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Message-ID: <43675asstr$1059505802@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 28 Jul 2003 14:45:56 -0500
From: "Mike" <maarm66@comcast.net>
Subject: {ASSM} Town and Country
Date: Tue, 29 Jul 2003 15:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Does any one have the other parts of this story?  I found it several years
ago, but last the first chapters.  I cant remeber if there was anything
after this or not.  Thanks.



   Town and Country: Day Three (a.m.)

   Author: Jasper May 18 2000 Town and Country: Day Three (a.m.) By Jasper

   [Author's note: This is a continuation of a story titled "Town and
Country." The first part, subtitled "Day One," covers the first day of a
four-day visit.  The second part,"Day Two" covers the next day.  This part
covers the morning hours of the third day, and will make more sense if the
first two parts are read first.]

   Brian jerked awake, feeling a small, sharp pain on his right leg. 
Disoriented, he sat up.  It was dark, though moonlight bathed the
unfamiliar room through the open window.  The night was hot, wherever the
hell this was.  He was laying somewhere on a sweat-soaked sheet, the top
sheet rumpled at the foot of the bed.  And it was quiet.  Nothing is ever
this quiet.  Has to be a dream.

   He laid back down, but then another pain stabbed the bottom of his left
foot and something went skittering across the floor.

   "Ow!" was his irritated and confused response.

   "Psst." That came from the window.  He shook his head to clear it. 
Somebody's hanging off his window ledge 11 stories above Columbus Avenue?
Christopher Lee is outside his window?  He's seen this kind of movie a
dozen times.  Open the window, you're as good as dead, drained and left to
become . . . .

   "Brian," came the voice from the window.

   "Huh . . .  what?" Drowsily, he struggled up on one elbow.

   "Brian.  Wake up!"

   Everything fell into place with this latest sampling of the voice. 
Visiting relatives in rural Nebraska, his mom's sister, her husband, his
daughter by a previous marriage, his step-cousin's suggestion they play
with sex without crossing the line.  "Kit?"

   "Yeah.  Wake up, and come here!"

   He swung his legs off the side of the bed and was on his feet before he
was awake enough to realize that everything hurt.  His skin burned.  His
leg muscles were tight.  His arms felt like they had been ripped from their
sockets.  He teetered toward the window, but then . . . .

   "Owwww, shit!"

   "What's wrong?"

   "Shit, shit, shit!" He sat heavily on a trunk at the end of the bed and
grabbed at his foot, the same one that still stung from the pebble. 
"Banged my fucking toe on . . .  what is this fucking thing?"

   "It's a trunk for quilts," Kit said, unsuccessfully suppressing a
giggle.

   "What's so fucking funny?" he demanded.

   "What happened to your philosophical opposition to such crude language?
You seem to be sinking to the level of us common rabble."

   "Oh, yeah." He rubbed his toe and peered at her silhouette.  "Usually
you have to be awake to philosophize." He stood and closed the last few
feet to the window.  She was smiling at him through the screen, her feet
obviously on the ground; no fangs.  "You want in?"

   "No," she said.  "You come out"

   He glanced down at himself.  Nothing but white briefs.  At least they
were clean.  Through the screen he could see she had a bulky brown bathrobe
wrapped around her and tied closed with a cloth belt.

   "I'll get dressed," he said.

   "Don't bother.  Unlatch the screen!"

   Don't bother?  He thought about the implications of that as he slipped
the hook from the eyebolt and pushed the screen out.  She held it up while
he sat on the sill and swung his legs out.

   "What time is it?"

   "After two."

   "Where we going?"

   "My room."

   Her room.  At two a.m.  In his underwear.  Thinking about that
distracted him from the dull pain that shot through his legs and upper body
as he landed on the grass under his window.  But not too distracted, as Kim
lowered the screen, to realize that he had an adjustment problem in his
shorts that was becoming more apparent with each step.  He decided not to
make the adjustment.  That made the problem worse.  She was ahead of him
and hadn't looked back since she set out to lead him around the side of the
house.  Her house slippers crunched the gravel once they stepped off the
grass to approach a small side porch, but he barely felt the stones against
his bare feet as he thought about the moment when she would turn and look
down.  He could point the thing down, kind of trap it between his legs. 
But he left it pointing straight out.  And he wondered what she had on
under the frumpy bathrobe.

   She went up the steps first and stopped to peek in the door glass.  She
quietly turned the handle and pushed the door open.

   "C'mon," she whispered and went in.  The door opened into the hallway of
what his uncle had said was an addition he'd put on himself several years
before.  Kit's room was the first door.  The rest along the hall he
understood to be storage and utility rooms.  The other bedrooms, including
his own, were in the old part of the big farmhouse.

   "What if somebody comes to check on you?" Brian asked as Kit pushed her
bedroom door open.

   "They won't.  Anyway, Dad's a better farmer than carpenter." She
gestured down the hallway.  "The floor boards squeak something terrible
down by the laundry room.  We'd hear anybody coming in plenty of time for
you to duck under the bed."

   "Oh." The word "bed" strengthened his tent support.  Then he was aware
that she hadn't moved into the room, but was staring down at the bulge in
his underwear.  He looked down as well.  The shorts were poked out enough
that the elastic along the leg holes was pulled away from his crotch,
allowing just a peek of hair along the sides of his balls..  When he looked
back up, she was grinning at him with a cat-who-just-ate-the-canary grin.

   "Mmm," was all she said.  And then she was inside.  He followed.

   Her room surprised him.  He hadn't been sure what he expected by way of
wall adornment.  Every teenager he knew, himself included, had pictures of
something, usually covering every inch of wall space.  He'd seen Patty's
room once.  She was into Snoopy and Big Bird posters and pictures of cute
kittens and puppies with syrupy poems.  Guys he knew went for music or
sports themes.  In his efforts to be different, he'd adapted a motif of
pre-20th century authors.  Dominating the space over his bed was the huge
brooding visage of Lord Byron.  His pride was hurt, though, when a friend
had termed it all "so goth."

   Kit's room had no posters, no taped-up magazine pages, and scarcely any
photographs at all other than a couple of framed family shots on her
dresser.  Her dad.  Her dad and stepmom.  A pretty woman he assumed to be
her mother.  One was the picture of him and his parents from a couple of
years ago, when he was still shorter than his dad.

   But there was none of that on her walls.  Instead they were covered by
one sprawling montage of leaves.  Shellacked leaves of every imaginable
color and shape glued on like wallpaper.  And not just glued on randomly,
but arranged in a swirling, complicated ebb and flow of texture and color,
dense and dark in places, light and spaced out in others, fading one color
into another in places, the colors and differing shapes all mixed up and
tumbling over one another in others.  It made him think of the huge
splatter canvases by Jackson Pollack at the Museum of Modern Art.  You look
at it one way and it seems like the paint was just flung on the canvas or
wall, but even before you look more closely to see the intricate detailing
and technique, you get a feeling that it all made sense, had a purpose.  If
it all had been flung here, it was a god who did the flinging, so it meant
something.  But the meaning could only be felt.  In this case, the medium
was leaves on a wall and the artist was a goddess.

   "Wow!" he finally managed to say.  He felt her close to him, but the
image on the wall kept his attention.

   "Just something I got into last fall and winter," she explained.  "I
used to spend most of my free time hanging around with Kim.  She's a couple
of years older, but we pretty much grew up together.  She lived just down
the road before she got her own place in town.  Then she lost her cherry at
her senior prom and she hasn't stopped fucking since.  She still detassels
to stay in touch with the girls, but she started working nights at a
stripper bar in Fremont and spends a lot of time with guys, so I needed
something to do after school and had this weird idea."

   "It's amazing!"

   "You like it?"

   "Oh, yeah."

   She tugged at his elbow and pointed at a desk across the room.  "That's
what keeps me busy these days."

   Between him and the desk was a wilderness of cast-off clothes and
crumpled paper and plastic bags and, who could know what else.  The bed in
the middle of the room was a tangled mess.  All around it the floor was a
major pit.  He didn't see cockroaches and rats swarming over it, so he
supposed it was at least a sanitary mass.

   Now this was more typical, though he'd thought for boys.  Patty's room
had been neat as a pin, and that was the only girl's room he'd been in. 
That had been only a brief peak when he'd asked to see her room.  He'd had
the sense she figured she'd get immediately pregnant if a boy entered her
room.  Way ironic, in retrospect.

   On Kit's desk a computer screen glowed blue.  A sleeping maroon and
orange cat on the screen was unaware of a scampering green mouse.  Kit did
a practiced roll across her bed and onto her feet on the other side, too
quickly for Brian to see what she had on under the robe.  The thought of
the robe made him aware again that he was in his underwear and the tent was
holding up well.

   "Dammit, Janet, where are we?" he said.

   She turned and stared blankly.

   "You know.  'Rocky Horror'?  Brad running around in his white Fruit of
the Looms trying not to get buggered by Tim Curry, and Susan Sarandon
running around in bra and panties.  I'm dressed the part, but you'd need
bra and panties instead of this, preferably white."

   "No idea what you're talking about," she said.  "And no bra," she added,
lingering over the word.  "No panties either," her expression ever so
wide-eyed and innocent.  "White or otherwise, but . . . ." Another pause,
but a now a small sign of nervousness.  A deep breath.  "Will this do
instead?" Too slowly to be anything but an intentional tease, she fumbled
with the belt, all the while looking steadily at him.  The knot finally
undone, she let the ends dangle and gripped the edges of the robe at waist
level.

   His eyes were on her hands.  They started to pull the robe open, then
hesitated.  He watched, not breathing.  Time passed, but the hands didn't
move.  She didn't seem to be breathing either.  Then she took another deep
breath and whipped the robe open, letting it slide off her arms to join the
tangled mess on the floor.

