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Subject: {ASSM} The Innocent Fugitives Ch09 {Varkel} (MF Mg oral anal rom)
Date: Wed, 14 Feb 2001 03:10:02 -0500
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The Innocent Fugitives
a Novel by Varkel
Copyright (C) 2001, Varkel



Chapter 9:  Five Grand for Jenny 


Jenny fumbled in her apron pocket and drew out a handful of change 
to count.  She turned to Hannah sitting behind the hot food shelf.  
"Three dollars and 85 cents in tips after four hours."  She 
gestured at the empty dining room.  "Thought you said this was 
your busy night."

"Monday is," Hannah retorted indifferently.

"Then how can you keep this place open?"

The older woman shrugged.  "It's subsidized.  In case you didn't 
notice, I don't have a regular cook right now.  So I'm glad 
business is so bad."

"The food's good.  If you advertised a little, I'll bet it could 
make money."

Hannah regarded her speculatively.  "Want to take it over?"

"Huh?  What do you mean?  How?"

"How ever you want.  Manage it.  Buy it outright.  I know you guys 
ain't broke."

"I was a nurse, Hanna."

"Yeah, like I was a whore.  Don't they teach you something about 
food preparation in nursing school?"

Jenny chuckled.  "Yeah, only backwards like everything else.  For 
example, they teach you how to make a cock limp, not hard."

Hanna nodded.  "Guess they figure a good-looking broad like you 
don't need help making them hard."

"You think I'm good looking?"

Hanna regarded her thoughtfully.  "Yes, I do.  Smooth complexion, 
good legs, tucked-in tummy, plenty of hip.  You're a little short 
in the boobs according to some tastes, but they's plenty who likes 
them that way.  The posters say you're 28.  You look younger to 
me."

"They're wrong.  I'm 26."

"How come no kids?"

"I ..."  Jenny looked away.  "I didn't like my husband."

"He let you get away with that?"

"With what?  I did my duty by him.  But I took the pills 
religiously.  Still do."

"I wondered if maybe you did a stint of my racket.  Few working 
girls get caught, you know."

"They told us that.  Sterilized by gonorrhea in the Fallopian 
Tubes."

Hannah shrugged.  "All I know is I never heard of one getting 
caught who made it through her first two years."  She cocked an 
eyebrow.  "Your duty, eh?  Did you swallow all of _his_ cock, 
too?"

"No."  Jenny dropped her eyes, blushing.

"Paul is a bit more than a duty, is he?"

"I love him, Hannah."

The older woman nodded.  "We need to stick by a perfect cock.  
It's a shame they're usually attached to such pricks!"

Jenny chuckled wryly, wondering how Hannah would have 
characterized Todd.  And his organ.

The woman continued, "I wondered about your sticking by.  You 
didn't seem to get too upset when I sucked him off."

"I was about to."

"Nor the other night when he went off with that little snippy from 
Room 18."

Again Jenny blushed, eyes downcast.

Hannah grinned.  "Of course, we both know what you were doing 
while he was adjusting her TV.  I really appreciate that one, 
Jenny.  That guy can put me out of business with a snap of his 
fingers."

"He seemed ... to be satisfied."

"Oh, he was!"  She chuckled.  "He stopped by the office and 
congratulated me on my well-trained stable of cocksuckers.  I 
wanna talk to you about that, Jenny."

"More cocks to suck?"

"Sure.  The world's full of them, and a girl can make them pay.  
But I was thinking of something besides your mouth."

Jenny shook her head.  "We've already discussed that, Hannah.  My 
teeth are good with no gum disease, and a cock can hardly tear the 
skin in my mouth.  But it can tear me in other spots.  I'm 
reserving those to Paul.  At least to men that I know very well 
indeed."

"AIDS, huh?"

"I guess so.  If it wasn't for that ...  The fact is, Hanna, you 
know I love to do it."

The older woman's expression was shrewd.  "You only recently 
learned that, didn't you?"

"To like it?  Yes, not to feel ashamed.  Paul taught me."

"Lucky you.  A lot of women never learn, which makes us even 
luckier."

"Maybe so, but frankly, Hannah -- and no reflection on your career 
--"

Hannah held up her hand.  "I'm not asking you to turn pro at my 
old game, so long as you help me out with the occasional big shot 
like that county commissioner the other night.  But I do have a 
proposition for you to consider.  Come on.  Let's close this place 
up.  I've got something to show you."

