I woke up Tuesday morning, and ate breakfast. I walk to school—it’s close enough—and, since the middle school is right next door, Rosa walks with me. Cassie usually gets dropped off by her Mom. Since Tanya’s there, too, Rosa has a standing invitation to go with them—I probably could, too, if I asked, but we only live a half mile from school, and I like the walk. In bad weather, Mom’ll drive us—but, on a nice day, walking’s cool.

"Hey, Frankie, explain this program thing to me," Rosa asked as we walked.

"I thought you knew about it," I said to her.

"I thought I did, too, but I guess I didn’t know some of the details. You have to let people touch you? And you have to take your gym shower in the girl’s locker room?"

"Yeah."

"I don’t know if I’d want to do that. Just going nude is scary enough," she said.

"The only reason going nude is scary to me is that I’m not all that muscular or anything," I laughed. "I’d rather keep my scrawny body hidden." She giggled at that. "Outside of that, though, I don’t mind it. It’s makes you feel kind of free. You go to school with Amber Woodard, right?"

"Yeah, I know who Amber is. And I know she’s Lily’s little sister."

"Amber goes nude all the time. She was at one of our ball games nude last week."

"HUH?" Rosa was dumbfounded. I told her what Lily had told me, about the school carnival, and how Amber found she enjoyed being nude.

"I don’t believe it," Rosa said. "I thought maybe I’d be more comfortable with it when I got older."

"You might," I agreed. "Amber’s pretty gutsy."

"Well, with Lily for a sister, she’d have to be," Rosa giggled. "All the girls in sixth grade think that Lily’s the greatest. Imagine, she’s a girl, and she’s the best pitcher on the team!"

"Yadda yadda yadda," I teased. "And the second best pitcher on the team—who only happens to be your brother—is overwhelmed by your support."

"Oh, Frankie, you know you’re my favorite player. "

"Uh-huh," I grinned.

"Are you jealous of her?" Rosa asked.

"A little, I’ll admit it. I tell her that all the time. But only a little. I like Lily too much to really be jealous. Look, I’m good. I had a good year last year, and so far I’m doing great this year. Lily, however, is special."

"Yeah," Rosa agreed. "I’ve got a question for you."

"Shoot. Is this about ‘Madre de Dios’?"

She giggled. "No. Look, was Tanya right?"

"What, about me liking Cassie as more than friends?" Rosa nodded. "No. Been there, done that, don’t ever want to do it again."

"What do you mean?"

"A couple of times, I’ve taken female friends and tried to make it into something more. It doesn’t work. It just doesn’t work. Rosa, I’m everybody’s buddy. Girls want to be my pal, not my girlfriend. I’ve been friends with Cassie for a long time. It would never work."

"I think any girl would be lucky to have you as a boyfriend," Rosa said.

"That’s a sweet thing to say," I smiled at her. "But, unfortunately, that’s not the way it works. And I don’t think that it would work most especially with Cassie. Look, I know who she’s gone out with in the past. She’s attracted to good-looking musclehead assholes. She’s not attracted to scrawny Mexican pitchers."

"But, if they’re assholes, why would she like them?" Rosa asked.

"That’s a question I’ve often asked myself," I grinned. "You should probably be telling me that—you’re the female. You want me to explain the female mind?" She giggled. "Seriously, though, I do understand part of it. There’s an element of danger, of excitement, in it. I’m way, way, way too safe for a lot of girls. I’m not exciting. I’m Mister Dependable. This is why Cassie asked me to partner her through The Program. Because I’m safe. And don’t ever underestimate the looks thing. That’s a well-kept secret—that girls are just as shallow as guys when it comes to looks. And I’m not good-looking."

"Frankie, that’s nonsense," Rosa said. "You underestimate yourself. Tanya thinks you’re cute as all get-out, she tells me all the time. You have a good face. I’m your sister, and even I see that. As for the other part, maybe you should be more exciting, or something," she giggled.

"I am what I am," I told her. She smiled, and then we reached the middle school. She peeled into the campus with a wave, and I continued down the street to the high school.

Cass was right. 12-year-old girls are hopeless romantics, Rosa included.

Anyhow, Cass and I met in front of the school building.

"I hear you blew Missy and Laura away yesterday at lunch," she greeted me with.

"Oh, you heard about that."

"Yeah, Vicki called me and told me. Vicki loved it, by the way. She thinks those two are giving me a bad time."

"You’re not mad?" I asked.

"Should I be?"

"Well, I blasted your two best friends. I think I might have made your life a bit more difficult."

"Honestly?" she said. "I don’t care. And I was touched, actually. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get mad—and you got mad on behalf of me. Thanks."

"You’re welcome," I said with a smile. "Ready to go strip for the crowd?"

"Sure," she said. We approached the designated entrance. The crowd was huge.