   He'd been expecting bra and panties.  When she disclaimed that, he'd
figured on some sort of lingerie, probably not something from a Victoria's
Secret catalog, but maybe Sears.  The suspense had been about sheer versus
opaque and modest versus revealing.  White, black, or even red.

   What he saw was nothing.  Not a stitch.  Entirely naked, except for the
slippers.  She must have had that same thought while standing still letting
him gawk at her, because she stepped out of the slippers and resumed her
pose.  The slight movement made her breasts move a little side to side. 
Once they'd stilled, he found his eyes drawn back to hers.  They were full
of excitement, full of life and adventure.  Full of something else that
kept his attention right there on her eyes.  She gazed back.

   Then she must have realized that her purpose in tossing off her clothes
wasn't being fulfilled.  She closed her eyes, releasing his for other use.
Still, he lingered on her face, her quirky beauty.  This was a face he was
sure he could never tire of seeing.  But he caught her suggestion and let
his eyes drift downward.

   Now, for the first time, he was gazing at her bare breasts.  All
afternoon, he'd been comparing the sizes and shapes of girls' breasts,
clothed and unclothed.  Comparing them with the others on the detasseling
crew, comparing them with his former girlfriend's large breasts, and
comparing them to all he'd seen in videotape movies he and his friends used
to watch secretly in Lennie Rudowski's living room when his mom was at
work. That's what guys did, what his friends did.  They'd whoop over the
big ones and sneer about the small ones, they'd argue about whether the
tits on the screen were bigger or riper than the ones in the last scene or
some other movie, and they'd holler out suggestions to the male actors
about sucking and biting and tittie fucking the objects of their attention.
He, characteristically, would put on his air of ironic detachment,
commenting on the "handsome genetic endowment" of this one or wondering
aloud how that one must have "anti-grav lifts in with her implants." But
then he, as he imagined the others surely did, would hustle home after the
movie and call up those images while he spurted into the crusty towel he
kept hidden under his bed.

   There had been something different about the comparisons he had been
making that afternoon in the cornfield.  Just over the few hours on the
job, he got a sense of the personality of each of the girls.  So when he
received his "birthday presents," he wasn't just seeing bare breasts, he
was seeing girls taking a chance and having fun showing themselves off, the
fact that he was a stranger making it both more risky and safer.  So he
noticed differences in size and shape, but the differences hadn't mattered
all that much to him.  What mattered was what he imagined must have gone on
in their heads before they had agreed to expose themselves, what they were
feeling while doing it.

   That came to mind now as he beheld Kit's breasts because he noticed
something about them that surprised him with how powerfully it affected
him. Her breasts were very noticeably different in size, the left larger.
He had to wonder if Kit had thought about that before she'd shucked off her
bathrobe, thought about whether he would notice, what he might think.  She
must have had that thought, but she did it anyway.  He knew how sensitive
girls were about their bodies and about comparisons with others.  He knew
he had his own apprehensions about how he looked compared with other guys,
what girls think about how tall he was, how stringy and unmuscled he was.
So he wanted to tell Kit that the sight of her unbalanced breasts, and her
willingness to display them to him, turned him on more than anything else.
The boobs in the movies were as uniform and perfect as they could be, but
also unreal.  This was real, his cousin standing nude in front of him in
her bedroom at 2:30 in the morning somewhere in rural Nebraska.  This was
most definitely real, and he most definitely wanted her.  He wanted to tell
her that, and a lot more, but he kept his mouth shut and looked.

   His eyes moved down over her body, coming to rest on the puff of brown
hair between her legs.  He had seen this before, of course, peeking out
when she had pulled her shorts aside, just as he had seen Patty's bare
breasts with her bra pulled up.  But it was entirely different seeing, in
real life, an unbroken line of flesh from the hairline to the toenails.  He
had seen just that when Kim had strode up to him, but that was different
too.  He had an idea Kim had shown her body a lot of times to a lot of
guys, but for Kit, he was pretty sure, this was a first, so it was the real
first for him, the one that counted.

   He wanted this moment to last, so he kept quiet and watched, studying
and memorizing every inch of his cousin's anatomy, storing it for the
future, because his excitement was tinged with awareness that in another
two days he would be gone and she would stay.  So this was their moment. 
But what was this moment?  What did she have in mind?  The next move was up
to her.

   "Your turn, Brad." Her words startled him.  Her eyes were open again,
watching him.

   "Who?" he asked with the very small corner of his brain not devoted to
ogling her.

   "I don't know who," she said, bolding her arms under her breasts and
relaxing her stance to take the weight on one leg.  The effect was to raise
her nipples an inch or two higher and change the shape of her breasts
slightly to turn from circles to sideways ovals.  Impossibly, Brian's cock
swelled even more.  "You said you're Brad, or somebody."

   "Brad?" It finally got through.  "Oh!  Brad.  Sure.  'Rocky Horror
Picture Show,' still running in New York, but out on video.  Brad and Janet
running around in their underwear."

   "Didn't see it," she shrugged.  Even with the support of arms
underneath, her breasts quivered with the shrug.  "And, I'm not in
underwear."

   "No," he said, making no attempt not to obviously ogle her.  "You sure
aren't."

   "You, on the other hand, are," she said with a pouty glance at the
seriously distorted fabric around his midsection.  "Not a bit fair,"

   Without a thought, he ripped his shorts down, stepped out of one leg,
and kicked them across the room.  She turned briefly to see them land on
her keyboard, then turned back and stared long at his body, raking her eyes
up and down.  His cock was slanting upward and pulsating with each
heartbeat.  He held his breath, waiting for what she would do next.  He
leaned forward, just a little, ready to move to her, take hold of her, deal
with whatever happened next, should she make any move toward him.  Instead,
she gestured at the bed.

   "Lay down," she said.  Without taking his eyes off her, he moved toward
the bed, felt it against his leg, and rolled onto his back.  Every nerve
was alive and ready.

   "You know how I said I have sex all the time?" she asked.

   He nodded, but said nothing.  His focus was on watching for any sign of
her movement toward the bed.  He finally expelled his breath when instead
she turned and sat at the computer, giving him only the quickest glimpse of
her ass.  Had this ass been on a two-dimensional woman in a porn flick, he
might have thought it too athletic rather than rounded, but this was Kit's
ass and all he could think about it was to speculate how it would feel.

   "This is the place it happens," she said.  "You do much of it?"

   "What?"

   "You know.  Cybersex."

   He knew he had no valid reason for disappointment.  She had clearly said
the very thing he had been expecting since she woke him simply was not
going to happen.  That was out of the question from the start.  Still, he
had to fight to keep his dismay from showing when it became obvious her
train of thought didn't lead to her impaling herself on what just then was
in the process of drooping.  He assumed what he hoped would come off as a
jaunty way of lying naked on a bed, linking his fingers behind his head and
resting an ankle across an uplifted knee in a way calculated to block her
view of the literal sign of let down he couldn't otherwise hide.

   "You mean where you and somebody else talk dirty and get yourself off
through email or something?"

   "Yeah, but more so in a private chat room or with ICQ."

   "Naw," he said breezily.  "Never have." He grinned at the irony of going
from trying to hide his erection earlier in the visit to hiding the fact
that he no longer had an erection now.

   She looked surprised.  "I thought everybody does it.  Guys anyway.  And
some girls, like me."

   "I don't have internet access at home and you don't get much chance to
jerk off in the school computer lab."

   "No shit?  No internet?"

   "My parents have it in their room, on their computer, but they think
they're protecting me or something.  So I don't have a phone line in my
room where my computer is."

   "What about friends?"

   "Oh, we browse the web, look at pictures, read stories.  But it just
doesn't seem like something you do with the guys to whip out your wanger in
another guy's room while you're on line."

   "Could give the wrong impression."

   "Really."

   "Look's like we're more even than I thought," she said.

   "How do you mean?"

   "Well, you're way ahead of me with actual body contact, you and Patty."

   "You haven't done any of that?"

   "There was a guy, a class down, I did some kissing with.  But guys
around here have the idea that if you let them do anything else, and I mean
anything, you're theirs.  One of the girls on the crew--not one with a
birthday present, one you probably didn't notice much--she was on a movie
date with a guy nobody thought was fast or anything.  Anyway, she let him
cup her boob in the theater.  Taking her home he pulled over and jumped
her. Wouldn't stop when she told him.  She still won't call it rape, cause
she thinks it was her fault.  But that was it.  After that any guy asking
her out made it pretty clear he expected the same, so she hasn't dated
since.  It's like the guys got together and set the rules.  Let them take
one step over some line, and you're their fuck toy."

   "So you've stayed away from the line?"

   "Way away."

   "Aren't you worried about me?"

   "No.  For one, you haven't touched me yet, and when I touched you, you
just let me.  And we've already worked out the rules for if and when I do
let you touch me.  We still got a deal?"

   "Of course."

   "And the whole thing about Patty shows you can be trusted to stop when
you're asked to stop."

   "I could have been making it all up."

   "I don't think so.  Anyway, any guy around here would have been all over
me by now."

   "Don't think I don't want to."

   "That's what I mean."

   Somewhere about the word "trusted," he felt himself stirring again.  He
dropped his raised leg so she could see his cock rise while he kept the
link between their eyes.  He wasn't sure why, but this was the most
stimulating thing that had happened so far, her talking about trusting him.
He wanted to share the effect with her.  Her eyes tilted downward.  Beside
their breathing, the only thing moving in the room was his cock lifting off
its resting place on his leg and resuming its pose at full attention.  When
it stopped, she looked back into his eyes.

   "Now what?" he asked.

   She didn't respond right away, but after a bit came back from wherever
her mind had been.

   "I'd assumed you'd done cybersex, so the plan was to take both of us one
step further with that.  But you're a cybersex virgin, so this is going to
be a big leap for you.  Me too, but more for you."

   "What are you talking about?"

   "A cybersex threesome."

   "Say what?"

   "You and me on this side and Ravenwing in Oregon."

