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From: anais ninja <anais_ninja@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Exile - Chapter Four - Sister, Brother (Ff Mf Mb bf teen oral anal drugs)
Date: Wed,  5 Feb 2003 23:10:03 -0500
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Exile
 
(c) 2003  Anais Ninja  anais_ninja@hotmail.com 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/index.html 

 
Note:  This is my story.  The names and details have been changed to
protect the privacy of those involved.  Some of this account has
been reconstructed from memory, but most of it has been based on a
journal I kept during these years. 
 
This is a sequel to _Wanderings_, which can be found on my asstr-mirror.org
site: 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/wander/index.html 

 


Chapter Four - Sister, Brother (Ff Mf Mb bf teen oral anal drugs)



That Saturday, there were no classes.  Instead, the shelter's
residence would be put on cleaning detail, mopping floors, cleaning
bathrooms, doing laundry, even helping Sister Katherine in the
kitchen.  I had spent the morning in the laundry room, loading the
boys' smelly socks and crusty shorts into the washing machine and
was finishing lunch when I spotted Sister Katherine coming out of
the kitchen.  I needed a needle and thread so I could take in the
waistband of those skirts Father Ken had found for me.

Sister Katherine filled in for Sister Bernice on weekends, and was 
physically her polar opposite, slender where Sister Bernice was
broad and angular where the other was curvy.  She had an opposite
temperament as well, being somewhat more distant and reserved than
her more affectionate counterpart.  I bussed my lunch tray and went
over to where she was dipping a tea bag into a cup of hot water.

"Sister?  May I ask a favor?"

"Certainly, Anne," she said, not looking up.  I told her about the 
clothes I'd received and my need to alter them so they'd fit.  She 
thoughtfully blew the steam from her cup, listening to my request.

"Would a sewing machine do?" she asked.  "Do you know how to use
one?" 

"Yes, that would be great," I said.  I waited while she finished her
tea, after which she led me down to the basement and into a locked 
storage room next to the classrooms.  There was a huge pile of
clothes, the donation pile I guessed, along with a collection of old
furniture, mattresses, and rolled-up carpets.  Sitting in a corner
of this collection of junk was an antique sewing machine, treadle
powered like the one we had in the house in Maine.

I sat down behind it, checking that it was threaded and that the
treadle actually worked.  I picked a random piece of clothing off of
the pile, a stained and torn t-shirt, and began doing a running
stitch along the edge.  There was that old familiar feeling as my
thighs pressed together when I worked the treadle, and I had to stop
lest I begin to get too aroused in front of Sister Katherine.

"Ah, I see you've used one of these before," she said.

"We used to have one at our house.  I liked making dresses and stuff
with it," I said.

"This is Sister Bernice's, so be careful with it," Sister Katherine 
said.

"I will.  I promise."  She gave me a rare smile and left the storage
room.  I started another load of laundry and went to fetch the
clothes I needed to alter.  Taking in the waists took just a few
minutes.  I was trying on one of the skirts, a long peasant-style
number that went down to my ankles, when I noticed a familiar
looking bra strap sticking out of the pile of donated clothes.  I
dug around through it, coming up with just about all of the things
I'd packed when I left Maine, all except a t-shirt and a pair of
panties.  I wrapped my old clothes in the two skirts I'd altered and
was just about to leave when the storage room door opened.  It was
Sister Katherine, and she was holding her own little bundle of
clothes. 

"Excuse me, Anne?  I was wondering..." she said.  I thought I was
about to be busted for snatching my clothes back from the pile, but
then I realized that she wanted me to mend some of her things.  I
took the bundle from her and examined what she'd brought: a bra with
a busted strap, a couple of old pairs of panties with broken
elastic, a blouse with a torn pocket.  I smiled at her and sat down
at the sewing machine, starting with the bra, reattaching the strap
in no time at all. 

"Sister Katherine?"

"Yes, Anne?"  She'd been watching me like a hawk as I handled her 
underwear.

"I'm not sure I can mend these panties," I said.  "The elastic is
too worn.  They're too old."  They were white cotton briefs, thin
and frayed.

"Oh, okay.  Just do the best you can."

"You really should get new ones," I said.  I did the best I could, 
mending a few of the larger holes and trying to fix the legband. 
The last item was a starched white blouse whose breast pocket had
detached from the bodice.  I sewed it back on, carefully trying to
keep my stitches straight and unobtrusive.

"You do that so well," Sister Katherine said, leaning over and
watching me work the old sewing machine.

"Thank you," I said, removing the blouse from the machine and
checking the stitch.  I handed the blouse to Sister Katherine.

"Is there anything else you need done?" I asked.

"Well...no, nothing."

"Please, tell me.  I'd be happy to do more."

"Well, it's this dress," she said, turning and lifting her arm.  The
seam was split, just a couple of inches.  "I tore it reaching for 
something on top of the fridge."

"I can fix that easily.  Turn around so I can unzip you."

"Well..."  She hesitated before turning around, and after I undid
the zipper she was slow to shrug her simple grey dress off of her
shoulders.  Sister Katherine stepped out of her dress and handed the
garment to me.  She wore a white full slip with just the barest hint
of lace trim around the neckline.  As I separated the seam from the
lining, she stood next to me and watched intently.

I had just finished threading the machine with some grey thread when
I felt Sister Katherine start to gently stroke my hair.

"That feels good," I said.  She'd frozen for a moment when I started
to speak, but then she resumed, leaning just a bit closer to where I
was seated.  I began mending the seam, trying hard to concentrate on
the task.  Sister Katherine had such a gentle caress.  I missed the
touch of a woman, even such a motherly gesture.  When I had finished
sewing, instead of handing back the dress, I leaned my head on her
hip, pressing my cheek against the fabric of her slip, closing my
eyes and savoring the feeling of her fingers running through my
hair. 

I looked up at her, wondering if she was going to kiss me.  Her eyes
were closed tight and her mouth was slightly open, a look that was
much more arousing than any sensation I'd had working the sewing
machine's treadle.  I stood up and held her around her waist,
standing on my toes to bring my lips to hers.  She opened her eyes
and looked startled for a moment, and then her expression softened,
as did her lips, parting to invite my tongue.  We stood there
kissing for what seemed like an hour, our hands roaming over each
other. 

"Come," I said, leading her over to the big pile of clothes that 
dominated the room, lying down on it and pulling her with me.  We 
embraced on top of the heap and resumed our kissing.  For a nun, she
was an awfully good kisser, and I wondered what she was like when
she was my age, maybe twenty or so years earlier.

