the windbreaker to part and 
my breasts to heave up into sight within the tanktop. "Do I need a lot 
of power tools for that, or can I just use a handsaw and hammer and 
nails?"

"Easy. You don't even need a saw. The lumber yard will cut the boards 
to the length you want for about a nickel a cut. Hammer and nails and 
glue will be -- "

"Glue? Like Elmer's?"

"Better to use Carpenter's Glue." I nodded. "What color will you paint 
it?"

"I don't want to paint it. I like wood."

He grinned. "Smart girl. You could stain it, you know. That would give 
it a shade to go with your room and wouldn't hide the grain."

"I suppose, but Dad's always talking abut how easy it is to mess up 
with stain."

"Naw; you just have to know how to do it. I'm going to stain a piece I 
just made; want to watch?"

Well, of course I did, and I'd known -- from peeking through his 
basement window -- that was what he was going to do, which was why I'd 
asked the question I'd asked. Heheheh.

His basement was as neat as his living room. Half of it was a little 
recreation room with a pool table. Built-in couches lined two walls. 
We went into his workshop and he showed me how he stained furniture -- 
in this case, a natural penetrating stain on the maple top of what 
would be a credenza. And he was right: It was easy and neat, not at 
all messy, if you knew what you were doing.

That could be said about a lot of things.

I thanked him, and we stepped back into the rec room. I picked up the 
cue ball and rolled it toward the neat triangle of balls waiting at 
the other end of the table.

"Do you play?"

I shook my head. "Always wanted to learn how, but we don't have one."

"Van and Irene have one. I'm surprised Tod hasn't taught you."

I laughed. "Tod's always trying to teach me something, but it's not 
pool. He's always grabbing me and stuff."

"Pretty girl like you will have to expect that and figure out how to 
deal with it."

"I wouldn't mind, so much," I said, "except Tod's so grabby and such 
an -- " I shut my mouth.

"An asshole?"

I laughed. "Exactly."

"Pool's rules are simple for the major games," he explained. "It's 
getting good at it that's tough. Good at pool means practice." He 
frowned. "Good at anything means practice." Then he brightened. "Want 
me to teach you?"

"You wouldn't mind -- "

"Not at all." He selected a pair of sticks from the rack, and showed 
me how to hold the stick and stroke. I kept messing up. On purpose. 

[Well, okay, so it wasn't entirely on purpose. I'd never played 
before. Now, do you want to talk about me being a klutz or about what 
happened? Okay.]

"Here," he said, moving around the table to stand behind me. 

"Hold on." I removed the windbreaker in the warm room. Now my tits 
were exposed against the tanktop. The deep arm openings went down so 
low that I knew he could see the sides of my breasts. "Okay."

He reached his arms around me and bent me forward a little to reach 
the cue ball. I could sense him trying stiffly not to make any body 
contact. I was having none of that, so I kept arching my butt out 
until I felt his thigh against my butt. Then I shimmied to the left 
and rubbed my butt on his crotch a little. He froze, still as a rock 
-- and the lump in his jeans was just as hard.

He stood straight, and I straightened with him, taking his wrists in 
my hands. I led his hands to my tits and placed them. He lightly 
cupped my breasts, and his thumbs moved back and forth across my stiff 
nipples through the tee-shirt. My breathing was as shallow as his.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he said quietly.

"Why not?"

"You're just a kid -- "

I pulled his hands tighter against my breasts and stood on tiptoes to 
rub my denim-clad ass into his crotch. I turned within his arms. "I 
know what I'm doing." I smiled up at him. "I like it. I want to do it 
-- with you."

I reached down to cup one hand against his balls. My hand was filled. 
I unzipped his jeans and wiggled open the waist snap, then pushed them 
down. He was, happily, naked underneath. His dick was the largest I'd 
ever seen at that point, about eight inches, and quite thick. The head 
was throbbing against the underside of my tits through the tee-shirt.

I grabbed the thick shaft in both hands and lightly stroked. He 
groaned and rested his hands lightly on my shoulders. I bent a little 
at the waist and licked the thick head of his prick, then opened my 
mouth and took it inside. By then I knew some things to do with my 
tongue and lips, and I did them. I sucked and tongued his dick head, 
and he groaned and warned me he was going to cum if I did that. I made 
a loud, affirmative noise and sucked and jacked his cock all the more 
urgently, squeezing it at the same time. It was like squeezing a piece 
of wood inside a thin rubber covering.

He was true to his word, too -- he came. Oh, boy, did he come! He 
arched backward, and his dick swelled up inside my mouth so much I 
don't think I could have removed it if I'd wanted to, and then he 
started shooting. I don't know how long it had been since his last 
ejaculation, but the stuff started to pour out of him in powerful 
streams that made me gurgle, no matter how fast I swallowed. He let 
loose three or four of those long geysers and then began shooting fast 
spurts -- splat - splat - splat -- like that.

After about a half minute. the spurts slowed and stopped and his dick 
started to shrivel some. I sucked the head as I pulled back and was 
rewarded with a last shivering dribble of his cum and a soft groan 
from him.

He dropped to his knees in front of me and his face was even with my 
tits. He pulled my tanktop over my head -- it was pretty gooey with 
his cum, anyhow -- and started licking and kissing my tits. He would 
take most of my tit in his mouth and suck and slowly squeeze it out 
until just the nipple remained inside -- and then he'd fasten onto my 
nipple. He'd suck like mad and whip the tip of his tongue back and 
forth over it so fast that I literally had an orgasm with each tit, 
just as if my nipples were little clitorises.

All the time he was doing that, he was unfastening my shorts and 
pushing them down. When they fell to the floor, he ran his hands up 
over the backs of my legs and clamped a hand over each cheek of my 
ass. My butt was so small and tight he could cover it with both hands. 
Two fingertips reached past my asshole and began to rub the thoroughly 
dripping lips of my swollen little snatch. I came again when he 
slipped a fingertip into the entrance of my cunt.

Suddenly, he reached behind himself and pulled one of the cushions off 
the banquette. He whipped the cushion above my head and banged it down 
onto the pool table behind me. Then he stood, lifting me with him. I 
wrapped my legs around his hips and felt the underside of his 
reinvigorating cock against my pussy. He lay me on the cushion on the 
pool table and disengaged my leg grip, then lifted my ankles high, 
bent at the waist and began feasting.

He licked my thighs, and I came. He licked my cunt, and I came. He 
licked and sucked my clitoris, and I came. Soon I was just cumming, 
again and again. He took my ankles in his hands and pulled them wide 
and tried to stick his tongue inside my pussy. I was so small -- and 
even tighter from the constant orgasms -- that he couldn't even get 
the tip into me. But I was glad he tried, because it just made me keep 
cumming.

Then he pushed my legs back till my knees were near my shoulders. I 
was completely opened to his attentions, and my cunt was aimed up at 
the ceiling. Now he moved his face back farther and began licking the 
inner slopes of my ass cheeks. I shrieked with surprise and pleasure 
and then with even more pleasure when he began swiping his tongue back 
and forth over my asshole. He tried to get the tip of his tongue into 
my ass. There was no way it was going to penetrate -- but I had fun 
with his trying! I'd had no idea anything could feel so good back 
there, and I came again.

He turned me and the cushion on the pool table. Instead of my legs 
hanging over the edge, now I was laying along one side. He stood 
beside he table, next to my head, facing my feet. My heels were on the 
felt, and my legs were bent and apart. He bent forward, put his face 
between my legs and started licking me again, and I started cumming 
again. All I could feel was pleasure, endless pleasure.

At some point, he got one hand under my butt and beyond, and then he 
bent his wrist and forced one long, thick finger up my cunt. My pussy 
grabbed it and tried to get cum from the finger, and I came some more. 
Then he wedged a second finger in with it, stretching my little twat, 
and all the time kept licking me and sucking my clittie. The juices 
were running down into the crack of my flexing ass.

Then he pushed his pinky into my asshole.

I yelped -- it hurt! But I was cumming, too, and couldn't stop 
cumming, and he just kept working the finger into the narrow hole, 
forcing it deeper and deeper until it was all the way in.

He just held it there without moving it, but that didn't matter: I was 
thoroughly stuffed, front and back, and the fingers stretching my cunt 
were wriggling. I could feel them pressing against the finger in my 
ass and vice versa -- and all the time he was licking and sucking my 
clit.

I started cumming again, and then I couldn't stop, either. Sometime in 
there, he started moving all three fingers in and out of me, 
separately. My narrow little butt-hole had loosened just a little, and 
it still wasn't comfortable -- but it sure as hell didn't hurt. At 
some point I wasn't sure if the orgasms were starting with my clittie, 
in my cunt or even -- and I couldn't believe this -- in my ass. All I 
knew was I was cumming and cumming and didn't want it to stop.

But stop it did -- when he withdrew his fingers and his mouth. The 
last thing he did was pull his pinky out of my ass, moving it in 
little circles as he withdrew it. It was like he was trying to widen 
the aperture. I don't think it worked, but at least it didn't hurt. 
Didn't even feel half bad, actually.

He stood straight beside the table and turned the cushion and me to 
our original position, with my ass perched at the edge. Again, he took 
my ankles in his hands and pulled my legs open, but this time he 
rested my calves on his shoulders. He stepped forward and his big, 
hard cock throbbed against my belly. His balls were pressed against my 
cunny and the head of his dick was almost on my belly button.

He rocked back and forth. The underside of his fat prick rubbed over 
my hairless pussy and massaged my swollen, protruding clit. It was 
making me crazy.

Finally he backed up and took his dick in one hand. He put the knob 
against my cunt. 

"Spread your little wings for me, baby," he said.

I reached down between us and held my pussy lips wide. He rubbed and 
rotated the head of his dick in the oily cup formed by my opened pussy 
and then started pressing forward. 

If I'd thought his cock felt big in my mouth, that was nothing; it was 
positively massive now. I felt like someone was slowly driving the fat 
end of a baseball bat into my little pussy. It wasn't comfortable, but 
it didn't hurt, either. And it was only exciting in an abstract way, 
not in real physical pleasure.

He pressed it in, and my cunt lips started to fold in with his dick. 
He pulled back and moved some of the lubrication around and then 
pushed again. This time the whole glans made it inside. I felt like it 
was possessing me from the inside. Again, my cunt lips started getting 
caught, and again he withdrew to spread the lubrication.

He did this three or four times, each time getting more and more into 
me, and then the head was pressed through the inner constriction, and 
I could feel it stretching the walls of my cunt.

Now it did feel good. Oh, boy, did it feel good!

"Unnnnnnh -- oh, give me more, Roger, give me mooooore," I moaned. He 
moved back and forth a little, bit by bit getting more of his fat, 
hard grownup prick into my fledgling cunt. It wasn't comfortable yet, 
but the arousal wasn't abstract now, either. I could almost feel it 
pushing my insides around, and that was so strange it almost made me 
cum by itself.

Then the end of his cock was banging into something deep inside me 
that hurt. I let out a little yelp, and he stopped and withdrew a bit.

"Is -- is it all in?"

He shook his head. "No, baby, not all in."

I couldn't believe him. I felt like it was reaching into my belly. I 
put my hand back down there and felt a good inch of his dick remaining 
outside. "I wanna see it," I said.

He took my forearms in his hands and pulled me slightly upright so I 
could look down and see. An inch of his dick was uninserted. My pussy 
lips were stretched thin as rubber bands about it, and my clitoris was 
pressed almost down against the back of his shaft by the stretching.

He let me lay back, and my feet fell from his shoulders and dangled 
limply to either side of his hips. I put one hand down there and 
pressed my clittie into the top of his shaft, and then I started 
cumming again.

"Awww, fuck me, Roger, fuck me fuck me fuckmefuckme..."

Sound like I was delirious? It should, because I was.

He was moving in and out of me carefully at first, but every time he 
moved, his cock shaft massaged my clitoris, and every time the little 
nubbin was touched, I came; I was cumming every time he moved, every 
time my hips twitched, every time we breathed. And added to it was 
this big, thick dick moving deep inside me, faster and faster. I kept 
cumming even when he got a hand under my butt and slid his long middle 
finger up my ass.

Now I was doubly filled, the finger in my ass compressing my little 
cunt even more around his cock. And I was cumming twice as hard. All 
the orgasms started to run together into one continuous spasm, and 
then I passed out for a little bit, because I remember everything 
drifting away when I felt his fat cock swell even more and then jerk, 
spewing hot wetness far, far inside me as he pressed one hand down 
over my abdomen, just above the plump little mound of my cunt, and 
everything went golden.

I wasn't out for long, but when I became conscious again, his finger 
was already out of my ass, and he had most of his cock out of my cunt. 
His dick was shriveling, and when he pulled the plum-sized head out 
with an audible plopping noise, a regular stream of goo -- a mixture 
of his juices and mine -- poured out and dripped on the table and 
floor.

If his dick was getting limp, it was just catching up with me. None of 
my muscles would work. I was utterly drained and tingling as if my 
skin was cumming. He bent and kissed me four times, gently, almost 
chastely -- on the forehead, on the lips, high on my belly and then, 
right on my cunt, pressing his lips into the flood of his sperm and my 
juices. The he stood, scooped me in his arms and lay me down on one of 
the cushioned banquets. He went for a towel. By the time he returned, 
I was on my belly; my butt wasn't that comfortable. Big surprise.

He sat on the edge of the cushion next to me. He had his jeans on 
again and a fresh tee-shirt. He covered me with the towel and lightly 
stroked my back through it. That made me feel terrific, like what we'd 
done was special instead of something you sneak to do -- like it was a 
good, being-together thing.

"How do you feel?"

"My butt's sore," I said and giggled a little. He rested his hand 
lightly on one cheek. "But otherwise --- " I closed my eyes and hummed 
deep in my throat. "I feel wonderful. Just wonderful. You?"

"The same. I still can't believe it. You're so little and young and -- 
But I feel good, baby, really good. And I feel like someone can like 
me again."

I almost understood that at the time -- I understand it completely 
now, having been through a divorce -- but I knew I'd done something 
good as well as something that was incredibly pleasurable.

He bent over and kissed me lightly and wetly on the nape of the neck. 
I shivered. "Wanna do it again?"

He laughed against my damp flesh. "I'd love to. The spirit is willing, 
but the flesh is weak."

I groped till I found the lump of his limp dick through his jeans. 
Even soft, it was nearly as big as Marty's was when it was hard. "Oh, 
I don't know," I said. "A little encouragement ... "

He laughed. "We've been down here more than an hour."

Which meant my cousin would be coming back soon. "Oh. I better get 
going. Can I rinse off somewhere?"

"Shower's at the top of the stairs on the second floor, first door on 
the right."

I rolled over and the towel fell. He kissed each of my nipples and 
helped me stand. I knew I should hurry, but I felt all lethargic and 
lazy, like a sated kitten, and walked naked to the stairs to the first 
floor. I hurried a little more getting up to the second floor. I liked 
the feel of the juices dribbling from between my again-tight cunt lips 
onto my thighs, the way the stuff lubricated my thighs when they 
touched as I walked.

All of the accessories in the bedroom were hand-made of redwood; I 
guessed he'd built it all. It was quite different for a bathroom of 
the time and nice in a way. I took a hot, fast shower, scrubbing 
vigorously. When I stepped out of the shower, a little TV tray table 
awaited me in the hallway. On it were my shorts, a fresh tee-shirt 
that was almost the right size, my windbreaker -- and a tall tumbler 
of pop with ice in it. I could have cried, it was so considerate! No 
one had ever treated me like I was as special -- even more special -- 
after fucking. Before fucking, sure; but not after fucking. That was 
so terrific...

On the way back down, I noticed on the stairway wall the black-and-
white pictures that I hadn't noticed on the way up: a pretty brunette 
with great legs and a terrific figure and a pretty face. Roger had his 
arm around her waist in one picture.

I ran over to him before he could get out of his reading chair and 
threw my arms around his neck and gave him a big hug and a kiss. "You 
are so sweet," I said.

"Hey, baby, I enjoyed it, too."

"Not just that," I said. "Bringing my things and the pop and-- well, 
that was so thoughtful."

He shrugged as if it was nothing more than what was correct. His arm 
slid around me, and he held me close. He dropped his hand to my rear 
and caressed my butt. "Your butt is like a peach," he whispered, "So 
hard and ripe and smooth -- I'd love to fuck you there."

I gave him a playful slap on the arm. "Forget it! I could barely 
handle you in the right place!"

"Maybe in a few years -- "

"Say a hundred or so -- "

We both chuckled, then he sighed. "Too bad. I do like doing that. A 
lot."

I put my hand on the big bulge in his jeans. "With something this 
big...Is that why your wife left you? It hurt too much?"

He looked astonished. "She loved it. Hell, she introduced me to it!" 
He shook his head. "Where'd you get the idea she left me?"

I blinked. "She didn't leave you?"

"No."

"That's what Darlene said -- "

"Oh." His expression changed. "I threw her out. I told her if she 
contested my divorce application, I'd have her jailed."

"Jailed? For what?"

He looked rueful. "For doing what I was doing today -- messing with a 
minor."

I was bewildered and said so.

"It's not all her fault," he said. "I was on the road too much, too 
eager to make a lot of money, I guess. Anyhow, I came back about a day 
early from a 'Frisco run and found her in bed -- with Tod."

"My cousin?"

He nodded.

"Why would a pretty lady like her who was married to a guy like you 
want to do it with an asshole like Tod?"

He held his hands up about a foot apart. "Tod's got a whanger so big 
that he makes me look like a little boy. Anyhow, I came home, heard 
noises, got my gun, came up, and found her on her hands and knees with 
Tod packing her ass. I put the gun to his head, and he got instant 
impotence. Then I threw her out."

"Was she hurt?"

"More embarrassed at being caught than hurt -- Oh, I see what you 
mean. No, Brenda always liked them big -- the bigger the better."

I shook my head slowly. "Darlene said some bad things about her, but 
hinted that she'd run away with someone."

"Well, who likes to hear bad stuff about a brother?"

"Darlene does. I mean, Tod raped her when she was nine."

He looked horrified. "No wonder she's a little...odd. He stuck that 
thing in her when she was nine?" He whistled. "Poor kid."

I stood. "I better get going. I want to do this again." 

He shook his head. "Not a good idea."

"But you liked it -- "

"Maybe too much. I could get addicted to little girls and there are 
very, very few as mature and sensible and headstrong as you are, 
Marie."

"I'm out here a lot, you know."

He stood and put his arm around my shoulders, leading me to the door. 
"We'll see -- but no promises...even though I want to at least as much 
as you do."

I put my hand on the hard bar of flesh at the crotch of his jeans and 
squeezed and giggled. "I know you do."

It took maybe 30 seconds to scamper next door, but in that time I had 
decided there would be no more little boys for me. If this was what it 
was like to fuck a real man, I wanted nothing less.

If I'd known then what I know now, I would have phrased my resolution 
this way: I'm gonna make Lolita look like a nun.

CHAPTER FIVE


April of that year left in a hurry, and most of May hurried, too. I 
didn't get the chance to stay out at Darlene's again right away, but I 
knew Roger hadn't forgotten me. One Saturday morning there was a 
gorgeous little bookcase, just the right size, in the driveway beside 
our house. It was solid mahogany and beautifully finished, and the 
card taped to it just said, "An early birthday present for a very 
special young lady." It was signed, only, "A secret admirer." I 
pretended utter ignorance but sent Roger a thank-you note on the sly.

I didn't get many chances for adventure, and I was pretty much 
finished with kids near my age, and there weren't any real prospects 
among the older guys or men in the neighborhood. I was walking around 
in a state of constant horniness, relieved only slightly by occasional 
games of stink-fink with Jeanne. That last week of May dragged on and 
Memorial weekend seemed to last forever. Dad went on a rampage on 
Memorial day because of my sister, St. Alexis the Pure.

Alexis always went around passing judgment and telling us things were 
wrong or sins. Anything. Everything. And here she'd gotten herself 
caught jerking off some jock in a Dodge. In the driveway. We're not 
talking about a Nobel Laureate here, as you can plainly see.

On the next Saturday, good ol' Marty came snuffling around. He had his 
permit and his Dad's old car and offered to take me for a drive. Well, 
sure, I knew what he had in mind, but I was so horny at that point, I 
would've sat on his stickshift. So we went for a drive by the 
Anderson's grain elevator -- romantic, huh? -- and we did it, and then 
he drove me home. 

And I was still horny.

Finally, on the third week of June, Dad announced that my phantom 
step-brother was coming to visit. I was determined to seduce him -- 
and I was going to have the chance, because his visit was going to 
coincide with the church fair.

When Dan arrived, Jeanne and I -- we had been exchanging fantasies and 
making plans for two weeks -- were all prepared. We were both going to 
do him. Teeheehee.

He was even better-looking than before; other than that, he hadn't 
changed much. He still sat up till three in the morning, reading 
paperbacks and anything else he could get his hands on. We'd been 
counting on that. Jeanne and I would come creeping downstairs at 11 or 
so, after everyone else was asleep, and sit on the floor or the couch 
-- anywhere we could be sure the light would show through our 
nightgowns. He slept on a pullout in the living room, and we'd come 
through there in the middle of the night wearing a pair of panties and 
maybe a tee-shirt, maybe not.

He was getting all these nice hard-ons from us but never did anything. 
So we went to Plan B, which we considered foolproof. 

Three nights before he was supposed to fly back to New York, Mom and 
Dad were going to a pre-carnival dinner for all the volunteers, and my 
brothers were staying at Grandma's, and Alexis had this Really Big 
Date. Dan was left to watch over us. At nine o'clock, he sent us to 
take our baths. At nine-thirty -- after we had spent most of the time 
plying Yellow Pages with each other -- I called downstairs to him.

Here was the foolproof part.

"What's the matter?"

"You have to make sure we're clean."

"What?"

"That's what Mom or Dad always does."

He muttered something and came trudging up the stairs. Jeanne and I 
popped out into the hallway butt-naked and stood there wearing shit-
eating grins, displaying all of our sleek little charms and secret 
places. Our nipples were hard enough to pierce paper when he topped 
the stairs and turned toward us.

Dan took one look at us, blushed, stared me right in the eye and said, 
"Get dry, get dressed, get to bed -- and don't ever pull this shit on 
me again. Get moving!"

We moved. So much for foolproof plans.

[What? No, I think he liked what he saw. Remember, I had a terrific 
little figure -- 26-19-25 -- and Jeanne was just sprouting, and she 
wasn't too hard to look at, either. But he thought of us as "kids" 
first and "females" second. Seems pretty obvious to me.]

Anyhow.

Marty had been calling a couple of times a day and asking me to come 
to this "party." The day after Jeanne and I pulled our foolproof plan 
on Dan, Marty finally admitted what was happening. Y'see, Marty had 
gone from considerate nerd to asshole jock in a few months. He was 
junior varsity football at Rossford High, and he was trying to buddy 
up to the in-crowd with the varsity. The party was going to consist of 
Marty, three guys from the varsity -- and me. Get the picture? Right: 
a gangbang. I told him to call Dana, since that was more her speed, 
but he said No, he wanted me to do it. He started to get real pushy 
about it. It upset me, but I didn't tell anyone.