   "Who?"

   "Ravenwing.  That's her net name.  I've told her your story about Patty,
what you've told me, anyway.  And . . ."

   "You told that to a stranger?" he protested.

   "She's not a stranger to me.  We tell each other everything, like Kim
and me.  Anyway, she doesn't know who you are.  Doesn't even know who I
really am, just a farmgirl in Eastern Nebraska."

   "Nnnn," he grumbled, then shrugged.  "Okay, Ravenwing, huh?  What's your
net name?"

   She looked away quickly.  "I don't want to say."

   "Ah, come on."

   "No, really.  It's not just it being stupid.  It's all the stupid stuff
I've done on the net.  I don't want you going back and running searches for
my name and seeing some of that."

   "Okay.  So, anyway, she talks dirty and we talk dirty back?  Like, 'I'm
sliding my hand up your skirt.  I'm pulling your zipper down with my teeth.
Suck me!  Fuck me!' That sort of thing?"

   "Usually, but not this time."

   "Oh yeah, with three we have to innovate, huh?  So she does herself in
Oregon and we do each other here, since we only have the one keyboard?"

   "Slow down, there.  I might trust you, but I don't trust me enough to be
touching each other here, like, uh, this," she said, looking down at her
nudity.

   "Oh?  You might rape me?"

   "Might."

   "Me kicking and screaming the entire time, of course."

   "I should hope so."

   "But if I'm hard enough for you to . . . ."

   "Enough," she cut him off.  "Rav is waiting.  I was chatting with her
before I came after you and said to get back in the room in half an hour."
Kit turned and punched at the key board for a few moments.  "Yeah, there
she is.  'Hi, Rav,'" she read as she typed.  "Rav says hi."

   "Uh, hi, Ravenwing."

   She typed, watched the screen.

   "'Yeah, he's naked,'" she read her own message.  "'Me, too.'" She typed
some more, read, typed, without translating, then said, "She says she's
naked and spent the downtime getting off over the story so far.  She
multiorgasmic." Kit typed and peered.  "Three times so far, but she says
she's just getting warmed up.  Wants the rest of the story."

   "So what we're doing is . . . ."

   "You're picking up where you left off last night, I type it in as you
talk.  I'm pretty good, but I'll tell you if you're going too fast."

   "So I just talk?"

   "And rub yourself too."

   "But . . . ."

   "I did it for you."

   He shut up and tentatively put a hand on his dick.  He would have to be
careful about this, or he would be making a mess not long into the story.

   "I suppose she's going to be frigging herself while she reads," Brian
said, "but what about you?"

   "What about me?"

   "How are you going to type and join in this little orgy at the same
time?"

   "I guess I can't."

   "No, no, no.  You said it's a threesome.  Look, you take care of the
typing.  I'll take care of the frigging--fingers only.  I swear."

   "But . . . ."

   "No buts.  You get carried away and attack me, well, I'm just gonna
hafta setcha down and give ya a spankin', lil girl." He hoped that came off
vaguely like John Wayne.

   She looked skeptical.

   "Hey," he said.  "Fair is fair.  You couldn't hardly keep your hands out
of my shorts yesterday.  My turn."

   "All right.  Get over here."

   He rolled across the bed and laid along the edge, where he could just
reach around her in the chair, after she scooted back a little.  He took
hold of his dick with his left hand, and before moving his right into the
agreed position, ran it over her breast and down her flat belly before
probing into her pubic hair.

   "Oh, my god!" she gasped.  Knowing better than to dive straight in, he
twirled his fingers through her hair along the fringes of the triangle.

   "Aren't you going to tell Ravenwing what's happening over here?"

   She typed, then read the message appearing on the screen.  "'Oh, my
god!' she says."

   "Does she know I'm a perfect gentleman?"

   "She knows.  Now, get on with the story."

   "Where was I?" he asked.  He figured it would be easier to think if he
didn't have to worry about coordinating his two hands, so he held his left
hand still around the base of his cock and concentrated on his right hand.

   "You just got Patty off the first time, doing what you're doing now, I
suppose, except with her panties in the way."

   "Yeah, right.  Anyway . . . ." He was finding the sight of her bare back
and the glimpse of the top of her butt cheeks through the chair back
entirely too arousing for present purposes, so he closed his eyes and
thought back to those nights in Patty's back room.  Back to Manhattan, with
the traffic sounds through the closed window and the light from the
unwatched TV flickering on the ample heaving breasts, sweater and bra up
around the neck, jeans unzipped, her back arching, her whole body straining
through the silent orgasm.

   "The next date," he began, "she was all shy again.  Like she was ashamed
of getting off the last time.  She wouldn't let me touch anything.  I tried
for awhile, but nothing doing.  So I sat back and watched the stupid
movie."

   Kit's fingers were flying on the keys.  Then she stopped.  "Rav asks
what the movie was.

   "Huh?" Brian opened his eyes.  With her arms stretched out for the
keyboard, he could see the side of one breast under her arm.  He reached up
and pulled the nipple before sliding downward again.  She moaned.

   "The movie," she persisted.

   "Oh.  'The Black Cat,' I think.  Boris Karloff."

   She typed that in.  Read the screen.

   "She says that takes some of the edge off."

   "Boris Karloff?"

   "Yeah." She glanced over her left shoulder at his still hand.  "Looks
like thinking about Boris could help your effort."

   "What effort?" he asked.

   "The trying-not-to-come-yet effort."

   "Oh, uh, I suppose so."

   She twisted to look at him over her right shoulder.  "Have you been a
good boy?"

   "I'm being naughty now." He reached up and around to give a quick tug at
her other nipple, then went back to tracing the outline of her pubic
triangle.

   "Very naughty.  But I'm asking if you've followed orders."

   "And not . . . ."

   " . . . .  beat off," she finished for him.

   "I was going to say 'engage in self-love,' but no, I was too exhausted
from castrating corn to think about anything but sleep."

   "Good.  You must be ready to burst."

   "Thanks to you, I just might blow a hole through the roof."

   "Just aim that thing away from me.  How would I explain this one at the
emergency room?"

   "Playing with a fire hose?"

   "Guys are so full of themselves," she huffed with mock disgust.  She
turned back to the monitor.  "Oh, oh.  Rav is impatient." She resumed
typing.  "I'm telling her we had a fire alarm go off, but you're back on
task now."

   "OK." He closed his eyes again.  "It's the next date and she's scrunched
over at the far end of the couch.  I'm sitting on my side with my arms
folded, watching the movie.  Then, it was like something clicked in her
head, like a light bulb flicking on.  Cold and dark, and then bright and
warm, just like that.

   "So she turned to me, kind of half kneeling on the couch, and she pulled
up her sweater around her neck, then she pulled up her bra.

   "Oh!," he interrupted himself.  "Did you tell Ravenwing she has huge
tits?  Patty's, I mean."

   "You said you'd exaggerated that," Kit said over her shoulder as she
kept typing.

   "I did, some, but tell Rav they were humongous."

   "You're the author." She mouthed "gargantuan" as she typed.

   "So," he went on, "she exposed her tits the size of the Times Square New
Years ball.  Had one hand holding that stuff up and reached down with the
other and unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans."

   "What'd you do?"

   "The gentlemanly thing.  I grabbed hold of one breast and put my other
hand down her pants."

   "Over the panties?"

   "Of course.  I knew the rules of the game.  Except this was different.
She was more . . . ."

   "Aggressive?"

   "Yeah.  After awhile she reached behind my neck and it was like she was
pulling my face down toward her chest."

   "So you sucked her tits?"

   "Not right away.

   "Oh!" he interrupted himself again.  "Be sure to tell Rav they were like
two weather balloons."

   "Oh, go fuck yourself!"

   He grinned and pumped his cock a couple of times.  "I am."

   "Yeah," she said, watching over her left shoulder.  "You are." She
turned back to the keyboard.  "But you declined the invitation?"

   "Only at first," he continued.  "I was back on my thing of being pissed
about her controlling it all, how it was always about her.  She'd spent
months holding me off and only slowly let me touch her this far.  Now she'd
had one orgasm and she was demanding I do something else and telling me
just how and where.  So the same as I said the other night about picking up
on her cue to rub her crotch, I resisted."

   "How?"

   "I took my hands back and pulled back away from her breasts.  She'd had
me just an inch or so away.  She looked at me like I was crazy.  I didn't
say anything.  She never wanted to talk about any of this.  So I showed her
what I wanted."

   "Showed her," Kit repeated, typing.

   "I took hold of her hand and moved it toward my crotch.  She let me for
part of the way, but then it's like, what am I up to, and she froze. 
Couldn't budge her."

   "What'd you do?"

   "Gave up.  Let go of her hand and slumped back on the couch.  I'd had my
shoes off, so I slipped a foot into one like getting ready to go.  Then I
froze.  She was looking down at my crotch now.  And her hand was moving. 
Very slowly, she reached out until she was almost touching the bulge.

   "I couldn't hardly breath.  She stopped right there.  Almost ready to
touch it.  Just a couple of inches away.

   "Then she cupped a breast with the other hand and lifted it, like
offering it to me.  I leaned over and sucked as much of it as I could into
my mouth.  Way too big to fit--like those anhydrous ammonia tanks on the
way to the cornfield."

   "Oh, stop already."

   He grinned.  "Need me to spell 'anhydrous?'"

   "Already sent it.  What next?"

   "I was way past making any points.  I sucked hard on her nipple and
pulled on the other one.  I put my other hand in her pants, over the
panties of course, and stuffed two fingers up into her as far as the
panties would stretch."

   He paused in the narration, but not in the stroking of himself and Kit.
His left hand was moving faster on his shaft, his eyes squeezed tight, his
left hand plunging into Kit's wet depths and sliding up over her clit in
the same rhythm, but much lighter.  He was back in that room with Patty,
sucking her, feeling her, rubbing her.  He could hear her pant, feel her
writhe.  Then feel her hand.

