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Subject: {ASSM} The Innocent Fugitives Ch08 {Varkel} (MF mg oral+)
Date: Mon, 12 Feb 2001 22:10:06 -0500
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The Innocent Fugitives
a Novel by Varkel
Copyright (C) 2001, Varkel



Chapter 8:  Refuge



"Did Bobbie ever get back with the paper?" Paul asked, returning 
from the bathroom.

"What do you think I'm reading?" Jenny asked from the rickety 
writing table.

He came around the bed and stood behind her.  "Sorry, I couldn't 
see."  His hands slipped under her arms and cupped her modest 
breasts.  "No bra," he observed.

"Don't you think we could afford air-conditioning?" she asked 
distractedly.

"Yeah.  And all the air-conditioned places want a credit card to 
charge against."

"You don't _know_ that."

"I know it of every one I tried."  He had found the armholes in 
her sleeveless blouse.  In a moment his hands cupped the soft 
flesh, feeling the nipples lump up against his palms.  "You have 
to admit, this place does have a couple of advantages."

"For you, I guess," she said absently, eyes again scanning the 
paper.

He looked over her shoulder.  "Who cares about property taxes in 
Frankfort?  Couldn't Bobbie find an Ohio paper?"

"This was all they had.  But here's an Ohio article that will 
interest you."

"Where?"

"I'm just starting it."

"Read it aloud."

"It's datelined Pellisville.  Do you know such a place?"

"A little town in the middle of the state.  Who cares about 
Pellisville?"

"Listen.  'The mutilated bodies of Todd and Sandra Kettering, 
motorcyclists from Elk Running, Oregon, were found in the woods 
near here yesterday.  At first police were persuaded that they had 
fallen into the clutches of a sex maniac, because of the nature of 
their wounds, until drug supplies and money were found in their 
wrecked machines.

"'Checking with the national office of the FBI revealed that the 
Ketterings were known drug smugglers, subjects of an ongoing 
federal investigation, for whom arrest warrants had been issued 
last week.  It is now presumed that gangsters made a horrific 
example of them because of some mistake of theirs known only to 
the drug lords.

"'Anyone with information about their deaths is asked to contact 
the FBI at the following number.'

"Paul, Todd and Sandra are dead."

He almost tore the paper out her hands.  After a moment he lowered 
it slowly again to the table.  "Wonder if they made it to 
Youngstown?"

Jenny looked up at him narrowly.  "Does this make sense, Paul?"

He shrugged.  "They must have called ahead and arranged a meet.  
But what happened to your car?"

"I'll bet that's it," Jenny mused.  "They ran into a roadblock 
that was looking for us."

He chuckled.  "Poetic justice, if true."

She shook her head.  "They hadn't killed anybody."

"I guess that's right," he admitted.

"In a way I'll miss them," she added.

"Huh!  I know what you'll miss!"

"Now, Paul!  His thing was too big."

"Oh, _now_ it was too big!"

"I'll show you what I mean if you'll pull your pants down and sit 
on the table."

He grinned in anticipation.  "Want to try it again?"

"It's almost lunch time.  At least I can't make the mistake I made 
the other night."

"I hope not.  The car still stinks, even though it is certainly 
well ventilated!"

By this time he was sitting wholly unbreeched upon the edge of the 
table, dangling member already rising.  She leaned forward and 
engulfed its entirety.  Her fingers lightly enclosed his 
testicles.

"Ah, god, I love that!" he declared, head thrown back, mouth 
sagging in rapture.  "But if it starts gagging you again, just 
give it up this time, please?"

He felt himself expand into the back of her throat.  Her chest 
heaved once, but her arms went around his hips to prevent a 
withdrawal.  Nostrils flaring, she began to bob her head slightly, 
exposing then concealing no more than the first inch of shaft.  
Soon he felt the almost painful tightness of his largest possible 
erection.

"My god, Jenny!  I think you've done it at last!  You marvelous, 
wonderful, girl you!  You super little cocksucker! ...  Ah! But 
what will you do if I come now?"

He was not to find out immediately.  With a bang the screen door 
slammed open and Bobbie charged exuberantly into the room.  She 
stopped just inside the door, eyes growing large.  "Hey, Jenny, 
you've got _all_ of it!"

Jenny never faltered.  Paul said dryly, "Shut the screen door, 
Bobbie, before the flies --"  He broke off as another figure 
entered the room behind the girl.

Jenny had moved her head around without surrendering any part of 
her newly conquered territory, in order to enjoy Bobbie's 
reaction.  Now her eyes grew large as saucers and she leapt back 
so hard she turned over the chair on whose edge she had perched.  
Her bare feet flew into the air as backwards she went to the 
floor, striking her head a solid thump on the ragged carpet.  She 
continued on over, completing a somersault, to finish sitting in 
shorts and blouse with her back against the wall, a dazed 
expression on her face.  Her hand went to her head.

Paul looked around, but his britches were on the back of the chair 
over which Jenny had passed, now slammed to the floor.  He could 
only gape at the newcomer, then belatedly and inadequately try to 
cover his very turgid member with his hands.