"No, no, let's just kiss," she said when I began to pull the hem of
her slip up her pale thigh.  I stopped and pulled her hem back down,
smoothing it against her skin.

"Kissing's good," I whispered.  Sister Katherine smiled and we
locked lips again.  My hands roamed over her slim body, but not
below the waist.

"What's that?" she asked, breaking off our kiss and bolting upright.
 There was someone in the hallway outside, dragging something heavy
down the stairs.  Sister Katherine dashed for her dress, which was
still draped over the sewing machine.  She dressed quickly and was
just about to leave when I grabbed her hand.

"Will you come to my room tonight?" I asked her.  "I mean, just to
kiss and stuff."  Sister Katherine hesitated before nodding.  She
gave me a quick peck on the lips and quickly left.

I rummaged through the pile for a few minutes, but I didn't find 
anything even remotely wearable.  It didn't help that it consisted 
almost entirely of boys' clothes.  I tucked my bundle of clothes
under my arm, happy that I'd found most of my old stuff, and left
the storage room to finish doing laundry.  In the hall, one of the
boys had an old metal bucket full of soapy water and was mopping the
floor.  He looked up as I passed by, and then went back to his mop.


                                  * * *


Saturday night at the shelter was pretty bizarre.  There was a large
common room that wasn't used during the week, furnished with old
couches and a second-hand television set.  Just about all of the
boys went in there after dinner, to watch a hockey game and just
hang out.  A few priests were seated among the boys, and I
recognized a few of them from prior dinners.  Billy was there, and
he gave me a smile, as was the olive-skinned boy from my class, who
merely looked up when I took a seat on one of the couches.

I watched the hockey game for a while and began to get bored, so I
got up and left the common room, hoping to head back to my bedroom
to read my history textbook or maybe get a bit of writing done. 
However, in the hall outside the common area, I ran into Father Ken.

"I've been looking for you," he said.  "Let's talk in my office."

We entered Father Ken's office and he went behind his desk, pulling
a package wrapped in brown paper from a drawer, followed by his
bottle of bourbon and two glasses.

"This is for you," he said, handing over the parcel.  "Open it."

I sat down across from his desk and opened the package.  Inside was
a box containing something lacy and black.  Digging into the box, I
pulled out a frilly black bra with lacy cutouts for the nipples, a
matching pair of crotchless panties, a garter belt, and fishnet
stockings.  I looked at Father Ken with a baffled expression; he'd
taken my old clothes from me because they weren't "age appropriate"
in his opinion, yet he'd bought me undies worthy of a hooker.

"Thank you," I said.  "They're lovely."

"You're welcome.  I'm glad you like them," he replied, pouring two 
drinks.

"Let me put them on," I said, disappearing into Father Ken's bed
chamber and closing the door.  I took off my clothes and began to
put on the things Father Ken had given me.  The bra was a bit big;
he must have guessed at my size.  The straps were adjustable,
though, and the panties and garter belt fit fine.  The garter tabs
were made from cheap plastic and were hard to attach to the
stockings, but held fast after a bit of fiddling.  I took a look at
myself in the mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door. 
The crotchless panties and peek-a-boo bra left nothing to the
imagination.  The outfit wasn't quite complete, either; it needed
black pumps and a feather boa. 

When I returned to Father Ken's office, he was still seated behind
his desk in his high-backed leather office chair, sipping his drink.
 His trousers were undone and he was idly stroking his cock as he
waited for me to return.  I climbed up into his lap and threw my
arms around him, rubbing my exposed pussy against his hard penis as
I kissed him. 

"Thank you.  I love it.  Do you like it?" I said.

"You look lovely," he said, squeezing my bottom through the lacy 
panties.  I ground my cleft against his stiff rod, feeling some of
my wetness rub off on him.

"I have a favor to ask you, Father," I whispered.

"What it is, Anne?"

"I need to see a gynecologist.  I need some protection."

"I'm afraid I can't...I mean...church doctrine..."

"What if it wasn't for protection?  Just a check-up?"

"Well, I'll have to think about..."  His voice was thick with lust,
his expression betraying his conflicted feelings.  I knew he wanted
me, wanted to feel himself inside me, but the idea of using
contraception was an obstacle in his mind.  I had no idea that the
pursuit of pleasure could be so complex and decided to drop the
subject. 

Father Ken had no intention of continuing the discussion either.  
He handed me the other drink and watched as I took a first sip of
bourbon, then a second, then a gulp, nearly draining the glass.  
We shared an alcohol-flavored kiss, and then Father Ken stood up,
holding me by the bottom.  I wrapped my arms around his neck as he
carried me into his bedroom and playfully tossed me on his bed.  
I pinched my nipples and teased my clit as I watched him undress. 
When he was naked, save for the small gold cross around his neck, he
climbed into bed and stretched out on top of me, pressing his body
against mine as we kissed.  His erection pressed against my mons, so
I adjusted my hips and ground my clit against his hard, veiny shaft,
and wrapped my legs around his waist.

"I wish you were in me," I whispered.  Father Ken just grunted and 
pressed his cock harder against my pussy, grinding his hardness
along the length of my slit until it began to chafe.

"Ow," I complained.  "Do you have any lube?"  Father Ken looked down
at his dick before getting up from the bed and going into the
bathroom.  He returned with a bottle of hand lotion, which he handed
to me.  I squeezed some on to my fingers and began to rub it into my
burning cunny lips, adding another big dollop to my reddened clit. 
Then I motioned for him to come closer and rubbed another blob of
lotion on to his angry red cock until it glistened.

I tugged at Father Ken's slick penis, urging him to lay on top of me
again.  This time our genitals slid smoothly against each other,
like well-oiled parts of a machine.  Father Ken lay partially on top
of me, supporting himself with his arms while I reached down to
press his cock against my cleft and rocked my hips.  Every time he
thrust his pelvis, his glistening shaft would saw across my clit. 
It wasn't as good as fucking, but it felt pretty nice.

I looked up at Father Ken's face.  He was alternating between
looking down at his cock, looking at me, and closing his eyes.  I
wondered what he was thinking about when his eyes closed, who he was
thinking about.  He'd look so distant for a moment and then he'd
snap back, looking down at our goodies grinding together and moving
his hips a little faster. 

As good as this felt, I still wished we were fucking.  Unlike the 
previous two nights, Father Ken was taking a while to come.  If he'd
been inside me, I'd be in the middle of a mind-blowing orgasm by
now.  I really missed having Ramon on top of me, in me, feeling the
muscles move beneath his back, knowing that all of that power was
focused on the fat cock pumping in and out of my little pussy.