   "What?" Kit insisted.  The panting was hers.  Brian was only dimly aware
the typing had stopped.  "What did she do?"

   "She touched me."

   "Where?"

   "Here," he arched his back to show he was referring to his cock.  She
wouldn't have known that, except she had stopped typing and was gazing over
her shoulder at him pumping away.

   "Here?" she asked.  She clasped her left hand over his and matched his
rhythm.

   "Yeah."

   "Say it!" Her right fingers intertwined with his in stroking her clit,
except her touch was much firmer.  "Say what she did!"

   "She grabbed my cock and squeezed," he gasped.

   "And you?" She gasped with the same urgency.

   "I . . . ." He opened his eyes and saw Kit's hand over his, both a blur
on his cock, her eyes cast down studying this action.  He couldn't see
around to where they both were working on her pussy, but he could see the
resulting crazy bounce of her right breast as she bounced in the chair. 
She twisted even more until she was looking in his eyes.  That did it.

   "I came!" he grunted, then shot a stream straight into the air.  It
arched and splatted against his stomach.  Kit's eyes widened, then she too
exploded.  This time she held nothing back.  She let loose a series of
gasping yelps as she bucked forward in the chair against his groping
fingers.  She had pulled away her right hand as she felt him pull away his
left, leaving each to finish getting the other off.  Her yelps turned into
a prolonged strained scream, his grunts matched his spurts, diminishing as
he went on.  His sperm was all over his torso and thighs, and on her hand.
And a single dribble was running down her back.  She ended with a shudder
and burst of breath.

   "Oh, yeah," she gasped and sank back against the chair, hand still on
his cock.

   All he could do was suck in air as he relaxed back into the mattress.

   "Is that better than wetting your pants?" she asked.

   It took a moment for him to catch the reference about him leaving
backroom dates after with a book or bag over his soaked crotch.  "Oh, yeah.
And the company's better."

   They gazed in each other's eyes for a long time, then Brian remembered
what they had been doing.

   "You have some catching up to do," he gestured at the screen.

   Kit giggled and bent to wipe her hand on a stray towel on the floor
before she resumed typing.  Brian watched the tiny juggle of her breasts as
she did.  Even right after coming, everything about her was arousing.

   Eventually she stopped.  She looked at the screen.  A new line appeared.
Kit typed, and read as she did, "How am I supposed to know?"

   "Know what?" he asked.

   She looked at his cum-splattered body, at his face, back at the screen.
"She wants to know what you taste like."

   "Oh."

   Another look at the screen, where more lines appeared, back at his
deflating cock.  She shrugged.  "Only one way to find out."

   She twirled out of her chair and straddled his feet, so his toes were
pressed against her pussy, then ducked her head for his midsection.  He
thought she was aiming for his cock, but instead she slurped up a puddle
from his right thigh, just inches from his groin.  His cock twitched.  She
sat back and moved her mouth as if considering the bouquet of a wine.  She
spun back into the chair and typed a few words he couldn't see.

   "Well?" he asked.

   "Well, what?"

   "What's it taste like?"

   "That's for me to know and you to find out." She stuck her tongue out.

   He considered her smug smirk.  Thought he should do something about it.
Only one thing he could do, it seemed.

   He dabbed a finger in the puddle in his belly button.  Held it up. 
Considered it.  Looked at Kit.  She held a finger up, imitating his pose,
parted her lips, ran her tongue slowly all the way around, then stuck the
finger in up to the second knuckle, and made noisy show of popping it out.
Then she held out her palm in a "your turn" gesture, but with a look
showing she was sure he wouldn't do it.  He eyed the glob on his finger
again.

   He had absolutely no desire to taste his own cum.  No curiosity about it
at all.  He didn't understand why women ate the stuff, or gay guys.  He's
just as soon drink his own piss, all things being equal.

   But things weren't equal.  He looked back at Kit, looked her up and down
slowly, making no effort to hide the fact that he was eying every visible
part of her naked skin.  He lingered on her breasts and watched them rise
and fall.  He wasn't sure of the limits of her game, this idea of hers. 
They're cousins, so they can't fuck, was the idea.  Despite the "step" part
of the relationship, they were still family and that would risk . . . 
well, all sorts of bad things.  But the flip side was they both knew they
couldn't fuck, so they were free to kick back and play around with most
everything else.

   Where exactly were the limits?  He was suddenly aware of how little they
had gone beyond what he'd already done with Patty.  That relationship had
had the potential to go all the way, intercourse, marriage, love, in
whatever order those things might happen, before it had ended, and this one
could include none of those.  But this one was somehow far more real, more
necessary.  Where else would this go?  Would he end up disappointed because
it has to eventually reach the no-go line?  Probably, but he had to find
the limit.  She had just tasted his cum and was teasing him about it.

   He'd been staring at her breasts while he thought through the situation.
Although he'd just come, he was feeling himself rise again.  She was
probably watching his cock fill and stand at attention, and the idea of her
watching him recover sent an extra rush of heat through his loins.

   He looked up, but her eyes were on his, probably had been all along. 
They even more alive than before.  Adventure, desire,
anticipation--whatever she was feeling, the reflection of it in her eyes
filled him with a feeling he hadn't begun to think he could feel.

   Oh, hell!  Ball's in his court.  He poked the dripping finger in his
mouth and sucked it clean.

   She jerked with surprise as her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.
He smiled at that.  It was good not always to be the one having to react.

   "How's it taste?" she asked.

   "You know," was his only reply.

   She opened her mouth, but his "end of subject" look closed it again.

   Brian was rigid again and ready for anything else Kit might have in
mind. But, just as she had been doing for two days, she surprised him
again.

   "Time for bed," she announced.  She stood and grabbed her robe from the
heap.  She tossed him a towel that had been crumpled under it.  As she
wrapped the robe around herself, she added, "separately."

   "Oh." He wiped himself off and caught the underwear she tossed his way.

   Back in his room, Brian was still too aroused to go back to sleep. 
Except for the bed, dresser with lamp, and chest he's banged into an hour
or so before, the room was a storeroom for various equipment and supplies
he could identify.  He thought about an off-hand remark Kit made after he
pulled on his shorts and before she kissed him at her bedroom door.  She
was tired, she explained, because she hadn't been to bed yet.

   What was that about?  She'd worked all day, since before dawn, and
hadn't slept by the time she'd awakened him after two in the morning.  She
had been on the internet.  Was she busy having cybersex until the wee hours
and only fetched him because she wanted something closer to the real thing,
for a change?  He wasn't sure if he should be offended or flattered.

   As he laid in the dark, he couldn't stop himself from replaying the
scene that had just happened.  The robe dropping, the rubbing, the typing,
plunging into her, her hand stroking him, coming, her coming, tasting, the
parting kiss.

   Did she bring herself off while chatting with Ravenwing before coming to
get him, or had she saved that for him?  And what's this whole Ravenwing
thing?  It felt weird to have a stranger know his deepest secrets.

   Whatever.  Didn't hardly matter.  He was here for only two more days and
would be flying home the morning of the fifth day.  This was what it was,
and only that.  And Kit was calling the shots.

   He groped about on the floor for the bath towel he'd used earlier,
pulled down his shorts, fixed Kit's image in his mind, and began jerking
off.  He'd followed her instructions by waiting, but she'd played out her
plan.  Now he had his own urgent needs to take care of.

   Brian awoke with a painful hardon.  Painful because he hadn't pissed
after jerking off before he went to sleep.  That happened sometimes when he
didn't clear out the tubing.  It was hard because he'd been having his new
"fucking Kit" dream.  The variation this time had her splayed over her
computer while he pumped into her from behind, and as she typed a
thrust-by- thrust account to someone off on the net somewhere.  It was the
incredible glow from the monitor that awoke him before he reached the point
of filling her.

   That would be the sun coming through the open window, he realized as he
blinked.  It was bright, but left only shallow shadows outside, in contrast
to his awakening the previous dark morning.  By further contrast, he was
alone this time.  Obviously, they'd spared him helping with the morning
chores because of how beat he'd been at the end of the day of detasseling.
And only Kit knew the added reason he needed to sleep late.

   He sat up.  Big mistake.  A whole lot more ached than just his dick. 
Every muscle was stiff and sore, but his arms especially felt like lead. 
Despite the already obvious heat of the day, he decided on a hot bath to
loosen things up.  Another mistake.  Although the hot water loosened his
muscles, it made his reddened skin burn.  When he pulled his clothes on
afterward, he was already drenched in sweat by the time he eased his way to
the kitchen.

   The coffee pot was cold, but half full.  He microwaved a cup.  Desperate
times, he thought.  The hot liquid revived him.  Too bad they don't have
espresso.

   As he sat at the kitchen table, he became aware of a rhythmic, but
irregular, slapping sound.  Familiar.  But before he could think about it,
he heard the grandfather clock in the living room go through its four
quarters cycle and then the hour bongs.  He'd left his watch on the dresser
and the microwave clock was blinking.  He counted.

   After 12, the gonging stopped.

   The clock stopped bonging, but the irregular slapping sound from outside
continued.  So many sounds had made no sense out here in the country until
Brian had seen their sources.  Strangely shaped farm machinery clanking or
grinding.  A windmill squeaking.  The koosh, koosh of milk squirting into a
metal bucket.  All the animal sounds, not just the ones coming from their
throats that any city kid picks up from Sesame Street, but also the ones
blasting out from the far ends and the unexpectedly varied sounds they make
just moving around on different surfaces.  Clomping on hard dirt,
clattering on gravel, slurping in mud.  One that had him going for awhile
in the barn the previous morning had turned out to be a cow's tail whapping
against one of those big milk containers, sounding like a drummer laying
down a slow jazz beat with brush on cymbal.