"Are your folks circus performers, too?"  This was the proprietor, 
the woman who had rented them the room.  She was fiftyish, marked 
with crows feet at the eyes and wrinkles at the mouth, all poorly 
covered by thick makeup now damaged by perspiration, including 
spotty lipstick that had been heavy before breakfast but now was 
mostly worn away.  She had a short, pepper-and-salt hairdo and 
wore a short sleeved shirt plus of all things, a knee-length skirt 
with an apron, above dirty white sneakers.  She wore no stockings 
but had not recently shaven her legs.

Now, before anyone could answer her question, her eyes widened in 
a look of pleased surprise.  "My god, sir, that is a _lovely_ 
dick!"

Paul's mouth fell open.  "Wh-what?"

"I only got a glimpse, of course, but it ...  Is it asking too 
much for you to show it to me for just a moment?"

"I, uh ..."  Paul looked at Jenny, still dizzily shaking her head.  
He released himself and opened his palms as if to say, what else 
can I do?

"Ah!  Thank you so much!"  In a few swift strides the woman 
rounded the bed and stood before him.  Her hands reached toward 
her objective tentatively.  Her eyes were fixed on it.  "It's so 
_straight_!  And being erect, the foreskin barely rides, pouting, 
on the corona.  So cute!  And the colors!  Sir, may I ...  May I, 
please, just for a moment ..."

Paul stared at her wide-eyed, waiting for her to finish the 
sentence, but she sank suddenly to her knees.  Her large mouth 
opened wide, displaying a bright and healthy set of teeth, and her 
face darted forward, completely enclosing him, crushing her 
substantial nose against his pubic pad.

"Ulp!" he managed as her lips tightened on the very base.

"Mmm-mm!"  She produced a pretty contralto hum through her nose.  
It was the sound appropriate to a mouthful of the most delicious 
fillet mignon.  That she had readily duplicated Jenny's hard-won 
accomplishment was not lost on him.  He looked up guiltily toward 
the latter.

Jenny was getting to her feet.  She took a step to the side, 
holding the back of her head with one hand, glaring at the 
spectacle.  The older woman's head was duplicating her own 
performance precisely.

"What the hell is going on?" Jenny asked aggrievedly.

Bobbie, now bent close from the other side, announced brightly, 
"This is Miss Hannah.  She owns this place."

"What's she doing in here?" demanded Jenny.

The child looked up in wonder.  "Sucking Paul, it looks like.  She 
can do it as good as you can.  Oh!  You mean --"  Bobbie 
straightened up.  "She showed me some pictures.  She's got 
pictures of you and Paul.  Big ones.  On posters.  You in a 
nurse's uniform and Paul --"  She giggled.  "Paul looks like he 
tasted something bad, like he does when he first wakes up in the 
morning.  She wanted to talk to you.  So I brought her home with 
me."  The girl chuckled.  "Only now she can't."

Jenny clenched her fists.  "Pictures?" she murmured weakly.

"Yeah.  They say you're wanted for questioning.  I couldn't tell 
who it was that wanted to ask the questions."

"Good god!" cried Paul.

Jenny spared him a glance.  "Then we can't stay --  What's the 
matter?"

"I'm c-coming.  Oh, god!"

Bobbie immediately bent down again.  "Oh, wow!  Where can it go?"

Jenny drew nearer, too.  She said in awe, "Even _that_ cock has to 
be under her ears!"

The older woman's throat worked.  "Mmm-mm!" she hummed again, 
rolling her eyes, though it was obvious to anyone that she could 
see nothing beyond Paul's pubic hair.  One hand was beneath her 
chin, cupping the scrotum, the other had disappeared under her 
skirt.  Bobbie skipped around behind the kneeling woman, stooped 
and raised the back of the garment.  She grinned up at Jenny.  "No 
panties."

"Ah, god!" Paul exclaimed, shuddering.  The woman's cheeks had 
ballooned out and she had partially withdrawn, leaving two inches 
of glistening wet shaft.

"Dammit!" muttered Jenny, lips twisting in anger.  She bent and 
grabbed the woman's arm.  "Who the hell do you --"

"Hold it, honey!"  Paul clutched her wrist, pulling her back as 
the older woman finally released him.  One glittering string 
momentarily connected tip of organ to mouth.  "Let's find out 
about those posters."

Swallowing again and licking her lips, the woman stood up.  She 
wiped overflow off her chin with one hand and said to Jenny, "The 
state of Ohio wants you two _bad_.  They want to ask you about the 
murder of your spouses."

Jenny's anger visibly evaporated.  "We didn't do it," she declared 
weakly.

"I don't think you did, either.  Bobbie says you're not that kind.  
I trust a kid like Bobbie.  She's seen mean adults."  The woman 
sighed.  "I'm sorry I sucked off your man without asking you.  But 
I couldn't help myself.  I've only seen two other dicks as perfect 
as that one.  You're a very lucky woman."

Jenny frowned.  "What's so perfect about it?"

"Well, of course, it depends on the woman, too.  But feel of this 
ridge here at the back of the corona.  Give me your finger.  No, 
hold it underneath, too.  That's right.  Do you notice how stiff 
that flesh is on top?  It's thicker and stiffer than almost any 
other dick."

