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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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