So the next evening, about five-thirty, I was out on the front porch 
with Lisa and Dan was sitting there reading the Toledo Blade. Marty 
pulled up with his three would-be buddies. Marty and one of them -- 
Eric, the halfback -- got out and came up on the porch with him. Marty 
had filled out, and Eric was just big. I remember there were clouds 
coming in, and the wind had stopped. I could feel the thunder in the 
sky, just waiting to start.

I introduced Marty to Dan -- he just waved and went back to the his 
sports pages; he was a real baseball nut -- and Marty introduced Eric 
to Lisa and Dave and me. Eric was wearing a muscle tee-shirt, and he 
had the right to wear it. I was wearing a pair of shorts that were too 
small and a loose blue pullover. I was wishing I'd worn a bra, since 
my nipples were hard and pushing against the fabric.

"Well, are you going to come with us to the party?" Marty asked.

I told him the same thing I'd said on the phone: "I don't want to, 
Marty. Get someone else to play with you."

"We want YOU," Marty said.

"Cute girl like you could have a good time with us," Eric said.

Dan turned the page on the sports section.

"I just don't want to," said.

"Sure you do," Eric said. He was staring right at my tits.

Dan folded the paper and set it down on the floorboards of the porch.

"No, I don't!" I said. "Why don't you guys go on to your old party and 
just leave me alone?"

Marty put his hand on my arm, just above the elbow, and started to 
lean toward me, whispering something. I shook free and backed away. "I 
think you better go, Marty."

Dan was sitting there with his feet up on the porch rail and his hands 
folded across his stomach, just watching us with this real funny 
little kind of smile on his lips. I was backing up and backed right 
into Eric. He grabbed my forearms from behind and pulled me back 
against him. I felt his dick rubbing against me. I tried to get loose. 
He didn't get shaken off as easily as Marty.

"She said to let her go." 

Dan was suddenly standing and suddenly close. The top of his head was 
barely even with Eric's chin.

Eric turned toward him, still holding my forearm in one hand.

"You're not being polite," Dan said.

"And what're you -- "

He never finished what he was saying. I was maybe a foot away when Dan 
hit Eric in the face with this weird, short punch so fast I hardly saw 
his hand move. Later I learned it was some kind of karate punch. Eric 
staggered back about two steps and fell flat on his ass, just sitting 
there looking dumb. 

Dan turned on one foot and kicked Marty's ankles out from under him. 
Marty went down. One of the other guys -- I think it was Mark -- was 
out of the car and running up the porch steps. Dan grabbed one of the 
aluminum lawn chairs we used on the porch and scooped it underhand at 
him. Mark put his hands up to deflect the chair, and Dan kicked him in 
the knee. Something cracked and Mark fell down. 

Eric was up again and Dan hit him backhanded with his fist, right 
across the face, and that was it for Eric. The last guy, Timmy, was 
coming up the stairs at the same time Marty was getting up. Dan's back 
was to him, so I don't know how he knew -- but when Marty tried to 
tackle him, Dan just kind of half-turned, caught Marty's arm and 
helped him keep going -- right off the end of the porch. I think he 
was trying to throw Marty into Timmy, but Tim side-stepped. Marty 
bounced down the steps to the driveway.

"Let's get it on, motherfucker," Dan said and stepped toward him. Tim 
started to raise his hands. Dan hit him five times real fast -- in the 
face with his open hand, then a punch in the stomach, then another 
punch low, right in his balls, then another punch high in the belly 
and then he hit him square in the face with another punch that went so 
fast I hardly saw it. Tim was out before he hit the floorboards.

Now, I knew Dan lived in a bad neighborhood in Brooklyn and I knew 
he'd studied judo or karate or something, but he was always so nice 
and patient, and always trying to mollify people that -- well, I never 
expected anything like this. Fact is, I'd sort of started wondering if 
he wasn't maybe -- Well, you know: chicken, or even queer. The whole 
thing hadn't lasted 30 seconds. There were high school football 
players all over the place, and they were all hurt.

Lisa just sat there on the porch railing, staring.

Marty was out cold where he'd landed, and Tim was the same. Mark just 
lay there, holding the knee and crying. Eric finally managed to stand 
on the third or fourth try and said he was going to call the police.

"Yeah," Dan said. "Call the cops. Tell them how four football heroes 
got jumped by one bookworm from Brooklyn and got the shit kicked out 
of them. And don't forget to mention the four jocks were trying to 
force an 11-year-old girl to go to a 'party' with them." He threw a 
dime on the porch floor in front of Eric. "Go on. Call them, asshole." 
Then he made a sound. I think it was a laugh. To this day I can hear 
that laugh. It was like hearing Hell chortle over some cruel practical 
joke. I never want to hear that particular laugh again. It was the 
most horrifying, scarifying noise I've ever heard. 
     [You're damn right I sound scared. I've seen all the slasher 
flicks -- hell, I've got a pair of sons now -- and that stuff. but... 
Look, that last one, "Jason Takes Manhattan" -- that ought to end it 
for anyone who's ever met someone from one of those neighborhoods in 
New York. That film might have scared some people, but only because 
they never showed what happened to Jason when he went to Brooklyn. I 
can't imagine Jason or Freddy or any terrorist lasting more than about 
30 seconds with my phantom step-brother...and he's not even considered 
particularly tough, where he comes from!]
    Tim and Marty were coming around. With Eric, they got Mark in the 
car and left. Marty backed the Challenger into a trash can on the way 
out of the driveway.

Jeanne stuck her head out of the door -- she'd been upstairs taking a 
shower; I never knew anyone who took so many showers -- and asked, 
"Hey, you guys -- what's all the noise?"

Dan had retrieved the aluminum chair and was just sitting down again. 
"Chair fell," he said and started reading the paper again.

Lisa was still staring.

Jeanne said, "Oh" and went back inside. I went to Lisa and touched her 
arm. She shivered and said, "I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Great," Dan said, not looking up. Lisa slid off the rail and 
scampered off the porch, heading for home. 

I turned to my phantom step-brother.

"I don't want you or Lisa blabbing about this," he said without 
looking up.

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I said. They're not going to tell anyone what happened, and 
if you and Lisa keep your mouths shut, this'll be the end of it."

"But -- "

"But nothing. Start talking about it, though, and your ferocious 
foursome will have to get even -- and since I won't be here all the 
time, they'll take it out on you. Just shut up about it. Got it?"

He looked up at me. I nodded, went to him, threw my arms around him 
and gave him a big kiss right on the lips. Then I ran into the house 
and stayed in the bathroom for about an hour, just shaking.

I saw some of them around town after that, and I saw Marty in school, 
but none of them ever said a word to me. I always returned the favor. 
Later I found out they'd explained their injuries as being the result 
of horsing around playing basketball at Navarre park.

What was kind of funny, though, was they were all cute, and I was so 
horny and frustrated that I would've gone with any of them or even all 
of them if they hadn't been such damn animals about it. After a week 
-- and Dan had gone back to New York for another year -- I was 
fantasizing about what it might have been like and kind of regretting 
the missed opportunity. But over July Fourth weekend, Dad borrowed 
Uncle Charlie's summer house on Kelly's Island and took us all out 
there, and I got the chance to find out what it was like to pull a 
train.

Kelly's Island is out in Lake Erie. You get there by a ferry from near 
Port Clinton. In the winter, when the lake is really frozen, sometimes 
you can get there by sled or ice boat or even car, but every year a 
couple of dweebs go through the ice and drown when they try that. 

It's some sort of national park -- at least part of it is -- and 
there's all this stuff left over from when the glaciers gouged the 
Great Lakes out of the continent. It's very quiet, very pretty and 
very dull -- to a young person with an active libido.

I was less than thrilled by the time we got to the house, a big ol' 
place about halfway up a hill and looking northeast over the lake. Dad 
and Mom were doing Dad-and-Mom stuff -- Mom was cleaning and 
organizing and Dad was looking for things to fix. My little brothers 
had discovered a treehouse and were as happy as 'coons in a garbage 
dump. Jeanne loved that nature stuff and immediately headed out for 
the wildlife trails. Alexis, with her blonde hair and big ass, had 
gotten herself picked up by some lumbering islander on the ferry; he 
had a red Mustang convertible, so she had everything she needed.

All I had was an itch and two weeks of boredom to look forward to. Or 
so I thought.

The house was against the side of a steep hill. Above us was all 
forest and the top of the hill was part of the national park-land, so 
it was pretty much deserted. It was a good place to get away from 
Mom's nagging and Dad's cussing and my brothers' shouting and 
bickering. There was a very faint trail climbing up the hill in a 
series of cutbacks. 

I was wearing some cutoff jeans -- these were cut just above my knees 
-- and I'd filched one of Alexis's halter tops. It fit, which was a 
nice change of pace for me, since I'd started sprouting again. I'd 
thought about shopping for a real swimsuit, but when I measured 
myself, I was up to 27-19-25. So much for a real swimsuit.

About two-thirds of the way to the top, a dog suddenly appeared from 
the bush. He wasn't very big, and he was purebred mutt with a lot of 
basset in him. He stopped, looked at me, then wagged his tail and came 
right over, his great big eyes looking up at me. I let him sniff my 
hand and whine, and when he rubbed his head against my fingers, I 
started scratching around his ears and under his jowls. His tail 
wagged even more. We chased each other up the trail a little, and then 
he barked once in enthusiasm. He didn't have a collar, and I kind of 
hoped he was a stray. He was a neat dog.

Then someone whistled from the cliff. He barked once more at me and 
started scooting up the trail. I followed.

Just as I huffed past the top of the trail, I saw about a half-dozen 
kids on blankets. The kids looked like they were about 16 or so, some 
older, some -- the girls -- maybe a little younger. The dog was with 
one of the guys, who was watching me.

I said "Hi!" and introduced myself and told him what a neat dog he 
had.

His name was Ike. He and the other kids there lived on the island. He 
was about a foot taller than me and not bad looking, but boy, did he 
have a built on him! The fact that he was shirtless made it hard to 
miss, too. 

They invited me to hang out with them, and I was glad they did, since 
it meant some variation at least. The boys all checked me out -- so 
did the girls -- but no one came on to me...then. The girls seemed a 
little stand-offish. That made sense. Kelly's Island isn't big and in 
a place like that, when girls get paired off with boyfriends, they 
don't want newcomers to upset the balance of things. But when they 
found out I wasn't going to be 12 for a couple of weeks, most of them 
relaxed. One of them, Reenie -- her real name was Maureen -- offered 
to meet me at the house the next day and show me a short cut. I 
thought that was nice.

Reenie was 16 and had a nice face and real dark, straight hair -- she 
said her great-grandmother was an Indian -- but the most noticeable 
things about her were her tits. She had these huge boobs; I mean, they 
had to be as big as cantaloupes. When she came to the house to call 
for me, Dad kept staring at her tits like he'd never seen breasts 
before. As we were walking to the shortcut, I warned her as much as I 
dared about Dad. I told her he was going to be grabbing her tits if he 
got her alone -- Dad was notorious for that, especially if he'd had a 
couple of beers.

She looked at me and said, "You know, it's hard to believe you're only 
12."

I smiled and said that was the way it was.

She told me that when she was my age, her tits were bigger than mine, 
but she was also taller. And she confided that she'd found the 
attention her figure got from boys was an interesting diversion from 
what had become a pretty boring routine.

Since it was tell-all time, I took the bait and revealed that I was 
not exactly some little innocent. She set the hook and reeled me in, 
and I told her a little of my exploits. She told me a little of hers 
but not much.

The same group was there plus a few more. Boys now outnumbered girls. 
I figured I'd better play it safe and not mess around and assumed that 
all the boys were spoken for; no flirting by me, no siree bob.

Some of the boys were throwing a softball around, and a couple of the 
girls were playing cards, and it was nice. We all just laid around in 
the sunshine and enjoyed each other's company. From time to time, I 
noticed Reenie talking privately to one or two of the girls. From the 
way they looked at me after the chats, I knew what she'd told them. I 
didn't really mind, not even when I noticed some of the boys started 
looking at me different, too, after the girls talked to them. 

Later in the afternoon, a couple of couples paired off and were making 
out under an old elm. They were going at it pretty hot and heavy. One 
of the boys, Vernon, had been rubbing his girlfriend's rather scrawny 
tit and he was moving the other hand down between Ellen's legs. She 
didn't stop him when he started rubbing her off through her shorts. 
She was so skinny that her brown legs were like two pipes sticking out 
of her shorts. There was enough room for him to get his fingers inside 
one leg of the shorts -- and he did. I knew from the way she was 
moving and he was moving that he was fingering her. They kept it up 
till she came, then he stood and led her by the hand back into the 
woods.

Reenie said something like, "Those two are like rabbits." She looked 
at me and grinned a little crookedly. 

I nodded and said, "Lucky her -- at least she's got a boyfriend with 
her." Then I looked at the cards in my hand and rummied the straight 
flush someone had played earlier.

On the way back to my house, Reenie told me they were going to have a 
little weenie roast that night and I was welcome to come. She said 
almost everyone would be there, including some kids I hadn't met. She 
said since it was going to be a full moon, they might go for a swim in 
a pond back in the woods.

It sounded great, and I agreed.

When Reenie came for me at the house, it was almost six-thirty. Mom 
and Dad had been drinking Blatz all afternoon, and I knew they were 
going to be asleep early, which meant my brothers were going to be put 
to bed early. Alexis was, as usual, Out, and Jeanne was in the 
bathroom, trying to drain the cistern -- as usual. I knew what she was 
really doing in there, but what the hell.

When we got to the top, it was just getting dark. There were about 15 
kids there. Someone had built a real careful campfire in a depression 
scooped out of the dirt and a couple of kids were roasting weenies and 
marshmallows on sticks. Most of the kids there were availing 
themselves of the beer someone had brought -- a couple of cases of 
Blatz and Carling. Vernon and Ellen were making out. 

I ate a frank and a couple of marshmallows. There was no soda, so I 
washed it down with cold beer. Ike was kind of hanging around me, and 
there were these little touches now and then -- you know, on my wrist 
or my shoulder -- and when I went into the bushes to take a leak, I 
asked Reenie who his girlfriend was. She said she guessed she was, but 
said she and Ike weren't Like That and not to worry about it; cookout 
nights were special. She wouldn't explain more, but promised that if I 
stuck around, I'd understand.

When I got back to the group, all ready to let Ike give me some 
enjoyment, I found that he and about half of the others had gone off 
for their swim. I was wearing Alexis's swimtop and my bottoms under my 
shorts and windbreaker -- it got cool out there on the lake, even in 
midsummer -- so I was prepared. I followed the sounds of splashing 
till I got to the pond.

The swimsuit was not appropriate attire; birthday suits were the order 
of the day.

I hesitated, but someone -- one of the guys -- yelled, "Come on little 
girl! Don't be shy!"

I peeled out of my clothes, and when I took the halter off, I heard a 
girl giggle and say, "Little?"

I stripped off the bottoms and went to the edge of the pond. One of 
the guys warned me not to dive because the pond bottom was uneven, so 
I waded in and struck out in a shallow crawl stroke toward the others. 
The pond was about 80 feet across and almost round. The far side of it 
was shrouded in moonshadow from overhanging trees. The others were in 
the middle of the pond. Ike was a little farther out, where it was 
deeper. He waved me toward him.

The main bunch was in water about waist deep or a little more. As I 
swam past, someone reached out and ran a hand down my back to my butt 
and gave one cheek a little squeeze.

Just Ike's head and shoulders were above the water when I reached him. 
"Ever been skinny-dipping before?"

"Not since I was a little kid," I said.

"From what I saw, you're no little kid any more."

"And from what you've heard."

He nodded and grinned.

"You guys do this a lot?"

"Every couple of weeks in summer. Weather's got to be right and there 
has to be enough moonlight and no Scout troops." He laughed. "We 
really upset a troop last summer. They kind of stumbled on us."

I'd been treading water for a couple of minutes at that point. "You 
getting tired?" he asked.

"A little," I admitted

He grinned, and then I felt his hands on my waist. He pulled me closer 
until I was pressed against him. He kissed me, and I was all for it. I 
wrapped my legs around his hard waist and my arms around his neck. He 
slid his hands down to cup my butt and ground me against him. I felt 
the hard ridges of muscle on his abdomen rubbing my clit. I was 
getting awfully hot. I scooted my behind down a little and sure 
enough, I felt something smooth and hard bump against the little strip 
of flesh between my butt-hole and my pussy. Unfortunately, I was so 
much shorter than him that I couldn't possibly think about going 
farther without developing gills; my head would've been underwater.

"Can we go someplace a little drier?" I asked.

"Sure. Other side of the pond. Can you swim it?"

I kissed him and nodded, then we disentangled, and I turned to swim. 
He grabbed my ankles and gave me a push that sent me a good third of 
the way to the far side of the pond. I swam till my feet touched 
bottom, but he swam past me and was standing before I was. What a 
gorgeous sight he was, with that great body glistening in the 
moonlight. His cock was as long as Roger's had been, maybe eight 
inches, but not as thick. Certainly as hard, though. He held his hand 
out to me. I took it and stood, and he led me out of the water and 
into the dark woods beyond. There were some hoots from behind us. I 
ignored them. 

I suppose in daylight and wearing shoes it would've taken about two 
minutes, but dressed as we weren't and by moonlight, the twisty path 
took about 10 minutes.

"Almost there," he whispered. We were approaching what looked like an 
impenetrable wall of bushes.

"I hear something," I said. "Someone -- "

"It's okay." He put his hand on my butt and pushed aside some of the 
brush and urged me through.

There were a couple of old mattresses on the ground inside the ring of 
brush. Old sheets were on the mattresses. A couple was on one of the 
sheets. Ellen and Vernon -- no surprise.

I stopped and stared. Ellen was on her back under Vernon, her skinny 
legs bent back till her ankles were next to her ears. Her hairy cunt 
was pointed up and Vernon's dick was pumping in and out like crazy. 
From the amount of juices on the sheet and on her ass, I guessed that 
they hadn't just arrived.

I wanted Ike desperately, already, but what he did then absolutely 
bound me to him. He bent and put his lips next to me ears, brushed 
back my wet hair and whispered, "If you want to change your mind, it's 
okay to do it now, and no one's going to rag you for it; I guarantee 
that. But if you want to stop, now is the time. Okay?"

I turned and kissed him on the lips and grabbed his rigid dick. "Now 
is the time, alright." I dropped to my knees and pulled his dick into 
my mouth and started sucking as hard as I could. He groaned and put 
his hands on the sides of my face, but lightly, not forcing. I didn't 
want to suck him off, at least not right then. I wanted that hard cock 
in my pussy, scratching my itch. He didn't try to stop me when I 
pulled back. I led him, dick-wise, to one of the vacant mattresses and 
lay down. 

He lay beside me and kissed me for a while. We were caressing each 
other, and then he bent down and started feasting on my tits. He kept 
stopping to tell me how perfect and firm and beautiful my tits were. 
Then he licked his way down my belly and licked my thighs and then he 
put his face between my legs. 

"Hey! You don't have any hair down here!"

"Not so you'd notice," I said, rubbing my palms over my swollen 
nipples.

"Believe me, I'm in a position to notice." He chuckled. 

I chuckled, too, but then his tongue ran slowly from my asshole all 
the way up my pussy lips to my clit, and I stopped chuckling and 
started gasping. That boy knew how to eat! And the way he did it 
betrayed genuine enthusiasm. 

After about five minutes and five little orgasms, I pulled his face 
out of my cunt and dragged him up over me. I locked my legs around his 
waist and felt his dick head bumping around the area of my pussy, 
seeking the opening. I'd loved the way he ate me, but Jeanne could eat 
me just as well. What Jeanne couldn't do was slide a nice hard dick up 
my hungry little pussy, and that's what I wanted.

He kept prodding and kept missing, and I kept trying to catch his 
prick in my pussy, to no avail. Finally, I reached around and under 
and took matters into my own fingers. I guided his cock to the 
entrance, wriggled my hips till it was wedged securely and then put my 
arms around his neck and whispered, "Fuck me, Ike!"

He was trying to ram me, but I was so little and tight that the going 
was too slow for either of us. I crossed my ankles behind his butt and 
hunched up at him, pulling myself onto his rigid cock as he pushed 
down into me. He glans slid inside and he gasped.

"You're so tight! Are you a virgin?"

"Not nearly, honey! Just fuck me!"

Well that was what he did. He hooked his hands over my shoulders, 
resting most of his upper body weight on his elbows -- sparing me -- 
and started pumping. I was wet and tight, but he was wet and hard and 
strong, and he was moving his dick like a piston in me. I could hear 
the wet sucking noises my pussy made around his hard dick. Even with 
his moaning and my gasping, I could hear it.

He pumped faster and faster. I hadn't cum yet, but I was going to soon 
-- and it was going to be a big one. I could feel it building in my 
belly, kind of coiling there like a big spring.

"I gotta -- gotta cum in you!" he hissed. He fell forward slightly, 
burying his prick in me. Our pubic bones were touching and he was 
pressing my clittie, too. I felt his balls slap on my upturned ass, 
into all the overflowing juices in the crack there. "Cumming -- 
cumming -- " he coughed.

That did it for me. I locked around him and felt my vagina start its 
squeezing and spasming. He howled and poured his jism into me. I could 
feel his dick swell with each spurt, and that just sent me higher. 
Usually, I just get all clenched up and frozen when I come, but this 
time my hips started shaking against him, and as tight as my cunt was, 
it must have felt to him like -- 

"Your cunt is sucking me! Damn!"

He half-collapsed onto me, his dick shriveling in my clutches. He 
rolled onto his back, rolling me with him to keep his dick inside. I 
settled down onto his dwindling dick as much as I could and rested my 
head against his chest. He kissed the top of my head and ran his hands 
over me.

"I want to do it again, when you rest," I said. "I came so hard..."

"Why wait till he rests?" said a voice. A girl's voice.

CHAPTER SIX

I opened my eyes wide and looked up. A hard dick was throbbing above 
my head. I looked up farther. Vernon.

"I mean, Vernon is ready if you are."

To one side stood Ellen, juice coating the insides of her thighs and 
matting her thatch of thick pubic hair.

"But you -- "

"Believe me, honey, Vernon is always ready! You won't wear him out!" 
She laughed. "Besides, Vern's been telling me he was wanking off last 
night imagining what you'd be like, and that just made him hotter with 
me. Have fun -- I'm going to get some beers!"

Vern started to kneel, but Ike told him to back off; he didn't want 
Vern's balls right over his face. I crawled off Ike and looked a 
question at him.

"It's okay with me," he said. "Just don't freeze me out!"

"No chance."

Ike grinned and winked. 

I knelt upright and pulled Vern's dick into my mouth. I tasted his 
juice and Ellen's on it. I didn't mind the taste, and the idea of it 
turned me on even more. Ike got himself on his back again and 
slithered forward till he had his face between my legs. He pulled my 
butt down till my cunt was in his mouth and started licking and 
sucking me some more. That just made me lick and suck good ol' Vern 
even more urgently. It wasn't long before my lips had Vern moaning and 
Ike's tongue had me moaning.