"So what?"

"It's a double bumper, that's what!  It'll hit your womb going in 
and coming out -- unless you're one of those poor gals whose womb 
is right in the bottom of her cunny."

"No," mused Jenny introspectively.  "I know what you mean.  I've 
felt that."  She looked appealingly at Paul.  "But not with Todd, 
honey; not with Todd!"

"Your other boyfriend?  Well, it's pretty rare.  I tell you, I've 
only seen two others, and believe me, I've seen a lot of dicks!"

Bobbie chimed in.  "I've felt it, too!  It really spins me!"

"Spins?" inquired Paul.

"You know!" she retorted dreamily.

"Ha!" snorted the older woman, staring from Bobbie to Paul.  But 
she smiled.

"That's all well and good," remarked Jenny in a suddenly business-
like voice, "but what are you planning to do about those post--  
What's your name, anyway?"

"Excuse me."  The woman smiled.  "I got carried away again.  A 
pretty dick just --"  She cleared her throat.  "I'm Hannah Agnew.  
My husband left me this place when he passed away.  He had one of 
those other two perfect dicks."

Jenny said, "This is my, ah, companion, Paul, and I'm Jenny."  She 
added dryly, "You've met Bobbie rather well, I gather."

"A delightful child," the woman declared.  "I'm very pleased to 
meet you both."  But her smile favored Paul.

"Ah, yes," he stammered.  "Pleased to meet you, too."

Jenny corrected him.  "He is _very_ pleased to meet you!  He and I 
would both like to know how you avoided getting strangled."

The woman grinned smugly.  "It's a trick, the way you set your 
throat, sort of in the middle of a swallow.  That lets the jism 
just flow on back.  Helps to think of it as maple syrup.  And of 
course you have to hold your breath."

"How ever did you learn it?" Jenny asked in wonder.

"I can teach you.  So as not to wear out our perfect dick, you can 
practice with a banana.  Or I can get you some others not so 
perfect.  As to how I learned, a sword-swallower from the carny 
gave me the original tip, but I had all the practice anyone could 
need.  I worked in the Deep Blue Grass Hotel for twenty years."  
She looked from man to woman.  "Oh, you never heard of the Deep 
Blue Grass?"  She sighed.  "How fast the world forgets!"

Jenny looked puzzled.  "You worked in a hotel, you say?  How did 
that --  What did you do there?"

Again the woman smiled smugly.  "My tradename was Suzy Deeplips."

Paul suggested, "You were a call girl?"

"The best.  I knocked down $60 a trick when every other girl was 
getting $40.  They came from all over the state for my specialty."

"Good heavens!" muttered Jenny.

Paul smiled crookedly.  "Congratulations!  But if you don't mind, 
what _do_ you plan to do about those posters?"

"Nothing," said the woman, smiling brightly.  "Use them as dust 
pans, maybe.  You came to the right place, whether you know it or 
not.  You're perfectly safe here with me."


* * *


"Go get the paper!  Go get the paper!"

With derision Bobbie repeated the command again as she strolled 
beside the fence.  When Jenny strangled and puked on Paul's jism, 
Bobbie had been sure _she_ could do it right, even if her throat 
was a little smaller.  She'd never yet seen anything an old lady 
like Hannah could do that she couldn't.

Well, of course Paul couldn't make jism again right away.  Men 
were funny that way.  None of them could, not even Billy, though 
he could do it again sooner than most.  She knew all about that.  
All she wanted was to feel Paul in the back of her throat and see 
what Jenny was making such a fuss about.  She had already 
practiced with a banana, like Hannah said, and yeah, it gagged her 
at first, but she was determined.  Soon she could push it down 
past the gagging place and keep it there so long as she could hold 
her breath.

"Go get the paper!"  They had both said it.  All right, she would 
get the paper.  She smiled slightly.  Tonight, when Jenny went to 
help Hannah serve supper in the cafe, she would try Paul when he 
was alone.  By that time he would make jism again, she was sure.

The fence was taller than Bobbie's head and made of thick 
pressure-treated timber.  Tree limbs rode over the top of it, 
shading the alley behind the sprawling motel.  Several feet ahead 
of her an oddity in its surface attracted her attention.  
Something was moving about waist high above the ground.  A bug?  
If so a very large one!

As she drew near, eyes widening with interest, she saw a moderate 
knothole in a board with yellow ... something yellow pushed 
through it an inch or two from the other side.  As she watched it 
extruded a bit further.  She smelled banana.  Banana out here?  
She bent down to sniff the odd material.  Banana peel!

She listened intently.  A bird was chirping above her and the 
leaves were rustling in the slight breeze.  Traffic hissed on the 
distant street.  She heard faint voices, hardly more than 
whispers, through the thick boards.

"Go ahead.  It's hard enough."

"But what if it gets stuck?"

"Don't be silly!  How the hell's it gonna get stuck?"

Men?  No.  The voices had neither the timber nor assurance of men.  
These were boys, like the teenage schoolboys with their reversed 
ball caps at whom she had stuck out her tongue yesterday.