Just as I was thinking how long Father Ken was taking to come, I
felt his hips start to stutter and his cock begin to throb against
my clit.  I looked down at his slick penis and saw a ropy jet of
semen shoot from the tip and land on my belly.  The second spurt
arced a bit lower, trailing on to the lacy waistband of my garter
belt.  A third and fourth spurt shot forth and Father Ken gave one
last thrust before rolling off of me and on to the bed.

"I'll get you a towel," Father Ken said, seeing the spermy mess on
my belly.  These were the first words he'd spoke since carrying me
in from the office.  He went to the bathroom and returned with two
towels, handing one to me and using the other to wipe the hand
lotion from his cock and balls.  I daubed his cooling semen from my
skin and the lotion from my cunny, handing the towel back to Father
Ken. 

"Okay, we can do that," he said, laying down next to me on the
narrow bed.

"Do what?"

"The doctor.  An exam.  I know someone.  I'll set it up."

"Thank you."

"Just don't tell me what it is," he said.

"Tell you what?"

"Don't tell me whether it's a pill or a diaphragm or an IUD.  I
don't want to know.  Just take care of it."

"Okay.  I will.  Thanks."  I gave him a hug and kissed him and we
held each other until he drifted off to sleep.  I watched him for a
while before slipping out of bed and putting my clothes on over the
lingerie he'd bought me.  I was wearing the long peasant skirt that
day; you could hardly see the fishnets.  Before leaving, I poured
myself another drink, washing down one of his Valiums with a sip of
bourbon. 

I returned to my room and decided to take a shower, still feeling
sticky trails of sperm on my skin.  I thought about finishing myself
off while I was showering, as all that greasy humping hadn't made me
come.  But my legs felt rubbery from the booze and the pills and I
thought I'd be better off doing it in bed.  I dried myself off and
headed back to my room.

I was back in my room, naked and spread-eagled on my bed, two
fingers in my pussy and one on my clit, on the verge of a blinding
climax, when there was a soft knock on my door.  I stopped what I
was doing, knowing that what I was doing was being accompanied by a
bedspring symphony.  Whoever was at the door knocked again.  I threw
on a long t-shirt and went to answer it.

"Who is it?" I asked through the door.

"Katie," came the reply.  I had to think for a second before I
connected the name to Sister Katherine.  I opened the door.

"Anne," she said, slipping into the room and closing the door behind
her.  "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"No, no," I said.  She was wearing an old bathrobe and had taken off
her wimple, revealing her short auburn hair.  I felt her drawing
close, her hands finding my waist, her lips brushing mine.  We stood
in the middle of my darkened room and kissed for a while.  After
kissing Father Ken, her lips felt particularly soft and inviting.

I undid her robe and moved my hands inside, on to her warm skin.  
Beneath the robe she wore a plain pair of panties and a bra, every
bit as austere as the undies I'd mended for her earlier.  I felt her
hands begin to roam under my t-shirt, over my back and down to my
bottom.  We kissed and groped each other until I broke off the
embrace and led her to my bed.

I shrugged off my t-shirt as Sister Katherine reached behind her
back to unclasp her bra.  I hadn't gotten a good look at her when we
were in the storage room, as she'd been wearing a full slip, but
now, wearing only her white cotton briefs, I could finally view her
near-naked form.  She was skinnier than I thought, with slim, almost
bony hips.  She wasn't much bigger than me on top, either, but she
had big brown nipples that crinkled into an oval when I sucked and
kissed them.  Every time I suckled her crinkly areolae, she'd moan
softly and gently kiss the top of my head.

We lay side by side on the bed, our thighs intertwined, our breasts 
pressed together, exploring each other's body with our hands, and
each other's lips with our tongues.  It seemed as if Katie would
have been content to just kiss and fondle each other all night, and
that it was up to me to make the first move towards something more. 
I began to kiss her neck, her breasts again, the slight swell of her
tummy, stopping at the high waistband of her underwear.

"No, no," she softly protested as I began to pull her panties down.

"I want to make you feel good," I whispered.

"It's wrong...it's so dirty."

"But it's so beautiful....you're so beautiful," I countered.  Her 
protests ended but for a quivering tension in her thighs as I pulled
the panties over them, revealing her untrimmed bush.  I let her
panties dangle from one of her ankles as I curled up between her
legs, leaving a trail of kisses up her thighs.

"Oh, Annie," she sighed, as I parted her labia with my fingers and
began to tease her clit with my tongue.  Her pearly nubbin swelled,
and I was amazed at its size, nearly as big as the tip of my pinkie
finger.  As it engorged with blood like a tiny penis, I began to
circle it with my tongue, trying not to touch it directly, at least
not yet.  I'd guide my tongue down the length of her slit and back
up, bringing some of her own nectar up to her clit.

As I began to softly lash her clit with my tongue, Katie began to
rock her hips and run her fingers through my hair, quietly moaning
and mewling as I licked her secret pearl.  My hands reached beneath
her bottom, cupping her cheeks as I drank from her sex, watching her
breasts heave like boats on a stormy sea.

"Anne...no...Annie," she whispered, though she made no effort to
stop me.  Quite the contrary: every time I'd suck her swollen clit
she'd press her hips forward to meet my lips.  I began to alternate
between swirling my tongue over her clitoris and sucking it with my
lips, and soon I was rewarded with the feeling of her quivering
thighs pressing against my shoulders.  She barely made a sound as
she came, just a few quick breaths and a soft moan.  As her thighs
began to relax, she gently pushed my head away from her sex.  She'd
had enough. 

"Anne," she whispered after I scooted back up on the bed and into
her arms.  "That was wonderful."  As we kissed, I could taste a
trace of blood on her lips.  She must have bitten them to keep from
crying out as she came.

"I'm so happy you liked it," I said, kissing her again.  Our thighs
were once again intertwined, and I felt her wet sex against my skin
as I pressed against hers with my own moist cleft.  There was a knot
in my stomach, a tension that had been building all day, since our
furtive embrace in the storage room on top of the pile of clothes. 
That I hadn't come when Father Ken was humping my pussy didn't help.
 Sister Katherine had interrupted my attempt to take care of this
myself, and now, after making her come, I sorely needed my own
release. 