Vern wanted to do it doggy style, which was new to me. Ike scuttled 
out of the way, and Vern turned me onto my hands and knees and knelt 
behind me. My cunt was dripping and his cock was hard and he rammed 
right into me and started pounding. Ike stayed out of the way except 
to reach out and play with my nipples a little.

Vern was hanging onto my hips and slamming into me, and I was just 
rotating my bottom so his cock was always hitting in different places. 
I came a couple of times, and then my arms just wouldn't hold me up 
any more, so I let my shoulders go down flat on the mattress. At that 
angle, Vern got even deeper into me. Then I felt his finger at my 
butt, but I was so busy cumming I didn't protest, and to my surprise, 
it didn't hurt when it slid inside. In fact, I came some more because 
it closed my cunt more around his cock -- as if my cunt wasn't tight 
enough already!

But that extra tightness and my cumming put Vern over the edge, and he 
came in me and pulled out. My butt settled onto my heels and I 
crouched them, just savoring the little aftershock orgasms. I looked 
up, wide-eyed, at the sounds of movement in the brush around us and 
saw most of the other kids were there. A few were couples busily 
coupling, but a lot of the others were just watching. 

Ike was sitting crosslegged a few feet a way. His gorgeous cock was 
stiff again. "I want you again," I croaked.

"Are we letting her join?" someone -- Reenie -- asked aloud.

"I guess so," Ellen answered.

"Yeah," said Ike. "Let's do it."

"What -- ?" I asked.

"You want to do it again?" Ike asked.

"Oh, yesss..."

"It won't be my turn though. Okay?"

"Turn?"

I suddenly understood.

He was watching me. The thought of all those cocks -- !

I reached between my legs and rubbed my pussy. "Do me," I whispered.

Ike nodded to whoever was behind me, who then knelt, lifted my hips 
and fit his cock into me. I was plenty wet on my own and had two loads 
dumped in there, and he slid right in. I groaned and kept my hand on 
my clit as he pumped my. I came again, a couple of times, then he did, 
too, and then someone else was sliding into me.

"See, there's not many people our age on the island," Ike was 
explaining. He was stroking his cock and watching me get fucked at the 
same time -- and he was talking as if he were explaining how to change 
a tire. "Reenie and I went together when we were 12 -- "

"And went -- and went --" Reenie said, and laughed.

"But then I got mixed up with Helene, and she started messing with 
Vern, and then I got mixed up with Jill, and she started throwing it 
to Bobby, and Vern was doing it with Helene. And what was funny was we 
didn't stay jealous very long. When Bobby popped Ellen, she went and 
talked to Reenie, and Reenie said it was okay and pretty soon, none of 
us really got jealous when whoever we were going with started messing 
with someone else -- from our group."

The guy behind me came in me. Ike paused, watching me cum. I couldn't 
believe this was happening.

"But someone came in here about two years ago -- "

"Me!" called a pudgy girl. Doris, I think her name was.

"And she got all upset when Vern -- "

"Who else?" Ellen cracked.

"Went for an old-times'-sake roll with Helene. So Vern had this great 
idea and explained it to her."

"And now," said Reenie, kneeling beside me and caressing my face as I 
came yet again, "if someone new wants to play with any of us, you have 
to play with all of us. Helps keep anyone from getting possessive." 
She trailed her fingers down and trilled her nails over the side of my 
breast where it was pressed out by my weight on it. I shivered and 
came again.

My cunt was vacant and I resented it. "More, please?"

"Maybe it'd be better if -- well, I'd really like to be sucked off," 
someone said. "Do you mind?"

"I want to cum some more, too," I said.

"No problem," said Reenie. She rolled me onto my side and started 
kissing and licking my cunt. Another pair of lips started kissing my 
butt, and then a tongue was burrowing in between. "You have such a 
pretty little ass," Ike said from behind me.

"Okay?" said a voice as I shivered through another orgasm from what 
Reenie was doing. A boy -- Bobby -- was laying on his side so his cock 
was presented to my mouth. It was enormous, as long as Roger's, but 
even thicker. I got most of the head in my mouth and sucked as hard as 
I could, considering my concentration was being ruined by the mouth on 
my cunt and the tongue tracing my ass, and the hand -- Reenie's -- 
that had come up to caress my tits. 

I put one hand on the shaft of Bobby's cock. I couldn't close my 
fingers around it. I pumped and stroked though, and it wasn't long 
before he was cumming. He'd been so sweet about it that I kept sucking 
when he flooded me with that hot, thick custard, and I swallowed as 
much as I could. He came a lot, and the idea of what I was doing drove 
me higher. I was absolutely stoned on sex.

I don't know how many times I came that night. I do know that I passed 
out a couple of times, but -- I'm told -- I kept cumming even then. A 
couple of the girls ate me out, and I ate them out and Vern stuck his 
tongue into my butt as much as he could. Most of the other girls got 
fucked, too. I know I fucked all the guys at least twice and some came 
back for thirdsies. And I loved every minute of it. 

For a while, I was getting fucked from behind by one guy while I 
sucked another one. After a bit I was too far gone to suck much, so I 
just let them move their cocks between my lips, and when the one in my 
cunt came, the one in my mouth would move back there, and another cock 
would be presented to my lips. Bobby, of course, came in my mouth 
every time. At one point I was being fucked from behind while I ate 
Reenie. That was so exciting it almost makes me cum just to think 
about it, especially since at the same time, she was sucking off -- 
who else? -- Bobby.

Then came the most memorable part of all. Someone -- I think it was 
Walt -- pulled out as he was cumming and dumped his goo all over my 
butt. He held his cock right against my anus, not trying to probe, and 
let it squirt right on the opening. I didn't understand, but at that 
stage I wouldn't have understood instructions for dialing a telephone 
number. All I knew was that I was cumming almost constantly, and I 
never wanted it to stop. My mouth was tired, my pussy was sore, but I 
wanted more!

I got it. Oh, boy, did I get it!

Ike lay on his back beside me and pulled me on top of him. He kissed 
me on the mouth, long and deep, right into all the sperm (mostly 
Bobby's) that had been dumped there as if he could care less, as if 
what mattered was kissing me. My legs slipped apart and I felt his 
cock against my thigh. I scooted down a little and he slid into me, 
and I groaned as I settled down on it.

I had my arms around his neck and was pressed flat against him, just 
our hips moving and me, of course, cumming, when I felt someone 
kneeling back there. I felt a hard dick against my ass and knew what 
was coming. I wasn't sure but -- 

"Are you ready for this?" Ike asked.

"Anything," I whispered. Ike nodded and pulled my ass cheeks apart and 
pulled me down onto him.

"I've been wanting that beautiful little ass of yours since I first 
saw you," Vern said from behind and above me.

Ike stayed still in my cunt -- which was not staying still on him -- 
as Vern put the head of his dick against my tight little butt-hole. I 
stiffened, not sure about the discomfort. I tried to relax and open my 
butt, and Vern pressed down and in a little. As my anus was forced 
open, my pussy squeezed Ike's dick, and it twitched inside me. That 
felt good -- all the better for the extra compression.

"Do it, Vern," I croaked as loud as I could. "But slow and easy." For 
the moment, my orgasms had stopped.

Vern did it. He pushed a little more. I thought my ass was going to 
split -- and then the head of his dick popped past the sphincters.

"Hold it right there for a minute," I gasped. I could feel the two 
dicks, hard and ready and eager. I tried to relax again, with little 
success, but after a few seconds I whispered, "Slow and easy."

Vern did it just that way, too -- slow and easy. But also nonstop. His 
implacable shaft slid steadily into me, probing deeper and deeper. I 
was grateful now for the load Walt had shot on my ass; it lubricated 
Vern's prick for the tight passage it was spreading. When he was 
halfway in I started groaning, a long sound that continued till I felt 
his pubic hair against my butt.

"Just hold still for a minute, both of you, 'kay?"

"Sure, baby," Ike said and kissed the top of my head. 

I moved my hips just a little, kind of an experiment. It didn't hurt, 
but it wasn't comfortable yet, either. But I could feel those two hard 
young pricks buried to the bone in me, pressing against each other 
through the little membrane separating the parallel channels. I felt 
absolutely stuffed, fore and aft.

"Careful, now," I said. 

Vern moved a little, maybe a half-inch, but I felt it as if it was a 
foot. I also felt the way it moved the compression of my cunt on Ike's 
dick, which twitched in response and sent a little shudder of pleasure 
through me. Ike moved his hips a little so his dick slid halfway out, 
then he pushed it all the way back in again.

"You're so tight!" he gasped. "I don't think I can hold it!"

I kissed his nipple and nipped it lightly with my teeth. "Don't hold 
it," I said. "Fuck me hard."

Well, he did -- but Vernon thought I'd been talking to him, too. He 
pulled back till his glans was hung up on my sphincter and then he 
rammed into me. I bit Ike's chest -- tasted blood -- trying to stifle 
my scream. My cunt and ass tightened on both pricks.

Ike was fucking in and out of me like a madman, moaning about how 
tight and hot and wet I was. Vern pulled back again and drove his cock 
into my ass. Again I bit Ike's chest and Vern moved faster and faster 
and then, suddenly, I started to have an orgasm.

It was amazing, like breaking through to someplace new! I came and 
came and came, and those two hard young cocks pumped me from both 
sides, stretching and reaming me and filling me. Vern fell flat atop 
me, adding his weight to mine on Ike, and flailed away, fucking my ass 
with short, hard little strokes as if he were pumping a cunt. Ike was 
sawing his longer dick in and out of my cunt. At one point they were 
syncopated, one moving in while the other moved out. Then they were 
coordinated, plundering my little body in unison. 

And I kept cumming and cumming, uncontrollably, sobbing and 
whimpering.

Then Vern started shaking. "I'm gonna cum, buddy!" he gasped.

"Both -- cum -- in me -- " I choked out between spasms.

That did it for Ike, too. Both of them began pumping in short little 
strokes, violent strokes, pounding their swelling, twitching dicks 
into me as far as they'd go, which seemed pretty damn far. Then Vern 
-- and then Ike -- hunched against me. I could feel two sets of balls 
against my thighs, two pubic mats against me, and then, two cocks 
jerking and throbbing and flooding me. I felt Vern's juices flooding 
my bowels, and I felt Ike's cock swelling in my cunt and knew he was 
spurting in there and all the orgasms and horniness rolled up inside 
me and let go at once. I locked up, frozen, between and around them 
and came harder and harder and harder, a single orgasm that just kept 
getting more intense. With my cum-drenched little body sandwiched 
between the two big 16-year-olds, I just kept cumming until, finally, 
everything was one big orgasm and I knew nothing but orgasm, and then 
I knew nothing, 'cause I finally passed out -- cold.

When I came to, I was a sandwich again, but no one was inside me, and 
I felt firm, lush breasts against my back. Reenie whispered, "Are you 
okay, sweety?"

I nodded against Ike's shoulder. I couldn't do much more than that at 
the moment. Vern put one of the sheets over us, against the cooling 
night air. My pussy still throbbed, but my butt was numb.

"Some of us have tried doing that," she said. "Ellen liked it a lot. 
But I've never seen anyone cum like that, not that way." She shivered. 
Her nipples were stiff against my bare back. I wriggled against her. 
She had one hand on my belly. Ike kissed my ear. I felt utterly 
content for the first time. Thoroughly fucked, thoroughly sated and 
now, loved and hugged and valued and caressed and cuddled.

Ike and Reenie and Vern and Ellen helped me get myself cleaned up and 
put together. We sat around and rested. Reenie and Ellen got me back 
to the house around midnight. Everyone else in the house was asleep, 
which was fine by me.

That was the first time I'd pulled a train, and it was the last for 
quite a while. During the rest of the two weeks, I got into some more 
group scenes, once with Helene and Reenie -- as nice as it was, I 
missed cocks -- and once with Ike and Reenie, at Reenie's house when 
the rest of her family was on a shopping expedition on the mainland. 
That was really nice. I think my favorite thing was laying on top of 
Reenie, licking her sweet, luxurious cunt while she sucked and nibbled 
my almost-hairless little slit -- and Ike sawed his hard dong slowly 
in and out of me. I came constantly, but it was wonderfully gentle 
waves of ecstasy and left me revived rather than enervated. Give me a 
couple -- male and female -- any time.

Bobby and I got it on alone once, and after I'd sucked him off twice, 
I asked if he ever wanted to just plain ol' fuck. He said, sure, but 
he wasn't sure about my being able to take his thick dick. Well, with 
patience and perseverance, I did, he did and it was fine -- but I was 
sore for two days, inside and out.

When we got on the ferry back to Port Clinton, Mom and Dad said they 
were glad I'd made some friends so I wasn't bored. Even then I 
recognized the pun. 

Alexis cried, and Jeanne was silent, and the boys were cranky and I 
was just, well, contented. 

The islanders and I wrote occasionally, but island kids tend to leave 
as soon as they can; there's little future there. In later years I 
encountered a few of them. Ellen became a Moonie after Vern was killed 
in 'Nam, and Reenie had joined a commune somewhere in Vermont. Ike was 
murdered by a drunk driver on the Ohio Turnpike, near Elyria. Most of 
the others vanished from my life but left me with an absolutely lovely 
set of memories.

I did get another shot at Roger that summer and tried to buttfuck him, 
but he stopped it before half his fat prickhead was in me. "I want in 
your butt, baby," he said, "but not with it hurtin' you." 

That was over Labor Day Weekend. Then my eighth and last year in the 
prison school started. That was the year Ed Sautter started the 
photography club at the high school and I became a star.

CHAPTER SEVEN


Kids from Rossford Junior High -- who were 12 and 13and 14 years old 
-- had a lot of friends at St. Cornelius, because eighth graders in 
St. Cornelius were 12 and 13 years old. Which meant the older girls 
from junior high sometimes hung out with girls a year or two younger 
from St. Cornelius, so when juniors from Rossford High wanted to hit 
on girls from the junior high, they ending up meeting eighth graders 
from St. Cornelius, too.

All of which goes to explain how I met George, who was 16 and a 
junior, when I was only 12.

George was a "Hunky" -- that's the nickname for Hungarians, of which 
there were a lot in Rossford -- and got good grades. He was big and 
blonde and kind of handsome, in a rough-hewn sort of way. He didn't 
set out to pick me up, but he ended up with me one early September 
Saturday when about two dozen kids piled into six or seven cars and 
headed for a concert at Veterans' Arena. George wanted to be an 
engineer (like my phantom step-brother), liked to read science-fiction 
(like my phantom step-brother), played the guitar (like my phantom 
step-brother) and said "please" and "thank you" (like my phantom step-
brother).

He was a lot like my phantom step-brother, if you know what I mean.

George was a lineman on the varsity football team and had this really 
wicked, quiet sense of humor (which was like my phantom step-brother). 
He drove one of the cars to the concert but had about four beers and 
didn't think he should drive back. I was impressed. I was even more 
impressed when I ended up sitting on his lap in the crowded backseat. 
I'd had a couple of beers, too, and wanted to make out and he kept 
acting like a gentleman and telling me I was only a kid... right up to 
the time I pulled down my top and stuck a tit in his face while 
squirming on the unconcealable hard-on making a hard tent in the 
crotch of his jeans. Even then he acted like I was a kid, making me 
cover myself and behave.

I made George a target. Within two weeks, I was spending most of a 
Friday night under the stands at the Rossford High field riding him, 
with his fat cock rammed up my hungry, wet little snatch and his hands 
under my blouse, playing with my nipples. I never met another teenager 
who could hold off cumming as long as George could. Despite the 
ribbing he took for robbing the cradle, George and I remained "an 
item" for most of the first semester and past the end of the football 
season. That was when the photography club became a factor.

George was interested in photography, enough so that he'd even set up 
a little darkroom in his basement. He talked about the club from time 
to time. To be honest, it didn't interest me and I didn't pay much 
attention. Until that Friday night in late March.

George had an older brother in the Coast Guard and his family -- which 
was large -- had gone to Cleveland for the weekend to visit his 
brother and some relatives. We had the house to ourselves. I'd 
arranged for Dana Connally to cover for me that I was at her house.

It was about 11 at night. George had already drunk about five beers 
and I'd had a couple, myself. We were touring the house -- with a 
difference. For one thing, we were naked. For another, I had my legs 
around his waist and his nice fat prick buried in me. George was so 
big -- he was about six-foot-two and two hundred pounds and lifted 
weights -- he was just carrying me around the house. 

"This is the kitchen!" And he'd rest my bare butt on the countertop 
and fuck in and out of me till I'd cum once or twice and then: "And 
this is the dining room!" And he'd repeat the procedure on the dining-
room table. 

Of course, I contributed: "But isn't the dining room where you're 
supposed to eat?"

At which point he'd pull out of me, munch on my cunt -- I had just a 
hint of hair there -- and then plough my furrow again, and we'd 
continue the tour.

"This is the living room!" On the stereo and television cabinet.

"This is bathroom!" On the vanity.

Et cetera.

He finally came in me in the basement, in the darkroom. For a guy who 
could last so long, he didn't shoot very much stuff. Not that I 
minded. What was important was the look on his face after we caught 
our breath: He was frowning.

"Why are you frowning?"

He shrugged. "I still don't know what I'm going to do for the show," 
he said. Ed Sautter had scheduled a school-year's-end show of the 
photography club's work.

I stretched my arms over my head -- I was laying on the countertop 
where George usually cropped his photographs -- and said, "Well, how 
about a nude study?"

He laughed with me, but then he stopped and stared at me. "Y'know, 
maybe -- "

I held my hands up, palms toward him. "Forget it."

He shook his head. "No face; just nude torso in black and white. I'll 
let you proof the negatives."

I sat up on the counter. "Are you serious?"

George nodded. "Ed -- " Ed Sautter was a member of that new and 
informal generation of teachers. He'd been hired to teach English Lit; 
for his kids in the Lense Club, his first name was available. " -- Ed 
says if someone comes up with a really good nude study, he'll fight to 
get it in the show."

Well, to make a long story short, I agreed. What the hell, huh? None 
of the negatives had my face in them, so who would know? We shot them 
with a flash that night and by daylight the next morning. The best 
ones were with me on the coffee table in the living room. They were 
tight focus from just the hint of my pubis to my shoulders, with the 
angle of the morning light highlighting the flat plane of my stomach, 
the clear definition of my ribcage and below, just the hint of 
swelling for my hips. My breasts were firm and rounded and my nipples 
were hard -- George said professionals use ice cubes, but we used 
something else to get them hard and keep them that way. 

It was a stunning series of relief shots. Some of them were lovely; I 
still have them. The best were so good that they weren't even erotic; 
they were just beautiful -- a healthy, firm-bodied young woman 
blossoming into womanhood (in black and white) against the rich grain 
of the oak coffee table's surface. I still look at them and don't see 
myself or sex. They were really quite good.

Sautter was true to his word; he exhibited the best ones and almost 
got himself fired.

The problem came when someone noted that the edge of a National 
Geographic -- not the date, but part of the logo -- was visible, on 
the coffee table,  measured it against the nude torso, did some fast 
math to get the measurements of said (my) torso, noted the lack of 
abundant pubic hair...

...and figured out who the model was.

The word got around in certain circles very quickly. There was a lot 
of Talk. Then Sautter had his confrontation with the Powers That Be 
and finally compromised, agreeing to exhibit the nudes in the faculty 
lounge, to protect the young people of Rossford and the Model.

Funny, but I didn't think I needed protecting. Hell, I'd done the 
pictures, hadn't I? 

Well, the whole thing began to outgrow itself and pretty soon, George 
was getting a lot of pressure to reveal the name of the woman in the 
pictures. George refused. George dug in his heels and got stubborn, 
something at which he excelled. For a while, it looked like the whole 
thing was just going to blow over, because everyone got wrapped up in 
the fight about the bond issue for the levees out in Point Place --

[Please, don't ask.]

-- and everything seemed fine until George called me one afternoon 
when I had the house pretty much to myself and informed me that the 
negatives had disappeared. All of them -- including the outtakes, 
which were not solo shots of a lovely torso; those were pure smut, 
taken off a tripod and timer and giving an excellent view of me, from 
the rear, riding George's fat prick. One in particular, taken while I 
was cumming, had real good definition of the way my pussy was 
stretched round his dick, with all but an inch or so of his wide dong 
buried inside me. Some of the others in that set included my face -- 
in one shot, with my mouth full, if you know what I mean.

George figured it had happened that afternoon, while he was jogging. 
The night before, he'd developed some shots he'd taken out at the old 
Municipal Airport. When he'd gotten home, the padlock on his darkroom 
door had been cut -- probably a bolt-cutter, he figured -- and the 
negatives and prints from our session, and only from our session, were 
missing.

I went over to see him, and we put our heads together and tried to 
reason it out. Whoever had done it hadn't been on the football squad, 
which aced Marty and the other Three Stooges; they'd been jogging, 
too. George pointed out that examining negatives wasn't easy if you 
didn't know what you were doing, so that narrowed it down to people 
with darkroom experience who knew George's schedule and what to look 
for ...

No matter how we sliced it, we kept coming back to the Lense Club. 
Well, we were right -- sort of.

By then, Easter vacation was coming up and I went to see my cousin 
Darlene for a couple of days. That's what I told George. In fact, I 
was eager to see Roger, but I didn't share that with George.

I hadn't seen Darlene since around Christmas, when she and Tod the 
Asshole and Uncle Van and Aunt Irene came for Christmas Dinner. 
Darlene had been losing weight -- or, should I say, redistributing it. 
When I saw her during that Easter break, I told her the truth: She 
looked real good. She'd gotten a new hair-do, and her waist was 
smaller and her tummy was getting flat, and her legs and butt were 
getting tighter, and her tits were growing real nice. She was almost 
14,and you could see what was happening: She was going to be a 
bombshell.

The first chance I got, I went over to see Roger. He knew I was coming 
over, because I'd called him from Rossford and told him. He was 
waiting for me and about, oh, 90 seconds after the front door was 
locked, a trail of clothing led from the living room door, up the 
stairs and right to the bedroom. Roger was devouring my pussy like a 
starving man with a bowl of rice. And he was making me crazy, because 
he'd lick and suck me till I was almost ready to cum, and then he'd 
back off and leave me hanging. He did this for about 15 minutes.

Finally, I grabbed two hands' full of his hair, pulled his head away 
and said, "Roger, if you don't stick that cock in me right this 
minute, I'm going to scream bloody murder!"

He knelt on the bed between my knees and pointed down. "You mean this 
cock?"

His dick was as hard as any teenager's and was all reddish and 
throbbing and enormous. My cunt was twitching, and juices just 
drenched my pussy and the bed beneath me.

"Roger!" I yelled.

He grinned, got on all fours and began kissing his way up my body, 
pausing to give special attention to my breasts, especially my 
nipples.

"They're getting big, Marie," he said.