"Where do you want to take me?  Paul's expecting me at ten."

Hannah was turning off the stove.  "I won't keep you long.  I 
wanna show you the conference room, Room Number 6, which is leased 
to ...  Well, I'll explain that.  Go lock the front doors, will 
you?"


* * *


"This is the largest one I ever touched," Ruth admitted pensively, 
stroking the massive shaft, "but not the largest I've ever seen.  
There's a video with a guy who pulls it out of a girl and lays it 
on her belly.  It extends past her navel."

They were sitting in lounging robes side-by-side on the couch in 
Ruth's attic apartment.  The television was displaying a video 
tape taken from her collection at _The Unzipper_, but neither paid 
it much attention.

Calhoun asked, "What's so great about that?"

"The girl is lying on a table with her legs hanging off.  The guy 
is standing between them."

"Show me."

Nothing loathe, the woman led him into the kitchen and hopped up 
onto the Formica-covered table, her robe falling open around her.  
Opening his own, he slipped between her legs and looked down with 
a grin.  "If he pulls it out, it stands to reason it started 
within...  Ah, Ruthie, you're still nice and wet.  How did you 
manage that?"

"Playing with that cock would make anyone wet.  Oh, John!  I love 
the way you fill me up."

"And I love the way you reach down, no nonsense, and pull yourself 
open when my dick nuzzles your crack.  I almost believe you love 
it as much as I do."

"We're a pair, aren't we, John?"

"In some ways.  Maybe in a lot more ways than this.  I get the 
impression sometimes that you're like dynamite, just waiting for a 
spark."

She chuckled.  "Sometimes I do, too.  Good god, I didn't realize 
..."

"What didn't you realize?"

"I thought with you standing up I couldn't roll my clit against 
you, but guess what?  You're so big I don't need to.  When you 
push in ... Oh, god!"

"When I push in what?"

"I'm coming!" she gasped.  She shivered violently.

When she was still, he repeated, "When I push in what happens?"

"You almost drag the clit in on top of you.  Whew!  I'm tingling."

He chuckled.  "Now I believe I'm supposed to pull it out ... and 
lay it on your belly...  Ruthie, if your belly is typical and if 
that video wasn't faked, his dick must've been nearly a foot long.  
Have you got that tape?"

"I'll see about getting it.  Well, sir, are you just going to 
wiggle it around on me?"

He leaned over her suddenly as his cooler organ re-entered her, 
forcing the fat labia aside.  He slipped his hands under her back 
and lifted her to her feet.  Her legs immediately enwrapped his 
hips.  He whispered, lips touching hers, "I want you to be 
comfortable, Ruthie."

"Comfort's not everything.  Oh, John!"  Now her hips were 
twisting.

He walked back and forth before the unheeded television, 
supporting her with hands under her buttocks.  Her arms encircled 
his neck, her head thrown back.  She bounced and emitted a soprano 
moan with every step, scraping sensitized nipples against his 
hairy chest.

Finally, passing in front of the couch, he lowered her gently upon 
it and began to drive forcefully into her.  Now she screamed in 
ecstasy as he ejaculated with his own appropriate noises.

She relaxed, panting, as he resumed lounging beside her.  After a 
moment her hand stole forth and again closed on the wet organ.  
She said softly, "You're ruining me, John."

"Ruining you?" he protested.  "Maybe you don't hear the comments 
in the office."

"Comments?"

"About how bright and cheerful, how pretty you've become.  
Everyone assumes you've found a man."

"Oh, god, I have!"

"And that's ruination?"

"While I was getting your coffee this morning I saw Betty come out 
of your office, smiling at something you said.  I wanted to tear 
her hair out."

"Huh!  That would probably ruin _me_!"

"Both of us."  She took a deep breath.  "Every minute I'm apart 
from you is just dead.  I know how busy you are.  You can only 
spare me a few hours per week.  But John, I've always loved you.  
When I couldn't have you, I hated it but I could stand it.  But 
now it's so much worse!"

"Ruthie ..."

She sat up, looking away from him.  Tears streamed down her face.  
"I can't stand it, John.  I'm going to quit the police."

"Ruth!"