"Look at all these people," I said.

"Yeah. People who heard rumors about my scars and want to see the whole horrible truth for themselves, no doubt."

"Or people who just want to see a gorgeous babe," I grinned. She grinned back. "Or a skinny pitcher, one of the two."

"Frankie Gutierrez, you’re a doll." We walked up the steps, and did the stripping thing. Unfortunately, I think she was right. The gasps and murmurs after she took her shirt off tended to indicate that. She dealt with it all right, though.

I didn’t see her again until after second period. Our classes are close, so I met up with her to walk her to history.

"You know what? This sucks," she said.

"More problems?"

"It’s just that The Program isn’t for me what it is for other people. I thought I’d have some fun."

"What do you mean?"

"You’ve had your dick grabbed three times in the ten seconds we’ve been walking together. You see anyone reaching for me? The scars are scaring them off. I think I’ve been grabbed twice all morning. You know I’m no prude. It’s kind of disappointing."

"You want to be fondled?" I teased.

"I wouldn’t say no," she grinned back.

That’s when I surprised myself. I must’ve had Rosa’s words about being more exciting echoing in my head. I didn’t grab random girls in The Program, much less one of my best friends. But I found myself grabbing her arm, and pulling her so she was against the wall.

And reaching my hand down.

You want to talk about stunned? When I said I wanted to be fondled, I wasn’t talking about him! Not that I was opposed to it, mind you, I just never thought he’d do it. We were friends, right? Pals. Buddies.

Well, he did it. Backed me against the wall and started running his finger up and down my pussy. Which became sopping wet in a hurry. He was good at this!

"Jeez, Frankie," I gasped. "I knew you had strong fingers from pitching—but I didn’t know they were this delicate."

"I throw the knuckleball," he grinned. "It’s a pitch that takes a lot of touch." Oh, man, did he have touch! My oh my. He worked those magic fingers up to my clit, and I was a goner. Then he took his other hand and slipped a finger in my pussy. Hello, nirvana! Boy, was that quick!

"Oh, man, WOW!" I blurted out as I came down.

"I hate to burst your bubble," he grinned, "but we’re going to be late for class."

"Who cares?" I gasped.

"Come on," he grinned.

"You expect me to walk?" I said. He just laughed, and wrapped his arm around mine, steering me down the hall. "My goodness, I’m leaving a trail," I giggled.

"Now don’t say you haven’t gotten fondled."

"Yeah, and by the last person I ever expected it from. You surprised me."

"It was an impulse," he grinned.

"You should have more of those," I grinned back. "So, do all the girls in school know about your magic fingers?"

"Nope," he said.

"Good. It’ll be our little secret," I laughed. "You look a little, well, strained there," I said, looking down at his very erect dick.

"Well, you know. Stimulus. I got relief last period, though, so I should be OK."

"You did? I’ve been afraid to ask for it."

"I got grabbed a lot—I was really feeling it," he said. "Hey, most people around here are used to The Program, so I didn’t have any problems with it."

"Well, I won’t need any now, I’ll tell you that! Damn, Frankie, you are good. Thanks." I gave him a little kiss on the cheek.

"You’re welcome." We walked into class and grabbed seats together. Missy and Laura were in this class, as was Paul. I didn’t care. I was still grinning.

"Hey, look, Deformed Girl is here!" Missy shouted.

"Hey, Cassie, I need directions to Newburgh," Laura added. "Can I plot out a route on your stomach?"

"That’s not Newburgh," I replied, "that’s Brazil. Ed Bauer said so." Most of the rest of the class laughed at that. Laura just looked constipated.

"You’re better with this," Frankie said to me.

"Just post-orgasmic bliss," I giggled. "I’ll be mortified again in a few minutes."

"Hmmm. Maybe I’ll just have to keep you in post-orgasmic bliss."

"MmmmMMMMmmmm!" I said. Frankie just laughed.

The teacher started up then, so the conversation ended. But I thought about what had happened all through class—not paying much attention to history, I admit. Look, I’m fairly orgasmic to begin with. I love orgasms, I freely admit it. Even when between boyfriends, I play with myself regularly.

But orgasms from someone else are usually better. Even so, this one had been particularly good. I’m sitting there in history and I felt like a cat all curled up on a windowsill. But why? Was it him? Was it Frankie? Well, you know, part of it was. He was really good at it. Who knew? My own fingers didn’t seem to know my pussy that well.

But that wasn’t all of it. A lot of it was that I wasn’t hiding, wasn’t apprehensive. My scars were in full view. Frankie knew they were there. He didn’t mind that they were there. He still fingered me. I was able to just relax and let it happen.

And, OK, I felt comfortable with Frankie. Always have. After that first initial surprise, I felt completely comfortable with what he was doing. That didn’t hurt.