As if I didn't know. According to the Sears big book, my measurements 
dictated a B-cup -- if someone manufactured a 27-B. My nipples were 
small, but hard and swollen and each time his tongue passed over them, 
I shivered. With a 19-inch waist and 25-inch hips, I was definitely 
top-heavy by any standard.

Finally he crawled over me, pausing to put a pillow under my little 
butt. My legs opened more, and I swear I could hear my own pussy lips, 
so swollen and wet and tight, part for him. I reached down with both 
hands, one to part my labia and one to guide his huge dick.

[Well, eight inches may not seem huge to you, but remember how young 
and small and tight I was. An eight-inch cock in a girl with 25-inch 
hips is like an 11-inch cock in a normal, average-size woman.]

As he slid it into me, I started moaning and rolling my hips under 
him, rocking them back and forth to take more and more of that big 
dick into my body. He said I seemed even tighter than usual, and I 
could believe it -- after all, he'd just spent a quarter of an hour 
dangling me on the brink of cumming.

Then he was about halfway in, and his glans pressed something inside 
me, and it felt golden and I came. Wow, did I cum! It was like being 
possessed. I came for almost a minute, and when I sank back, limp, he 
was all the way in me -- the first time he'd gotten the whole thing 
inside me -- and he began pumping my pussy. After a few minutes of 
that, I felt him jerk and throb inside me, and then he was cumming in 
me. He held me very close as he came in me, crushing me against him 
and somehow probing his prick farther into me without moving his hips 
much. On the last spurt, he also kissed the top of my head -- remember 
how short I was -- as we both had or orgasms.

He rolled onto his back, pulling me on top of him and keeping his 
shriveling cock inside me. I bore down on the muscles in my cunt, and 
he groaned with the additional tightness.

We lay there, sweaty and stuck together and panting.

"You've been practicing," he said. "Got yourself a sweetheart. Want to 
tell me about it?"

I nuzzled his chest hairs, stalling.

"You don't have to," he reassured me. So of course I did.

When I finished, he asked: "Okay, baby -- what's bothering you?"

"Nothing, really."

His hand raised my face so he could look me in the eye. "Marie, you're 
laying here with my dick inside you -- "

"I noticed." I giggled.

He gave my butt a playful swat, more of a caress. "-- and your mind is 
a million miles away. Don't lie to me. You're bothered by something. 
Spill."

So as I lay there with this man who was 15 years older than me, with 
his dick inside me -- along with all of our juices -- I told him about 
the pictures and the negatives.

"That was you?" He laughed a little, more like a chortle. "I should 
have known. One of the guys at Robby's -- " That was a barber shop in 
Genoa. "-- was talking about that exhibit. He was impressed." He 
chortled again. "Wish I'd seen those pictures."

"Roger, I'm afraid everyone is going to see those pictures -- and the 
outtakes."

"Baby, I'd do anything if I could, but I wouldn't know where to start. 
You got any ideas?"

I admitted that I didn't -- at least where he could help with that. 
However, I did have other ideas, and I flexed those muscles again. He 
started to get hard inside me, which was an amazing sensation, because 
his cock started out about average and swelled into a monster. Within 
a few minutes, he was stiff as a concrete-reinforcement rod, and I was 
sitting up straight and bouncing up and down on him. Coming down was 
especially fun, since it ground my clit into the hair-cushioned ring 
of bone around the base of his thick prick. I came a lot, over and 
over, and finally fell forward onto him. He rubbed a fingertip around 
my butt-hole and then slid it in. Much to my astonishment, it felt 
good. And I let him know it. 

That was the key that set him off. He fucked me wildly for a few 
minutes. I really got off on the feeling of his fat cockhead swelling 
far, far inside my tight cunt, and we again came together. He seemed 
to cum a lot with the double compression on his cock. Later, when I 
climbed off him, I scampered to the bathroom before my leaks stained 
the carpet; there was an awful lot of stuff in me.

We did it again the next day, but the next night he had to go pick up 
a load of strawberries for delivery in New York, where he was supposed 
to pick up a trailer full of books and bring them to Toledo. 

I went home after almost a day of fending off Tod the Asshole and 
found nothing new had happened with regard to the missing negatives. I 
knew, nonetheless, that it was just a matter of time before the other 
shoe was dropped. George took the College Boards in May, and I 
prepared for final exams.

Then, in the last week of May, the high schools in the area started 
having open-house days for eighth-graders. I had no intention of 
attending Rossford High -- I'd already been enrolled in the Catholic 
high school, without being consulted -- but it meant a day away from 
St. Cornelius, so I went.  The regular students at the high school had 
the day off -- it turned Memorial Day weekend into a four-day weekend 
for them -- so the place was occupied only by eighth graders.

I was on the second floor, looking at the biology lab, when a  man 
approached me. He was a nice-looking guy with slightly long hair and 
an open face. He was about 25 or 26, and he was wearing bell-bottomed 
pants and a white shirt and tie. His most striking feature was the 
bluest eyes I've ever seen.

"Marie?" 

I nodded.

"I'm Ed Sautter." He shook my hand. "I'm trying to get a creative 
writing club started for the summer, and I'd like you to come to one 
of our meetings."

"To tell the truth, I'm already signed up for another school."

He shook his head and smiled. "Doesn't matter. I'm just trying to 
gather some of the more promising young writers."

"I'm not really a writer -- "

 "You've done some fine compositions and essays at St. Cornelius, from 
what I hear. I'd like to see them. Will you give us a chance?"

"Well -- "

"Besides -- " He leaned close, confidential and just-between-us close, 
those gorgeous blue eyes boring in on me. "Besides: Susan -- my 
girlfriend -- is going to come over and set up a chicken barbecue for 
everyone, and she makes this sauce...mmmmm." He rolled those gorgeous 
blue eyes.

Who could resist? "Well...okay. Where and when?"

"This afternoon at three." He produced a piece of paper and scribbled 
an address on it. 

"Eagle Point Road? That's a pretty ritzy neighborhood," I said. "I 
didn't think teachers got paid very much."

"We don't," he said. "I'm renting the place along with two buddies. If 
you want a lift, I'm taking four or five others with me when I leave 
here at two-thirty. They'll be meeting me in the teachers' parking lot 
by the VW Microbus with the peace signs on it. Be seein' ya!"

And then he was gone, just like that. I stood there in the nearly 
deserted hallway, fingering the paper, and decided it might be fun. 

It was that. And more.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I called home and told Mom where I was going to be and said I should 
be home by seven, and if I was going to be later I'd call again. Then 
I queued up with the other kids in the faculty parking lot. I'd 
expected a bunch of real dorky-looking characters, but most of them 
were real cute. I didn't know any of them when I got there, but I knew 
all of them by the time Ed showed up and loaded us all into the 
Microbus. It was nice to be with a group of kids my age who were as 
bright as me and as mature, especially since they were good-looking.

The house where Mr. Sautter -- Ed -- lived was a big two-storey 
colonial. It was white and in another year it was going to need a coat 
of paint. It was at the end of Eagle Point Road, right next to the 
cemetery. Tall, tall hedges surrounded the entire plot. The yard was 
enormous, easily an acre, and there was a good-sized in-ground pool.

We piled out of the Microbus, and Ed showed us around the first floor 
of the house and told us to make ourselves at home while he changed. 
He went up the stairs, and a couple of us wandered out through the 
patio doors opening from the family room to the yard. The furnishings 
in the house were what you'd expect of three bachelors on a budget -- 
mid-Twentieth Century Catch-All.

Ed reappeared in cutoff jeans and a PEACE NOW tee-shirt and got us 
started setting up lawn chairs and preparing the picnic table and the 
barbecue grill. Susan, his friend, showed up about 20 minutes later. 
She was real cute and real sexy -- and young. She was a senior at 
Toledo University, which made her about 21 or 22. 

Susan was about five-foot-four, with dark brown hair cut in bangs and 
light green eyes. She had a great face, a sprinkling of freckles, a 
wide and sexy mouth with real soft lips, and a button nose. She was 
slim, but curvy, too. She was wearing old faded jeans and a short-
sleeved blouse, and if you looked at her, you couldn't figure out 
exactly what it was about her that was sexy, but she was. The boys in 
our group couldn't stop looking at her. I sneaked some peeks, myself.

She got the chicken barbecuing, and we mixed up some punch and then we 
all sat around and talked about what writing meant to us, what it 
could be and how the group might work. It was nice. It was also 
getting damn hot out in that afternoon sun, and I started looking at 
the pool the way I usually looked at George -- with longing.

Around four, we all dug into the chicken and a huge bowl of German 
potato salad that had been lurking in the refrigerator. Barbecued 
chicken is messy, and we got it smeared all over our hands and faces. 
By five, we were all feeling fat and lazy. Ed suggested another 
meeting a couple of weeks later and then offered to drive home anyone 
who wanted a lift.

"Leaving Guess Who with the cleanup," Susan muttered. She was standing 
near me. I offered to stay and help. At first she said no, but I 
explained that I wasn't expected home for a while and said if I could 
use the phone, it would be no problem. And it wasn't.

As soon as the van pulled out of the driveway with its chicken-fed 
cargo, Susan and I started gathering the debris. It really went a lot 
faster with the two of us, and we had done everything but wrap the 
leftovers in Saranwrap within 15 minutes. The kitchen had been getting 
most of the late day sun and was awfully hot. Sweat was pouring off us 
as we wrapped and stored. Susan told me how she and Ed had met. She 
wasn't really in love with him, but she liked him an awful lot and, 
they had a lot of interests in common.

When the last drumstick was safely wrapped in plastic and ensconced in 
the Kenmore refrigerator, Susan turned to me. Her blouse was plastered 
to her by sweat. "I need a dip in the worst way."

"You and me both." My demure little white blouse had gotten pretty 
sticky, too. 

She grabbed my forearm and grinned mischievously. "Let's do it!"

"No suit." I grinned. "But you go ahead."

"We could skinny dip."

"Not this kid," I said. "All we need is some clown to come wandering 
back to collect for the newspaper delivery or -- "

"You're right." She brightened. "I have a couple of suits here."

She must have seen the surprise in my face.

"Shoot, I spend enough time here, especially since it's gotten warm. 
I'd be a dope not to have a couple of changes of clothes here." She 
took both my arms in her hands, her fingers just above my elbows, and 
held me at arm's length to appraise me. "Maybe. Come on." 

I followed her saucy, denimed butt up to the second floor. She opened 
the first door at the top of the stairs. "Ed's room," she said, 
pausing. "It'll probably be a shambles."

It wasn't as bad as the bedroom Jeanne and I shared and I said so. 
Still, it was a mess. She pulled a small duffel bag from the closet -- 
also a mess -- and put it on the bed. She began excavating. Three two-
piece suits appeared. She examined them. "What size bra do you wear?"

"Uncomfortable." 

She wiggled her fingers at me. "Give."

"I should wear a 27-B -- "

"A what -- Oh. Well -- " She was holding a blue halter that tied in 
the back. It was little more than a piece of rubbery blue cloth with 
straps and a string. "Let's try this. You're not shy, are you?"

I barely suppressed a laugh. "Not so you'd notice." I stepped out of 
my jumper and stripped off my knee-high regulation white socks, then 
unbuttoned my blouse. It had really gotten soaked and it felt good to 
have it off.

Susan was staring at me, her jeans opened and her blouse unbuttoned. 
"Oh, you poor kid." Her gaze was focused on my breasts. "That must be 
so uncomfortable."

Her saying it made me aware of it -- an awareness that was doubled by 
relief when I removed the pre-deb bra that was the only thing I could 
find as small as 27 inches. Of course, it was designed for a kid 
wearing a bra more for practice than need. 

My breasts, freed, swelled out from their unnatural constriction. 
There were red marks where the bra cut into them. I rubbed the welts 
absently. I nodded ruefully in response to her remark.

"Oh, you are so lovely," she said, surveying my panty-clad form. "Your 
breasts are absolutely perfect." She peeled off her blouse and was 
half-naked before me.

"You've got nothing to complain about," I said. And it was true. Her 
breasts were firm and conical, and she had really big aureoles, and 
her nipples looked like they could get very thick and prominent. She 
sighed and stripped off her jeans and panties and selected a red-and-
green striped two-piece. I noticed that her cunt hair was very short 
and looked like it had been trimmed.

She spotted the direction of my gaze and laughed -- almost giggled, in 
fact. "Ed likes -- " She caught herself. "I'm sorry. Looking at you 
and listening to you, it's easy to forget you're just a kid in 
Catholic school and -- Well, I didn't mean to offend you."

I stared her right in the eye and said, "There's a difference between 
'young' and 'kid.' I'm young, sure, but I'm not a little kid. I've 
done some stuff."

"'Stuff'?"

"With guys. Lots of stuff."

She arched an eyebrow. 

"Everything."

The other eyebrow went up. I nodded.

She reached into her duffel bag and withdrew a squeeze-bottle of skin 
lotion. "For those marks."

I nodded, thinking she was changing the subject. I held out my hand.

"Let me," she said, squeezing some of the lotion into her hand. She 
put the bottle down and then rubbed her hands together, sharing and 
spreading the lotion. I watched her face as she stepped close to me. 
"Let me," she repeated.

I nodded, and she began massaging the slippery lotion into the sides 
of my tits, where the pre-deb bra had left its marks. Her fingers were 
gentle and her touch was sure as she spread and massaged the lotion 
into my sensitive, firm young breasts.

"Tell me, Marie," she said, her face a foot from mine. "Have you ever 
done anything with a woman?"

I shook my head, but added: "I've done everything you can think of 
with girls."

"Did you like it?"

"Yes."

"Oh...I was hoping you'd say that," she said and then she bent her 
head and kissed me on the mouth. I opened my mouth to her, and our 
tongues met. Her wonderful hands never stopped caressing my breasts. 
My hands got busy, too. I rested my fingers on her butt for a moment 
and then started stroking her ass cheeks. 

She took her mouth off mine for a moment and said, "The bed." 

As if she could read my mind.

I let her dance me a couple of steps backward, and the edge of the bed 
hit the back of my legs. She half-turned me, and we fell on the 
rumpled sheet with our arms around each other. Her breasts were at 
eye-level for me. I'd been right about her nipples -- they'd gotten 
very prominent. The nozzles were about a half-inch long or more, and 
they were very thick. They just begged to be kissed, so that's what I 
did. 

"Oh, yes, honey, do that," she whispered, so I did it some more, 
moving my mouth from one firm, pointy breast to the other and back 
again. I started sucking her nipples, and she rolled onto her back. I 
rolled on top of her, still sucking, and put my hands on the outer 
swells of each firm, college-girl cone. Her nipples had swelled still 
more, and she was moaning and moving slowly, sensuously beneath me. 
Her hands never stopped moving, caressing my face, my shoulders, 
reaching down to cup my tits and squeeze them a little. When she 
traced her forefinger around my lips as I sucked one of her nipples, I 
felt a surge of excitement go through me.

I flicked my tongue rapidly back and forth over the nipple in my 
mouth, and she arched her hips. "Bite it," she begged. "Bite my 
nipple."

I closed my teeth carefully over that turgid nozzle and gently chewed 
it, my tongue continually moving over the tip. She gasped loudly, and 
her hips began an unmistakable fucking motion. I continued my mouth 
work on the nipple and pinched the other nipple with my thumb and 
forefinger. Her hips moved more urgently, and when I began to twist 
the other nipple, she came. She arched her back, her legs wide and her 
cunt jabbing at the ceiling. Then she froze and fell back, groaning.

"Let's lick each other, honey -- now!" she said. She guided my hips 
back and up, settling my legs on either side of her head. I lowered my 
cunt on her mouth, and she introduced me to the pleasures that a 
thoroughly experienced woman can lavish on another woman. I'd never 
experienced anything quite like what she was doing. Susan had a way of 
sucking my entire cunt into her mouth and then running the tip of her 
tongue over my labia and clit so the moist muscle barely grazed my 
swollen flesh. Thirty seconds of that and I was flowing like a stream, 
ready to cum.

I ducked my head down and began licking the insides of her thighs and 
the edges of her neatly trimmed pussy hair. Her cunt lips were very 
long and swollen. I took each one in my mouth and sucked on it and 
licked it and then let my teeth gently close on it. She groaned 
against my cunt and slowed her tongue's movements to a tantalizing, 
excruciatingly pleasurable caress.

When I turned my attention to her clitoris, she got really wild. If I 
was flowing like a stream, she was a river. The juices just kept 
coming out of her pussy till I wondered for a moment if it was cunt 
juice or piss -- but a taste answered my question. Her feet were flat 
on the bed, and her legs were wide apart...and so were her labia. Her 
pussy gaped at me, and I could see it pulsing inside when I sucked the 
swollen little grain of her clitoris.

"Put your fingers in me, honey!" she wailed softly. "Get me off!" As 
she spoke, she was reaching around my hips and using her fingers to 
open the tight clam of my cunt. She started licking the inner flesh of 
my cunt lips. The pleasure was washing over me in long, gentle waves, 
undulating orgasms that rocked my little body back and forth.

I put two fingers inside her and there was plenty of room, so I added 
another. Her movements on my cunt and under my lips said she liked 
that, and there seemed to be more room, so I put another finger in her 
cunt, filling it. I worked my four fingers in and out as far as they'd 
go and she moaned against my pussy and shook beneath me. I felt her 
cunt spasm on my fingers and knew she was cumming. I was ready to 
stop.

She wasn't.

"Put them all in there, honey! Please," she cried. "Put your whole 
hand in me!"

My hand? Well, I was small, and she certainly had a big hole, and she 
was wet enough, and I figured she knew what she was doing, so I worked 
my thumb into her cunt, too, and started moving my hand back and 
forth.

"Push it in -- all the way! Please!"

I pushed at her, and she pushed at me, and my hand slid inside much 
more easily than I'd have expected. When my wrist was caught in her 
cunt, she clamped down on me and came, hard, and then started 
revolving her hips and fucking at my hand. I couldn't keep my mouth on 
her clit anymore, so I just did what I could while she kept licking 
and sucking all the exposed pink flesh of my pussy.

I wiggled my fingers inside of her, and she came again, even harder, 
and then she sobbed at me from between my legs: "Please, honey -- make 
a f-fist in me!"

I was game for anything at that point, so I made the fist and she got 
crazy. 

"Ohhh, yeah, pump me with it! Fuck me with it!"

I did as she'd asked, working my hard, clenched little fist in her 
sopping twat. She came and came, going rigid under me, then turned 
slippery and sinuous as an eel as she bucked. Her cunt was tightening 
around my hand, and it took real effort to continue, but she kept 
yelling, louder and louder, "Pump me with it -- oh yeah! Fuck me 
harder -- oh, yeah!"

Finally, I pushed my fist in as far as I could, till she had my fist, 
wrist and a third of my forearm in her, and then I began twisting my 
hand inside her, and then she just plain lost it. She shrieked into my 
cunt so loud I thought the sound would come out of my ears, and she 
came and came and came, like for more than a minute.

When she finally relented, she whispered, "Now take it out real slow, 
just like -- oh yeah!"

I pulled my invading hand out of her slowly and carefully and every 
inch or so, she'd shiver and have a little orgasm. When my fist came 
out, even her big pussy was stretched around my hand. Then it came out 
and with it came a regular flood of juice. She grunted and hunched her 
hips and literally expelled a gush of sauces a few inches into the 
air. She lay back, spread-eagled, and panted and shook. Her nipples 
looked ready to burst.

I crawled up next to her and she pulled me into her arms.

"Honey, that was so good," she said. "I love being stuffed like that."

"I loved the way you were licking me," I answered. She kissed me, 
depositing some of my own juices on my mouth.

"You have such a sweet, tight little cunt, so smooth and tasty -- 
mmmmm!" She licked her lips and then mine. "I could eat your pretty 
little pussy all day!"

"Okay by me!"

She laughed and kissed me again. Our breathing was returning to 
normal.

"I couldn't believe how easy it was to get my hand in you," I told 
her.

"I've always had a big pussy, and over the years, I've enlarged it by 
putting, uh, big things in it. There just aren't many men who can fill 
me the way I like." She ran her hand over my ass and beyond to run a 
finger over my cunt. "You're so lucky to have such a tight pussy -- 
anyone's cock must fill you!"

I shrugged. "Some more than others."

"I know what you mean. One man usually can't keep me happy unless he's 
really big. Fortunately, I've learned to enjoy a pretty woman -- or 
girl -- " She kissed me on the tip of my nose. "But right now I've 
found someone who can really fill me up."

"Ed."

She shook her head. "No, Ed's about average, a little less. I mean 
Bill."

"Bill?"

"One of Ed's roommates. He's got a dick on him like a horse, almost a 
foot long and thick as your wrist."

"What if Ed finds out about you and Bill?"

"Finds out? Honey, he knows. Sometimes I suck him while Bill is in me, 
or he packs my butt while I ride Bill." She closed her eyes and 
shivered. "You can't imagine what that's like!"

"I don't have to imagine it," I said.

Her eyes opened suddenly. "You got sandwiched in that little pussy and 
that little bitty ass?" She plainly didn't believe me.

I told her about the previous summer at Kelly's Island. When I was 
done, she was obviously turned on again. "All those hard young teenage 
dicks, never tiring, just one after the other..." She had one hand 
over her pussy, playing with her clit. "....one after the other in 
that sweet little nooky of yours --- ahhhh!" she shivered and came. 
She caught her breath and said, "I'd have given anything to watch 
that. I love to watch, too. Even myself. That turns me on so much! Ed 
shot some eight millimeter film of Bill and me and then another time 
with Bill and me and these two guys we picked up in a bar. One of them 
had a cock so fat I couldn't get my hand around it, must've been two-
and-a-half inches, but not real long. He filled my cunt real good. 
Bill fucked my ass while I sat on that fat dong. I felt like I had a 
horse in me! Oh, did I cum!"

We lay there for a few more minutes, then got showered and cleaned up. 
We washed each other; that was fun. We got downstairs just as Ed 
returned.

We chatted and hung out for a little while. Susan announced she was 
going for a swim and went upstairs. We watched her, and I remembered 
her naked body next to me and under me, and it turned me on. She was 
so lithe and quick when she dove, she was like a water sprite. While 
she was in the pool, Duane -- the third roommate -- came home, and a 
few minutes later Bill arrived. Bill was real handsome and really 
smooth and looked really good in his summer-weight suit. I would've 
gotten wet looking at him even if I hadn't known what he had camped 
between his legs. It was easy to imagine him and Susan getting it on. 
I wanted to see that.

Ed drove me home and invited me to come out again anytime. He said he 
thought Susan liked me. I told him we seemed to get along. 

CHAPTER NINE


George's brother, on leave for the weekend, was home visiting his 
family and soon-to-be-fiancee, so his entire family from all over Ohio 
and Michigan was gathered there. That pretty much tied George up for 
the weekend. What I didn't know was that in Michigan, he had this 
third- or fourth-cousin about his own age who was a real beauty. 
Apparently, it was love at first sight. But I didn't find out about 
that till later.