"No, I've got to.  I'm going to close the shop, too.  I've got a 
little money.  I think I'll go to Europe, someplace far away."

"Ruth!  To get away from me?"

"I have to, John."  Suddenly she got to her feet, wiping her face 
on the hem of her robe.  She turned to smile at him, blinking her 
eyes.  "But I'm not leaving tonight.  Let me get you another 
drink."

He rose also and gripped her shoulders.  "Ruthie, maybe there's 
one or two things you don't know."

She shook her head.  "I know I can't stand hardly ever having you 
to myself."

He took a breath.  "What if we could ... change that?"

"I don't see how," she replied sadly, looking away from him.  Once 
again tears welled in her eyes.  "You're too married to your 
work."

"That's the key word, Ruthie."

"Work?"

"No."  He laughed harshly.  "My work!  What a lot of crap!  No, 
the key word is _married_.  Will you marry me, Ruthie?"


* * *


The rain that had been threatening with distant thunder all 
evening descended just as Jenny departed the conference room.  She 
ran hurriedly under the inadequately overhanging roof to their 
room, last in the row of buildings, where streaks of interior 
light were apparent through the drapes pulled at the window.  She 
jerked the door open -- thank god Paul hadn't locked her out! -- 
and almost fell into the bright light, slamming the door behind 
her against the wind-lashed rain that followed her inside.

She had only a glimpse of Paul, seated on the edge of the same 
rickety writing table, naked except for a thrown-open robe, with 
Bobbie kneeling before him, her face _completely out of sight_ 
between his legs.  The girl jerked back, almost exactly as Jenny 
had done three days earlier, but lacking a chair behind her, fell 
only to her buttocks, hands extended behind her in time to prevent 
falling on her back.  She left in evidence a very erect manhood 
whose outline Paul concealed by twitching the side of his robe 
over it.  He looked up at her in wide-eyed chagrin.

Jenny stopped at the foot of the bed, temporarily ignoring the 
drenched waitress uniform that Hanna had lent her.  Her hands, 
balled into fists, rested on her hips.  She stuck out her chin.  
"How many times have I come in to find you two fucking or having 
fucked?"

Paul drew a quick breath.  "This wasn't what it seemed, Jen --"

"O-ho!" the woman interrupted sarcastically.  "I get it.  You were 
just checking her tonsils and didn't have a flashlight."

He chuckled humorlessly and opened his mouth to explain, though 
the words hadn't quite surfaced, when the girl cried instead, 
"Jenny, Jenny, I swallowed it all, too!"

The woman's lip curled.  "Did you!"

"I sure did.  Want me to show you?"

"That ... won't be necessary."

The girl's face fell.  "I was just about to take his jism.  I can 
do that, too."

"Oh, you can!"  The woman's voice was frosty.  "I suppose you've 
been practicing."

"We have not!" the man declared positively.

"What do you mean?  I just saw you!"

He explained weakly, "I mean, I've never ejaculated into her 
mouth."

The girl groused, "But he was about to, darn it!"

Jenny stared at the man, saying no more.  He frowned, closed his 
robe, came to her and took her into his arms for a kiss.  When he 
raised his head, he observed, "Something else is on your mind, 
isn't it?"

She jerked her head toward the girl.  "Tell you later.  Let me get 
out of these wet clothes."

A bright flash and a deafening crash of thunder had its usual 
effect upon Bobbie.  The girl squealed with fright and ducked 
inside Paul's robe, seeming to climb his body.  The rain was 
falling in torrents.  When the rumbling died away, he said to 
Jenny, "We may have to talk in the morning."

The woman tilted her head toward his encumbrance, observing dryly, 
"She'll be asleep in five minutes after you get her in bed with 
her head on your shoulder and her hand on your cock."

The girl looked fearfully at the draped windows, in which flashes 
were presently absent, and began tearing off her clothes.  
Sighing, Paul scooted to the middle of the double bed with the 
girl on his far side, arranged exactly as Jenny had described.  
Another flash and roll of thunder caused her to press her whole 
body fiercely upon his.  He could distinctly feel her hairless 
labia parting on his hip.  He hugged her against himself and 
rubbed the surprisingly plump buttocks as a hand jiggled his 
foreskin.