She heard a soft thump against the fence.  Then to her surprise 
something blue -- purplish in fact -- appeared in the midst of the 
crumpled banana peel.  It thrust on through, spreading the wet 
fibers, until it stood barely clear of them.  Suddenly she 
recognized it.  Eyes and mouth flew open in astonishment just as 
the purplish thing was withdrawn, but she knew: this was the head 
of a cock!

It appeared again, was withdrawn again.  Then again and again.

"How's it feel, Jimmy?"

"God, I can't believe it.  You're right, lot's better than a 
fist!"

"Well, hurry up, will you."

"Sure, Mark.  I'm hurrying.  Whew!  It's almost ready."

The purple head had swollen distinctly larger.  Automatically 
Bobbie bent down and when next it appeared, sucked it into her 
mouth.  It froze.  She heard a sharply indrawn breath from the 
other side.

"You coming?"

"Ah, ah ..."

Her tongue laved all over the smooth, banana-flavored surface.  
She marveled at its slick firmness, remarkably similar to the 
inside-out bubbles she still liked to suck in burst balloons.

"Well, _are_ you?"

She knew what men liked.  Uncle Kenny had beat that into her head 
often enough.  She suckled firmly while her tongue fluttered upon 
the funny string under the eye.  A first dribble wet the back of 
her tongue.

"Aaaah!"

"Well, bang it!  Don't just stand there."

A strong spurt filled her throat.  She ceased to suck, though she 
closed her lips firmly around the bit of shaft behind the head and 
ballooned her checks, content only with gentle tongue touches to 
the tip:  Uncle Kenny's specification.  She was rewarded with more 
strong squirts and found herself swallowing involuntarily.  Oh, 
wow, this one was full!

Suddenly the spurting meat was withdrawn.  Bobbie blinked, backing 
away herself.

"What were you trying to do, hog it?  You were dreaming that was 
Shelly Martin's mouth, weren't you?  Well, it's my turn, before I 
shoot in my fist."

The banana peel vanished from the hole to be almost instantly 
replaced with fresh yellow.  Shortly behind that appeared another 
lump of flesh, slightly larger, more red and less purple.  Its 
surface was oddly roughened.  It vanished, then reappeared, 
protruding further.

"Uh, Mark ..."  A diffident voice began.

"Don't bother me now.  I can dream of Shelly, too!"

"But Mark, I think maybe ... that's more than a knothole."

"Yeah, it's Shelly's sweet mouth!  Here I go!"

Again Bobbie's lips enclosed the thrusting organ.  This one 
completed its current withdrawal but froze on the next thrust.  It 
was rougher and more familiar.  She understood.  The first one had 
been like Paul's, protected by that funny flap of skin, but this 
one was like Uncle Kenny's, rough because it had no such 
protection.  It was a little bigger.  Her tongue rasped over it, 
too.

"Good god!  It really does feel like Shelly."

"Bullshit.  Shelly never sucked you!"

"I don't care.  I can feel --  Oh, oh, here it comes!"

No preliminary dribble with this one!  A stream of fluid powerful 
enough to vibrate the delivering flesh splashed into the back of 
her throat and entered her nasal passages.  She felt it course 
from a nostril over her upper lip.  But thanks to the lad's 
warning she had been holding her breath.  Now she held on grimly, 
cheeks ballooned, touching with the tongue, swallowing swiftly as 
other squirts appeared, accompanied by a litany of curses from the 
other side of the fence.  She was the one who finally backed away 
this time, after a single parting slurp.

"Oh, god damn!"  The voice was louder.  "Who's over there?"

Where was the gate?  She didn't remember one on this whole run of 
the fence.  She straightened up and hurried away toward the motel 
office, wiping her face and sniffing.  Jism up the nose wasn't so 
bad, she decided.  Uncle Kenny had shot it into her eye more than 
once, and that burned a little, but this, aside from a strong 
nutty odor, was not bad at all.  And it was thick!  She could tell 
this was much richer than Uncle Kenny's.  Because they were only 
boys?  She was suddenly even more determined to catch Paul's.

At the door to the office she paused to look back down the alley.  
One of the tree limbs over the fence was shaking.  As she watched 
a figure dropped out of it, hanging briefly by its hands, then 
falling to the unpaved track.  She pushed into the office, bought 
a paper and hesitated.  Should she return by the walk that passed 
in front of all the rooms?  No.  This might be more fun.  She 
grinned with anticipation, whirled and stepped back out into the 
alley.

Two boys were standing beside the fence near the knot hole.  As 
she watched, one of them pointed into the dust and spread his 
hands, obviously asking, "Where did it go?"  The other nudged him 
and both looked up to watch her approach.  They were typical boys, 
the same all over the country, dressed in ungainly hiking boots 
and jeans with too-large shirts whose tails hung out.  At least 
they were bare headed.

"Hi!" she called with a friendly smile when ten feet away.

"H'lo," they acknowledged.  The slightly larger one added, "Got a 
minute?"

"My folks are waiting for this paper."

"In the motel?"

"Yeah.  We're guests."

The slightly smaller one asked, "Did you just come along here a 
few minutes ago?"

Before she could answer the larger said disgustedly, "Shit, Jimmy, 
she's too young."