Anyhow, I was at loose ends. I kept thinking about what Susan had told 
me and what we'd done together and kept getting hornier and hornier. 
Dad had been working midnights, which put him in a great mood to begin 
with, and he was off on a tirade because two of the other guys had 
been poring through some girlie magazines in the lunch room. Dad was 
raving about how those types of magazines shouldn't be allowed and so 
on and so forth. On Saturday morning, Jeanne and I were sitting at the 
kitchen table -- this was around nine o'clock -- looking through 
Teenbeat or somesuch, and Dad, who had just gotten home from work 
about a half-hour before, was stalking around raving and holding 
forth. Mom just sighed and tried to humor him and gave him another 
beer, probably hoping to sedate him. Jeanne and I finally got so tired 
of it that we went to our room to fix each other's hair and ended up 
sucking each other's nipples and playing Yellow Pages.

Which somehow only made me hornier.

And then, at half-past two, I got the phone on the second ring -- just 
ahead of Jeanne.

"Hi!"

"Hi, yourself, Susan," I said.

"We're going to have a little pool party. Interested?"

"I sure am. This place is dead."

"I'll pick you up in a half-hour. Bye!"

Well Mom, being Mom in every sense of the word, insisted that I should 
bring some food with me. By the time Susan arrived, she had concocted 
about eight pounds of her patented Killer Onion & Tobasco & Sour Cream 
Dip. I know -- it sounds disgusting, but it was great. Susan thought 
it was terrific and yelled her thanks from the window of the 
five-year-old Rambler.

Old blankets were spread across the seats because the Rambler had been 
sitting out in the sun. Susan was wearing cutoff jeans -- the legs 
were frayed -- and a tee-shirt emblazoned with the British flag. The 
colors were faded from frequent washings. I was wearing similar shorts 
and an oversized Mets tee-shirt left behind by my phantom step-brother 
on his last visit. Under it I was wearing the top of Alexis' swimsuit; 
I'd filched it from the bitch.

While we waited for the light, to turn onto Eagle Point, Susan had 
something to say: "I told Ed what we did, Marie. I hope you're not 
mad."

I hadn't considered the possibility, but now that I thought about it, 
I wasn't surprised. I told her so. And I asked her about his reaction.

"He wants to watch." The light changed, and we tooled up the steep 
slope past the gas station and the grade school.

From the moment of her first revelation, I'd sort of guessed what the 
answer would be -- at least some of it -- but I wasn't sure what I was 
letting myself in for. I wanted Susan again, and I wanted to see Susan 
and Bill. I'd supposed something might happen with Ed, but I knew that 
there would never be too much I could do with Bill if he was as well-
hung as Susan described.

But what troubled me was who else might know. Susan and Ed and 
probably Bill and Duane, and did they have friends? And did their 
friends have friends? I mean, Rossford wasn't -- still isn't -- very 
big and word gets around fast. I mean, I was still going to be stuck 
there for a few years -- five or six, anyhow -- and I didn't want 
every drunken football squad to decide it had a right to use me. 

"It's bothering you, isn't it?" she prompted.

"Ummmm...yes." I explained my misgivings.

"I understand. Well, we've had to be pretty discreet about our ways, 
and we're careful who we tell stuff to. But if you're uncomfortable 
with it, we can always just call it off?"

And I thought: What the hell? I was sick and tired of having everyone 
else decide they had a right to tell me how to live and how to behave. 
We weren't hurting anyone with what we did, and no one was being 
forced to do anything, so whose business was it? Ours -- period. And 
the rest of the world was just going to have to deal with it.

[Remember when this was. A lot of people were doing and saying the 
same thing and with just about as much thought to the future and the 
social implications and everything else. The Sexual Revolution was in 
full swing -- excuse the pun -- the era of Free Love was just really 
getting started.]

"Well, I want to do it," I told her. "And I want to see you doing it 
with them, too."

She stopped at the four-way light, leaned over and kissed me on the 
cheek. "Are you sure?"

"No -- but I want to do it."

"Oh, I was hoping you'd say that." She resumed driving and I watched 
her big nipples press against the Union Jack tee-shirt.

A half-dozen cars were parked in the driveway in front of the double-
garage and along the road in front of the house. We unloaded the car 
-- Susan had about 15 pounds of chicken parts and miscellaneous other 
supplies she'd picked up at the Kroger on her way to my house -- and 
went inside. Bill and another guy -- who Susan introduced as Louis -- 
were washing and peeling some vegetables in the kitchen. Bill was 
wearing big, baggy bermudas, and no bulge was visible. Louis was a 
darkly good-looking guy about 20. He was shirtless and wearing tight 
cutoffs. A significant bulge was in evidence. 

Through the kitchen windows I could see eight or nine others in the 
back. Some were sitting around the pool and two wee sunning themselves 
on chaise lounges. Five of them were women. Duane wasn't out there, 
but Ed was conversing with a stunning blonde in skintight short-short 
cutoffs and a man-cut blouse that was mostly unbuttoned. She was 
everyone's idea of a corn-fed cheerleader from the Midwest: 5-foot-6, 
honey blonde hair she could have sat on, a perfect and firm figure, 
pretty, open face and -- I'd never seen this before -- one blue eye 
and one green eye.

The eyes were not well-focused. Susan saw where I was looking, and 
when we went upstairs for her to change and me to strip to my 
mismatched swimsuit, she explained.

"That's Bonnie," she said. "Louis brought her."

"She's beautiful!" 

Susan's face disappeared as she pulled off her tee-shirt and revealed 
her lovely breasts and magnificent nipples. "She's totally fucked up, 
Marie. She'll go out with anyone who gives her drugs and everyone who 
can get them will supply her, especially with Sunshine and Chocolate, 
'cause when she gets stoned she'll let anyone do anything they want 
with her." She frowned. "She's going to burn herself out by the time 
she's 17, and she's going to get hurt."

"Maybe someone should talk to her."

Susan kissed me lightly on the forehead. "She's almost as sweet as 
you, but she's got problems, hon. As soon as someone suggests she lay 
off the shit, she starts screaming about being judgmental and 
repressive and -- " She sighed. "She's going to have to see her way 
clear by herself. Sometimes it's like that."

We went downstairs. Susan supervised the Kitchen Patrol, and I went 
straight for the pool.

The afternoon went quickly, and then it was dusk, and we wee all 
mellow. I'd had a couple of beers ,and the place was emptying out. In 
the course of the get-together, I guess about 20 people had been 
there, with some leaving as others arrived. By the time sunset was 
past and the pool lights were on, eight of us remained: Bill, Ed, 
Susan, Louis, Bonnie -- who was thoroughly stoned by then -- and this 
Oriental couple who were friends of Susan's from the University. They 
were nice, but rather quiet and seemed quite conservative. 

Bonnie hadn't been in the pool during the heat of the midday sun, 
begging off because she said it took her hair forever to dry and was a 
real pain in the ass to set. Now, though, she was letting herself be 
led to the pool by Louis. Her blouse by now was completely unbuttoned. 
She had the shirt-tails tied across her flat little midriff. And from 
the way she was moving, she was stoned out of her mind. She suddenly 
pushed Louis ahead of her, into the pool, then dived in with perfect, 
effortless grace. She surfaced beyond him, and he chased her, under 
the water.

Bonnie suddenly shrieked and disappeared beneath the surface. About 
ten seconds later, both of them surfaced. Louis was behind her, and 
her blouse was untied, and his hands were feasting on her perfect, 
firm breasts. She caught one of his hands in one of hers and pushed it 
down over her stomach and beneath the surface of the water. From the 
way she arched and leaned her head back against his shoulder, her 
ripe, red lips offered, it was pretty obvious where his hand was, and 
that it was in familiar territory. 

The Oriental couple made polite noises and left.

Louis waved goodbye, and Bonnie broke away. She swam to the deepest 
part of the pool and shrugged off the blouse. Then she dove, and when 
she broke the surface again, she was holding over her head in one hand 
a piece of wet, faded blue denim. She swung it a couple of times, then 
hurled it toward Louis. It fell short and floated in the pool. "Come 
and get it -- if you can!" she shrieked. Then she did a perfect tuck, 
rolling her pale, tight little ass out of the water for a moment 
before her legs came straight up and parted, exposing her fine, blonde 
pussy to the stars and pool lights -- not to mention all of us -- 
before she slid beneath the surface.

Louis swam clumsily toward her and dove, but by the time he came up, 
she was at the shallow end, standing in hip deep water. 

All of us were looking at her perfect, stoned, overheated loveliness 
as she hoisted herself up and sat on the edge of the pool apron.

Ed trotted by us and said a single word to Susan in passing: 
"Neighbors."

"Shit!" she blurted and ran after him, motioning to Bill. Louis was 
just reaching the place where Bonnie sat, perched. 

"Get her inside!" Ed hissed. "The neighbors!"

"Damn!" 

Susan and Bill each took and arm and dog-trotted her, all wet, barely 
jiggling firm flesh and lithe young curves, to the patio doors. Ed 
leaned down and helped Louis out of the pool. Somewhere along the 
line, Louis had shed his shorts and his rapidly limpening -- but still 
impressive -- erection was fading fast. 

I stood there like a bump on a log, a half-gnawed crescent of 
watermelon forgotten in my hand, till Ed turned at the door: "Coming 
inside for the party?"

In for a dime, in for a dollar, I figured, and walked toward the 
house.

By the time I'd gotten there, someone had dumped all the cushions from 
the couch on the floor and covered them with those big beach towels. 
Bonnie was laying flat on her back in the middle of two of them with 
her legs open and her knees wide. Her feet were flat on the floor. She 
was holding her arms up to Louis, and she was babbling, "C'mon, come 
on and get next to me, get inside me, awww, please ..."

Louis, being not nearly as stupid as he usually looked, was wasting no 
time. He was kneeling next to her head. His dick was again swollen and 
bobbing. He reached down with one hand and rubbed her nipples, then 
ran his hand down to finger her cunt. She was so wet I could hear her 
cunt suck his finger even over the noise of the drapes being pulled 
across the patio doors.

Bonnie reached up and grabbed his dick. She pulled him down to her 
face and sucked it into her mouth, arching her head back and up and 
taking more and more of him till he was balls' deep in her face. He 
kept working his finger in and out of her, and she was hunching her 
hips up as fast and demandingly as he was pushing his thick dick in 
and out between her sweet lips.

"She has such a pretty pussy," Susan whispered. She'd come up to stand 
behind me and was close enough that I felt her whisper on my ear.

She did indeed. "Lickable," I said.

"I'll bet it is."

"You've never -- ?"

"She isn't into it from women or men."

"You mean she doesn't like it?"

"Maybe you'll see." Susan's hand was resting on my arm, just above the 
elbow. The scene was getting to me; my nipples were hard and Susan's 
touch sent a chill through me. I felt the moisture beginning between 
my legs.

I wasn't the only one it was getting to. Ed and Bill were rubbing 
their cocks through their clothes. In Bill's case, that was a lot of 
rubbing. Even through the loose bermudas, the bulge was impressive.

Bonnie's hand came up to rest on Louis's hips, and she began pulling 
him deeper and harder into her mouth. He had taken his finger from her 
cunt and was using both hands to brace himself over her. He was 
pumping his cock in and out of her mouth, fucking her face. Suddenly, 
he stiffened, and Bonnie's lips were stretched still further as he 
poured his cum into her sucking mouth. I could hear her gurgling with 
his load. When he finally pulled his dick out of her mouth, she held 
him in place for a moment and rubbed his prick, still sperm- and 
saliva-slicked, all over her lovely face.

"You are such a sweet little cocksucker," Louis gasped.

Eyes closed, head twisting slowly from side to side, Bonnie whimpered, 
"Yeah, I'm a cocksucker, a cocksucker slut, just a slut, I'll take on 
anyone and everyone and I want to I want you I want you all of you to 
do to do to do -- "

Definitely ripped.

"Wow," Ed said. He stepped forward, hand poised on his zipper. "Do you 
mind?" This was addressed to Louis.

"No, man, be my guest."

"Much obliged," said Ed, unzipping, stripping and dropping over her. 
His dick was rock-hard and slid slowly into her. "Oh, wow, she's so 
fucking hot and tight!" he groaned.

"Real snapper, man," Louis replied. He lay on his back, gasping for 
breath on the worn carpet beside them. Bonnie's legs came up and 
locked around Ed's pumping butt, and he thrust in and out of her. She 
thrust back and then moved her legs higher, to his waist. He was 
pumping down as much as forward now, and even over the noise of their 
moans and breathing, I could clearly hear her cunt sucking on his 
dick. 

Suddenly, Ed pushed upright and hooked his arms behind and under her 
knees. He pushed her legs back farther and father, till her knees were 
even with her shoulders and more. She was so limber it seemed 
perfectly comfortable for her. He was pounding into her now, and I 
could see his dick stretching her cunt and see her cunt skin pulling 
out with his outstrokes. 

When Ed started to cum in her, her belly rippled and heaved, and she 
was plainly cumming with him, but silently. Ed suddenly yelled, 
"Damn!" and then bucked against her and shook for a long time. When he 
pulled away, his dick stretched long and thin as her cunt refused to 
relinquish its grasp for a long time. His glans finally popped free, 
and he sank back to rest on his knees, her legs came down on either 
side of him n slow, fluid motion, like it had been choreographed. Her 
belly still heaved, and her nipples looked swollen to bursting. A few 
drops of white goo leaked from between her swollen cunt lips.

"More more more more -- "  she moaned over and over, her arms again up 
and seeking. Her eyes were closed.

"When she came," Ed breathed, "her snatch like to pull my dick off. 
Wow!"

"Me?" Bill asked Louis, politely. Bill had his bermudas opened. Louis 
looked and so did I. I was impressed. Bill was truly hung like a 
horse. His cock was very long and very thick, certainly the biggest 
I'd seen at that point, and maybe it's the biggest I've ever seen.

"Listen, man, let me go next," Louis said. "She's my date. After you 
put that in her, she won't even feel me."

"Cool."

Louis was sporting another thick hard-on, thick enough that I doubted 
his assertion, but at the moment my attention was usurped by two 
things: Susan's lips brushing the nape of my neck and her hands 
running up and down over my torso. 

At just that moment, Ed turned and looked at us. He grinned. "Magic 
time!" Then he got up and padded naked from the room.

Louis was grunting and puffing as he stuffed his thick dick into 
Bonnie, and she was moaning as he made slow but steady progress into 
her seeping blonde pussy.

I half-turned to Susan. "What did he mean, 'Magic time'?"

"That's sort of an in-joke. Actors say that before they go on 
stage...or on-camera."

"Ohhh, that's good!" Bonnie gasped as Louis buried the last of his 
thick prick in her tight cunt.

"On-camera -- "

Just as Louis started pumping, Ed returned. He had two cameras -- a 35 
millimeter and a Polaroid -- around his neck and was carrying a super-
8 camera. I turned and stared at Susan.

"Well, you know he's a photography nut," she said, and pulled her tee-
shirt over her head.

Louis was pumping Bonnie hard, so hard that the breath crashed out of 
her with each plunge, and even her hard teenage tits jiggled -- and 
she seemed to love it. She was gasping and moaning, and her legs were 
straight up, and she was holding them that way with her hands on her 
ankles...and then she let them flop wide and lay there and let Louis 
collapse on top of her and pour his cum into her. When he pulled out, 
a white fringe was around her exposed pussy and drooling down into the 
crack of that perfect blonde ass. And Ed was right there, snapping 
away with his Polaroid and occasionally with the 35 millimeter.

Louis rolled off her and climbed unsteadily to his feet. "Oh, man," he 
was moaning. "What a hot piece of ass. She's all yours," he said over 
his shoulder as he got a beer from the fridge.

Bill was over her in a moment, his huge cock looking monstrous and 
dark with hot blood as he positioned himself. He crawled backwards 
over her, and when his big balls were near her cunt, I swear his knob 
was over her naval -- and his prick looked as big as her slender 
thighs. She reached down almost negligently and grasped his fat dong 
and groaned, "Oh, yeah, fuck me with it! Fuck me!"

She still hadn't opened her eyes.

She used one hand to spread her cunt and the other to guide his stiff 
dong and somehow managed to wedge the head halfway into her narrow 
cunt. Her young pussy was being stretched incredibly, yet she was 
rolling her slim hips desperately, determined to engulf that meat.

She succeeded -- and when the head popped completely into her, her 
reaction was visible and audible. She gasped and bit her lip, and he 
groaned and sank slowly, slowly down onto and into her. It looked like 
a broomstick was sticking out of her, and he was balancing on it. He 
seemed to be letting most of his weight rest on his dick, and still it 
sank into her slowly. 

She made a sound when he was a little more than halfway in. It sounded 
like she was in pain -- and considering how much she was being 
stretched, that would have made sense -- but even as she wailed, she 
was bringing those gorgeous legs up and around and resting her feet on 
his ass and pushing him into her.

At the same time, Susan was busy. She'd been running her hands up and 
down my arms and occasionally kissing the nape of my neck -- which has 
always been a sensitive spot for me -- and now her hands were moving 
around the front to graze my tits through Alexis' swimsuit top. Her 
fingertips made slow circles around the outer edges of my tits, 
spiraling in until she was rubbing my nipples. My legs seemed to get 
weak, and I let myself sink back against her, feeling her nipples hot 
and hard against my back. I was just turning my head to kiss her when:

"AUGGGGHH!"

We all stared. Bill was pounding that monster cock into her as far as 
it would go -- all but maybe the last two or three inches -- but he 
hadn't given up trying to get the whole thing into her. He slammed 
into her until her whole body shook when his fat glans slammed into 
the end of her cunt and then withdrew just an inch or two and slammed 
in again. And each time, when he hit bottom, he ground against her for 
a moment or so, trying to press more into her.

"Oh, shit, I feel it IN MY STOMACH!"

She was obviously hurting, yet obviously didn't want to stop, because: 
"More! MORE!"

Bill was obliging, but his restraint gave way before she opened up any 
deeper. His big balls tightened and pulled up, and his cock swelled 
even more and he jab-jab-jabbed at her as he poured his load into her 
hot, blonde teenage cunt. He seemed to cum for a long time, and a lot, 
and the stuff backed up the length of her meat-filled twat and began 
to ooze out around the fat plug of his cock.

Louis, by the way, stood naked to one side. In one hand he held a 
half-emptied bottle of Blatz (and oh, what memories that recalled!) 
and the other stroked his half-hard cock as he urged, "Yeah, man! Pin 
that bitch! She wants it!"

And, of course, during all of this, Ed was happily snapping his 
pictures.

Bill pulled out. Even limp, his cock seemed to go on forever. When the 
head finally popped free, juices -- his, Ed's, Louis's, hers -- 
drooled lushly out of her sweet little cunt. She lay there, 
gasping ... and one hand came up -- her eyes were still closed -- 
beckoning anyone and everyone, while the other went between her legs 
to rub and tantalize her already swollen cunt and clit. The message 
was clear: More.

Susan pulled my swimsuit top up, exposing my breasts, and got her 
hands on my naked nipples, and a great gush of excitement went through 
me. All the beer and horniness swept me and I felt a moment of 
vertigo. Bill saw what was going on and crawled to us on all fours. He 
pulled my bottoms down to my ankles and guided my feet out of them, 
then began licking me. He moaned, "What a gorgeous little pussy!" over 
and over as he tried to lick me dry, a self-defeating exercise at the 
coldest of times, and that was far from one of them. 

Louis drained the last of his beer and put the cold bottle on the 
carpet between Bonnie's legs. I seemed to zoom in on the beads of 
condensation on the outside of the amber glass and the slowly settling 
ring of foam on the inside. I wondered, oddly, if that was what jism 
would look like through amber glass, and then Bonnie was rubbing the 
bottle up and down, up and down, pressing it against the split of her 
slippery slit.

Ed was in conflict. Photograph what Susan and Bill were doing to me, 
or focus on Bonnie, who just might turn the bottle ninety degrees and 
stuff it into her (apparently) perpetually hungry cunt? 

Susan lowered me to the carpet and helped me lay back. Bill never 
missed a lick as she began sucking my nipples while on all fours 
facing my feet. I felt the first of the orgasms rising in me, and then 
I felt Bill's hands completely enclose my ass. He lifted my cunny to 
his mouth and feasted, and I started cumming. I didn't care about the 
artificial lightning flashes of the strobe on the 35 millimeter; all I 
cared about was cumming more and more and more.

Things got unfocused. I remember, at some point, Susan saying -- 
rather plaintively -- "Hey! What about me?" and Bill obligingly moving 
behind her. Louis quickly took his place between my legs but not for 
long. He was soon laying over me and driving his hard cock into me, 
and it was just exactly what my body craved.

And all the time I could hear click--click--click--

Louis came soon (it seemed), and I scooted on my back under the bitch-
presenting form of Susan. She lowered her Bill-filled cunt so I could 
lick at it and at his big balls. He pulled out at one point and let 
his huge dick flop onto my sweat-slippery tits and belly, then pulled 
back enough to dangle that plum-size knob over my face. I tried to 
suck him as Susan dropped her head and began sucking my clit. His 
glans was simply too big to get in my mouth. I licked as much as I 
could reach -- which wasn't much -- and then sucked on the slit in the 
end of his cock, but it wasn't enough for him, and he soon loaded 
himself back into her big pussy and resumed churning. And I resumed 
licking her clit and his nuts. I liked this better, anyhow.

After Bill came and Susan's newly unplugged twat gushed its little 
explosion of her sauces (and his cum) on my face, we all rested. I 
didn't know how long I'd been cumming there; it was timeless. I said 
something about being thirsty, and someone presented me with a cold 
beer. I'd been thinking of cold water or soda pop, but, I figured, 
What the hell? I drank the whole bottle almost in one gulp.

"We gotta be making tracks, folks."

We looked over at Louis. He was dressed and looked a bit weary, but 
not too bad. Bonnie, however, was a semi-ambulatory disaster. Louis 
and she had somehow gotten her cutoffs and shirt back on her, but they 
were little enough consolation compared to her flushed face. The big 
wet spot on the crotch of the cutoffs didn't lend much to fashion 
appeal, nor did the bruises beginning to form on those gorgeous legs. 
And her hair was a mess. Susan insisted that Louis wait while she 
cleaned Bonnie up a bit. In the meantime, Ed and Bill lit some grass 
-- a joint, you'd call it now -- and offered me some. I hadn't even 
smoked tobacco then, let alone grass, and declined somewhat nervously, 
because I wasn't sure how they'd react. They seemed to think it was 
fine.

But with the drapes pulled and no real air circulation, that room -- 
already hot and filled with the aromas of sex and sum and lubrication 
and sweat and lust -- quickly filled with marijuana smoke, and it was 
getting to me fast. I started to feel very silly and impetuous, and I 
actually giggled when I realized I had a man's lips at each of my 
breasts. It seemed perfectly reasonable for Ed to roll me onto my back 
and slide sweetly into me and begin gently pumping in and out. It was 
almost sexless; just friendly, y'know?

But not completely.

Before long, I was starting to cum again, but this time it was in 
long, unending waves that washed through and over me, and then I felt 
Ed cumming, and it seemed very reasonable for Bill to be rolling on 
top of me and --

"Are you out of your goddam mind?"