Jenny, returning naked from the bathroom, turned off the table 
lamp and slid into bed on his other side.  He felt her breast and 
nipple on his chest as a soft leg twisted with his own.  She said 
softly, "Not much business in that greasy spoon.  Most of the time 
Hannah spent bragging."

"About her hotel work?"

"Yes, about the famous men she sucked off.  'Frenched,' she calls 
it.  She claimed she did every governor of Kentucky from the time 
she started at 17 until she quit at 45."

"What you call professional pride, eh?"

"I guess.  She said something I've not run out the math for.  
Almost every night during that time, even when she had her 
periods, she claimed to have sucked off three men, more commonly 
four, sometimes as many as ten."

"Hmm.  That's interesting.  Let's see ...  28 years.  Times 365 
days -- we'll forget leap years -- times four for an average.  
Four times 28 is a little over a hundred.  Call it a hundred to 
allow for exaggeration.  Okay, she sucked off 36,500 dicks, 
probably not different ones.  Good god!  That's a few quarts of 
come, I'd guess."

"You're right, it _is_ interesting!"  He felt her excited breath 
on his chin.  "How many quarts, if each man gave her two teaspoons 
worth?"

"How many teaspoons to the quart?"

"I remember there's six to the ounce."

"Okay, and 32 ounces to the quart.  Shit, Jenny, you're making 
things tough for your pillow mathematician.  But let's see.  That 
would be 36,000, about, times two divided by six, which is 12,000, 
that divided by 32.  If it was 12,800 divided by 32, which won't 
be far wrong, we have -- Christ!  That woman has slurped up 400 
quarts of Kentucky's finest beverage."

The woman laughed.  "If you think it's so fine, why do you hate to 
kiss me when I've got a mouthful of yours?"

"A mouthful!  That's the nicest thing you've said to me all day."

The hand had released his manhood.  He listened a moment.  The 
thunderstorm was moving away and the rain had slackened.  The 
breath on his neck was soft and regular.

"I don't think it even took five minutes."

"She was tired," the woman murmured.  "She's been playing 
somewhere every afternoon.  I noticed her at supper.  She slumped 
like she was tired but smiled a lot."

He grunted.  "If she's had fun I wonder why she hasn't bragged 
about it.  Anyhow, what did you want to tell me?"

"Are you sure she's asleep?"

He kissed the girl's forehead.  She sighed and turned her head 
away.  "I think so.  Sounds like your news is drastic."

"Not drastic.  It's ...  Hannah has made us a proposition."

He sniffed.  "Involving a 'perfect dick?'"

She chuckled.  "Partly.  She took me around to the conference room 
tonight after work.  You'd never guess what they do in there."

"Well, knowing Hannah, it probably involves sucking dicks."

"A lot more than that.  They make movies."

"Movies?"

He felt her take a deep breath.  "Porn flicks, Paul."

She felt him stiffen slightly.  "_Hannah_ makes porn flicks?"

"Well, no, not Hannah herself.  That is, she doesn't star in them 
any more.  Sometimes she has a bit part, she said, as a lewd 
grandma showing granddaughter how it's done.  I gather a 
professional crowd comes in, five or six times a year, she says, 
to shoot indoor scenes."

"My god!  How big is that conference room?"

"Oh, it's big.  It's got an arched ceiling so it doesn't need 
inside columns.  Perfect built it with movie-making in mind.  He 
was a producer, you know."

"'Perfect?'  Oh, I get it."

"Right.  Her husband, one of the other two 'perfect dicks.'  
That's actually what she calls him."

"Ha!  Did she say who has the third one?"

"No.  He might be dead, too."

"Okay.  So they make porn flicks.  What's that got to do --  I 
see."

"She says I can make five grand per picture if it works out."

"Oh, yeah?  Five grand?  What's a perfect dick worth?"

"I asked that, too."

"And?"

"I'll tell you her answer:  'Movies are not the place for perfect 
dicks.'"

Paul thought that over.  At last he said dryly, "Maybe it's time 
to hear her proposition."

"That's it.  They shoot indoor scenes when the weather's bad.  
This rain is forecast to last another couple days, so they'll be 
shooting tomorrow.  She wants me to try out first thing in the 
morning.  She's already got the director's approval."

"Let's get this straight.  She wants you to be player in a porn 
flick?"  His voice was strained.