   But this sound was more familiar.  He might have been sitting in his
friend Drew's kitchen across the littered parking lot from the public
school playground.  It wasn't concrete and brick reflecting this sound, but
it was a city sound.  Basketball.  Dribbling and the occasional rattle of
the ball hitting a loose backboard and rim.

   Brian took his coffee mug with him out the back door of the kitchen,
letting the screen whump shut behind, across the small porch, and down the
steps onto the gravel.  He followed the sound around an equipment shed and
found Kit putting a fake on an invisible defender and driving to the
basket, her shoes sliding on the hard-packed dirt.  How she dribbled on
that rutted surface, he couldn't fathom, but she kept control as she sped
toward the basket on the right side of the unmarked lane.  But instead of
just laying the ball against the backboard, a square hunk of wood,
obviously homemade, mounted on rusty metal brackets jutting from the roof
of the shed, she abruptly pivoted, as if just missing a collision with a
defender blocking her route, then darted across the middle of the key and,
with her left hand, flipped the ball up in a scooping motion, under the
phantom defender's flailing arm, with just enough spin to climb over the
lip of the rim and settle into the net.

   "Very nice!" Brian called out as Kit caught the ball before it hit the
especially rough surface right under the basket.  "You play in school?"

   "Class D state champs last year," she said without a hint of bragging.
She faked a shot, then drilled the ball at him.  Though it came in low and
fast from a short range, he handled it easily and in a single move flicked
the ball from his fingers at the top of a long fade-away jump shot.  It
rippled the net some 25 feet away.

   "Hmph," she grunted, eyeing him while the ball caromed off a rut to roll
back his way.  "Guess I won't challenge you to a game of strip Four
Horses."

   "You mean HORSE?"

   "Same thing, but you go to four instead of five."

   He bent to pick up the ball.  "You could probably take me with
lefthanded shots, from what I just saw."

   "I'm lefthanded, so no advantage."

   "We could play anyway," he suggested brightly.  He sent another jump
shot arching toward the basket, but this time trying to bank it in.  The
unexpected amount of give in the shaky backboard, though, sent the ball
into the near side of the rim, and it bounced away across the farmyard. 
She let it go.

   "Maybe later," she said.  "I was about to get you up anyway.  Mom made

   sandwiches for a picnic and swim down at the river."

   "The six of us?"

   "No.  They've got something going.  Just us and Kim."

   "Kim?"

   "Yeah, she's meeting us there."

   Brian felt his cock stir at the memory of the very shapely and very
naked Kim emerging from the corn the previous afternoon, followed by the
tug of war between the two girls over his shorts.  He'd been a scant moment
from his first blow job when Kit had warned her off with a tall tale that
the older girl had swallowed instead of anything he might have fed her.

   "Don't worry," Kit said.

   "Worry?  About what?"

   "About Kim going after the family jewels again.  I explained everything
and she's cool with it."

   "What'd you explain?"

   "Oh, that we're a couple of sickoid pervert cousins trying to drive each
other crazy horny, but we can't go all the way, and it'd ruin the fun--my
fun, anyway--if she jumped your bones."

   "I thought you were keeping that under wraps.  That's why you fed her
that whopper about my religion."

   "Wasn't she magnificent?" Kit crowed.  "She spotted that line of
bullshit from the first word and followed my lead beautifully."

   "I thought I was the one following your lead, and she was the one going
for the line."

   "Well, you both deserve Oscars.  She picked up I was warning her off,
but no way was she letting me off without the real story later."

   "I was surprised she came off so clueless, after how she was before
that. Before she hadn't seemed a bit stupid."

   "Not hardly."

   "Why didn't she go to college?"

   "Her dad talked her into thinking she'd never make it.  That bullshit
she bought, so she never applied for any scholarships or even took the ACT.
The ass just didn't want to put up any cash, not even living expenses with
tuition covered.  Anyway, it gives her an excuse to stick around and screw
her regular stable of studs."

   While they talked, they made their way back to the house and entered the
kitchen.  Kit was careful to ease the screen shut quietly rather than let
it slam.  She took a bag from the refrigerator.

   "We going now?" Brian asked.

   "Sure.  Kim'll probably be waiting."

   "Okay.  I'll get my swimsuit."

   "Oh, what you're wearing now will do."

   She led him back to the shed, but this time they entered and pulled two
bicycles from behind a pile of big metal things that seemed to Brian to
have no discernible purpose.

   "Uh, Cuz," Brian began when he saw the bikes.

   "Yeah, Cuz?"

   "I can't ride a bicycle."

   "You're kidding."

   "No, really."

   "Don't worry," she said.  "You never forget."

   "Maybe, but I never learned."

   "Come on," she protested.  "Everybody learns."

   "Not me," he said.  "Never been on one.  We live in an apartment in
Manhattan.  Mom's always said there was no point in getting me a bike
because it's not safe to ride to the park, and she wouldn't want me in the
park by myself when I was little, and anyway there's no place to store
one."

   That left Kit speechless for the first time in the three days of Brian's
visit.  Finally she pushed one of the bikes toward him.

   "Guess it's time to learn, huh?" She shut down his protest with a
that-settles-that look.  "It's our only way there.  They took the Toyota
and the pickup, and I'm not authorized on the rental car."

   "Where'd they go?"

   "My mom and your dad headed west in the car and my dad and your mom went
east in the truck.  Who knows what they're up to."

   They were outside with the bikes when she said this, and Brian was too
busy figuring out how to make the thing go to think about their parents. 
Kit had glided forward and swung her leg over the seat in a smooth move and
was circling him.  He wasn't about to try that, so he awkwardly straddled
the bar and tried to push off with one foot and start peddling with the
other.  He had seen people do this.  How hard could it be?  He pushed off
slowly, thinking that speed kills.

   He wobbled and tipped and caught himself and wobbled some more and fell
off twice before he let Kit convince him he would do better by starting
faster.  He amazed himself by having some kind of sense of balance even
before they reached the end of the farm lane.  Then he felt his wheels
slide as he hit the gravel on the county road too fast and nearly wiped
out. But he caught himself with a luckily planted foot and righted himself
in the new direction.

   "Quick learner," Kit called out.

   At the moment he was too busy balancing to risk a response.  But aways
down the road he'd achieved enough confidence to divert some attention to
conversation.  "Where do you get an entry form for the Tour de France?" he
asked brightly.

   "What?" Kit called from behind.  He'd been speaking away from her, so he
crooked his neck to look back her way, but the twist sent him into a
wobble. Rather than brace for the crash, he determinedly gripped the
handles and brought the infernal machine back into line.

   "You're getting it now," Kit said as she pulled up beside him.

   Despite the compliment, he'd regained his feeling of idiocy.  "You must
think I've been raised in a closet," he said, keeping his head pointed
tensely ahead.

   "Why?"

   "Not knowing how to ride a bike."

   "Oh, different place, different ways." She surged ahead and gestured. 
"We turn here."

   They had been riding on a open flat stretch alongside bean fields and
corn fields with just enough gravel under his tires to give Brian steering
problems.  Now they turned onto a rutted dirt road that wound up a wooded
ridge.  In moments, they were enveloped by trees and tall weeds growing
right out to the narrow road, and in places into it.  After struggling to
keep up his speed enough on the upgrade to avoid falling over, and
struggling to keep his tires out of the ruts, Brian was relieved to come to
the top of the ridge and look down on a clearing along a river bank.

   "This is it!" Kit called over her shoulder.

   To one side loomed decaying wooden posts jutting from the earth along
the bank and from the water part way across the four or five hundred yard
expanse of the river.  Obviously this was the remnants of an old wooden
bridge, but the floor was entirely gone and in many places the supports
were gone as well.  Across the river more of the old bridge's ruins were
visible, but he could see no other signs of human presence, just trees and
water.

   The trail opened into a weedy clearing that sloped into a gravelly beach
of sorts.  Although the weeds stood tall around the edge of the clearing,
they were sparse and pressed down through its center.  Brian guessed that a
fair number of tires and feet had created and maintained the bare spot. 
Along one side was a sadly rusted boat of a car, maybe a Duster, but the
name plates were long since gone and he figured it was abandoned.  He also
noted the scattering of beer and pop cans and bottles, along with food
wrappers of various types.

   "This is party central on weekend nights," Kit explained.  "But we won't
be bothered during a weekday." She swung her leg off her bike and set it
down.  Brian decided not to try to copy the move, and instead slowed to a
stop and put both feet down before swinging one leg off.

   They had come to a stop alongside a large raggedy quilt laid out for a
picnic in the shade of the one tree in the clearing, but no one was in
sight.  Kit gestured at the rusted heap.

   "That's her car," she said.  "She's not in the water." She looked
around, then called out, "Kim."

   A rustling from the tall weeds behind them answered her.  They turned to
see Kim emerge into the clearing.

   "Hi!" she said brightly.  "Potty run." She was wearing a tight halter
top with a low V-neck and shorts so high her ass cheeks showed on the
underside.  As far as he could tell, her sandals seemed to be her only
other attire.  The jounciness under the halter top seemed to preclude a
bra, and panties surely would be showing under the shorts.  Now what did
Kit have planned?  Brian wondered.

   By all appearances other than Kim's attire, all that seemed to be in the
works was a picnic.  Kit emptied the sandwiches from her backpack and sat
cross-legged on the quilt.  Brian sat and watched out of the corner of his
eye as Kim sat down, but her position, with knees together and to one side,
gave him no more information about what else she might or might not be
wearing.  He kept an eye on both girls, not sure what to expect after the
cavorting in the corn.  But all that seemed to be developing was a pleasant
lunch in a shady spot.  The girls talked about people and events that meant
nothing to him, so his mind drifted to the events of the past two days and
anticipation of what the next two might bring.