Susan's voice was hot, hard, demanding and shrill. It went a long way 
to shattering the moment for all of us.

"Huh?" was my contribution.

"Get off her, Bill -- " Much fumbling, foggily remembered, and then 
Bill was sitting naked beside me on the floor, that monstrous cock 
sticking up from between his thighs like the sweet end of a baseball 
bat.

"You put that in her and she'll rupture. Forget it!"

"Awwwww..." was Bill's educated response.

"She may be right," Ed said with the forced sobriety of one who is 
stoned.

"Huh?" I said.

"But I wanna be in that nice, tight, hot, slick, hairless, itty little 
-- "

"I'll take care of you, horsey," Susan said and began giving 
directions as Ed lit another joint and pumped still more mary jane 
into the air.

I started to get really relaxed then, to feel a buzz. Susan crawled 
over me so we could lick each other, and at the same time, Bill slid 
that big salami of his up into her. She had her knees on either side 
of my head, right up next to my ears, and she let her legs spread 
wider and wider till she was almost doing a split. Her mound was 
mashed right down over my mouth and every time Bill drove up into her, 
his balls came up and smacked against my forehead. She had her hands 
under me, holding my butt. My legs were open so she could lick and 
suck all over my cunt, and then she got ahold of my clit in her lips, 
and I started cumming. And cumming. And cumming. 

I gave as good as I got, and it wasn't long before she was screaming 
and jumping around, and her nipples like to gouge into my tummy, they 
were so hard. Ol' Bill was pounding away, and I could see his cock 
swell up and then he was cumming in her, and she was cumming on him 
and in my mouth, and I just got higher and higher with the sex and the 
smoke.

I don't remember many details about what came next. Susan and I rolled 
over, and I sat on her face and licked her and licked at Bill's 
juices. Her cunt was still stretched open from his big dick and it 
seemed the most natural thing in the world the clench my fist and work 
it up into her. I heard Ed clicking away with his camera, and then I 
heard the movie camera whirring and everyone complained the lights 
were too bright, so he gave up on that in about 10 minutes.

Susan just lay there and wailed, cumming all the time, and I was 
really getting into getting into her, if you know what I mean. I 
must've had half my arm up inside her at one point. Ed got it all on 
film. 

Then Ed was kneeling behind me and sliding his nice hard dick into me, 
and that, what with Susan's licking, had me going like to nuts real 
fast. He didn't last any too long, either. I came so hard I kind of 
blacked out or something for a while. I came to on my back, with Susan 
licking one tit and Ed licking the other. Bill had a joint in his 
mouth. He took a deep breath and then kissed me and blew the smoke 
right into my mouth -- a "shotgun," it's called.

It hit me pretty hard, because I agreed pretty fast to letting Ed take 
pictures of me licking Bill's limp dick. It didn't stay limp very much 
longer. At one point I managed to force the head into my mouth and 
then it was difficult to get it out, cause his cock had gotten so fat. 

Get it out he did, though, and Susan immediately demanded it. He got 
up behind her and slid the whole thing in -- bam! it was gone, just 
like that. I put my hand up to press her belly, and I could feel it 
moving inside. He stuck three fingers in his mouth and then pressed 
them down between her buttocks and she tensed up for a moment -- and 
then sighed deeply. 

"Oh, yeah, lover, that feels so gooood..." she said and her eyes half 
closed, and she pretty much forgot about my nipples. Bill licked his 
pinky and added it to the crowd in her butt and she again tensed, then 
sighed, and started moaning.

"I wanna pin your sweet, tight ass, baby!" Bill said.

"That'd feel so good," she hissed, "but my cunt will get lonesome!"

I was pretty stoned by then -- my first time -- so I went along with 
the suggestion Ed made.

I don't recall a helluva lot about what came next; at least, the 
details are unclear. But I remember quite clearly having my fist 
inside Susan's big cunt while she sucked my little pussy while the 
full length of Bill's humongous cock, fat as my arm, pumped in and out 
of her ass. It was squeezing my hand and arm, which were in her cunt. 
It was very horny, and I remember cumming lots when she remembered to 
lick and suck and finger me, and I remember lightning in the room.

When I woke, it was almost dawn. I was surrounded by naked, sleeping 
bodies, most covered with sweat and cum. When I sat up and looked, I 
discovered I was wearing the same uniform. My only thought at that 
moment was get home before Mom or Dad or Moses (a.k.a., Alexis) awoke 
and discovered my absence.

It wasn't to be until almost 24 hours later that I began to worry 
about all that damn film Ed had shot.

I never saw Louis again, anywhere, and but I did hear of him again, 
years later, once. There is a reason -- a good one -- for that. As for 
Bonnie -- well, I did see her again, but I never would have guessed 
the circumstances. When I was "introduced" to her a couple of years 
later, you could've knocked me over with a feather.

I didn't want to see Susan or Bill again. It took me a long time to 
sort it out, but eventually I did. They'd used me, toyed with me. I 
felt dirty and -- soiled. Cheapened. I didn't like that. I'd thought 
that feeling was behind me. I'd felt the same way after the first time 
-- 

[No. I don't want to talk about that. Not yet, anyway. Maybe later.
Yes. Later]

So after some time passed, and I got more relaxed about all of Ed's 
film, I started looking forward to the Fourth of July. Alexis got 
herself a part-time job working out at the Dairy Queen on Woodville 
road, and Dad had a steady part-time gig working for some contractor 
-- in addition to his regular job -- 

[No one can ever accuse the son-of-a-bitch of being lazy.]

-- and Jeanne and I were pretty much left to our own devices. That was 
when we discovered the vibrating massager Mom had gotten from Sears to 
help ease Dad's tense shoulders.

Hah!

Jeanne came like nothing I'd ever seen, and I passed out from it, I 
came so hard. It was scary.

But we were looking forward to the Fourth. For one thing, there'd be 
fireworks over in Maumee.

For another, my phantom step-brother was coming to visit and I was 
bound and determined to have him.

CHAPTER 10 


By the time he arrived, I was in a state. I'd dome everything I could 
to prepare -- tanned like crazy, read up all I could about his damn 
ol' Mets, even bought a sexy peignoir -- and laid in plans for It. I 
was determined to seduce my step-brother. 

The night before he was arrive at Toledo Express Airport (which he 
always referred to as "Toledo International Spaceport," just to rub it 
in) I showered and stood bare-butt naked in from of the mirror on the 
back of the door to the room I shared with Jeanne. I looked myself 
over.

All of a sudden, in the past three weeks, I'd started developing again 
-- wildly. My bust was up to a 29C, and my waist was still a little 
bitty 19, and my hips were barely 26 inches. I was as tan as I could 
be, and my hair, which hadn't been more than trimmed in six months, 
reached straight and sleek halfway down my back. When I looked at 
myself in the mirror, I knew I was damn sexy, and I knew that if I 
couldn't get to him now, I never would. 

I also knew I had to be Cool -- not too pushy, very much in control. I 
had it all planned out, oh, yes, I did.

I went with Dad and Mom to the airport to meet him. He hugged me the 
way he hugged everyone else, and I made damn sure that the sleeveless 
top I wore was the only thing I wore on top, so he could feel my boobs 
press into him. I sat next to him in the station wagon as Dad drove us 
all back from the airport, and I made sure I was scrunched over so my 
thigh (bare beneath the cutoffs jeans) was against his. And I could 
not remember a thing about staying cool. Because he was an absolute 
fox.

 
... The cure for bad speech is better speech and more of it.

He was a little under six feet tall and had this light brown hair, 
except for a -- can you believe it? -- red forelock and had these 
really light hazel eyes and a cute face and what a damn built he had 
on him! He'd picked up his suitcases from the conveyor belt as if 
they'd been empty; when Jeanne and I tried to help, we nearly got 
ruptured. Even Dad couldn't lift one of them that easily!

All the way back from the airport we made small talk, and he was 
always completely in control. When we passed Route 23 and I leaned 
over (supposedly) to point to the new bowling alleys (and not 
incidentally press my boobs into his arm) he just gave me a quick 
glance and a funny little half-smile, and I wanted to cross my legs 
'cause I was getting so wet down there.

By the time we'd reached the house, Mom had already told him I was 
having some friends over for a slumber party (heh) and since Dad was 
on midnight shifts and she tired out early, he agreed to watch over us 
kids (double-heh) that night.

All was in readiness.

I brushed my teeth twice and showered and then gargled and showered 
again and generally made myself as clean as possible. Then I doused 
myself with Windsong and paraded around the house after dinner in my 
swimsuit bottoms and a tee-shirt and nothing else and told him I hoped 
he didn't mind watching us, et cetera, and found every excuse I could 
to lean against him.

At seven, my friends started arriving, and at eight he had finished 
calling all the aunts, uncles and cousins he had to touch base with. 
At nine, my brothers were sent to bed, and Jeanne, pleading weariness, 
sacked it. Alexis was out on a date, and Mom was fading fast. At 10, 
Dad was dressed and ready to leave for work (he always got to work 
early; Dad was a Depression baby and believed in showing up very 
early), and Mom was fighting to stay awake.

At ten-thirty, it was four of my friends and me and my phantom step-
brother, who was sitting at the dining room table, reading a paperback 
and scarfing down peanut butter sandwiches.

At 11, I sprung my trap. I pulled a chair away from the table and sat 
facing him.

"Yes?" he asked, looking up from his PB&Js and his book.

"Antisocial?"

He grinned and closed the book. "Meaning?"

"Come in and talk to us. Lisa's here, y'know."

"Lisa's still five years younger than me," he said, not inaccurately. 
"And she'd probably prefer not to be reminded of the potato chips."

I laughed at that. He hadn't forgotten any more than I -- or Lisa -- 
had forgotten. "We'd like you tell us about what it's like being in 
New York."

He put that stare of his on me. Held it for about a ten-count. Then 
smiled oddly and shook his head. "Somehow, I don't imagine a bunch of 
13-year-old kids really being that interested in life in Brooklyn."

"Oh, come in and talk to us." I squirmed in mock-coquettishness, 
"There's a bunch of nubile young women waiting for the pleasure of 
your company."

I thought he'd choke, holding back the laughter. Finally: "'Nubile'?" 
He rose and stood beside my chair. He was wearing faded old jeans and 
a Mets tee-shirt and I was fully prepared to unzip and gulp him right 
then and there. "Lead on," he said, fighting a grin.

I stood, letting myself get closer than I had to, and drew him by the 
hand into the family room. 

"Look what I found," I announced. 

"This calls for a beer," said Dana Connally. And produced same from 
her huge overnight bag. Debbie didn't have much in the way of a 
figure, but what she had, she knew how to use. She was wearing a 
flannel shorty nightgown, and it somehow was sexier on her than my 
filmy little peignoir could ever be. I grabbed one of her beers and 
gulped it. Dan merely watched as I let myself fall into the old 
recliner. He was sitting on the old couch, no more than two feet away. 
Lisa was next to him and Dana was on the other side of Lisa from her. 
The other two,  Angela and Barb, were on the floor, far, far away and 
dubious -- and fading fast.

The beer hit me fast and hard. I said things I shouldn't have said, 
even mentioned the potato chips. Dan reached past Dana to put his arm 
around Lisa and said he would have kept them to that very day if they 
hadn't gone stale and soft with age. Lisa blushed and scurried away. 
Debbie squirmed in closer to him and grabbed his hand and held it.

I was still in the armchair. I asked him if he had a girlfriend and 
tried to steer things in that direction. Occasionally, I made some 
snide remarks to Debbie -- about where she was putting her hand, about 
how short her nightie was -- and generally got stupid. My plan was 
dissolving.

Somehow, the subject turned to comparing Ohio girls with New York 
girls. He said New York girls were more sophisticated in some ways, 
but Ohio girls were a little more direct -- and he liked that.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, in New York, girls play games, act like they don't want the 
same things the guys want -- like what they've got is some kind of 
prize, y'know? Here, the girls don't mind letting it be known what 
they like and what they don't want. I like the honesty."

"You mean girls here are easier."

"Not 'bad' easier, but...less hung up. Yeah, easier, if honest means 
easy." He paused and grinned. "And healthier."

"Waddya mean?"

"Girls out here seem to grow up physically a lot sooner and more 
emphatically."

He winked at me.

"You mean, like bigger tits sooner?" Dana asked. 

"You betcha."

"Like Marie's?" she asked.

"Yeah. Too bad she's just a kid."

I took offense at that and opened the robe of my peignoir. I wasn't 
wearing a bra beneath the chemise and it was all lacy and a little too 
tight on my tits. "Who's a kid?" I demanded.

"Marie, you're all growed out real good," he said. "But you're my 
sister, and you're still too young."

Blame it on the beer. I ran my hands up and cupped my tits. "'If 
they're big enough, they're old enough.' Isn't that what they say? And 
aren't these big enough?"

He pulled his gaze from my breasts to my eyes. "Don't fuck with my 
head," he said quietly. "You know I like you, you know I think you're 
sexy and you know you're my sister."

"And you know were not related by blood, so don't give me that...or 
are you just mouthing off about me being attractive?"

"Sure, and the first time I touch you, you'll go screaming."

"No, I won't. Go on -- do it."

And there, in that dimly lit room, he leaned forward and put his hand 
on my bare shoulder. He slid it down and just barely pressed my 
breasts through the bodice of the chemise. I damn near came right then 
and there. When his palm was over my right nipple, I said, "I'm not 
screaming."

His fingers closed on my nipple through the satin and he pulled it a 
bit. And said: "Are you trying to prove something to me, to you -- or 
to your friends?"

For a few minutes, it had just been him and me, but now I remembered 
the others sitting around, and I thought of the stories they would 
tell...

He took his hand away. "I think it's time to call it a night. Enjoy 
your party, girls." He got up and went into the living room, where his 
pullout was.

There were more, beers and then we all sort of crashed, there on the 
floor, on the couch and on cushions and Angie just sprawled on some 
blankets and slept. The beer took its toll on me, and I was out pretty 
fast.

It took another toll, too. Around dawn I got up to pee, and that was 
when I heard the noises in the living room. I crept silently to the 
corner, at the place where the stairs went up, and that was when I saw 
Dana betray me.

Dan was sitting on the living room couch, perched on the edge of the 
cushion, and Dana was straddling him. They were kissing hot and wet 
and with a lot of tongue. I watched him slide his hands up under her 
nightgown, and then he was lifting it. She didn't have much in the way 
of tits, but what she had got plenty of attention. Dan licked and 
kissed and sucked those hard little mounds while she, all long and 
lean and lanky and sinuous, held his face against them. 

He moved one hand down to rub around her cunt. She didn't have much 
hair down there, but she had what he was looking -- and vice versa. I 
could hear his finger squish into her, and her breathing got faster.

I also heard his soft sigh when he pulled his dick out through the 
opening in his briefs and settled her onto it. Dana was taller than me 
by a good seven or eight inches, but her hips and butt were almost as 
small as mine, and she had to work her way down onto him. I only got a 
glimpse, but his cock was about average length and a little thicker 
than most and hard as a bar of iron. It was a tight fit, and all the 
time she was settling onto it, he kept licking and sucking her 
nipples.

I could have killed her. I was the one who wanted him! Besides -- he 
was MY brother!

He put his hands on her skinny hips and guided her as she worked up 
and down, back and forth. She was long-legged, Dana was, and had her 
feet on the floor on either side of his legs. She did the work, but I 
could hear both of them breathing harder, and I could hear her cunt 
suck and squish on him as she moved up and down.

He settled against the back of the couch, his butt still perched at 
the edge of the cushion, and moved his hands up to hold her forearms 
as she leaned back. Both of them began moving, faster and faster. I 
saw her bite her lower lip when she started to cum, and then he 
hunched his hips up at her and held them there, and I knew he was 
cumming in her.

Damn her!

He pulled her forward against him, and I heard his dick slurp out of 
her as he kissed her lips and cradled her to him, exactly the way and 
the time I'd always wanted.

She slithered out of his arms and knelt between his legs and kissed 
and sucked his spermy dick until it was clean. Then she rearranged her 
nightgown and whispered something to him.

I scurried back to my cushions on the floor just before she reappeared 
in the TV room. All I could think of was the fact that she had his cum 
in her cunt, and I did not.

I spent most of the next day sulking. I was not a good hostess to 
Angela and Barb, and I was downright rude to Dana. And she seemed to 
know I knew what had gone on -- and worse, to know I was wildly 
jealous. I determined to make my phantom step-brother spend a lot of 
time dating the Palm Sisters by showing off my assets for him whenever 
I could get away with it. The problem was that I didn't get much of a 
chance. That day he went out to a small town about 45 miles from our 
house to visit other relatives, and the next day he went out there 
again. Our mutual cousin Shana explained: Dan apparently had developed 
a terrific crush on Dorothy, a friend of hers with a sweet face, a 
gentle disposition and a Body by Hefner.

Shana was willing to talk about it in some detail. She and Dan had 
kept up a regular correspondence year-round -- which I'd known about 
for quite a while -- and they had a lot to talk about. She'd arranged 
for a bunch of her friends from school -- most of whom were close to 
her and Dan's age -- to wander over to the Dairy Queen by the quarry-
cum-town-swimming-hole and Hang Out. He and Dorothy had taken an 
immediate shine to each other, which was no surprise in either 
direction. Shana knew there'd been some smooching and groping, but 
doubted it had gone very much farther than that. Dorothy had a 
reputation for politely-but-firmly refusing to Go Too Far.

It was enough to put Dorothy on my perpetual hit list, thinking about 
her acting like a priss and leaving my gorgeous Dan with blue balls. 
Grrrrrr.

The next day he spent helping Mom around the house and with her 
chores, and I spent most of it flashing him. It had an effect, much to 
my pleasure. I kept thinking, Look what you missed and eat your heart 
out! 

What I really wanted, though, was to tell him to eat *me* out.

The next day, a Friday, he was going out there again. This time he was 
to stay over with Aunt Mimi -- Shana's Mom -- and I decided it was 
time to cultivate Shana's little sister, Irene. She was about my age, 
but looked a lot more like it, maybe even less. But she was bright and 
a bit hyperactive and jealous of the girls who, like Annette 
Funicello, "already got theirs" and determined to prove herself in 
competition with them, i.e., get the guys. She hadn't seen Dan yet on 
this visit -- she'd been away at a horse farm for a couple of days -- 
and was really looking forward to the visit. Eventually, by clever 
manipulation and downright lying, I lured her into "deciding" it would 
be nice for me to stay for an overnighter at the same time Dan did. 

The way I figured it, I would wait until Dan got back from what was 
sure to be a heated and ultimately frustrating evening with Dorothy, 
and then I'd have him! Aha!

Shana and Dan kissed lightly and sweetly, a non-erotic peck of warmth 
and greeting, and then we all piled into the Blue Bomb -- a 
seven-year-old Buick she was entitled to drive by virtue of her age 
and relatively rural location. I would have been pleased and excited 
at the start of my little adventure, except that Shana had a 
passenger: Dorothy.

She was absolutely lovely and unselfconsciously sexy at the same time, 
with her dark hair and flawless complexion and full lips and wide eyes 
and that amazing damn body with those fantastically firm, full tits 
under a tee-shirt and barely contained by a bra I was sure she wore 
more for modesty than support. She was 16 and in full bloom. I think 
of how she looked through the window of the Blue Bomb, and I can 
understand why it was not unusual for our grandparents and great-
grandparents to marry at 15 and 16. 

Shana made some joke about it, but I didn't laugh when I found myself 
in the front seat with my cousin...leaving Dorothy and Dan in the 
back. The held hands tightly through the entire forty-minute drive. I 
dared sneak only two or three glances back at them all the time.

Those Buicks were big. There was plenty of room. Most of it was unused 
because they were very close together.

Still, it was impossible to keep a mad on at Aunt Mimi's. She and 
Uncle Don got married when she was 15 and he was 17 and the love 
between them pervaded the entire old ramshackle house. She was a big, 
rawboned, horsy-faced lady of indeterminate years and great big 
laughing eyes that made you forget the moustache that never seemed to 
go away (no matter what she did) and the little stubble of a beard 
s'helpme on her chin. She made a fuss over Dan, of course, and over me 
and kidded me about the way my figure had developed. Somehow, the way 
she did it made it seem remarkable that I had such a body but 
perfectly Okay and Set Yerself Down Here and Have Some Pop and Tell 
Yer Old Aunt Mimi What You've Been Up To, Why Doncha? We had dropped 
Dorothy at her house, and Dan was nice and polite and went into the 
back yard to talk with Shana about her drawings and her first pastels.

All of which was fine until we heard car doors slam. Dan went into the 
living room to greet Irene. She was all lithe and lean and tousled 
blonde hair and little kiddish with tiny bumps inside her shirt, and 
she greeted Dan by jumping him!

Yeah, she literally jumped up on him, wrapping her arms around his 
neck and her legs around his hips. She kissed him right on the mouth, 
hard and maybe deep and Dan went all red in the face and pulled her 
off him. I could see a bulge in his cutoff jeans. He tried to hide it 
but failed. Irene had two of her little friends with her and a few 
minutes later, cousin Timmy -- Shana's big brother and Aunt Mimi's 
oldest -- came in. 

Timmy was Dan's age and a really ruggedly handsome guy even then. 
Unfortunately, some of the circuits in his head didn't work. Timmy 
couldn't deal with books and reading or any kind of pressure; he would 
go into these fits. And he was not particularly gentle, either. Timmy 
did what he liked and could get away with. I was never really 
comfortable around him, and I could see Dan wasn't, either, but he was 
polite and tried to be warm, which was more than I could do. See, any 
time Timmy was alone with me, he was always grabbing my tits -- hard.

I had to follow through with my charade and immediately diverted Irene 
-- who seemed reluctant to leave Dan, which bothered me. She took me 
to her room, and I went through what was probably the bonding ritual 
of girls our age at that time, discussing boys, the Beatles, clothes, 
the Beatles, jealousies, the Beatles, free love, the Beatles, the new 
Rolling Stones poster (clearly showing Mick's bulge) and, of course, 
the Beatles.

[My favorite was George. Okay? Thank you.]

We listened to some 45s and then we were going over to the DQ -- 

[Dairy Queen.]

-- to hang out. I was very agreeable to this, as I knew that 
eventually, Dan and Dorothy would show up there. The adjacent park -- 
Veteran's -- was about the only place they could go and fool around, 
since neither had wheels. I hated the idea, yet I wanted to see them 
together. I dunno why; I just did.

Anyhow, going over to the DQ and meeting Irene's friends was about as 
exciting as I expected -- deadly dull. The boys in the crowd were 
typical of boys my age, which is to say I had outgrown them a long 
time ago, but they kept trying to "accidentally" touch my tits or get 
me alone. 

After what seemed like years there, Irene and I walked back to her 
house. She told me she was glad I had spurned -- she used that word -- 
the boys who were turned on by my tits. She hoped that would help them 
look for other qualities in a girl.

I told her to hold her breath till they were 19 or so.

She asked, How do you know? and I, like an idiot, told her a little 
bit and hinted at more.