I thought about something Del had said once, after a long week on
the boat with his brother and father, something about his balls
turning blue from not having sex.  I thought that was funny, but now
I saw the truth in what he said, and I imagined the inside of my
cunny turning blue, like how my lips were after swimming in the cold
Atlantic in the fall, waiting for something warm to pink it up. 
Something, anything, a tongue, a finger, a cock, even a purring
vibrator. 

"Would you...?" I asked Sister Katherine, gently guiding her hand
from my waist down between my legs.

"I...I've never..." she whispered.

"Just use your fingers," I said.  It wouldn't take very long unless
she was particularly clumsy, which I didn't think was the case.

"No, let me try..." she said, kissing my neck and breasts just as I
had done for her.  She lingered over my belly, her soft lips
pressing against my skin, and then she was between my thighs.  I
felt her warm breath on my sex, my clit rising in anticipation.  Her
wet tongue parted my nether lips, tasting my wetness, slowly edging
towards my clitoris.  I arched my back in anticipation and I wasn't
disappointed when her tongue swirled over my pearl, sending an
almost electric jolt through my body and out my limbs.

I grabbed two fistfuls of sheets, trying to resist the urge to press
her head against my sex and make the friction more intense.  I could
feel every taste bud on her tongue as it glided over my swollen
nubbin, glad that she took the direct approach and didn't try to
tease me.  It wasn't very long before I was shuddering on the bed,
pinning her between my shaking thighs as my orgasm left me helpless,
a trembling bag of bones on a lumpy mattress.  Katie seemed like
she'd never stop, and I had to pull my sex from her mouth and tug on
her shoulder before my clit became painfully sensitive.  I gently
pulled her up to lie next to me, and we held each other and kissed,
the taste of my nectar lingering on her lips.

"That was beautiful," I cooed in her ear.  "Thank you."

"I've never done...I mean...I've wanted to..." she whispered.

"Never?"

"Never.  I've kissed, and, well, that's it," she said.

As we lay together in the narrow bed, I told Sister Katherine about
how my best friend, Luci, and I started fooling around together, and
how crushed I was when she moved away.  I told her about Tina,
another girl with whom I shared my body, my pleasure, my secrets. 
And I told her about Julia, who was closest to my heart, even in
death.  My voice was choked up and a tear was running down my cheek
as I talked about her.  Losing her was like losing my mother all
over again. 

"You poor dear," Sister Katherine murmured, holding me to her breast
as I softly sobbed.  I felt bad for burdening her with my grief, but
it felt so good to let it out, like an emotional orgasm.  I wondered
if my heart had turned blue as well.  Katie gently stroked my hair
as I began to fall asleep in her arms.


                                  * * *


I woke up with a start.  The door was opening and someone was slowly
shuffling into the room.  I looked back at Sister Katherine, who was
holding me from behind, partially shielded from the light streaming
in from the hallway by my body.  Her eyes were wide open, like a
deer caught in a car's headlights.

"Tommy?  Tommy?  Where are you?"  It was Father John again, looking
for his long lost boy.

"I'm here, Father.  Right over here.  Follow my voice, Father," I
said.  Sister Katherine held me tighter and I could feel her heart
racing. 

"Tommy?  Show me your hands, boy.  Where are your hands?"

"Right here, Father.  Take my hand," I said, reaching out for him. 
He placed my hands on his cock, and I tugged on his hardening
member, drawing him closer, gently kneading his pale tool until it
was fully erect.

"That's it, Tommy.  Nice and slow, like I showed you," he slurred. 
I could smell the liquor on his breath.

Sister Katherine didn't dare utter a sound as I began to stroke the 
elderly priest's penis.  While I pleasured old Father LaRose, Father
Ken's words about how this was an "act of kindness" came back to me.
I thought about Tommy, how he must have been around the age of my 
stepbrothers when he died.  Had he even kissed a girl?  Was there
any pleasure in his all-too-short life or just pain?

"Get ready, Tommy.  You know what to do," Father John said.  Just
like the other night, I leaned forward and took his cock in my
mouth, swirling my tongue over the broad, spongy head, and was
rewarded with a small spurt of semen.  A couple of hot, thin
dribbles followed, and I scooped them up with my tongue, licking
clean his softening penis. 

"Good boy," the priest said in a low voice.  "Bless you, Tommy."  I 
heard the priest stuff his soft cock back in his trousers and turn
to leave.  As the door closed behind him, I was glad that he didn't
try to reach under the covers again, searching for a penis that
wasn't there. 

"That was Father LaRose," Sister Katherine whispered.

"Yes, he came in here a couple of times before, looking for
'Tommy'," I said, rolling over in her arms so I was facing her.

"You...you...took him...in your...," she stammered.  I leaned closer
and kissed her, knowing that the taste of Father John's seed was
still on my lips.

"Bitter," she said.

"I know.  You get used to it."

"I've never..."

"Never?"

"I dated boys when I was younger, but it never went that far," she
said. 

"What about girls?" I asked.

"What about girls.  That was a subject that was never mentioned when
I was growing up, let alone acted on.  It wasn't until I entered
novitiate that I acted upon the thoughts I had.  It felt so shameful
at first..." 

"But...?"

"But I gave in to my lust," she said, snuggling closer.  Sister 
Katherine kissed me and laid her head back down on the pillow.


                                  * * *


She was gone when I woke up the next morning.  I washed up and put
on my best skirt and sweater and went downstairs for breakfast. 
After eating, Father Ken took us all to the cathedral for morning
mass.  There was a catechism class afterwards, but I was excused
from this, by virtue of not being a Catholic.  I walked around the
neighborhood for a while, but it was cold and there wasn't much
open.  On the way back to the shelter, I ran into Billy.  He was
hanging on the corner and smoking a cigarette, out of sight of the
shelter's front door.  He looked too young to be puffing away at a
Marlboro. 

"Hey, Annie," he said.  "Wanna smoke?"

"No, thanks."

"Smoke a joint?"  Billy's demeanor was totally different from when I
first met him, a bashful naked boy in a bathtub.  He was on a street
corner, his natural element, the throne room of his tough boy
kingdom. 

"Sure," I said.  We walked around the block behind the shelter, to a
boarded-up brownstone that had seen better days.  There was a small
nook below street level, underneath the front steps.  Billy ducked
inside the passage and I followed.  Light filtered in from a row of
glass bricks set into the front stairway, illuminating a small space
filled with construction debris, fast food wrappers, and empty
coffee cups. 

Billy reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin joint, lighting
it with the cigarette.  He took a big hit and passed it to me,
peeking through the low doorway when he heard a siren pass by and
recede into the distance.  I took a drag on the joint and passed it
back to him. 