"Paul ...  I don't think it's _that_ outrageous!"

"You don't!  Have you ever seen a porn flick?"

"Umm.  No, I guess not.  I wouldn't look at them when Bud brought 
them home."

"They like to show orgies, you know:  no real plot, just endless 
fucking.  You'd have to take on several men, more or less at once.  
In the mouth, up the ass, maybe two in the same spot.  And 
fisting!  That's all the rage in modern porn.  Somebody will stick 
his whole hand in your cunt, maybe up your ass, too."

She lay silently.  After awhile she said, "I know we're not broke, 
but _five_ grand, Paul!"

"We don't need that five grand.  If we go a little further away we 
can both get jobs."

"With those posters in every motel and police station -- every 
post office, too, I bet."

"No.  They only put up federal criminals in post offices."

"We're federal criminals.  We've crossed state lines to avoid 
prosecution."

He sighed.  "You think you've got to do this, eh?"

"I don't think it would hurt me, Paul."

He could barely make out the glow of her eyes in the few dim beams 
leaking through the drapes from the corner lamp, but it was 
enough.  "In fact you _want_ to do it, don't you?"

She licked dry lips.  "I want you to let me."

"Jenny ..."

"The way I let you fuck Bobbie."

He grunted.  "I don't exactly remember hearing your permission.  
You didn't sound very permissive when you caught us tonight."

"It just surprised me, that's all."  She sighed and reported 
sourly, "Hanna said you'd raise hell."

"Huh!  Well, just because I'm squeezing your tit instead of 
beating you up, don't think I'm not."

"No, I wouldn't think it."  He could hear the smile in her voice.  
Her hand fell on his flaccid member.  "Paul, I want you to do me 
in the rectum."

"D-do what?"

"I mean, fuck me there: put your penis in me there."

He took a breath.  "Jenny, what's come over you?"

"You're right.  Hanna told me they would do that.  But I'm still a 
virgin there, Paul.  I nearly killed Bud when he tried to force 
me.  I want you to be first."

"How charming!"

"I mean it to be."

"Well, if you think I'll refuse an offer like that, you don't know 
me.  Huh!  Then I'll have to fuck _her_ ass, too!"

"You can slide out from under her without waking her up.  Do me 
over the couch arm.  Come on, while I go get the cold cream."


	* * * *


She was surprisingly tight, grunting at his pressure.

"You have to relax it, Jenny.  Don't fight it."

"This is hard."

"You think so?  I'll bet a million ass holes are getting plugged 
around the world right now."

She retorted acidly, "But yours isn't one of them!"

He chuckled weakly.  "Do you want to go through with this or not?"

"'Going through' seems to be the problem."

"Only because you won't relax.  Try this: push out as if you were 
passing a big one."

Immediately gas escaped her, rather a large release.  Uniquely he 
experienced its passage as a tickling vibration in the head of his 
thrusting organ, concomitant with a shrill whistle.

"Oh, my god!" she cried in tones of embarrassment.

Through his laughter he managed to report, "Anyway, it worked!"

"Yes, a bolus going backwards."  She laughed, too.

"Whew, Jenny, what did you eat in that so-called restaurant?"

"Paul, don't make this any worse than it is."  But her laughter 
increased, causing more gas to escape around their junction.

"Hey, that feels strange!" he declared.

"Huh!  You ought to feel it from the inside."

"That's where I'm feeling it, honey.  I'd have to have Todd's dick 
to get any further into you."

"God, don't remind me!  Sandra wanted me to let him."

"But you didn't?"

"No, though I wasn't afraid of the length.  His cock was just too 
thick."

"Yeah.  I saw it when I pulled him off Bobbie.  I never shat 
anything that thick."

He stood behind her, leisurely thrusting.  He felt a vibration and 
reached under to encounter her hand.  "I can rub that for you," he 
suggested.

"No.  Put your fingers in me."

He inserted two.  She was hot and wet.  Her hand vibrated just 
below his.

"More."

He added the ring finger.  Pressing upward, he could feel the 
distortion of her flesh caused by the passage and withdrawal of 
his manhood.

"More, Paul."

He withdrew long enough to bend four fingers stiffly together, 
then curved them into her.  His testicles lay in his palm, 
jiggling as fingers alternated with penis, which he found to 
produce agreeable sensations.