Who would’ve thunk it? I’d been fucked by guys I was, at least at the time, in love with. Who would’ve ever figured I’d have an orgasm like that just being fingered by a pal?

My meditations continued until the bell, and Frankie and I left the class, headed for art.

"Damn. Too bad art is at the other end of the building. We have no time," I said impishly.

"Jesus, Cassie, are you insatiable?" Frankie laughed.

"Well, since we’ve just been friends all these years, you wouldn’t know—but, yeah, I kinda am," I giggled.

"Wow. The things you learn from someone when they’re naked," he laughed.

"Tell me about it. You should have those hands registered, or something. Insure them for a million bucks. My goodness."

He cracked up. "Jeez, and all that time I was doing finger exercises and touch-sensitivity exercises, I thought I was just learning the knuckleball."

"Fuck the knuckleball," I laughed. He chuckled, and I happened to look behind me. My two erstwhile best friends were right behind us and had heard every word. You know what? To hell with it. "You just passed from the knuckleball hall of fame to the finger-fucking hall of fame." Did you hear that, girls? Hee hee hee.

"I think I’ll take that one," he grinned. We got to class, and he went up on the podium. It was his day to pose. Which means, I had to draw.

"Welcome. Yes, Frankie, it’s your turn. I even brought your favorite prop." Frankie laughed as Mrs. Taylor handed him a baseball bat. "We’ll do this one first." She arranged him in a standard batting stance. His body was facing the class, his head pointed to the right of the class—as if the pitcher’s mound was out there. It was the kind of view you’d get from the first-base on-deck circle. (I knew a little baseball!) Mrs. Taylor had him get in position as if he was waiting for the pitch. "Just look out there like you’re waiting for one of Lily Woodard’s fastballs," she said.

Without getting out of his stance, Frankie started creeping backwards. The whole class broke up at that one. "Hey, Lily’s a teammate. I don’t have to hit against her. Thank GOD," he said, making us all laugh louder. Even Mrs. Taylor, then she had him get back in the stance.

I drew—which I had to concentrate at, as I wasn’t that good—but I looked as I drew. I’d seen Frankie play baseball before, but not where I was concentrating on it like this—and not while he was nude. Look, Frankie wasn’t a big guy. The ‘scrawny’ stuff was a joke as far as I was concerned—he wasn’t—but he wasn’t a massive specimen. He was short, and fairly thin—but he was trim and athletic. His muscles didn’t bulge, but they were there, sinewy and flexible. He held the bat above his head, and I saw them. His legs, spread slightly in his batting stance, were fairly thin, but firm and strong. And when he stood there, glaring at an imaginary pitcher, bat held high above his head—he really was transformed. He looked ten feet tall.

Jesus. I was having these thoughts? About Frankie? Lord. This was one hell of a post-orgasmic bliss!

I did the best I could with the drawing, then Mrs. Taylor re-posed him. She had him lie on the couch as I did yesterday. He had his head on the far left armrest, looking upwards. His left leg was flat on the couch, his right one bent behind it. His left arm was hidden behind his body, his right one hanging off the couch and touching the floor.

And he had an erection. It wasn’t as noticeable in the batting stance pose, but here? It was pointing to the sky.

"Is that OK? Can you hold that?" Mrs. Taylor asked.

"Well, I don’t know where the hard-on came from, so there’s no guarantee it won’t go away, but I can hold the rest of it," he laughed.

I couldn’t help it. I blurted out, "Just keep thinking of what you did to me two periods ago." He looked at me, grinned—and got harder!

Poor Frankie. I’m a menace to society, I really am. "What was that about?" Amanda, sitting next to me, leaned over and asked.

"I was complaining about nobody feeling me up. So he did. Very well, I might add," I admitted. Amanda just grinned at me.

Anyhow, now I had to try to draw him like this. OK, I admit it. I drew his dick first.

I wasn’t kidding in Mr. Tilling’s office. As I said, I didn’t think he was scrawny anywhere, but he most certainly wasn’t scrawny there. So I drew his dick, paying very close attention to every vein and bulge, and then moved on to the rest of him.

That’s when it hit me. I wanted it. My God, I was having sexual thoughts. About Frankie! My buddy, my pal! I was having sexual thoughts about Frankie Gutierrez. Hey, I could pass off what he did to me as just a pal helping a pal out. But I couldn’t pass off this—looking at him naked and getting little quivers. I couldn’t pass that off. I wanted him, dammit.

Jesus, it had been too long. I hadn’t been fucked in a couple months. I’m not really insatiable, but, as I said, there wasn’t anything I liked better than a good orgasm. And, as I said, I felt safe around Frankie, especially now that he knew about the scars and they didn’t disgust him.