"That was fun, the other day," he said.

"In the bath?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, it was."

"Could we do that again?" he asked, trying hard to suppress an eager
expression.

"I dunno.  What's in it for me?"  I was bored, and an afternoon of 
playing with this boy sounded like fun, but I didn't want to make it
too easy for him to get in my panties.  He thought about my question
for a while.

"Well, I can get you some pot," he said.  "Or coke or dope. 
Whatever you want."

The idea of having some coke sort of appealed to me, but I wondered
what kind of shit this eleven-year-old kid could come up with.  I
wasn't about to suck him off for a bag of talcum powder.  Then
again, this joint was pretty good.

"Get me some pot," I said.  "An ounce or something."

"A whole ounce?  No way!" Billy protested.  "I can get you a
quarter, maybe."

"Make it a half, then."

Billy thought it over for a moment and then he nodded.  We finished
up the joint and left our hiding place.  As we hit the sidewalk,
Billy turned to head in the opposite direction.

"I'll get it to you after Sunday supper," he said.  "Is that okay?"

"Sure," I replied, leaning down to give him a quick kiss on the
cheek.  Billy smiled and ran off to find his dealer, who was
somewhere in the neighborhood.  I headed back to the shelter and
went up to my room, killing time by writing in my journal until the
mid-afternoon meal was served.

Billy entered the dining room just as grace was being said.  Red
faced and runny-nosed, he looked as if he'd just run a mile.  He
took off his coat and sat down to dinner, giving me a wink and a
smile to let me know that he had my bag of weed.  Sister Katherine
was also there, holding a tureen and a ladling out soup for
everyone.  All of the boys were present, as was Father Ken and a
pair of priests that I recognized from previous dinners.  I wished
Sister Katie would sit down and eat with me -- except for Billy,
none of the boys would talk to me -- but she was busy serving
dinner. 

I finished quickly and cleaned off my tray, catching Billy's eye
before heading upstairs.  I glanced up towards the ceiling, hoping
he'd catch my drift and meet me upstairs when he finished his meal. 
He gave me the slightest of nods to show me he understood.

I was in my room reading when I heard a soft knock on the door.  It
was Billy.  I let him in and closed the door behind him.

"Here," he said, handing me a rolled-up plastic bag.  It felt lumpy.
 I unrolled it and examined the contents, holding the open end to my
nose and taking a sniff.  I'd never bought pot before, and I didn't
really know what to look for, but it smelled nice and pungent.  I
rolled it up again and stuffed it in the waistband of my skirt,
under my sweater. 

"You got a pipe or papers?" he asked.

"No.  Do you?"

"Nope.  I got an idea, though.  You got something sharp?  Like a pin
or something?"

"I've got a pencil," I said.

"Good.  C'mon."  Billy led me out of my room and across the hall to
the bathroom.  I closed the door behind us and was about to jam the
pencil in the door frame when Billy stopped me.

"Wait, I'll need that to make the pipe," he said.  I leaned back
against the door to keep someone from barging in on us and handed
him the pencil, which he stuck behind his ear.

Billy took the toilet paper off of its holder and began to ease the 
cardboard core from the center of the roll.  The paper began to 
telescope around it, but he managed to free it without damaging the
roll too much.  He placed the roll back in the holder.  With his
thumbnail, he scored the cardboard tube, about a half inch from the
end, making a small hole and tearing off the excess.  Then he
reached into his pocket for a tiny silver nugget of aluminum foil,
which he carefully peeled open.  Inside was a small brown lump.

"What's that?" I asked him.

"Sheesh."

"Sheesh?"

"Hash.  Hashish.  I got it from Donnie."

"Donnie?"

"Yeah, the guy I got the pot from," he said.  He tore off a piece of
the tin foil and pressed it into the hole in the toilet paper tube,
making a crude bowl.  Then he took the pencil from behind his ear
and carefully punched some holes in the foil, handing the pencil
back to me when he was done.  While I jammed the door closed with
the pencil, Billy tested the makeshift pipe, holding one end to his
mouth and covering the other with his hand.

Billy handed me the pipe, and I filled it with a pinch of pot from
my bag while he soaked a towel and jammed it against the gap along
the bottom of the door.  Then he opened the window next to the tub. 
Cold air began to drift into the small room.

"We gotta sit next to the window and blow the smoke outside, or else
they'll smell it in the hall," he said.  I sat next to him on the
edge of the bathtub, both of us leaning on the window sill, and I
handed him the pipe to light.  He handed it back to me, unlit.

"Hang on a sec," he said, pulling out the tinfoil nugget again.  He 
unwrapped it and sliced off a loamy chunk with his thumbnail, adding
it to the pot in the improvised pipe.  "Okay, hold it up to your
mouth and cover the end with your hand."  I did as he asked, and he
lit the pot/hash mixture with a match.  I slowly inhaled the dense
smoke. 

"Pull your hand away from the end," Billy said.  I did so,
swallowing the rest of the smoke, which began to expand in my lungs.
 I suppressed the urge to cough, but my eyes began to water anyway
from the smoke's harshness.  Billy took the pipe from me and took a
hit, nearly coughing as well.  We passed the pipe back and forth
until there was nothing but ash in the bowl, and then we smoked
another. 

By the time that one was done, I was wasted.  It didn't make me
giggly like the pot I smoked with Michael.  Instead, I felt like I
was floating, lightheaded, dizzy.  I imagined that I could hear
voices coming from the room next to the bathroom, and I wasn't sure
if they were real or not, but Billy heard them, too.  He got up from
the edge of the bathtub where we were seated and went over to the
opposite wall, where the voices were coming from.  He knelt by the
wall, next to an electrical outlet.  I tiptoed over to him.

"Who is...?"

"Shhh!" Billy hissed, cutting me off.  He reached into his pocket
and fished out a dime, using the coin to remove the screw that held
the outlet's cover in place.  It took a minute to pry it loose; it
seemed as if dozens of separate coats of paint had glued it to the
wall.  When the cover was finally off, Billy peered into the wall.

"Take a look," he whispered.  I knelt next to him and peered through
the hole in the wall, into the room next door.  I remembered how
Del, Ramon, and I used to spy on my mother and stepfather through
the hole in our bedroom closet.  I didn't dwell on this memory,
however.  What I saw was too bizarre.