[Why "like an idiot"? Listen -- and stop interrupting me -- and I'll 
tell you.]

Well, Irene decided that meant she could tell me stuff. Like, for one, 
she'd Done It. She wouldn't tell me who, but she had done it and more 
than once, and she liked it. A lot. She also told me that at some 
point during the day -- probably when she went downstairs to get the 
disgusting Cherry Kool-Aid for us -- she'd been briefly alone with Dan 
and kissed him again and touched his hard on. He'd made her stop.

He'd told her she was a little young for that, and she'd told him she 
was more than willing to give him a demonstration of her abilities, 
and he'd told her she should wait a little longer for that.

By the time she finished the tale -- and we were nearing her house, in 
the dark small-town Ohio July night -- her nipples were stiff as 
pencil points inside her sadly flat tee-shirt.

"And I really want to -- y'know -- DO IT with him now."

That was when we heard the noise from the side of the house. Quietly, 
we crept to the edge of the hedge and looked.

My phantom step-brother was licking Dorothy's nipples.

They were clinching in the shadows near a tree -- an elm; I remember 
distinctly -- and he had her light shirt raised and her bra opened. 
Her breasts were truly magnificent, and he was giving them their due. 
He cupped them gently in his hand -- they needed hardly any support of 
any kind, as large and thrusting as they were -- and was running his 
lips over and around them and then licking and sucking her nipples. 
Her flush was visible even in the shadows. Her cutoff clad legs were 
wide, and he was rubbing his hand over the tightly-stretched denim 
over her cunt, and she was rubbing up against his fingers.

I was horrified and turned on at the same time. 

"Do you think they're gonna do it?" Irene whispered.

I just shook my head, unwilling to trust my voice.

I watched him caress those lovely 16-year-old tits and the damp jeans 
taut over her swampy 16-year-old cunt, and I was sure he was going to 
fuck her...but when he tried to unsnap the waist of the cutoffs, she 
stopped him. Again and again, no matter how turned on they got, she 
stopped him.

As I'd expected.

They were at that awful point where she was rubbing his dick through 
his now-very-tight jeans, and he was rubbing her pussy hard enough to 
split the soaked fabric of her jeans, and I was ready to stand up and 
march over and offer to take over for her, since she seemed unwilling 
to do the right thing herself. At that very point the side door 
opened, and the outside light came on -- one of those yellow things 
that's not supposed to attract bugs but always does -- and Shana stuck 
her head out.

"Hey, you guys -- getting late." And ducked back in.

They stayed there in the shadows for a few minutes more, murmuring and 
cuddling, and then she stood, and he stood, and they clinched, and 
then she walked off alone down the safe summer streets of that little 
town.

Dan had a huge bulge in the front of his jeans. He stood, watching her 
until she was out of sight, and then sighed and went inside. 

"Did you see his hard-on?" Irene whispered excitedly. "The way his 
jeans were all stuck out from it?" She giggled. I glanced at her. Even 
in the shadows I could see her flush -- and the stiff points of her 
nipples against her shirt. "Isn't he hot?"

I nodded and thought about it. My plan was foolproof. He'd just spent 
about 40 minutes getting turned on by her and needed relief; so far, 
so good. He was going to be staying over in the same house as me; 
still good. Aunt Mimi's snoring would pretty much have immunized 
everyone in the house against waking at small sounds; right on track. 
And Dan was going to be mooning over Dorothy, and that was bad. He was 
such a romantic -- not that he'd ever admit it -- that he'd probably 
not even look at another woman, let alone a girl who happened to be 
his step-sister. It would be just like Dan to think of that as being 
unfaithful.

"We'd better go inside," I said. Irene and I sneaked through the 
bushes, then walked loudly down the sidewalk and entered the front 
door. Dan was sitting up with Shana, watching an Outer Limits episode. 
Everyone else was sleeping. We got some pop and sat with him for a 
while. Irene excused herself after a while and came back in a shorty 
nightgown. You could glimpse her lean silhouette through it, but that 
didn't make any difference; there wasn't much to see.

Shana said that looked like a good idea and did the same. With her 
lustrous, dark curls and dark flashing eyes, she looked so lovely that 
I began to think about her, for the first time, as a woman and not as 
my sweet cousin. 

As the show ended and the news came on WTOL, channel 11 -- which we 
had to watch to get the scores for his damn ol' Mets -- I excused 
myself and changed, too. I'd brought just a simple, summer-light 
shorty nightgown. I didn't bother with a bra. 

When I came back in the room, Shana -- always forthright -- said, "My 
goodness, Marie! Where did you ever get those big, uh, bosoms? You 
make me feel positively flat-chested!"

"How do you think she makes me feel?" Irene murmured.

"They were on sale at Tiedtke's," I said. 

"Don't you think Marie has a great figure, Dan?" Shana asked.

"Fantastic," he said. "Sometimes I wish she wasn't my sister or a 
kid."

 
... Smother that flame! Defeat the cyberarsonist censors!
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12


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From: friar.dave@teamhbbs.com (FRIAR DAVE)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: MARIE 12 of 18
Message-ID: <8B45247.00F801BDEB.uuout@teamhbbs.com>
Date: Sat, 04 Nov 95 09:43:00 -0800
Distribution: world
Organization: Team H BBS *510-236-5114* anime / pagan / adult / fat / GLB
Reply-To: friar.dave@teamhbbs.com (FRIAR DAVE)
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"Within the context of a goal-oriented guidance system and with the 
benefit -- "

" -- of more experienced leaders who can teach us how to evaluate and 
respond -- "

" -- to unfamiliar and sometimes frightening circumstances! Yes!"

"And then, when we go into the real world, we understand a little 
more, because we've already tested ourselves in strange waters -- "

" -- and found that we can swim, because we learned to do it -- "

" -- in a school?" 

I groaned at the pun.

"Sounds fishy?" he asked innocently.

"Holy mackerel."

"No, it's 'Holy mackerel dere, Kingfish.'"

"I guess I just don't have any soul."

"But you're still one smart filly."

I frowned.

"Filly of soul?" he suggested.

I groaned again.

We both started laughing. Tyrell offered to drive me home. I didn't 
think twice. We talked more on the way. We really hit it off, instant 
chemistry, and it had started from the neck up, for a change.

He let me out in front of my house, and I waved good-bye. Inside, 
Jeanne was home, and Mom. Jeanne immediately pulled me into our room.

"Marie, did you -- you know?"

I stared at her. "What?"

"Who was that?"

I told her, and she said, "Well, does he really have a big one? They 
say all of them have huge -- " The look on my face stunned her.

"Jeanne, I interviewed him for the paper and he gave me a ride home."

"You didn't do it with him?"

"No -- though now that you mention it, it's not such a bad idea, I 
mean, he is awful good-looking and..."

"Marie! He's a nigger!"

I was the one who was stunned this time. How had we grown up together 
and been so close -- so very close -- without me knowing this about 
her? 

Because we never encountered anyone who was really different.

"Jeanne, he's a man who's a little darker than me. A smart, polite, 
good-looking man. I think he and I might get to be friends. And don't 
you ever use that word in front of me again."

She seemed a little shocked by that, and I suppose I was, too. 
Socially conscious Marie -- as of about 40 minutes before. But it was 
true. Something had happened to me during the time after the interview 
with Tyrell Hamilton. Something burned inside him, and the flames had 
caught me, too. My main concerns had been getting laid, passing my 
class, getting laid, wondering when they were going to have a sale at 
Penney's, getting laid and getting even with Dana and Irene. Suddenly, 
I was thinking about things that were in the far distant future, 
beyond the great dividing line of Graduation, beyond 1971, which was a 
date lost in tomorrow. Suddenly, I was thinking about things like 
responsibility and understanding and harmony.

And I was spending a lot of time thinking about Tyrell. Well, was it 
true what they say?

[Yes, I saw "Blazing Saddles"; Okay?]

I started spending more and more time with the juniors and seniors 
than I already was -- which was a lot, since I found most of the kids 
who were my age were kind of backward. I started hanging out with the 
crowd Tyrell spent time with. And pretty soon, I was fairly regularly 
sitting next to him at our basketball games -- and thus having him 
drive me home.

After the fifth game -- against Penta; we lost -- I got impatient. 
"Ty, aren't you ever going to ask me out?"

We were at a grade-crossing, waiting for an endless freight to pass, 
down by East Broadway. He waiting about a three-count and turned his 
face toward me. "You have to be kidding."

"Why?"

"You're white, and I'm not, and you're not even 13 yet!"

"So?"

"Are you nuts? I'm almost 18!"

"So? I want you, Ty."

"So? That's statutory rape and considering that I'm not white, the 
police will probably fire five or six warning shots -- into the back 
of my little burr head!"

"Ty! You know me! We're friends, for crying out loud."

"And that's fine -- but that's it, girl." He watched me. "What the 
hell are you doing?"

What I was doing, for the benefit of those who weren't there, was 
pulling my sweater off and unbuttoning my blouse.

"Guess."

"Marie!"

The blouse was off, and I was reaching back and under for the hooks on 
my ill-fitting bra. A moment later and it was gone, too, and not only 
did it feel good to have the constriction off my tits, it made me feel 
somehow wild and free to be sitting there with my boobs bare in his 
car so anyone could look in -- even in the dark -- and see me.

"Tyrell Leroy Hamilton, you will not be my first, and you probably 
won't be my last, and if you don't promise to make love with me I am 
going to jump out of this car and yell, `Help! This nigger's trying to 
rape me!'" 

"Marie, I want you."

His words, so calm and easy and serious, froze me. 

"But you're trying to take charge of me, and I won't have that. Be my 
friend, and we may become lovers, some day -- but I won't have an 
owner for a friend or a lover."

I hadn't thought of it that way. I started pulling my blouse back on. 
The caboose of the endless freight rumbled slowly by. Behind us, car 
engines were starting. I felt like a shit.

"I'm sorry."

He was shaking his head as the crossing gates came up, and we started 
across the tracks.

We drove across the tracks in silence. We drove down to East Broadway 
in silence. As we pulled up onto the road that would take us back to 
my house, I finally said, "Dammit, Ty, say something?"

"You have truly amazing breasts. I didn't know they were so big or 
lovely."

"I'd really like you to get more acquainted with them. And more."

"Doesn't sound all bad. By the way..."

"Yes?"

"Do you know where we were parked when you threatened to get out and 
yell for help?"

I thought about it -- and then it hit me.

"Uh-huh," he said. "Niggerville. Jigaboo Town. You could have 
precipitated a race riot back there."

I was glad for the night, so he wouldn't see me blushing in 
embarrassment. Then I noticed he'd driven right past the street where 
I lived. "Where?"

"I want to show you something."

I started to get my hopes up, but then I remembered what he was like 
and calmed down, fast. And with cause.

Ty drove us down past the Anderson grain elevators and parked. It was 
dark there. He got out, and a moment later I did, too. We were looking 
across the Maumee River and had a really lovely view of the water and 
downtown Toledo.

"It's awfully pretty," I said.

"Until you get there," he said. "Until you get down on Washington and 
Jefferson. Go by the Valentine or the Blade or to one of the Purple 
Cows. Then it's just as ugly."

We were standing close. I pulled his arm around me. It felt good.

"People can be like that, too. Beautiful and impressive till you get 
up close, and then you see them for what they are and see all the ugly 
things in them."

I moved till I stood in front of him and pulled his other arm around 
me. I covered his hands with mine and held them across my breasts.

"I've been close to you, Ty. I am close to you. I don't see ugly."

"I -- I've done bad things."

I kept my mouth shut.

"I hurt someone. Hurt bad. Someone who shouldn't have been hurt."

I held his hands tight over my tits. And listened. It had happened 
when he was 14 and hanging out with other kids his age. All of them 
were black, kids he knew in Niggerville. One of them knew this girl 
who was just asking for it. She was lithe and lean and tight and had a 
great ass, and the way she talked and acted, they knew she was just 
asking for it, and they knew that if someone gave her some wine, she'd 
do them all.

So someone gave her some wine. And she did them all. Many times. Long 
past the end of the wine. Long past her willingness.

"I'd never been with anyone before, and even when she was crying and 
asking us to stop, we kept doing it."

Except him. He'd persuaded the others to stop and let her go.

"That sounds like good to me, not bad," I said.

"It was -- but it wasn't the end."

A few months later, she came by his house when he was home alone. 
She'd been drinking wine. She'd gone into that phase when a girl just 
suddenly blossoms. She wasn't a skinny kid with a great ass, not any 
more. She was a young siren, blooming. And she wanted to thank him.

"I should've made her go away."

But he hadn't. They'd spent the entire afternoon, before his parents 
or siblings came home, fucking wildly. He figured he must have cum in 
her four or five times. Whenever he got limp, she did things -- 

"With her mouth."

-- to make him ready again...and at fourteen-almost-fifteen he could 
get ready a lot. 

"That's not hurting someone," I told him.

"Yes, it was. I wanted to do it more with her, and when she wanted 
more wine, I let her have it from Momma's closet so I could do it 
more."

The problem came a couple of months later. 

"One of the guys said she was dead."

I went cold all over when he said that. "Dead?" 

She'd gotten pregnant and gone to the only abortionist a poor 13-year-
old girl -- black or white -- in Toledo could find in those moral, 
enlightened days. That night, she'd begun hemmorhaging. She was DOA at 
St. Charles.

"I killed her."

I turned to him. His arms dropped away as soon as I released his 
hands. "That's not true."

He was nodding, tear-stained cheeks glimmering in the night. "Me. I 
got her pregnant and -- and -- "

"And you were the only guy she ever fucked?"

He blinked.

"Yeah -- fucked." I said it hard.

"Well, no, of course not, but -- "

"You figure you're the only guy who fucked her that month?"

He tried to turn away. I grabbed him, my arms around his waist.

"Well?"

"I -- I -- "

"You know you weren't. Hell, she was probably fucking another guy that 
day -- the same one who gave her the wine before she got to your 
house."

"But what I did was wrong -- "

"She wanted it, didn't she? She went out of her way to ask for it? She 
wanted to keep doing it? And you figure it's your fault?"

"She was just a kid!"

"So were you."

"So are you."

"I'm young, but I haven't been a kid since..." I almost told him, but 
couldn't. "Well, I'm no kid."  I pulled his arms around me. "Hold me."

And that's what he did -- just held me, close and strong and scared 
and sobbing and trying to fight it all back, trying to be the tough 
young buck, figuring this so-called white girl -- 

[Cause it's true. Put my hand down on a piece of paper -- here. See? 
Do I look "white" now? Right. You do it -- see? Kind of off-beige. 
What gets called "black" isn't really black. When was the last time 
you saw someone dark enough to even try to qualify for "black"?

[Yeah, I thought so. So you think about this: Those aren't colors or 
races or hues, they're just the fucking labels we use so we can 
generalize or categorize and excuse ourself from thinking any farther 
than the label. 

[Okay? 

[Your goddam right I'm hot about it! Want to find out why? Listen.]

-- this so-called white girl wouldn't figure him out, but I did, 
because when you're that close, there's no color, no race, just 
holding and being held, and I have a news flash for all the racial 
purity folks: We're all the same. The reason I know is that holding 
Ty, I could see through him just like anyone else. He was just looking 
to stop hurting, same as me and you and anyone else. Hurting doesn't 
have a race, unless the race is Human.

Well, one thing led to another, and before long I was doing more than 
holding. His was the first uncircumcised cock I'd ever held or sucked 
or fucked, and when he came, he groaned, and he cried, and I 
understood that. He was crying cause there was nothing left in him 
that he hadn't shared, so I held him till the sun came up, and we 
never talked about that -- but something had been established, a bond, 
you know? We never did anything sexual again.

I sneaked into the house and -- Miracle of miracles -- no one caught 
me. I took that as a Sign.

I lay awake for a long time, thinking that this was amazing -- knowing 
even then we weren't going to be lovers again -- that this afro senior 
and me were that close that we'd used fucking and sucking and loving 
to seal our bond, and it felt right. Damn, but if felt good and close 
and tight!

But no way that was going to be left alone; no way. The weeks passed, 
and about 10 days before the class elections, I went over to room 128, 
which was the room Ty's backers had drawn from the pool as a campaign 
headquarters. I went over there pretty much every day, and it was more 
and more crowded, which was a good sign. 

When I walked in, the place went quiet. Everyone was looking at me. I 
said Hello to a few people and looked around, but Ty wasn't in sight, 
and when I asked Chuck -- who had sort of fallen into managing the 
campaign -- where Ty was, he just shrugged and said Ty had to go. The 
same thing happened with the next four people I asked.

Pretty soon, I was alone in that room. 

It felt like a mortuary.

I called his house and they told me he wasn't home yet, so I left my 
name and number. When he hadn't called back, I called again at nine-
thirty and they told me he'd gone to bed early because he wasn't 
feeling well.

I didn't see him around school the next day, a Thursday, but I did 
notice that some of his mimeographed campaign posters were missing. I 
knew he worked after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I knew 
where, so I hitched a ride out to the shopping center to the discount 
store where he was a stock clerk. When I saw his battered old junker 
in the parking lot, I felt better -- whatever was going on, Ty was not 
too sick or hurt to go to work.

I found him in the back of the store, unloading boxes of toasters from 
the back of a truck pulled right up to the loading dock. There were 
two other guys working with him. One of them noticed me and said 
something, and the other turned and muttered something to Ty. The two 
other guys were staring at my tits -- I was wearing a tank top, but 
they were still too big to hide. Ty saw me, took a deep breath and 
told the other guys he was going to take a short break.

I followed him off the loading dock and we went back to stand near the 
trees that lined the truck road behind the store.

"What's going on, Ty? I went to 128 to find you and -- "

"I'm withdrawing from the election."

"What? Why?"

"And we can't be together any more."

"What the hell -- "

"That's all there is to it." He started to walk away, but I grabbed 
his arm and jerked him back toward me.

"Like hell it is. You tell me what's going on, and you tell me now!"

"It doesn't matter -- "

"It does to me!"

So then he took an envelope from his pocket and from the envelope he 
took the photographs and held them out to me. I recognized the top 
two; they'd been missing from George's basement workshop. I didn't 
recognize the others, because I'd never seen them. But I knew when 
they were taken. There I was laying on my back, sucking a huge cock 
with a dripping, open pussy right over my face. 

I was stunned but managed to say, "I don't get it."

"If I run in the election, I'll win. If I win, these photos -- and 
some films, I was told -- start making the rounds. You'll be ruined. 
Your family will be ruined."

"Who -- "

"I don't know. There was a letter with the pictures. No return 
address, no signature. It just said quote if a nigger won the school 
election, his white cunt was going to be the most famous underaged 
piece of ass in the state of Ohio unquote."

"They're bluffing."

He snorted. "I don't think so. And I don't know how they found out 
what we did unless someone -- like you -- told them."

"I didn't tell a soul! And who told all the people in 128 it was my 
fault?"

He handed me the envelope. It was addressed to Chuck. 

I felt my guts go icy and I thought for a minute I was going to be 
sick. Ty was right: They weren't bluffing. And I knew who they were, 
too. And he was right about us not being together again. 

"I'm so sorry, Ty. I'm so -- " I couldn't say anything else, so I just 
shook my head and ran away from him, crying.

I walked all the way home, about six miles, and didn't get there till 
past dark. Mom was pissed off, but by the time I got home, she wasn't 
nearly as pissed off as I was, and when I told her that this wasn't 
the time to start with me, she got the message and turned into 
superMom, wanting to know if I wanted to talk about it. I told her I 
had to work it out for myself.

And that's what I did. I figured it out for myself. Ed Sautter had 
stolen the photos from George's workshop, and he had sent the hate 
mail and blackmail threat. It didn't seem likely that he'd done it 
alone, either. That kind of racist is a coward and can never do 
anything alone. They always have to have a half-dozen or so people 
helping them, usually hiding their faces.

I called Roger the next day and told him what had happened. I asked 
him if Ed couldn't get in trouble with the law for having that stuff 
in his house. He explained about search warrants and said he'd ask a 
buddy on the State Police. When he called me back, he said Sautter 
could make a stink and drag a lot of stuff out in court, if it got to 
court. But, he said, his pal had told him there was someone else who'd 
be interested, and if I wanted, Roger would take care of it.

He wouldn't tell me anything else. He told me I'd have to trust him. I 
finally agreed to let him take care of it. I didn't hear anything else 
for about three days, during which time the Ty-less election came and 
went.

The Toledo Blade story reported that the coroner had ruled it an 
accident. Sautter had apparently been taking drugs and stumbled into 
the pool, striking his head on the edge as he fell. His roommate found 
him floating, in the morning. He hadn't heard Sautter return from his 
business meeting with three men in a black Lincoln. The roommate 
thought Sautter had sold much of his photography equipment to the men, 
because Sautter and two of the men had pretty well cleaned out his 
darkroom. The police said more than a thousand in cash had been found 
in Sautter's pocket, so they gave the story credence. 

The roommate and Sautter's girlfriend were so shaken by the tragedy, 
said the newspaper, that they were going to leave the area and try to 
start their lives over. Their exact destinations were undecided.

Years later, of course, I figured out who Roger had called and why 
they'd been so persuasive. After all, Ed was cutting into their 
territory by making porno films. And he was jeopardizing their whole 
business because citizens tend to get outraged at all porno films when 
something involving minors get into distribution, even willing minors.

At the time, though, the only thing that puzzled me was who had let on 
to what Ty and me had done that long, weeping night. I was mooning 
around the house, all morose and sad because of how good I'd imagined 
we could be together -- a luxury I could indulge because we hadn't 
been together long enough for all the normal hassles and irritations 
to mar the dream -- and I'd sort of fixated on figuring out who had 
spilled the beans. Maybe Ty had told one of his friends and he'd said 
something? That didn't seem like Ty. Or had we been seen? Who?

 
... The cure for bad speech is better speech and more of it.
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
Path: huey.cadvision.com!uunet!in2.uu.net!news.sprintlink.net!news.clark.net!rahul.net!a2i!teamhbbs!friar.dave
From: friar.dave@teamhbbs.com (FRIAR DAVE)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: MARIE 11 of 18
Message-ID: <8B45247.00F801BDEA.uuout@teamhbbs.com>
Date: Sat, 04 Nov 95 09:43:00 -0800
Distribution: world
Organization: Team H BBS *510-236-5114* anime / pagan / adult / fat / GLB
Reply-To: friar.dave@teamhbbs.com (FRIAR DAVE)
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"Some kid," Shana said. "When I grow up, I want to have a bod like 
that `kid'!" Then the sports report came on and Dan made us all shut 
up while he listened to how his damn ol' Mets had lost to the Dodgers. 
After the news came the late show -- Forbidden Planet. Shana had to 
get up at six for her job at the Five & Dime. She gave Dan a peck on 
the cheek and said good-night and admonished Irene and I not to stay 
up too late. Then she went upstairs to bed. I heard her washing up, 
and then I heard the door to her room close and lock. I went to the 
kitchen and got more pop.

I made sure to walk in front of the TV and sit up on the floor at an 
angle. After a few minutes, Irene said, "Marie, you better move. I can 
see right through that gown in the TV light. And so can Dan."