But Bobbie nodded.  "Sure, to buy the paper."

Jimmy continued, "Well, did you, ah, see anybody else here?  Did 
you see anybody fooling with the fence?"

Her eyes opened wide.  "Fooling with the fence?"

"You know, bending over, fooling around, like ...  Say, look here.  
You see these banana peels?"

Bobbie dutifully looked at the few brown bedraggled remains still 
clinging to the sides of the hole.  "Is that what it is?"  She 
looked up with a chuckle.  "You can't grow bananas in a fence."

"Nobody's trying to --  Did you see anybody looking at these 
banana peels?"

Slowly she shook her head.  "No, I didn't see that."

"Dammit," Mark, the larger, exclaimed, "somebody was here!"

"Maybe so," Bobbie sniffed, "but I couldn't see them, could I?"

Both boys regarded her strangely.  She smiled at the smaller.  
"You're Jimmy, aren't you?"

His eyes widened.  "How did you know?"

"And you're Mark.  You're both real healthy, I think."

"Yeah, we're healthy," Mark admitted, staring at her.

"I'm Bobbie."  She smiled sunnily.  "Do you play here every day?"

"After school," said Jimmy, the smaller.  "We got a treehouse in 
there."  He tilted his head toward the space beyond the fence.  
"Wanna see it?"

"She's a girl!" Mark protested.

Jimmy grinned slyly at his friend.  "You think that's all?"

"What do you mean?"

He turned to Bobbie and cocked his head.  "You said you couldn't 
see anybody at this knothole.  What _could_ you see?"

Bobbie smiled sweetly.  "Banana peels around two cock heads."

Mark gasped, chin sagging, and staggered back.  "Wh-what?" he 
demanded weakly.  Even Jimmy blanched.

"You both taste real healthy," she announced, turning away, 
continuing over her shoulder, "I've got to deliver this paper, but 
I'll come back if you still want to play."


* * *


To her disappointment they were gone when she returned around the 
corner of the building and looked back up the alley.  She stamped 
her foot and declared with disgust, "Boys!"  Apparently the ones 
in Kentucky were as standoffish as the ones in Michigan.

But that was a big knothole.  She wondered if maybe she could see 
them through it.  They did invite her to their tree house, didn't 
they?

She strolled unhurriedly along the alley, listening to the 
birdcalls and insect buzz, a picture of prepubescent innocence in 
jeans and sneakers.  Her sleeveless blouse was flat and clean 
except for a few spots beginning to form a white crust.  But the 
dancing blue eyes, ready smile, clear complexion and curly
blonde hair would distract most observers.

Nearing the knothole, an agitation of leaves caused her to look up 
and spy Jimmy perched on a limb above the fence.  "There you are!" 
she noted with a grin.

"Go back," he directed, pointing along her path, "and follow the 
end of the fence to the gate.  We'll meet you there."

"Okay," she agreed.  He grinned in return and disappeared around 
the tree trunk, which shook once violently and fell still.  She 
heard a muffled thump from the other side of the fence.

She found the gate standing open about halfway along the run of 
fence after it turned the corner.  Both boys waited for her with 
the plank door swung back.  Jimmy caught her arm.  "Just a minute, 
Bobbie.  This place is a secret.  You have to swear on your 
mother's grave not to tell anybody about it."

"My mother's grave?"  Bobbie had seldom heard anyone speak of her 
mother.  For the first time she wondered if her mother even had a 
grave.  In any case she found herself unwilling to swear by it.  
"What if I don't want to?"

Jimmy's lip curled.  "All you have to do is say, 'I swear not to 
tell anybody about the tree house.'"

"Swearing is wrong," she declared piously.

"What?" asked Mark incredulously.  "How about sucking dicks, 
then?"

"You mean that's wrong, too?" she asked ingenuously.

"Shut up, Mark," Jimmy ordered.  "Bobbie, why would you want to 
tell anybody about it?"

"I don't!  I just don't want to swear."

Jimmy took a deep breath while studying her guileless countenance.  
"But you won't tell?"

"No, I won't tell.  I know better than that."

"Okay.  Follow us, then."

"She's supposed to swear," declared Mark ominously.  He was 
slightly larger and heavier than his friend.

"Yeah, and Shelly Martin's supposed to suck your dick, too!"

"She _what_?"

"You stay here till you understand what I mean.  Come on, Bobbie."

The boy plunged down a path through tangled undergrowth in a 
backyard kept deliberately "wild."  Bobbie followed but glanced 
around in concern.  "Isn't Mark coming?"

"Let him think about it.  He'll come."

They soon reached a huge maple tree with a trunk thicker than all 
three children's bodies together.  Someone had nailed a row of 
planks up it.  Looking up, Bobbie could see unpainted timber 
through the dangling leaves.  At that moment Mark came hurrying 
along the path.

"Follow me," advised Jimmy, swarming up the nailed planks, 
obviously a familiar maneuver.  Bobbie took them more cautiously, 
placing her feet closer to the centers of the planks, many of 
which wanted to pivot on their too closely bunched nails.  But she 
completed the climb without a problem and stepped off the trunk 
onto the slanting bottom of a plywood packing crate.  With a 
cutout for a window it formed a small room perched just above the 
first major spread of tree limbs.  A few braces, internal and 
external, added a measure of stability.