"That's Father Mike and Chris," Billy said.  The priest and the
blond- haired kid, who was roughly the same age as Billy, were
seated on the edge of the bed that was perpendicular to the wall we
were spying through.  Chris had been stripped down to his jockey
shorts.  Father Mike had his trousers off, his arm around the boy,
and was running his hand over Chris's smooth chest and down into his
shorts.  I could see the priest's other hand, busy between his own
legs as he began to rub the boy's young cock.

"Shove over," Billy whispered.  I moved to the right a bit, still 
peeking through the outlet, giving Billy a view through the wall. 
We knelt at the wall together, just about cheek-to-cheek.  On the
other side, Father Mike was making Chris stand up so he could pull
down his underpants.  Chris's pecker was standing at attention. 
Father Mike began to rub him.

"Wow," I said, sotto voce.

"Yeah," Billy said.  I guess I knew what was going on in the shelter
between the clergy and the residents, but seeing it happen was 
different.  Very different.

"Anyone here ever do that to you?" I asked Billy.  He was silent.

"Father Ken gave me an 'examination' the first night I got here," I 
said, putting my arm around his waist.  I could feel him trembling. 
In the room next door, Chris was on his knees, his lips wrapped
around Father Mike's penis.  In a low voice, I told Billy about all
the things I did with Father Ken and Father John.  He listened
quietly as he watched Father Mike lay Chris on his belly on the bed
and apply some lubricant to a spot between the blond boy's cheeks.

As we watched Father Mike spread Chris's legs and mount him, I ran
my hand over Billy's back, trying to soothe him.  I could tell that
he was both upset at what we were watching and captivated by this
scene.  I was, too.  Chris was laying on the bed, facing us,
clutching a pillow.  He didn't cry out when the priest entered him,
but I could see tears start to form in his eyes.  Father Mike lay on
top of the boy and began pumping his tender bottom.  Billy turned
away from the hole. 

"I'm not a fag," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

"I know you're not," I said, kissing him on the forehead.

"Father Ken examined me, too," he said.  "And Father James.  And
Father Joseph."  Billy's eyes were misting up.

"It's okay.  It's okay," I cooed, getting up from my knees and
pulling Billy to his feet.  I steered him over to the sink, where I
wiped his tears with a paper towel.  

"I'm not a fag," he repeated.

"No one is saying you are," I said.  "Do you like girls?  Do you
like me?"  Billy nodded his head.

"Then you're not gay," I assured him.  I was about to say "And so
what if you are", but decided not to.  How fragile men's egos are,
even at this age.  I leaned in and kissed him on the lips.  He was
cold to me at first, but he soon warmed up, putting his hands on my
hips.  I guided one of them up to my breasts.

"Wanna take another bath together?" I asked him.

"Yeah," Billy said, a smile growing on his face.  I gave his little
butt a playful squeeze and went to fill the tub.  While the water
ran, I stripped off my sweater and stepped out of my skirt.

"I gotta pee," Billy said.  The sound of running water must have
been getting to him.

"Go ahead."

"I can't while you're watching."

"You watched me pee the other night," I said.  "Fair's fair."  Billy
couldn't argue with that.  He unzipped his fly and fished out his
penis.  It was hard.  He stood over the toilet for a moment.

"I can't.  It won't come out now."

"Would you like me to leave?"

"No, well...no," he said.

"Okay, then.  Just close your eyes and think of something else.  Try
to forget the fact that you're in a tiny bathroom with a girl who's
wearing nothing but panties."

"Um, okay."  He shut his eyes and began mumbling something under his
breath.  Whatever he was thinking about did the trick: his penis
began to soften and soon a straw-colored stream was flowing into the
toilet.  He shook out the last few drops and gave me a satisfied
smile. 

"My turn," I said, putting down the seat.  I pulled my panties down
and sat on the toilet, taking a leak in front of Billy.  This time I
didn't ask him to turn away.  He watched, fascinated, trying to
figure out where the pee was coming from.  After I emptied my
bladder, I took a wad of toilet paper and dried myself off. 
Steadying myself by holding Billy's shoulder, I stepped out of my
panties and stood before him, nude.

"Let's get you out of those good Sunday clothes," I said, loosening
his tie.  Soon we were both naked, and the tub was only half full. 
Billy stood with his hands on his hips, his hard little cock
standing at attention.  I sat on the edge of the tub, my legs apart,
and motioned for him to come closer.

"You're curious about how I'm put together?" I asked him.  He
nodded, never once taking his eyes off of my sex.  "Okay, take a
good look," I said, parting my labia with my fingers.  "This is my
clit."  Billy moved closer, peering intently as I teased my clitoris
from its hood. 

"It's sensitive, like the tip of your dick.  Below that is my
urethra, my pee hole.  And below that..."

"...is your fuck hole," Billy laughed.

"Yeah, right.  My fuck hole," I said.  "Most guys are a little more 
polite about it, regardless of what they're thinking.  You want to
get in there, you'd better be polite.  And gentle.  Remember what I
told you the other day?"

"Girls like boys who are gentle?"

"Exactly," I said, kissing him on his freckled forehead.  The
bathtub was almost full.  I checked the temperature and climbed in,
easing into the warm water.  Billy climbed in after me, and I
positioned him so he was sitting between my legs with his back to
me, his firm little butt pressing against my cleft.  I reached for
the soap and began to lather up his smooth chest.  As my soapy hands
worked lower and lower on his torso, Billy sighed and settled back
against my breasts. 

I expected to find a nice hard little pecker between his legs, and I
wasn't at all disappointed.  Billy's little bubble butt pressed
against my pussy as I jerked his soapy cock and cradled his slack
ball sack. 

"Turn over so I can do your back," I said.  Billy rolled over in my
arms so that he was facing me, his head resting on my shoulder.  I
lathered his back, starting at his neck and working my way down to
his bottom.  He flinched when my fingers probed his crack, so I
backed off from there, lathering his bum cheeks instead.  Billy's
soapy cock slid back and forth over my thigh as I gently fondled his
bottom. 

"Stand up so I can get you nice and clean," I said.  Billy stood up
in the tub and I knelt in front of him, stroking his penis as I
rinsed off the lather.  I leaned in and took it in my mouth, sinking
my lips down the length of his hardness.  He sighed with pleasure as
I sucked him and cupped his hairless balls, his hips rocking
slightly to my rhythm. 

I desperately wanted to fuck him right then, to swallow him with my 
hungry cunny, to feel his stiff pecker stir my juices, but I
couldn't risk getting knocked up, least of all by an eleven-year-old
boy.  There was, however, something else we could do.  I released
him from my mouth and began to soap up his cock again, and then I
turned around and presented my bottom to him, sliding the bar of
soap along my asscrack until I was nice and slick.