   While they ate and the girls talked, Brian found himself gazing at Kit's
face and paying little attention to the girls' bodies.  Something about the
way his step-cousin's eyebrows danced and arched when she talked, even when
she listened, captivated him.  But that was just a small part of the show.
He watched her blue eyes narrow and widen and sparkle, as if capable of
carrying on her side of the conversation without need for words.  Then
there was the twitch in one corner of her mouth before her lips would
spread in a toothy smile.  And the curl of her nose, the flair of her
nostrils, the crinkling in her forehead in various combinations to help in
expressing various things.  Brian studied all of this with a growing
understanding that he was going to have a lot of trouble looking at this
face the morning after next and then stuffing himself into the rental car
and vanishing from her life.  The thought already had him feeling empty and
lost.

   Then he realized he had been so busy watching Kit that he hadn't heard
anything she'd said.  A few words finally penetrated the fog and clicked
into coherence.  Kit was giving Kim a nutshell summary of his own story
about his long and only technically successful efforts to get into Patty's
pants.  He opened his mouth to cut her off, but shut it again.  If some
bodiless cybergirl across the internet knew all his most private details,
why not this girl who had bared herself to him in another way?  Anyway,
events were flowing, and he was learning to let them.

   Once Kit brought the story up to the point where he had left off early
that morning, during the chatroom session, she went on into a description
of what she and Brian had done while he'd told the story and she'd relayed
it to her cyberfriend.  When she got to the part about the taste tests, he
wanted to creep into the weeds and hide.  At least, he thought, that was
the end of the story and the conversation would move to something else.

   But Kim obviously was hooked by the last part.  "Really?" she asked. 
"He tasted his own cum?"

   "Really," Kit said.

   Brian was too busy studying a crack in his shoe rubber to know if either
girl was looking at him.

   "Wow," Kim went on, "I've never seen a guy do that?"

   "Taste himself?" Kit asked.  Was that a giggle?  This was entirely too
much to bear, but Brian just stayed hunkered down and picked at the crack
with a fingernail.

   "Yeah," Kim said.  "They expect you to suck and swallow, but then they
don't even want to kiss you cause they might smell themselves on your
breath."

   "Well, Brian is not your typical guy."

   "I see that," Kim said.  "What's he taste like?"

   "Oh, I suppose like salty buttermilk, sort of."

   That was enough of that.  Brian looked back and forth between the
grinning girls.  "I am not sitting here listening to a discussion of the
flavor of my semen," he said with as much aplomb as he could muster.  "This
just isn't happening."

   "Okay," Kim said.  "We won't mention you at all." She turned to Kit. 
"They all taste different, you know.  Not at first.  It was all just cum
the first few times.  You get so involved in just taking a guy's stuff you
don't think about the fine points.  But then it's like you can tell them
apart, just by the taste.  I mean, most guys I could ID blindfolded after
sucking them off."

   Brian was too stunned to look away.  He realized he must look like he'd
just seen a pig flying or a cabbie being polite, but he couldn't help but
stare, even when she turned back to look at him.

   "I fuck a lot of guys," Kim went on.  "A lot.  Boys, old men, everything
in between.  A lot of, you know, married men and guys living with someone.
Any guy looks halfway like a fun fuck or like he could really use a good
one for a change, I'll fuck him."

   "Oh," was all Brian could think of to say.  A strangled sound from the
other end of the quilt told him that Kit was surprised at the turn in the
conversation as well, although he figured she wasn't hearing anything she
didn't already know.

   "Everybody knows it," Kim continued, shifting into a cross-legged
position.  Despite himself, Brian looked down.  Definitely no panties.  He
managed to look back up when Kim spoke again.  "I'm the county slut.  I
have no problem with that.  I was a good girl like they wanted, then it was
like, woh-oh, didn't know what I was missing.  One taste of the wild side
and no looking back.  The old bags can look down their noses all they want.
I don't care.  I'm fucking their husbands."

   The flash in her eyes suggested maybe she did care, but Brian let it go.

   "So," Kim said, leaning toward Brian, the flash hardening into a
challenge, "how does it feel having lunch with the county slut?"

   "Oh, I don't know," he said.  "I have ants crawling up my derriere, but
that's all I feel out of the ordinary." He bowed his head slightly and
continued with what he hoped sounded like Ashley Wilkes.  "I am, however,
honored to share the afternoon with two such charming and delightful
ladies." By way of flourish, he tipped forward and lifted Kim's hand to his
mouth.  Just brushing the knuckles with his lips, he added, "Most honored."

   Kim shot an exaggerated pleading look at Kit.  "You sure I can't have
him?"

   "Positive."

   Kim seemed to have another thought and turned back to Brian.  "Just so
you don't get the wrong idea, I want to tell you something else."

   "Okay."

   "Middle of last year I had a thing going with two of the county
commissioners."

   "Both at the same time," Kit added.

   "Yeah, they'd tell their wives the weekly commission meeting ran to 4,
except it'd get out at 2 and they'd meet me up in the courthouse bell
tower."

   "They had a mattress and a box of rubbers stashed up there," Kit said.

   "I may be a slut," Kim said, "but I'm not suicidal.  I have guys I'll
fuck bare, but those two had been around."

   "You met both of them at the same time?" Brian asked.

   "Yeah."

   "And do it, uh . . . ."

   "With both at the same time?  Sometimes.  Usually they'd take turns, but
sometimes I'd, you know, take one in the cunt and one in the mouth. 
Usually I like that, but these two had rhythm problems, so it could get to
hurting."

   "This is more than I really need to know," Brian said, although he'd
long since shifted position to try to hide his undeniable erection.

   "Wait," Kit said, "she's just getting to her point."

   "Anyway, the election was coming up and they got worried about me."

   "You were their Donna Rice," he interjected.

   "Their what?"

   "Brian's the kind of guy who pays attention in history class," Kit
offered.

   "Sorry," Brian said.  "Go on."

   "Anyway, they offered me two hundred bucks to keep quiet." Kim stopped
and searched his eyes, waited for his reaction.  Kit started to speak, but
Kim waved her quiet.  Brian had been surprised by the mention of money, and
now saw where the story was going.  And saw the test.

   "Look," he said.  "I've known you for about 24 hours.  Kit says you work
as a stripper, and you must get paid for that." When she nodded, but said
nothing, he went on.  "But that's not getting paid for sex.  And, well,
like I said, I've only just met you, but I can't imagine you'd take money
for sex or take hush money."

   "Why not?" Kim persisted.  "Why shouldn't I be raking in the cash for
stroking all these cocks?"

   Brian shrugged and spread his hands, palms up.  "Just not you, far as
I've seen."

   Kim seemed satisfied, even pleased.  Definitely pleased.  "Damn
straight," she said.  "I told them I'm a slut, not a whore."

   "She threw the money in their faces and never touched the mongrel
bastards again," Kit added.

   Suddenly Brian looked away, face reddening.

   "What's wrong?" The question came from Kit, but Brian forced himself to
look at Kim.

   "You must think I'm pretty, I don't know . . .  naive, I suppose.  You
know, after that pathetic story about . . . ." He gave up on words and just
watched for her reaction.

   "I think the whole thing's sweet," Kim replied.  "You and Patty.  You
and Kit.  Look, everybody's different.  Moves at different rates, does
what's right for them.  I get bored fucking the same guy twice in a row. 
That's me.  But I can spot romance when I see it.  I mist over when I see
two old farts waiting in a check-out line holding hands, everything saggy
and baggy, but still in love.  You have to do things your own way." She
reached over and squeezed his hand.  He squeezed back.

   "Uh, hey!  Yoohoo!  Remember me?" Kit was waving her hands and bouncing
on her crossed legs.

   "Are you really, really sure I can't fuck him?" Kim pleaded.

   "Doubly really sure," Kit confirmed.

   "Fine." Kim dropped his hand and reached down for the last Twinkie.  It
disappeared into her mouth in two big bites, then she took her time licking
the chocolate from her fingers.  Brian couldn't help but wonder if any guys
ever tasted like chocolate.  He suppressed the urge to ask.

   "Well," Kim announced, climbing to her feet.  "Lunch is over." She
crossed her hands at her waist and took hold of the bottom of her halter
top.  "Time for a swim." With that she yanked the top over her head and
sent in fluttering to the ground in one smooth move.  Her boobs jiggled
while she bent to yank her shorts all the way down.

   "Uh, is that how you do it at the stripper bar?" Brian asked.

   "Not hardly," she said as she stepped out of her sandals.  "There I'm
trying to make guys horny.  Here I'm just going for a swim." She looked at
Kit.  "Well?" Brian turned to look as well.

   In the bright sunlight, Kit wasn't looking quite as comfortable about
shedding her clothes as she had been that morning, even though it was
obvious by now that she had set up the picnic for just this purpose. 
Perhaps that thought forced her to her feet.  She took a breath and
repeated her friend's motions with the same sense of haste, except she had
the extra steps of also removing the bikini that had been under her T-shirt
and shorts and her moves were more tentative and fumbling.

   Then there were two naked girls standing close enough for him to make
out individual pores on their breasts.

   "Well?" Kit said to Brian.

   "Uh." He looked around.  "You sure nobody's . . .  I mean, don't boats
come down that river?  It's right there, and . . . ."

   "Let's get him!" Kim cried and threw herself on Brian.  In his surprise,
he let himself be bowled over on his back.  Before he could react, he found
himself pinned down, with Kim astride his chest and holding his arms to the
ground.  Her shaved pussy was inches from his face in one direction and her
lush boobs dangled inches from it in another.

   "Get his pants!" Kim called over her shoulder.  He could have tossed her
off easily, but he was content to thrash about weakly, just enough to keep
her boobs jiggling.  Brian couldn't see Kit move, but he felt hands
grasping his waistband.  He included in his struggling movements enough of
an upward arch of his hips to make the depantsing an easy one-tug process.
That she took the underwear along with the shorts was obvious from the feel
of his fully engorged cock slapping back against his belly once it was
freed of constraint.