That’s it. That’s all it is, I told myself. It’s just that it’s been too long, and I’m horny. I mean, I can’t have sex with Frankie! Look, I didn’t have many male friends, and Frankie was the best of them. I treasured that. And I’m not the type of person that can take a friend to bed and leave it at that. Some people can, like Maggie Benson, but I’m not built that way. I’ve had a one-night stand or two—I probably would have had more if I weren’t desperately trying to keep the scars covered—so I’m not opposed to them. But with a friend? I don’t think I could pull that off.

Draw, Cassie, draw. Get your mind off of it. Draw something safe, like his hand. Oh, yeah, right, what am I thinking? I tried to draw his hand and started quivering worse. I drew his feet instead. Good thing I don’t have a foot fetish.

I finally finished. I wasn’t that good to begin with—and I wasn’t concentrating all too well!

What a morning, huh?

What got into me when I did Cassie? I don’t know. I really don’t. It really was just an impulse. But I’m glad I did it, because it was fun to watch. Boy, is she a firecracker! I never knew that about her, I can guarantee you. I just figure I’d give her a quick feel—I didn’t think I had time to make her cum. But it didn’t take much time at all.

And then she kept joking about it for two periods!

After I did the two poses, Mrs. Taylor let me walk around the room, stretch, and look at the drawings, as she did with Cass yesterday. I saw the two vultures, Missy and Laura, and had to laugh. Laura drew me as Quasimodo or something. Missy drew me as a stick-figure holding an enormous baseball bat. If this was the best they could come up with, I wasn’t worried.

Amanda can draw pretty well. I liked the way hers came out, and told her so. Natalie’s were magnificent, of course. And then I walked over to Cassie’s—and my jaw dropped. Cassie’s not the greatest artist in the world—neither am I, so that’s not criticism—but she’s good enough for me to see where she was going with it.

The batting stance one, she made me look like Mark McGwire—six-five with bulging muscles. And the prone one? She seemed to take a lot of time and care drawing my dick!

Uh-oh. What was going on in this girl’s mind?

"Those are really good," was all I said. She smiled, and I headed back to the front for another pose. A sitting one this time. Sitting on the couch, arms spread out along the top of the couch, looking at the class and grinning. I held the pose, thinking.

Did I make a mistake getting Cassie off?

I didn’t know what she was thinking, and didn’t know how to ask her. But the drawings were worrisome. It almost looked like, well, she was interested in me. In that way. And that could never happen. We were too good friends for that. And if Cass was as insatiable as she said she was—well, she was horny. Some guys can take a friend to bed and still be friends afterwards. I can’t. I’ve tried it. It was a disaster. Because I wanted more than just a quick fuck—and, afterwards, she didn’t.

Rosa’s not the only incurable romantic in the family, I guess.

The Program is a dangerous thing, I decided. I had been friends with Cass for over six years. Had I ever thought about her romantically? No. Was that because I truly wasn’t interested, or I was forcing myself not to be interested for the sake of our friendship? I don’t know. Had I ever thought of her sexually? Not really. Was I now?

Hell, yes.

Like I said, The Program is a dangerous thing.

I had gotten burned too many times trying to make a friendship into something more—but that was always because I was turned down. Or, like that one I talked about, where the girl just wanted friendship with a little sex on the side. I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

Luckily, after art, Cassie seemed back to normal. We walked to lunch, chatting about normal things. She didn’t make any jokes about me fingering her, and she wasn’t looking at me funny. We ate lunch with all my pals. She was fine. I breathed a sigh of relief.

We walked to our next classes—different, but near each other—and I noticed she was getting fondled more. I was glad.

The rest of the day was fine. I saw her in last period, she was fine. I went to baseball practice, she went to band practice. It was just post-orgasmic bliss, like she said.

I ate, did my homework, and went to bed.

I was in turmoil the whole afternoon, I admit it. Oh, I hid it from him. I saw the look on his face when he saw my drawings—and what I saw was fear. He knew what was in my head when I drew him—and it scared him.

Hell, it scared me.

He’s your friend, Cassie. Friend, friend, friend. That’s what I kept telling myself. After a while, it almost worked.

The good thing was that it seemed like people were getting more used to the scars. I got fondled a lot more in the hallways that afternoon. I even got fingered to an orgasm in the gym showers, by a guy I didn’t even know.

He wasn’t as good as Frankie, though.

Ah, shit. I just had to stop thinking about this. I just had to. It wasn’t ever going to happen. It wouldn’t be fair to Frankie or me if we risked our friendship on a quick fuck. No matter how much I wanted it. And, let’s not forget, I had no idea whether or not he would want it.

I got through the rest of the afternoon, and band practice. Went home, ate, did my homework. OK, I confess—I was a little distracted doing my homework.

I played with myself before I went to sleep. I thought about Frankie while I was doing it.

Oh, hell.

--End of part Two—