The room was wide enough for three or four young people to lie 
full length side-by-side and tall enough to stand at a crouch.  
She touched the roll of dirty blankets on the floor.  "What are 
these for?"

Jimmy replied, "Sleeping."

"Your folks let you sleep out?"

"Some, but the nights are getting cold.  Now these blankets can be 
our ..."

"Our what?"

Jimmy was obviously considering how best to answer when Mark 
stepped off the ladder behind her, asking with the air of the 
proud proprietor, "What do you think of it, Bobbie?"

"It's nice," she decided, smiling around at him.  She reached up 
and thumped the upper side of the packing case.  "It even has a 
roof!"

"Yeah, and it don't leak, either!"

"It's really nice," she repeated.  "But what do you do up here?"

"Smoke."

"Smoke cigarettes?"

"And cigars."

She grinned from Jimmy to Mark.  "Show me."

"Well, we don't have any right now," Jimmy admitted.

"How old are you?" she asked suddenly.

"We're both 13," Jimmy answered.  "But you're not, are you?"

"No.  And you go to school all day?"

"Yeah."  His eyes widened.  "You mean you don't?"

"I haven't started yet this fall."

"Wow!"  Both male throats expressed their astonishment.  "You are 
so lucky!"

She sighed.  "I wish you didn't have to, either.  Then we could 
climb up here and play a game all day."

"Play what?" asked Mark.

She grinned around at them.  "You know."

Jimmy leered.  "You mean the game they call 'Hide the doodle?'"

Her eyes sparkled.  "Or 'Push in the Bush,' 'cept I don't have one 
yet."

Jimmy and Mark exchanged hopeful glances.  "You wanna play now?"

Her lip curled.  "You can't yet."

"Why not?" asked Mark.

"What do you mean?" asked Jimmy.

"Your things won't work yet."

Jimmy's eyes narrowed.  "How do you know?"

"Men have to wait awhile."

"For what?" asked Mark, puzzled.

"I think I know what she's getting at," said Jimmy confidently.  
"Do you know much about fucking, Bobbie?"

"I know _all_ about it."

Mark's mouth fell open.  Jimmy asked, "Just to be certain, then it 
_was_ you that sucked us!"

She nodded, grinning proudly.

"Who'd you tell?" he demanded with a frown.

"Tell?  Nobody."  She added contradictorily, though with perfect 
intelligence to both boys, "I told you: I don't tell.  Can you 
really play again this soon?"

"We can play," Jimmy asserted.

"Then let me see."

"See what?"

"What you play with, of course."

"All right, but let us see, too."

Mark straightened up, licking his lips.

She glanced from one to the other.  "Who else comes up here?"

"Nobody, unless we let them.  See these billyclubs?  We can bang 
their hands when they reach for a hold."

Momentarily he let her heft one of the two clubs, a one-inch oaken 
dowel that had been turned on a lathe.

"Wow!" she said admiringly.  "Where'd you get them?"

"Made them in shop," Mark answered proudly.  "Feel how heavy this 
end is.  We poured lead in it."

"Wow!" she said again, returning the stick.  "That's super!"

She sat down on the blankets, leaning back against the wall, and 
removed her sneakers but stood up to open the waist of her jeans.  
Hands ready to lower it, she glared around at the boys, who were 
watching her with wide eyes.  "I asked you first."

"Oh, yeah."  Jimmy twitched, hands going to his belt.  "She wants 
us to strip, too," he said to his friend.

Shortly the three were nude, the boys retaining only their socks.  
Bobbie had none.  They stared each other up and down.  Both boys 
sported erections beneath hair sprouting where the girl still had 
none.  All three bodies showed promise of the maturity soon to 
come.

The boys pushed up against her from either side, hands on her 
belly and buttocks.

"You don't have any tits," groused Mark.

"Jenny says I will have soon," she retorted unruffled.  "Look at 
the difference between my nipples and yours."

"Do they feel anything?" asked Jimmy, touching one with finger and 
thumb.

She nodded.  "My shirt tickles sometimes, especially when the air 
is cold."  She added, eyes wide, "You're both stiff again!"

They suffered her to enclose their erections in her hands.  "You 
sound surprised," noted Jimmy.

"Billy's could get hard again fast, too," she said reminiscently.

"Who was Billy?"

"The first one who did me."

"How old was he?"

She looked into the curious eyes and decided on caution.  "About 
your age, I think.  Who was your first girl?"

Jimmy coughed and looked away.  She turned her blue eyes on Mark.  
"Who was your first one, Mark?"

"Well, I ...  I felt of my sis."

"Your little sister?"

"No.  My big sis.  I had to go to the bathroom.  She was back from 
a date, sitting on her bed.  She smelled funny.  She pulled me on 
top of her and kissed me all slobbery and took my hand and put it 
between her legs.  God, she was wet!  Can I feel of you, Bobbie?"

"We should kiss first, too," the girl suggested.  Mark had to bend 
only slightly to meet her upturned lips.