   "Got 'em," Kit confirmed.

   "Now his shirt!" Kim instructed.  She slid down his torso to take her
weight off his upper body.  He was startled out of his play-act resistance
when he felt his cock head pressed against . . .  something down there. 
The crack of her ass?  Her pussy lips?  He couldn't tell, but he was frozen
by the thought that the slightest movement would push him into her.  One
more wriggle backward on her part or one upward thrust on his.  Maybe the
position was all wrong, maybe it's harder than that to gain entry.  He
couldn't know, but the idea that the loss of his virginity was only a
slight motion away sent all of his concentration down to his crotch.

   Then she did move down farther.  Was she trying to make him pop into
her? He was too focused on the pressure against his cock to look at her
face for a clue to her intentions.  But then his cock sprang downward to
lay flat between his thighs, where she trapped it under her crotch.

   Brian was suddenly aware of Kit kneeling next to his shoulder.  "Are you
. . .," she began.  "Is he . . . .  You're not . . . ."

   "No," Kim said.  "But if my asshole was lubed up, he'd have slid right
in." She leaned back, releasing his arms.  "Now get his shirt while he's
being a good boy!" Brian sat up as much as he could to allow Kit to pull
his shirt over his head and arms.

   Kit tossed his shirt with the other clothes.  "What was with the fight?"
she asked.  "You were eager enough to get naked this morning."

   "More fun this way." He grinned and thrust upward, making Kim's breasts
bounce.

   "Boys and their toys," was Kit's response.  But Kim leaned forward until
her breasts were pressed against his lower ribs.  She looked up into his
eyes.

   "Do you want to fuck me, Brian?" Her voice was low and husky.  She
ground her groin against his.

   "We could fuck right now, Brian," she went on.  She reached between her
legs and took hold of his cock.  He felt its head rubbing against something
smooth and wet.

   "Kim!" Kit barked, but the older girl ignored it.

   "I know you want to fuck me," Kim continued.  "I want to fuck you,
Brian. Do you want to do it right now, right here?" She kept up the motion
between their legs, but did not take him into her.

   Brian sucked in air and held it.  All he had to do was say yes, just nod
his head, and he would be inside her.  He would be fucking a girl.  No
resistance, no games, no courtship, no romance.  Just an easy fuck.  And a
fast one, he knew from the way the pressure was mounting.  One word and he
could release it inside her, inside a girl.

   He said one word.  He said, "No." And he gently pushed her up away from
him, guiding her to a kneeling position beside him.  He unfolded her
fingers from his cock, and finally released the breath.  "I'm sorry," he
said, "but, no."

   "You are a catch," Kim said to him.  Then she looked at Kit.  "You sure
you don't want to fuck him?"

   "Of course I want to fuck him," Kit replied.  She was beaming.  She
reached down and stroked his cheek.  "But we can't.  That's over the line."

   Kim sat back, cross-legged.  On the other side, Kit assumed the same
position.  Brian turned his head from side to side, looking at the shaved
pussy in one direction and the fuzzy mound in the other, the larger evenly
rounded breasts one way and the uneven, but, because of who they were
attached to, more exciting pair the other way.  Nothing about the situation
relieved any of the pressure in his groin.

   "Where is the line?" Kim asked suddenly, her eyes on Kit's.

   "Huh?"

   "The line.  Where is it?  Fucking is over the line.  But you've kissed
him.  And you've gotten yourself off in front of him.  And you've jerked
him off, right?"

   "Well, yeah."

   "And his fingers were in you when he got you off?"

   "A little."

   "You even ate his cum."

   "Tasted it."

   "Whatever," Kim said.  She idly reached out to stroke the inside of
Brian's nearest thigh.  Kit mirrored the gesture.  This was worse than
direct contact.  Brian bore down to stop the welling up from going over the
top.  But he left their hands where they were.

   "So that's all this side of the line?" Kim asked.

   "I guess so," Kit said.

   "The line is at fucking?"

   "That's what we've been saying from the start," Kit affirmed.

   Kim began rolling Brian's balls between her thumb and forefinger.  Kit's
hand drifted onto his shaft.  He gritted his teeth.  No, that wouldn't be
enough.  He grabbed both of their wrists and pushed their hands back into
their own laps.  Not a moment too soon.  But when he pulled his own hands
away, Kim grabbed the one on her side and pushed his fingertips against her
pussy and with her other hand spread the labia so he could push a finger
into her.  On his other side, after a pause while watching the activity in
Kim's lap, Kit duplicated the motions, and Brian had to split his attention
between probing the shaved wet pussy on his left and the furry wet pussy on
his right.  The owners of both responded with moans and writhing.

   Then Kim jerked his hand away.  "Oh, god, hold that thought," she said,
breathing hard.  Kit did not mimic her friend this time, and didn't seem to
notice the change.  Her eyes were closed and she kept both of her hands
lightly on back of his hand.  Kim reached over and gently pulled his hand
away.  Kit's eyes flew open.

   "What?  Why'd you . . . ."

   "We were talking about lines," Kim said.  "You already blew by this one.
We know where you won't go.  Seems there's a good bit between here and
there, and he's only here another day and a half."

   It took a moment for Kit's eyes to refocus.  "What are you getting at?"
she asked.

   Brian was interested in that question as well.  Kit's answer was pretty
clear to the question, Where is the line?  But it seemed to him that a
better question, without so easy an answer, was, Why is there a line?  He'd
already heard Kit's explanation.  By fucking, they risk an emotional
attachment that could hurt the family, even though they were step-cousins
and it was a step-family.  Say you go ahead and fuck, first time for both.
What happens?  Like a duckling with the first creature it sees, you fall in
love.  Love makes you do extreme things, like needing to be together,
living together, maybe marrying.  And it would be hard to hide from the
parents that the girl sharing your one-bedroom apartment or walking down
the aisle is your cousin.  With fireworks during the ceremony rather than
after.

   That made sense.  But had she drawn the line in the wrong place?  Hadn't
that attachment already formed far short of any line between his prick and
her pussy?  Hadn't he spent the last two and a half days coming to
understand that he would probably spend the rest of his life searching for
a girl just like Kit, once he and his parents left this place?  And
probably never finding her?

   Maybe she hadn't crossed the real line, maybe she wouldn't feel anything
like he already felt and would be able to wave goodbye and get on with her
life.  Maybe for her it would take a melding of flesh to cause a melding of
souls.  You'd think so to listen to her.  But he'd already crossed the line
that counted.  He wasn't about to tell her that, but he'd crossed it.

   Now they were talking about her line.  For him, a joining of their
bodies could do no more damage.  But he would not cross any line she didn't
want crossed.  So it was a necessary question.  Where is this thing going?

   "I think you're full of shit about this line thing," Kim said.  "But
that's your call."

   "I'm glad you think so," Kit said with a touch of sarcasm.

   Kim ignored her.  "Left to yourselves, I figure you two would be fucking
like rabbits inside the next hour."

   "Now you're full of . . . ."

   "He'd be the perfect gentleman," Kim persisted, "but you'd get so
cranked up and horny you'd jump his bones and beg him.  You were about
there a minute ago just from some finger action." She looked at Brian. 
"Would you fuck her if she begged?"

   "It's her call," he said promptly.  Then to himself: No begging
required.

   "I am not a rabbit," Kit protested.  But her expression showed she
agreed with her friend.  "So, what are you saying?"

   "You need a chaperone," Kim said.  "You're dead set on pushing this
thing to the edge, so I suppose you need somebody to show you the way and
be there to catch you before you fall over."

   "You?" Brian asked.

   "Me," Kim affirmed.  "Your friendly tour guide."

   "Uh, that's a mixed metaphor," Kit said.

   "A what?"

   "Are you a chaperone or a tour guide?"

   "Are you a virgin or a slut?" Kim shot back.

   "Can't I be both?" Kit smiled as sweet and innocent a smile as Brian had
ever seen.

   Kim laughed.  "Why not?  You don't have to fuck to be sex-crazed."

   "Is that what I am?"

   "Seems so," Kim said.  "You have been for ages, but totally gone since
he got here."

   "You see?" Kit asked Brian.  "You're the cause of it."

   "Well," Brian said slowly, "there's the cybersex stuff and cruising the
sex sites, all that.  That predates me."

   "And then there's what you do with garden produce," Kim added sweetly.

   "Don't even go there, girlfriend!" Kit cautioned, but with a smile. 
"So, where do we go from here?  Lead the way!"

   "Well," Kim said.  "You've had an appetizer.  I'd say it's time for the
main course.  Unless, of course, you figure cocksucking is over the line."

   Kit hesitated.  Brian held his breath, waiting for the answer.

   "No," Kit said.  "Fucking is the line, and that isn't fucking.  Right,
Brian?"

   He felt himself welling up again.  Everything, it was obvious, except
that one thing, was permitted.  Everything, except one, was there for the
taking.  No strain, no struggle, no negotiation.  Just that thought put him
right at the edge.  But it would not do to be spewing all over just from
the first brush of her lips, like he had gone off from a single squeeze by
Patty.  He had to stall.

   Then Kit shifted her weight to her knees.  He knew what the next
movement would be.

   "Uh, right," he said.  "But I really need a swim." With that, he kicked
his legs up into a backward roll that took his long, naked body onto his
feet.  He whirled and ran for the river, his dick bouncing wildly, but at
least not emitting anything more than the usual early trickle.  Only when
the water closed over his feet did her remember he was still wearing socks
and sneakers.  As the girls headed for the water, he removed these last
soggy articles and tossed them on the bank.

   Brian's main concern was giving himself a chance to cool off so he
wouldn't cut short Kit's fellatio lesson.  But the look in the girls' eyes
as they splashed toward him told him it would be a short rest.  He turned
and headed for deeper water, but they dove forward and tackled him.  He
came up spluttering and looking for revenge.  Kim found herself tossed out
into the river first, followed shortly by Kit splashing beside her.  They
circled and came at him underwater from opposite sides.