"Kneel behind me, Billy," I instructed him.  He got on his knees and
inched closer, the tip of his cock sliding along my crack, his eager
hips thrusting in anticipation of what was about to happen.  I
reached back and took hold of his cock, guiding it into my tight
bottom.  It took a couple of tries for him to enter me, but once his
tip had penetrated my nether hole, the rest of his shaft slid in
effortlessly. 

"Feel good?" I asked him.

"Yeah."

"Go slowly."

"Okay."  It must have taken all of his restraint not to start
humping me furiously like a horny little poodle, but somehow he
managed pretty well.  I could feel his warm breath on my back, and
the cool air from the open window caressed my wet breasts, making my
nipples crinkle up like pruny bath water fingertips.  I guided his
hands to my breasts, giving him something to hold on to while he
slowly pumped my bottom.  Meanwhile, I began to frig my clit with my
soapy fingertips, occasionally dipping one into my snatch.

"Annie, I'm gonna..." Billy gasped.  I could tell by the way his
hips stuttered between thrusts that he was struggling to stay in
control as he teetered on the edge of coming.

"Come for me, baby.  Come in my ass," I urged him.  These words had
a galvanic effect on Billy, and he began to thrust hard and fast,
making a loud slapping sound as his hips hit my bottom again and
again.  Then I felt him stiffen and twitch inside me and the thrusts
stopped.  Billy lay his head between my shoulder blades as his cock
began to soften and slip out of my bottom.

Billy got up off of me and sat back down in the tub, a contented
smile on his face as he watched me roll over and sit down across
from him.  The smile wouldn't leave his face, even when I leaned
over to kiss him. 

"You liked that, didn't you?"

"That was awesome," he said.

"Do you want to do it again?" I asked.

"Sure!"

"Okay, let's dry off and go to my room," I said.  "One thing,
though..." 

"What?"

"You've got to lick my pussy first."

"Eww!  No way!"  Billy's smile disappeared and he wrinkled his
button nose.

"Okay.  Suit yourself," I said, slowly lathering my breasts and
arms. 

"But...but..."  His eyes were locked on my soapy tits.

"But what?" I asked him.  "Does something about my pussy disgust
you?" 

"No, but..."

"But what?  Lots of guys do it.  Lots of guys like it.  Girls love 
having their pussies licked."  Billy thought about this, weighing
his desire to fuck me again with the natural reluctance boys his age
had towards cunnilingus.  It took a long time for my stepbrothers to
reconcile themselves with the idea of eating pussy, but once they'd
done that they began to enjoy eating me out, Del especially.  He
loved to watch me squirm with delight as his tongue danced over my
clit; it made him feel like a real man in bed.

"Look, Billy, I don't want you to do anything you feel uncomfortable
about", I said, not wanting to make having sex an unpleasant
experience for him.  The priests around here were good at doing just
that. 

"No, no.  I'll try it.  I want to," he said.

"You sure about this?  You don't have to."

"No, I want to, Annie.  You've been really nice to me."

"You're so sweet," I said, leaning forward and kissing him on the 
forehead.  "You're going to grow up to be a handsome man and a
wonderful lover."

Billy blushed at this, his big smile returning to his freckled face.
 We rinsed off and dried ourselves, smoking another bowl of pot
laced with hash as the bathtub drained, hiding the pipe behind the
tub's drain pipe.  Billy screwed the cover back on the electrical
outlet after taking one last look at Chris and Father Mike.  They
were lying together on the bed, nestled like spoons.

Even though we were just going across the hall to my room, we had to
get dressed anyway.  I left first, telling Billy to count to 100
before following.  Back in my room, I took my skirt and sweater off
again and lay down on my bed in my panties.  Billy joined me a
couple of minutes later, and he took off his clothes and joined me
in bed.  I pulled him on top of me and we began to kiss, though his
tongue was all over my mouth.

"Whoa, slow down," I said.  "Less tongue.  Watch the teeth."  We
kissed again, and Billy did much better this time, showing a bit
more restraint.

"Now, start kissing lower.  Nibble my earlobe a bit, kiss my neck." 
I stroked his soft, smooth skin as he began to gently suck on my
earlobe and explore my neck and shoulder with his lips.

"Do my breasts, now.  Cup them gently and bring the nipple to your 
lips," I instructed him.  Billy suckled me like a baby, carefully 
fondling my small tits.  His teeth lightly grazed my nipples, making
me shiver with delight, and I let him play with my little boobs for
a while, enjoying his gentle touch.  Billy must have enjoyed playing
with them; his pecker was hard again and pressing against my leg.

"Okay, now start kissing lower, down my belly."  Billy looked up and
smiled as he began to leave a trail of kisses that stopped at the 
waistband of my panties.

"Before you pull them off, just give me a kiss right here," I said, 
pointing to my panty-clad mons.  His lips pressed against the soft 
cotton covering my pussy, and then he began to tug at the waistband
of my underwear.

"Slowly, slowly," I said, lifting my bottom off of the bed.  Billy 
paused for a moment and then began to slowly pull my panties down my
thighs, like a boy trying to unwrap a gift on Christmas morning. 
When he'd finished removing my undies, he looked up at me, awaiting
the next part of his lesson.

"Kiss your way up the inside of my thighs," I said.  "Take your
time.  Tease me a little."  Billy gave a little chuckle as he began
to kiss and caress my inner thighs, working his way up to my cleft. 
When I felt his hot breath on my sex, I reached down and parted my
labia. 

"Here's the tricky part.  You've got to concentrate on the little
bump at the top, but not right away.  Work your way up to it, kiss
and lick around it first," I said.  Billy hesitated for a second
before planting a kiss on my snatch and licking around my hungry
hole.  His tongue began to inch higher until he found my clit,
making me gasp and shudder. 

"Like that?" Billy asked.

"Just like that.  You're doing fine," I said.  "Taste okay?"

"Yeah, a little salty, like tears, but okay."  Billy went back to 
circling my clit with his tongue as I began to cup my breasts and 
lightly pinch my nipples.

"Okay, start licking my clit directly, up and down and side to side,
not too hard."  Billy did as he was told, and I felt my thighs begin
to quiver, a kernel of pleasure building in my lower belly.

"A little harder...cup my bottom in your hands...that's 
right...perfect..."