"Wait a minute!" cried Jimmy in surprise.  He punched Mark's 
shoulder.  "We agreed I'd go first, just like the fence."

But Mark ignored him.  Mark's hand slipped down the girl's belly 
and into her hairless crack.  His middle finger probed between the 
moist lips, easily penetrating her flesh, seeking a limit but 
finding none.  He felt her tongue pressing his teeth and 
automatically opened for it.  Her hand worked his attenuated 
foreskin.  He moaned at the thrill it imparted.

She turned her face slightly away.  "Did you only feel of your 
sister?"

"She was feeling of me, too.  I think we woulda fucked if Ma 
hadn't started up the stairs."

"Did your ma catch you?"

"She saw me, but she didn't say anything, even though I left my 
shorts on sis's bed."

"What happened the next day?"

"Nothing.  I don't think sis remembered it."

"Grownups are funny, ain't they?  You're ready, Mark.  Come on."

"What about me?" asked Jimmy plaintively, his hand trying to 
follow Mark's.

She smiled promisingly.  "You're next.  I'm not going anywhere."

Reluctantly Jimmy withdrew.  She knelt, then turned around on her 
back on the blanket, pulling Mark atop her, guiding his fumbling, 
too eager assault.  "Oh, Jesus!" he cried as he slid into her.  
Her hips began to roll, imparting the ageless rhythm immediately.

Jimmy watched jealously, muttering again, "I was supposed to be 
first!"  He feared his friend would hold this ascendancy over him 
at all future opportunity, as he had done with the unverified 
claim of feeling the big sister.  This was infinitely worse: a 
real fuck with Jimmy as his witness.  The boy ground his teeth.

But it did look like fun.  He knelt low just behind the entangled 
legs and watched the shortening and lengthening of this often 
studied penis.  The late sunlight, slanting through the whispering 
leaves, occasionally found its way to that junction.  The girl's 
fat cunt lips were definitely pinker now, growing redder as he 
watched.  Because of the exercise?  And so was Mark's dick.

Jimmy's hand enclosed himself briefly but left off, understanding 
that this sight was stimulation enough.  The way Mark's ass cheeks 
compressed and expanded, making then filling hollows on the sides, 
was almost funny.

Mark stiffened and emitted a loud groan, like a wail of anguish.  
His penis completely disappeared into the girl and stayed there 
for several seconds before its owner finally relaxed with a sigh.

"You're done," she announced impatiently.  Groaning again, Mark 
rolled off her to fall tiredly on his back on the blanket.  His 
manhood, larger than Jimmy had ever before seen it, thrust 
straight up, gleaming wetly in a sudden flash of sunlight.  One 
white drop trembled in the eye.

The girl beckoned.  "Come on."

Jimmy took a deep breath.  This was it, the event he had dreamed 
on for the entire year.  He knelt to her.  Her hand guided him 
into something that, had it been cool instead of hot, would have 
felt a great deal like the earlier banana peel.  Only this was a 
curious mixture of softness and tightness, and it was dripping 
wet.  Did all the wetness come from Mark?  That thought was oddly 
exciting in its own way.  His hips began to move and the girl's to 
answer them.

She smiled at his expression.  "Your first time, ain't it?"

"Yeah," he admitted.

"Do you like me?" she asked.

"Oh, god, yes!" he declared.

"I wanted to know that," she said softly.  Her legs came up and 
enclosed his buttocks.

The motion of her hips made him think of a porch swing, a private 
one dedicated to the pleasure of his swelling dick.  A fleeting 
curiosity rose in his mind.  "Who taught you to move like that?"

"No one.  It's what I have to do to feel good."

"Does it feel good?"

"It does now.  I shoulda raised my knees sooner.  Come up a little 
higher on me, will you?"

Several strokes later, as his own passion rose, the girl began to 
grunt, then to groan in time with his plunges.  Was he hurting 
her?  If so, she showed no evidence of wanting him out.  Her arms 
gripped his back and her legs his butt.  He could feel her heels 
pressing his thighs on each thrust.  He almost laughed.  It seemed 
that she wanted as much pulled into her she could get, as if her 
groans meant hunger instead of pain.

With a small scream she became rigid under him.  He kept driving, 
but now something inside her gripped him fiercely.  That was too 
much.  His own body stiffened in ecstasy as he added to her 
wetness.

Afterwards he wanted to linger in her, but her continuing 
contractions were unbearable.  He backed away onto his heels, but 
paused, looking into her panting face.  His chest was bursting 
with an emotion he could not name.  At that moment her blushing 
face was the most precious he had ever seen.

He felt a hand on his shoulder.  "My turn again."

He glanced around at Mark, standing behind him with a clearly 
stiff penis.  He turned back to see the girl's reaction.  She was 
already smiling invitingly over his shoulder.  She spread her legs 
wide apart.  Her eyebrows rose admiringly.  "You're ready _again_, 
Mark?"

Suppressing a burst of jealous rage, Jimmy backed away.  His 
friend, the possessor of the only other penis he had ever touched, 
knelt in his place and readily slid that familiar organ into the 
receptacle Jimmy so much regretted having quit.  Jimmy sighed and 
backed further away, contemplating the two before him, who were 
already rhythmically engaged.  The feeling that had suffused his 
chest as he exploded into the girl faded quickly.  Without 
realizing it he breathed a sigh of relief.