"My god, I'm about to come!" he exclaimed.

"Can you hold on?" she asked.  Her hand moved rapidly.

"I guess, but when you start, clamp down with your sphincters, 
will you?"

He slowed until he felt her tighten around both penetrations.  
Then his hips plunged wildly.  Groaning in harmony, they both 
climaxed.

When it was over, he backed away from her, spun and sat down 
beside her head.  She still lay over the chair arm, panting.  
After a while she said, "Pyew!  You don't smell good."

He chuckled.  "You needed to take a dump."

"Still do."  She raised herself tiredly, rolled her buttocks over 
the arm and fell onto the cushion beside him.  She licked his neck 
and murmured, "That wasn't so bad.  What was it, four fingers?"

"Yeah."

"I bet I could take your whole fist."

"You mean to go tomorrow, don't you?"

She sighed.  "Yes."

"Then give yourself a couple of enemas before you start."

"Can you take enemas on a bidet?  Hanna has one in that toilet."

"I don't know.  I guess so, if you can stand cold water."

"It's important, is it?"

"More than you think.  Another thing they like to show is a woman 
sucking the dick that just came out of her asshole."

"Yuck!"

"Especially if it's dripping come."

"Well ..."  She drew a pensive breath.  "The bacteria at that end 
of the human gut can cause real trouble at the other.  The trick 
is not to swallow, isn't it?  They can damn well stop the cameras 
and let me gargle!"

He sighed.  "I see that you are bound and determined to do this."

"I want that five grand, Paul."

He chuckled grimly.  "That's another thing, sweetie.  How do you 
expect to collect it?"

"Huh?"

"We can't exactly go to court, you know."

"Oh.  That's true, isn't it?  I'll ask Hannah about that."  She 
got up from the couch and disappeared into the gloom.  He heard 
bedclothes rustle.  Shortly she reappeared to stand before him.  
"I'm going to the bathroom, then let's turn in."

"Bobbie all right?"

"Fast asleep.  She worries me tonight."

"How?"

"We made a lot of noise.  I don't recall ever having sex in the 
same room with her before without her trying to barge in.  Do you 
suppose she's sick?  I felt her forehead.  I don't think she has a 
fever."

"She's just tired," he declared, getting up.  "I think she's found 
some playmates, at least in the afternoon.  What time should we 
get up in the morning?"

"Why don't you and Bobbie sleep in?"

He stood up, too.  "I just realized.  You don't want me there."

"Hannah said they won't need you tomorrow.  They've got enough 
men."

"Yeah, I'll just bet they do!"


	*  *  *  *


Bobbie turned off the boring television, huffed a few times in 
self-pity and looked over at Paul to see if he had noticed.  He 
was half-sitting, half-lying on the far bed, propped up against 
the headboard with all four of the room's pillows, reading a book 
open on his belly.  He was dressed casually except for the lack of 
shoes.  His eyes flicked back and forth on the page of the book.  
As she watched he turned a page.

She pulled the drape aside.  The gray sky was still spitting rain, 
though much less than earlier.  Heaving a deep sigh, she flounced 
onto Paul's bed beside him.

"How much longer will Jenny be gone?"

"Probably till supper time," he answered absently.

"What's she doing anyway?  The restaurant's not open now."

"She's working with Hanna even so.  Why don't you take a nap?"

"Did she go in the room with all those people?"

"You saw them, did you?"

"Yeah, out the window.  What are they doing, Paul?"

"Making money."

She giggled.

"What's funny?"

"Do they turn a lot of cranks and money pops out?"

"Turn cranks?  Well, yes, I have heard it called that."

"But they don't do that really!"

"Oh, it's a lot like cranking!"

She thought about that with a puzzled frown, finally shaking her 
head.  "Does Jenny like it, you think?"

"Yeah."  He regarded her past the book.  "She likes it."  His eyes 
glittered strangely.

She was lying face down, propped up on her elbows.  Her hand 
slipped sideways and dropped lightly onto the bulge in his groin.  
"Let me do something _I_ like."

"I'm reading, Bobbie."

Gently her fingers closed on him.  "That's all right.  You read 
and I'll suck."

He chuckled humorlessly.  "It doesn't work that way."

"Why not?  What are you reading anyway?"