Billy had a look of intense concentration on his face as he ate me, 
glancing up at me every so often to watch the effect his mouth was 
having on me.  I had been halfway to coming back in the bathtub, so
I knew it wouldn't take very long.  Julia had the patience and
stamina to eat me for an hour, something I knew was beyond this
eager young boy.  Some day, though...

"Yes, Billy...yes...put your finger in me...yes...ungh..."  He
slipped a slick digit in my cunny, pushing it in and out like a
little cock, his knuckle grazing that sensitive spot on the top of
my vagina.  I squeezed my breasts and arched my back in anticipation
of what was to come, the kernel of pleasure inside me expanding like
a supernova. 

"Urgh...yes!  Harder, now, harder...oh God oh God oh God..."  My
thighs began to spasm as I came, pinning Billy between them as he
lashed my clit with his tongue and fucked my hole with his finger. 
My ass levitated off the bed and I felt like I'd fly off into space
if I let go of the sheets.  There was a second peak to my climax as
Billy switched from an up-and-down motion to a vigorous side-by-side
shaking of his head, his tongue and lips rubbing across my clit like
a multitude of mouths.

"Okay, okay, that's enough," I gasped, tugging at his arm and
pulling him on top of me.  He smiled, his face glistening with my
juices, and we kissed.

"Was that okay?" Billy asked.

"Perfect," I said.  "You were perfect.  Thank you."  Billy smiled
again and nestled his head in the crook of my neck as I held him and
caressed his back.

"I liked doing that," he whispered.  "I liked seeing you come."

"You can do that whenever you want," I said, kissing his cheek.  We
lay together for a while, and then he rolled off of me, his hard
little boycock twitching with anticipation.  I reached over to the
bedside table for the bottle of moisturizer.  A local hotel had
donated cartons of toiletries to the shelter, the little bottles of
shampoo, conditioner, and lotion that they stocked for guests,
pre-moistened towelettes, and tiny tubes of toothpaste.  I squeezed
out a dollop of lotion and began to rub it all over Billy's stiff
prick, making it glisten in the dim light of my room.  Then I handed
the bottle to him and rolled over on my belly.

"Put some lotion in my bottom," I said, spreading my cheeks apart. 
The lotion was cold at first, but the friction of Billy's finger
warmed it up.  I reached under my belly and began to finger my
still-sensitive clit with a greasy finger as Billy mounted me.  I
didn't need to guide him inside me this time, as he knew exactly
what to do.  His slick cock slowly pierced my bottom, and I clenched
my muscles to make it extra tight for him.

"So good," he murmured as he slowly began to thrust.

"Mmmm..." I agreed, pushing my bottom up to meet his hips.  He held
my shoulders as he fucked my ass, gently kissing my back and neck. 
We coupled gently, quietly, his little balls rubbing against my
pussy with each stroke.  Billy was the perfect size for my ass, just
like Paco, and he seemed to enjoy it just as much as my little
stepbrother.  And just like Paco, Billy had a hard time maintaining
a slow pace.  I didn't mind, though, because every hard thrust
pressed my swollen clit against my fingers.

Unlike the assfucking I'd had in the bath earlier, Billy was taking
his sweet time coming, and by the time I felt that telltale
twitching of his cock, I was beginning to climax again.  I rubbed my
clit harder, trying to catch up with him, and I succeeded.  My
orgasm wasn't as intense as the ones I had when he was eating me,
but it was enough to make me clench my sphincter around his spasming
cock.  Billy gasped in surprise as my tight hole got even tighter,
and he gave my bottom one last deep thrust as he came.

"Stay in me," I whispered as Billy started to roll off of me.  We
held hands, our fingers intertwined, as he lay on top of my back.  I
turned my head so he could see my smile, and he gave me a tender
kiss on the cheek.  When his cock finally softened and slipped out
of me, we snuggled together under the covers, trading gentle kisses
and soft caresses.

"Are you my girlfriend now?" Billy asked.

"Oh, Billy," I sighed.  "You're three years younger than I am."

"But..."  He began to sound upset.

"Let's be like brother and sister instead, okay?"

"Okay, I guess," he said, crestfallen.

"Hey, hey, don't frown, baby.  I loved my brothers.  And we used to
do fun things like this all the time," I said.  "Besides, boyfriends
and girlfriends break up all the time.  I want you to be my little
brother forever.  Okay?"

"Okay.  I like that.  I never had a big sister," he said, smiling
again.  I kissed him and we hugged each other, like siblings rather
than lovers, until Billy's stomach began to groan from hunger. 
Intent on raiding the kitchen for a snack, he started to get out of
bed, but I made him wait until I cleaned off his little pecker with
a towelette and dried it with my panties.  We got dressed and went
downstairs to get something to eat.  There was a basketball game on
in the common room, and Billy left to catch some of it, giving me a
quick kiss before he left. 

I had just finished eating a sandwich and was walking back to my
room when I heard a soft sobbing coming from the room next door to
the bathroom, Chris's room.  I stopped for a moment outside his door
and listened, and then I knocked once, twice, and then a third time.
 The sobbing stopped and a small voice said "Come in".

Chris was lying on his bed, clutching a pillow.  His eyes were red
and his face was lined with the tracks of tears.  He looked up at me
with the saddest expression I'd ever seen, anywhere.  I sat down on
the edge of the bed and took one of his hands.

"What's wrong?"  I asked, expecting him to either reply "Nothing" or
say something about his encounter with Father Mike.  His reply
surprised me. 

"I miss my mom," he said, choking on the last word.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, taking the pillow from his hands and 
setting it aside so I could take this sad boy in my arms and hold
him.  "I miss my mom, too."

I held Chris's trembling body as he cried on my shoulder, letting
his grief flow as he held on to me for dear life.  My eyes began to
tear up as I listened to him sob.  I missed my mother and, even more
so, I missed Julia, who had been more than my lover, she'd been my
surrogate mother for the past year.  I'd had almost five years to
absorb the loss of my mom, but the pain of Julia's passing was still
fresh, like an open wound.

I sat holding Chris for a long time, gently rocking him and stroking
his back and his unruly mop of dirty blond hair.  The flow of tears
began to recede and his tight chest relaxed.  When he finally fell
asleep, I laid him down on his bed and tucked him in, giving him a
soft kiss on the forehead before leaving.  Back in my own room,
lying in my own warm bed, I let my own grief out of its hiding place
in the back of my mind and cried myself to sleep.


 
                                  * * * 
 

(c) 2003  Anais Ninja  anais_ninja@hotmail.com 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/index.html

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