Shortly the girl's legs rose to enclose Mark as they had done him.  
Soon she was moaning again.  Curiously when she stiffened, she 
straightened her legs, so that they stood out from the junction at 
a 45 degree angle.  Mark kept driving and shortly the legs relaxed 
to the blanket on either side of the boy's knees.

Jimmy knelt down beside girl's head.  "You just came, didn't you?"

Her eyes fluttered open.  "Sure," she said between puffs of 
breath.  "And I'm going to ... again."

"How can you do that so soon?" he asked in envious amazement.

But her eyes had clenched shut.  Again her legs rose around the 
boy's butt.  She began to grunt, then to moan.  Jimmy watched her 
face closely.  A flush suffused it.  She screamed and stiffened.  
This time Mark cried out, too, and backed away from her, sitting 
up on his haunches.

Suddenly he straightened up, cocking his head, hand holding his 
dripping penis.  "God, that's my old lady!  She's already at the 
full name."

Indeed a female cry was wavering on the wind.  "Mo-ark Li-ving-
ston!  _You_, Mark!"

Mark jumped up, faced the east and cupped his hands around his 
mouth to shout, "Coming, Ma!"

He dressed in a twinkling and nearly jumped down the rude ladder.

Jimmy found the girl's eyes rounded.  She breathed, "He sure is 
afraid of her!"

"Not her, but his old man will beat the shit out of him if she 
says to."

The girl shook her head, then smiled and made a slight beckoning 
gesture with her hand.  "It's hard again," she pointed out.

"It never got soft," he admitted.  He waddled close to her.  "Suck 
it a little," he demanded, curious about her response.

She frowned, pouting her lip.  "Only a little, then."

He squatted over her face.  She engulfed him readily and entirely, 
to his surprise.  "How're you doing that?"

She turned him out of her mouth to answer.  "I can swallow lots 
bigger ones than this."

"How big?"

"Twice as big."

"I don't believe it," he asserted.  "Where does it go?"

Her eyes were contemplative.  "Why don't you suck Mark's?  Then 
you'd know."

"I'm not a cocksucker."

"Too bad.  What _will_ you do?"

"Huh?"

She stared up at him.  "Lick me."

"Lick you ... your ..."

"My cunny.  Ain't you ever heard of doing that?"

"I've heard of it.  But you ..."

"What?"  She raised up and spun around on her buttocks, turning 
the item in question to face him.  Her hands pulled the lips open.  
White gruel ran out of her onto the blanket.

"Yuck!  You're full of jism."

"It's yours, too."

He shuddered, unable to speak.

She grinned.  "You never tasted it?"

"No.  That's where you pee."

She didn't smile.  "Well, here's your chance.  I won't tell."

He was sorely tempted.  If Mark ever heard of it ...  But how 
could he?  Feeling strangely daring, he bent towards her.  She 
smiled in anticipation and raised her mound to meet him.  He took 
a deep breath and tentatively thrust his tongue toward the 
dripping hole.

"Higher," she directed, "right at the top."

That was more agreeable.  The effluvium was at the bottom.  His 
tongue probed and he found a lump of flesh.  She gasped as he 
lifted it.  He looked up.  "That's sensitive?"

"That's where the good feeling starts.  Do it some more.  Lick it 
hard.  Or turn around and I'll suck you at the same time."

69!  He'd heard it described in terms of awe.  He obeyed her with 
alacrity, kneeling over her head, letting his torso down upon 
hers, tongue searching again for the strategic lump.  Now the tip 
of his nose was in the oozing liquid but at that moment her mouth 
enclosed him.  He forgot everything else.

She released him to remark plaintively, "We've _both_ got to do 
it!"

He bent to the task, ignoring the odors and tastes, licking the 
lump furiously.  She immediately began to quiver.  He felt pain 
and suddenly realized she was biting him.

Immediately he snatched himself away but she was the first to 
complain.  "I can't stand that!  That's not how you do it."

"I'm sorry," he said stiffly, disgruntled as much by her criticism 
as the taste of seminal musk on his lips.  He found his shirt and 
wiped his face thoroughly, then began to pull on his clothing.

He found her sitting up, arms around her knees, watching him.  The 
fact of her uniqueness struck him again.  This was his first girl.  
He sighed.  "I really am sorry.  Maybe you can teach me how some 
time."

"Maybe," she agreed.  "Jimmy, are all the other boys like you and 
Mark?"

"I guess so," he said, then thinking it over, added, "though we're 
not exactly alike, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, to give you the idea, I'm a month older than Mark, but he's 
been making jism six months and I only started two weeks ago."

"That's interesting.  I mean, can all of you keep it up like you 
two did today?"

"I guess so," he said again.  "Why not?"

"Then get me some more, will you?"

"Some more what?"

"Boys."



NEXT:  Chapter 9: Five Grand for Jenny
Varangian:  ludmax11@hotmail.com
Kellis:     kellis@dhp.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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