"Oh, don't worry," I said, never taking my eyes off the TV. "He's my 
step-brother and I'm just a kid. He probably doesn't even notice."

"I notice."

"I noticed you noticed," Irene chipped in. I looked this time, when 
Irene started to giggle. Dan was blushing. He had another hard-on.

"Irene!" I said.

"You, too!" She pointed. I looked down. My nipples were hard and 
pointed and clearly so for being silhouetted. "Nice view."

"I don't care who looks," I said. "It doesn't bother Dan."

"Well, actually, it does."

I turned and looked right at him. "Does it really?"

He nodded. "And you know it."

Irene suddenly made a great show of yawning. "Well, I'm going to hit 
the hay. See ya in the morning!" She gave Dan a big wet kiss right on 
the lips, holding his face with her hands and making the kiss longer 
than it should have been, and then she went upstairs, too.

I was still staring at Dan. "Want me to move?"

He nodded. I was starting to think my plan had a chance, after all.

I stood and took my time walking toward him, staying between the TV 
and him. His eyes were on my tits. "That was some good night kiss."

"Yes."

"I can top that." I bent at the waist and watched his eyes follow my 
tits as the nighty drooped and gave him a good view. Then I duplicated 
Irene's action: I took his face in my hands and kissed him on the 
lips. And -- maybe -- added a wrinkle of my own by pressing at his 
lips with my tongue until he finally let it in. By the time I drew my 
lips away, I was dripping wet and wondered if he could smell my 
juices. I kissed him again, and this time took his hands and led them 
to me, till he was cupping my tits.

He started to fondle my breasts -- and suddenly pulled his hands away 
and pushed me gently away.

"Don't," he said. "This is wrong."

"I want -- "

"It's still wrong, to me."

I stood in front of him. "But you want me, I know you do."

He nodded. "A lot. And doubly because -- well, you know."

"Know what?"

He changed the subject abruptly: "That was you watching Dorothy and 
me, wasn't it?"

"You knew?"

He looked at me as if the question was stupid. 

I countered: "Well, I won't leave you all frustrated."

He groaned softly. "Dammit, Marie, don't tempt me like this. I want us 
to be friends."

"And we can't be friends and do that, too?"

"You know we can't."

I looked down at him. His dick was sticking up like a tent pole inside 
his jeans. His breathing was shallow and fast. His lips had been 
sweet, and I kept thinking what it would be like to have him mouthing 
my breasts the way he'd been doing it with Dorothy, and I was terribly 
annoyed, because I knew that when Dan dug in his heels, nothing was 
going to move him.

"Damn you!" I hissed and stalked upstairs. I sat in the bathroom for a 
long time, trying to calm down, then I took a hot bath and masturbated 
like crazy. It didn't help enough.

Finally, sometime around one, I went and crawled onto the mattress in 
the middle of the floor in Irene's room. I slept, frustrated and 
horny. But not soundly.

Which was why I woke when Irene got up. I could almost get back to 
sleep, so I lay there quietly and tried to will sleep. After a while, 
I realized she hadn't come back to bed, and there was no noise in the 
bathroom.

I got up to investigate. All the other doors -- to Shana's room and 
her brother's room and my aunt-and-uncle's room -- were closed on the 
second floor. So I crept quietly down the stairs. The TV was still on, 
the sound very low. The TV was the only source of light in the room. 
It was enough. There were plants on a little opening in the stairwell 
and I peered between the leaves. My tan and dark complexion helped, 
too. Natural-born commando, that was me.

Irene was sitting next to Dan on the floor in front of the couch. She 
had some crackerjacks in one hand. The bowl was on the other side of 
Dan from her. She was looking at his crotch, and he was looking at her 
face. I could just hear what they were saying as Forbidden Planet was 
getting close to the end.

"Why do you keep touching me there, Irene?" Dan said. "You wouldn't 
like it if I was always touching you there."

She shrugged and munched her Crackerjacks. "I like it. Don't you? 
Timmy likes it, all the time. I touch him lots of ways."

"What ways?"

She swallowed the last of her confection. "Promise you won't tell, and 
I'll show you."

He hesitated a long time. I could see his cock throbbing inside his 
jeans. Finally, he nodded. "Promise."

She slowly put her hand over his dick-bulge and then unzipped his 
jeans. She reached inside and fished out his dick. It stood straight 
up. She gripped it tightly in her little hand and jerked a little on 
it.

His breathing got shallower. 

"You can touch me, too, y'know," Irene said, leaning over and staring 
up intently into his face. Her hair was all disheveled and sun-blonde 
and her face was cute -- but very sensual. Her eyes said she knew 
exactly what she was doing. "Please?"

She turned sideways, kneeling spread-legged next to him. She took his 
hand and led it between her legs, under her nighty. I knew when he 
began caressing her, because her eyes half closed, and her mouth 
opened a bit.

She bent and licked the head of his cock, and he groaned softly. She 
kept licking and jerking, and then she stiffened, and I knew he was 
sliding his finger into her little slit. Her skinny young hips began 
hunching up and down. 

She released his cock and unfastened his pants, He lifted his butt as 
she pulled them down his thighs. He kicked them off the rest of the 
way, because her hands had gone back to his dick and his balls. She 
opened her mouth and took the head of his prick inside and I watched 
him again lift his hips and heard him murmur, "Damn, damn, damn..."

She took his other hand and led it to the front of her nightgown. He 
searched for and found her nipples and rubbed them, then moved his 
hand to her head and caressed her face. She opened her mouth and 
spread her lips wide to take more of his thick cock in her mouth. She 
had soft, full lips, but she was small, and her mouth was small for 
her face, and she had it filled with just the head of his cock.

She began bobbing her head up and down on him, still jerking with one 
small hand. She shifted back to get her face lower over him. The girl 
was young, but she definitely knew how to suck cock, and she 
definitely was enjoying herself. Dan was arching toward her.

"I'm gonna -- gonna -- "

"Mmm-HMMM!" It was muffled, but definitely affirmative. She reached 
down with her other hand and began caressing his balls -- of which I 
had a great view -- and then he started to cum.

She sucked and gurgled and swallowed, and he came for what seemed a 
long time. She was utterly intent on sucking and drinking him. I 
couldn't even feel jealous -- just envious. She was jerking with her 
hand harder and faster, and I watched her little cheeks concave and 
bloat and saw her throat work as she swallowed. He came a lot and some 
slipped out around her lips, lubricating her hand on his shaft.

Finally, his spasms became irregular and then slowed and then stopped. 
She sucked his limpening dick in and pushed it partially out of her 
mouth rapidly, like a little kid playing with a piece of spaghetti. He 
sank back to the floor and groaned, deep and relieved.

She let his prick slide out of her mouth, and it flopped between his 
legs. Her lips were all slick and spermy, and so was his cock. 

He pulled her up to him and cuddled her close, but she was having none 
of that. She pulled her nightgown up over her head and jammed one 
enormously swollen nipple into his mouth. He took it greedily, licking 
it and maybe even chewing a little on it.

Irene sighed and pulled his hand back between her legs. Her ass was so 
tiny, and her body was so lean and smooth! It was all glistening with 
perspiration, and she looked slippery and sinuous as an eel -- a sexy 
young eel. He reached back and squeezed her cheeks, then slid his 
fingers back and caressed her little, smooth cunt. Finally, he 
extended Badfinger, and she settled happily onto it and jerked her 
hips up and down. I could see his cock re-erecting. In no time at all, 
it was hard again, solid as a brick and looking just as thick compared 
to her lithe slenderness.

She murmured something to him I couldn't hear. His reply was audible: 
"But I'm afraid of hurting you."

She said something that was obviously reassuring and shifted so she 
was straddling him. 

"First, I want this," he said. His hands came around and cupped -- and 
covered -- her ass. He guided her until she was standing over him, 
with his head resting back against the couch and then he began to eat 
her.

Now I was definitely jealous, because from the way he ate her, I knew 
she was getting it good. He licked and sucked and nibbled and mouthed 
and tongued her. I watched her ass clench and her hips hunch, and I 
watched her thighs shake as she came and came again. I could see her 
juices on his chin. He worked his hands around her farther and slid 
one finger against the back of her cunt, and she shook above him. He 
worked the finger of another hand between those tightly squeezed, 
corded masses of hard little ass, and she pushed back and against it, 
taking it into her teeny butt-hole to the first joint. I saw her tense 
until every muscle in her back was clearly defined, and great beads of 
sweat popped out all over her body, and she came again. 

Finally she couldn't stand, and he lowered her against him. She sobbed 
into his shoulder and shivered again as he caressed her back and 
kissed her forehead. She said something to soft for me to hear.

-- and I heard him say, incredulously, "Never? No one? But you taste 
so sweet, how can anyone resist?"

"The same way you resist Marie." That was clear enough. My eyes 
widened, and there was no one to see them.

He looked troubled for a moment, but then she was sliding down until 
her little cunt was nestled against the throbbing thickness of his 
glans. She eased herself up and reached down in her crotch to spread 
her labia and then she slowly worked her cunt onto the knob.

"Damn that feels good, cousin Dan!"

She worked her way down onto him, impaling herself on my step-
brother's solid dick. It stretched her little cunt a lot, and she 
really seemed to be enjoying it. She was very wet, and when she'd 
taken it all and begun raising herself up again, his emerging cock was 
shining brightly in the light of the television.

She levered herself up and down, faster and faster, groaning and 
sighing as he panted: "You're so tight and hot -- Ahhhh!"

I watched him move one hand out of sight, on her front to nipple-
height. She jammed herself down and shook against him, vibrating those 
narrow, prepubescent hips over him. His balls started to jerk. Then he 
moved his hand lower and twisted his arm and I guessed: He was moving 
his thumb over her clitoris. She shook faster and harder and then held 
herself still against him and quietly shrieked her pleasure. His balls 
pulled up tight and throbbed, and I could see her cunt lips stretch 
and thin around his fat prick as it swelled with each spurt. She 
grabbed his face and kissed him hard and long as he came in her and 
she came with him.

They collapsed together and lay like that for a long time. She pulled 
her little cunt off his cock slowly and then put her nighty back on.

"Promise you won't tell?"

"No one," he vowed.

She giggled. "Can we do it again -- soon?"

"I hope so, Irene. That was terrific." He pulled himself upright and 
slid back into his jeans. "But not tonight."

She giggled again. "Y'know, Marie wants to do that with you."

He nodded as he sat heavily on the couch and an ad on the television 
began touting the great deal at Bender's Buick on Alexis Road. "I'd 
like to do it with her, too, but I can't."

"Why not? You're not blood relations any more than you and I are."

"Because she's special, in a different way. Some day we'll need to be 
able to talk to each other in a special way and this -- " He nodded 
toward her and the place where they'd fucked. "-- would get in the 
way. I'm not sure why, but I don't think it's a good idea."

"Well, if you'd rather do it with me than with someone with a bod like 
hers, that's not a problem for me!" She was positively glowing. She 
gave him a big kiss, and I took that as my cue to go into fake slumber 
mode where they both figured I should be: On the mattress in Irene's 
room.

I had a lot to think about. For one thing, I'd just watched my little 
-- in every sense of the word -- cousin do everything but rape my 
step-brother. And she'd enjoyed it as much as she'd confided she 
enjoyed fucking. And I'd just heard her put in a pitch on my behalf! 
And I'd just heard Dan tell her what he'd never told me: Some of the 
reason why he kept restraining himself and me from getting it on.

I didn't mean to, but I dozed off pretty fast and resented waking in 
the sunlit morning. No matter. I did. Irene never told me of her 
escapade with Dan, and I couldn't very well ask, could I? 

Dan and Dorothy never got together again -- she kept putting him off, 
the fool -- and the Fourth came and went, and then so was he, back to 
his city and his girlfriends there. I was left with memories and 
fantasies and questions. I sort of coasted through the rest of the 
summer, developing just as fast as I before. It seemed like only a few 
days before school began.

School. My freshman year in high school. I remember it vividly -- 
because that was the year the stolen pictures and the shots taken by 
Ed Sautter came back to haunt me and hurt me more than I had been hurt 
since -- well, since the first time.

[Later. I promise.]

CHAPTER 11


I spent most of the rest of the summer getting even with Dana and 
Irene and -- most of all -- Dan...in my mind. I fucked everyone I 
could, and with the figure I had, I could get just about anyone I 
wanted. And I wanted a lot. Just before Labor Day, I hitched a ride 
out to Perrysburg with three Mexicans. I was so dark and swarthy that 
they assumed I was Mexican and were surprised that I didn't understand 
their Spanish. Only one of them spoke English, and he wasn't very good 
with it. None of them was more than 18. I was wearing a bandeau under 
a tee-shirt and a pair of shorts and this goofy straw hat. It was 
really hot -- about 90 degrees -- and there was no breeze. They were 
riding in an old junker of a Rambler that didn't have a good muffler 
in it.

The one who spoke English asked me how old I was. When I told him I 
was 14 -- lying by two years -- and he translated, there was some 
muttering from the others.

"We are unhappy. We believed you to have more years." He seemed 
genuinely sad.

Well, I could understand the mistake. I measured 29-19-26 and would 
have worn a C cup if there'd been such a thing in a bra that size. I 
was taut and smooth, and with my hair long and tousled, I could easily 
pass for older. So I said that was no reason to be sad, and he said, 
Yes, it was, because they had thought I might like to have some fun, 
but I was too young.

Now, I'd always heard stories and bad jokes -- What's a 10-year-old 
Mexican virgin? A girl who can outrun her brothers -- and politely 
tried to explain I'd thought 14 was not too young for a girl to have 
fun, if she was Mexican.

They were unhappy at that. Every one of them had brothers and sisters 
my "age" and younger, and they were very proud that their sibs-- 

[Siblings. Am I going too fast for you?

[Yeah, I know. I'm just feeling kind of bitchy and edgy. Ready?]

Well, they were proud that their little brothers and sisters were pure 
and went to church regularly.

I turned and looked at the two in the back and then again at the one 
in the front and said, I like to have fun, I have been having fun for 
a long time, and would they like have some fun with me?

We want to an old maintenance shanty near the rail yards. They'd 
adopted it and fixed it up as best they could with no money and had 
turned it into a kind of club house. It was clearly bachelor -- 
covered with pinups from Playboy -- but it was neat and clean and they 
were polite and solicitous.

I didn't get to Perrysburg. I stayed there with them for about five 
hours. They were young, they were horny and they were incredibly 
virile. I had each of them three or four times. One of them -- the 
oldest -- wanted to try me in the ass, but as soon as I told him it 
was hurting, he stopped, apologized and withdrew. Oddly, though they 
were fascinated by my nearly hairless pussy, none of them would eat 
me. Which was okay, as it turned out, because they had a good-natured 
contest of seeing who could make me cum the most often just by 
fucking. 

[I forget. No -- wait: I won.]

They took turns, and the only time anyone was at all rough was when 
they touched my tits. Even then, it wasn't that they were mauling me; 
all three worked as day laborers and had very rough and calloused 
hands.

One of the pinups on the wall was Gwen Wong, this Playmate with huge 
tits and long nipples and a very young face. One of the guys said that 
if my eyes were slanted, I could look a lot like her. The other two 
protested that I was prettier. And we fucked some more.

I was sore for three days but never regretted it.

Then school started, my freshman year, and it was inevitable that I'd 
be invited to try out for cheerleader. I had no interest in that, 
though, and my refusal caused some resentment. The only 
extracurriculars -- official extracurriculars, that is -- I wanted 
anything to do with were gymnastics (which wouldn't have me because my 
figure was too pronounced for exhibition in a leotard) and the school 
paper.

The school paper was a joke. We couldn't print anything the school 
didn't like or anything unpleasant. It was more of a pep sheet than 
anything else. We did personality profiles on the administration's 
favorites, the good examples -- never on the interesting students or 
activities. Still, it was fun to have official permission to go up to 
strangers and ask nosy questions. 

I wasn't seeing George anymore, of course, as he'd told me about 
meeting his distant cousin, and they were mad for each other, and that 
was that. We remained friends. But I didn't have a steady and 
satisfying boyfriend, not like George, and I was still trying to work 
the summer's non-events with Dan out of my head. So I was trolling.

The problem was that in such a strictly supervised environment, I had 
to be very careful with my schoolmates. Since the town was already 
starting to split over the Vietnam War protests, the cops were 
enforcing the old curfew laws on kids under 16, so I couldn't just go 
and hang out much, either.

Then the campaigns started for class presidents. I did a couple of 
interviews and heard the usual crap from all the candidates. Even the 
one who was being drafted. He didn't really want the job or the 
nonsense that went with it, but time and again he'd been the one to 
come up with innovative ideas for persistent problems, and twice he'd 
successfully mediated disputes -- once, over an antiwar protest and 
once over race.

But after the interview was over, he said something that really got my 
interest.

"One thing I'd suggest would be giving class credit for volunteer 
work." 

I took out my notebook, but he stopped me. His name was Tyrell 
Hamilton, he was six feet tall and handsome and well-spoken and about 
the shade of Mom's coffee after she added a tablespoon of milk.

"Don't bother," he said. "They'll never let you print it. And they'll 
never go along with it when I suggest it."

I kept the notebook out. I was taking Gregg Shorthand and doing real 
well with it. 

[Yes. And I brought it. See? And these are verbatim notes.]

"Why do you think it's important?"

He laughed softly. "Because -- Look around you. Eight hundred 
students. About three dozen aren't white. Maybe a hundred don't come 
from middle- or upper-class homes. All Catholic. We are so much alike 
here that we have no idea how the rest of Toledo lives."

"You think we need more integration, is that it?" I was a little 
suspicious.

"Not racial integration," he said. "Social integration. The only 
reason there aren't more Afro-Americans here is there aren't more 
Afro-Americans who have the money and the academic qualifications. The 
nuns and the other students here generally don't give a damn about 
that."

"There're exceptions."

"There're always exceptions." We were walking slowly down the first 
floor corridor toward the parking lot. The place was almost empty. 
From far, far away I could hear the echoes of cheerleading practice, 
and someone was dribbling a basketball. "But even there, we're too 
much alike. The real world has poor people and rich people. It has 
Protestants and Jews and atheists. It has Birchers and antiwar 
activists. It has bigots. It has thieves and muggers and bums and 
saints."

"We'll meet them soon enough."

He held the door for me. "That's my point. We get out of school here, 
and about half go to college, and some go into the Army, and some move 
away, but we all meet the real world -- and we don't have the faintest 
idea how to deal with it. We meet people who are fundamentally 
different and it scares us and we get uptight and we don't react well. 
And they don't react well to us."

"So it feeds on itself."

We were in the middle of the nearly empty parking lot. He spun, his 
eyes bright and his face animated. "Yes! And the hatred and suspicion 
and fear takes charge -- and all because we're inexperienced: We have 
no education in people!"

"And you think encouraging supervised volunteer work would help us get 
some experience with different people in different situations."

 
... Censorship is either present or absent; it is never "limited."
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12


---
    
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X-Mailer: PCBoard/UUOUT Version 1.20
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"Within the context of a goal-oriented guidance system and with the 
benefit -- "

" -- of more experienced leaders who can teach us how to evaluate and 
respond -- "

" -- to unfamiliar and sometimes frightening circumstances! Yes!"

"And then, when we go into the real world, we understand a little 
more, because we've already tested ourselves in strange waters -- "

" -- and found that we can swim, because we learned to do it -- "

" -- in a school?" 

I groaned at the pun.

"Sounds fishy?" he asked innocently.

"Holy mackerel."

"No, it's 'Holy mackerel dere, Kingfish.'"

"I guess I just don't have any soul."

"But you're still one smart filly."

I frowned.

"Filly of soul?" he suggested.

I groaned again.

We both started laughing. Tyrell offered to drive me home. I didn't 
think twice. We talked more on the way. We really hit it off, instant 
chemistry, and it had started from the neck up, for a change.

He let me out in front of my house, and I waved good-bye. Inside, 
Jeanne was home, and Mom. Jeanne immediately pulled me into our room.

"Marie, did you -- you know?"

I stared at her. "What?"

"Who was that?"

I told her, and she said, "Well, does he really have a big one? They 
say all of them have huge -- " The look on my face stunned her.

"Jeanne, I interviewed him for the paper and he gave me a ride home."

"You didn't do it with him?"

"No -- though now that you mention it, it's not such a bad idea, I 
mean, he is awful good-looking and..."

"Marie! He's a nigger!"

I was the one who was stunned this time. How had we grown up together 
and been so close -- so very close -- without me knowing this about 
her? 

Because we never encountered anyone who was really different.

"Jeanne, he's a man who's a little darker than me. A smart, polite, 
good-looking man. I think he and I might get to be friends. And don't 
you ever use that word in front of me again."

She seemed a little shocked by that, and I suppose I was, too. 
Socially conscious Marie -- as of about 40 minutes before. But it was 
true. Something had happened to me during the time after the interview 
with Tyrell Hamilton. Something burned inside him, and the flames had 
caught me, too. My main concerns had been getting laid, passing my 
class, getting laid, wondering when they were going to have a sale at 
Penney's, getting laid and getting even with Dana and Irene. Suddenly, 
I was thinking about things that were in the far distant future, 
beyond the great dividing line of Graduation, beyond 1971, which was a 
date lost in tomorrow. Suddenly, I was thinking about things like 
responsibility and understanding and harmony.

And I was spending a lot of time thinking about Tyrell. Well, was it 
true what they say?

[Yes, I saw "Blazing Saddles"; Okay?]

I started spending more and more time with the juniors and seniors 
than I already was -- which was a lot, since I found most of the kids 
who were my age were kind of backward. I started hanging out with the 
crowd Tyrell spent time with. And pretty soon, I was fairly regularly 
sitting next to him at our basketball games -- and thus having him 
drive me home.

After the fifth game -- against Penta; we lost -- I got impatient. 
"Ty, aren't you ever going to ask me out?"

We were at a grade-crossing, waiting for an endless freight to pass, 
down by East Broadway. He waiting about a three-count and turned his 
face toward me. "You have to be kidding."

"Why?"

"You're white, and I'm not, and you're not even 13 yet!"

"So?"

"Are you nuts? I'm almost 18!"

"So? I want you, Ty."

"So? That's statutory rape and considering that I'm not white, the 
police will probably fire five or six warning shots -- into the back 
of my little burr head!"

"Ty! You know me! We're friends, for crying out loud."

"And that's fine -- but that's it, girl." He watched me. "What the 
hell are you doing?"

What I was doing, for the benefit of those who weren't there, was 
pulling my sweater off and unbuttoning my blouse.

"Guess."

"Marie!"

The blouse was off, and I was reaching back and under for the hooks on 
my ill-fitting bra. A moment later and it was gone, too, and not only 
did it feel good to have the constriction off my tits, it made me feel 
somehow wild and free to be sitting there with my boobs bare in his 
car so anyone could look in -- even in the dark -- and see me.

"Tyrell Leroy Hamilton, you will not be my first, and you probably 
won't be my last, and if you don't promise to make love with me