"This is not the story of a young girl pining for her sweetheart."

"Read some."

He grinned sourly at her, glanced back to the book and read aloud, 
"'The practice of short field cinematography was greatly eased in 
the Seventies by the deployment of the anisotropic screen that 
reflects light directly back to the source only.  With camera 
synchronized to a weak projector and joined by a half-silvered 
mirror, an actor just in front of such a screen could seem to be 
on the strand, waves breaking behind him, or even in the midst of 
the Normandy invasion.'"

She frowned in puzzlement.  "What?"

He chuckled, continuing to read silently.

"Where did you get a book like that?"

"From Hannah, would you believe."

She fell silent, gently rubbing the swelling bulge in his 
britches.  Maybe it wouldn't work, as he said, but he didn't say 
she couldn't try.  She found the tag of his zipper and slowly 
lowered it.  He did not look up from the book.  She was agreeably 
surprised when her furtive hand discovered his lack of 
undershorts.  She closed tenderly on the partial erection.

"Oh, that's right," she said thoughtlessly.  "We're out of clean 
laundry."

He growled, "Jenny was supposed to do that today."

"Maybe she will tonight."

"I expect she'll be too tired."

The pouty but nearly full-sized organ stood clear of all 
restraints except the girl's stroking hand.  She thought of 
offering to do the laundry herself; she had helped Jenny the last 
time.  But the purplish head with its half-withdrawn cover drove 
such ideas from her mind.  She slid sideways, opened her mouth and 
took it in.  With a series of internal jerks it came fully stiff 
under her tongue.  This one certainly went deeper in her throat 
than those boys'!  It gagged her at first but she had learned to 
control that reflex.  Soon her head was slowly stroking the entire 
length.  Gently her hand squeezed the lumpy bag that dangled 
beneath it.

On an upstroke she looked up over his belly.  He had laid the book 
aside and was watching her.  When her glance met his, he said, 
"Tell me, Bobbie, do you feel that you are competing with Jenny?"

Competing?  Like two teams at sports?  Sometimes she was, she 
thought, but was that what he wanted to hear?  She shook her head, 
no, without releasing her toy.

"Then why do you work so hard to beat Jenny on my dick?"

That one was easy.  Reluctantly she released him.  "Because I love 
it in my mouth."

"You what?"  His eyebrows rose and he shook his head, chuckling a 
little.  "I can't believe a twelve-year old said that to me."  His 
face hardened.  "I can't believe I'm letting her suck me off, 
either."  He hitched himself up in the bed, backing away from her.

She hung her head.  "You think I'm just a baby, don't you."

He nodded.  "I do think you're too young for this life, Bobbie.  
God!  I can't believe what I've let you in for."

She studied him worriedly.  She was smart enough to guess where 
sentiments like that might lead.  She declared, "You and Jenny are 
much nicer to me than anyone else has ever been."

He snorted.  "Do you understand what that says about everyone else 
you've known?"  He shook his head and sighed.  "Bobbie, Bobbie, 
what are we going to do with you?"

She burst into tears and crawled up on his body, pressing her 
cheek against his.  "Please, Paul, please don't make me go away!"

"Who said anything about that?"

"You're thinking it!"

He patted her back and kissed the wet cheek.  "No, dear, we won't 
make you go away."

She shook the tears from her eyes and raised her head to regard 
him earnestly.  "I'll do anything you say."

He nodded.  "I know what you're thinking of, but what I'd like to 
see you do is go to school."

"To school?"  She took a deep breath.  "Schools hate me."

"But will you go if I find you a good one?"

"If you won't run me off."

He sighed.  "I've already said we won't do that."

"Then I'll go.  For you."  Her hand caught his flagging erection.   
"But right now I want to make you come deep."

"No, Bobbie."  He removed her hand, tucked himself back into his 
britches and zipped up.  "I think it's quit raining.  Why don't 
you go play?"

"What time is it?"

He glanced at his wristwatch.  "A bit after three."

"Oh!"  Suddenly her face brightened.  "I can't believe I forgot!" 
she cried as she wiped her eyes on a corner of the bedcover.  She 
made for the door.

He smiled at her energy and called, "I think Jenny will be back 
about dark."

"So will I."



NEXT:  Chapter 10: High and Low
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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