   Soon the three were a slippery tangle of arms and legs, boobs and asses,
pussies and a sole prick rubbing against whatever it could find at every
chance.  Quickly the dunking contest became an all-out pawfest.  His hands
were all over them and theirs all over him and, he noted, all over one
another.

   With somebody's tit in his mouth (he couldn't see whose because he had
his eyes shut against the water splashing against his face), somebody's
hand pumping his cock, somebody's pussy (probably Kim's because of the
smooth feel) quivering against his thrusting fingers, somebody's tongue
probing his ear, somebody's ass cupped in his other hand, and somebody's
finger poking at his clenched asshole, Brian was at the verge of coming
once again.

   He gave brief thought to shucking them off and heading for deep
water--if there was any such thing in this river--so he could keep pushing
back his orgasm.  Then he realized he had accomplished the purpose behind
that when he rolled off the quilt.  With a surprising degree of clear
thinking, given the barrage of stimuli he was enduring, he calculated that
letting go now would help out later.

   So he stepped up the intensity of his attack on the girl flesh within
his reach and opened himself more to the feelings their efforts were
arousing in him.  He sucked the nipple in his mouth like a baby sucking for
milk, but mixed in tongue swirls and light nips, just as he had seen on
videos.  He settled into a firm rhythm with his fingers in the smooth pussy
and set up a different pattern of circling the nub at the top of the slit
with his thumb.  The hand on his cock was joined by another tugging lightly
at his balls.  The fingertip at the opening of his anus coaxed it open
enough to slide a little bit in.

   That did it.  That was a line he hadn't even thought about crossing.  He
tensed, then started shooting.  Stream after stream of milky liquid joined
the river water, some floating to the surface.  The pussy around his
fingers reacted to his unrestrained grunts by pulsing and clenching.  A low
moan near his ear mounted and burst out in a series of gasping high shrieks
that pierced through him.  The hips attached to the pussy around his
fingers bucked forward in time with the shrieks and his ass flared as the
hand on his butt seemed determined to close in a fist with the imbedded
finger trying to close as well.  He clenched against the pain, recalling
Kim had longish fingernails while Kit's were clipped or gnawed short, but
the burst of agony before the offending hand relaxed seemed to boost rather
than stop his surging.

   Then the three of them relaxed and floated apart, disentangling as they
did.

   "Wow!" Brian said.

   "Wow!" Kim agreed.

   "What about me?" Kit asked.  She looked at Brian with an overblown pout.
"You stopped doing me as soon as I got you off, and I had a little to go
yet."

   "Sorry," he said, "but I don't think that was me.  It was kind of too
smooth where I . . . ."

   "My bad," Kim broke in.  "He was doing me and I was doing you, but he
kind of got me distracted."

   "You--" Kit began, then stopped, staring at Kim.  After a moment, she
raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms under her breasts.  "Anyway, the
question stands.  Are you two going to take a nap, or it is my turn?"

   Brian began to move toward her, but Kim interrupted.

   "No problem," she said.  "We'll just do Brian's lesson before yours."
The older girl moved behind the younger one.  "Lay back!" she ordered.

   "What are you going to do?"

   "I'm just going to support you.  Lay back and float!"

   Kit laid back, resting her head on Kim's shoulder.  She craned her neck
to bring her mouth almost to Kim's and closed her eyes.  Kim stretched to
close the gap and brought their lips together.  The kiss lasted only
several seconds and there seemed to Brian to be no tongues involved, but
when Kim drew away Kit let out a relaxed sigh and kept her eyes closed.

   "Mmm," Kit murmured, "first time we've done that."

   "After playing with your pussy, it seemed inside the line," Kim said.

   "No, that's a new line crossed, but not THE line."

   "So, you okay with that?"

   "Oh, yeah.  Way okay."

   "By definition," Brian broke in, "the line is between Kit and me only,
it seems."

   "By a couple of definitions," Kim added.

   "Something to think about," Kit said.  "Now what?"

   They were about waist deep in a still part of the river near a stand of
bridge timber.  Kim was apparently kneeling, with only her head out of the
water.  Her support under Kit's back kept the upper part of the floating
girl's body above the water.  The water lapped at her pussy.

   Kim looked at Brian.  "Get between her legs and support her hips!"

   He knelt in the muck and cupped his cousin's ass cheeks.  Without
awaiting further instruction, he pushed her hips up enough to lift her
crotch out of the water and buried his face in the tangle of hair.  Very
softly he kissed the slightly parted and reddened pussy lips.

   "Good boy," he heard Kim say.  "Quick learner." Brian looked along Kit's
body, past her stomach, between her parted breasts heaving in time with her
quickening breaths, to see her turn her head again and crane her neck to
reach Kim's mouth.  Again the girls locked in a kiss, this time with
tongues involved and this time with more apparent passion than curiosity.
While he watched this, Brian's tongue tip traced the ridges of Kit's labia.

   He thought about how Kit was writhing from both his tongue probing her
pussy at this end and Kim's tongue probing her mouth at the other.  Did it
matter that she was kissing another girl?  Did it matter that she was
kissing anybody else?  He felt just enough of a rush of jealousy to
consider it and shoo it back out of his head.  This whole thing was about
exploration and pleasure.  Certainly it had nothing to do with ownership.
He had been caught up in her urgent need to break down walls, cross lines,
and what excited him the most about it was seeing how excited she was when
she took another step.  He was thrilled to be part of it, but he didn't
feel he had to be her only partner on the journey.  The sight of Kit's
mouth working against Kim's, the sounds she was making, the change in her
breathing, the bucking against his tongue, all these made him begin to
swell up again.

   Brian refocused on the task at hand.  Kim obviously was too involved to
give him the guidance she had intended, so he was left to his own devices
to figure out what to do.  He had thought the pubic hair in his mouth,
against his tongue, would be a turn off, but it was so exciting just to be
where he was, doing what he was doing, that the hair, the slightly musky
smell, and even the stench of the river all were part of the erotic
experience.  He remembered how he had liked for Patty to touch him in other
places before she reached in his pants to grasp his cock.  The anticipation
of when that would finally happen would be enough to set him up for an
instant orgasm as soon as she finally did, at first anyway.  Later he could
hold out through much more stimuli, but it was always true that the first
touch of the penis was so much more exciting after prolonged attention
elsewhere.

   From this dates with Patty and his close attention to videos and
articles in men's magazines his friends had stashed, Brian knew the clit
was the key, and he knew pretty much just where it was, though having to
stay outside of Patty's panties had impeded his education somewhat.  He
knew some were prominent and some pretty much hidden away no matter what
the stimulus.  But it was somewhere up there at the top of the smooth
groove above the opening.

   So he licked around the flaps enclosing her vagina, and licked the
inside of the rim, and probed as deeply into the hole as his tongue could
reach.  He couldn't describe the taste of the fluid that coated his tongue.
Different from his own.  Different from anything he'd tasted.  It tasted
like pussy, was the best he could figure.

   Then he traced the crease between thigh and crotch on one side, then the
other.  He probed inside again, but this time lapped slowly upward along
the hair-free groove, almost to the top, almost to the tiny nub he could
see between the fold of skin there.  Then he stopped.  The water splashed
against her sides as she writhed in his grip.  Her ass muscles clenched as
she pressed her mound up toward his mouth, but he had moved lower, kissing
her inner thighs just to the side of her pussy.  One side, the other, back
to the first, but closer in.  Then a sudden move to that silken channel and
a long slow lick almost all the way up.

   "You are a lying bastard." Kim's voice broke his concentration.  He
looked up.  The kiss had stopped.  Kit's head was tilted back on her
friend's shoulder and low moans were issuing from her open mouth.  Her
breasts were heaving more erratically.  Brian figured she was very close to
coming.  He grinned up at Kim, saw from her smile that she was in tune with
his strategy.  Stall a little to keep up the suspense.

   "How's that?" he asked.

   "You've munched cunt before."

   He ran his tongue in a wide circle around and away from Kit's clit
before raising his head to answer.  She arched her back again.  A louder,
longer moan.  But she relaxed back when he didn't press on.

   "Sex ed class," he explained as straight-faced as he could manage.

   "Bullshit!"

   "Really.  Taught by my friend Lennie with his amazing supply of
audiovisual materials.  I was a very attentive student."

   "Hmph," she said with mock disgust.  "The guys I fuck have shelves full
of that stuff, but I wouldn't give any of them more than about a C+ for
pussy licking."

   "Well, I always try to take pride in my work."

   "I can see that."

   Kit offered her opinion on the way the conversation was going by
reaching up to pull Kim's mouth back to her own, apparently to shut her up,
and by waggling her pussy insistently in Brian's face.  He grinned and went
back to work.

   What else could he do to keep her on edge without pushing her over?  He
needed another tool.  He shifted her weight so he was supporting her with
one hand as he moved the other around front.  It was awkward, but he
managed to slide two fingers into her depths while keeping good tongue
contact with the rest of the area.  The hand position put his thumb in the
crack between her ass cheeks.  He remembered the feel of a
finger--Kim's--probing at his anus earlier.  So while he pumped his fingers
in and out, picking up speed slowly, he felt about with his thumb for
anything that felt like another hole.  Another line to cross, perhaps, but
still not the line Kit insists is the one that counts.

   Kit responded to the penetration with more moaning and writhing.  A
glance up showed Kim's hands on her friends breasts, slowly rolling the
nipples between thumbs and forefingers.  Kit's breathing was becoming more
abrupt and ragged.  Her hips were moving more insistently.  Brian had made
Patty come enough times to know when orgasm was near, and what he had seen
of Kit's responses so far were close enough to that pattern.  She was about
to blow, no matter what else he did, maybe from Kim's efforts alone.

   He hadn't found an entry point for his thumb, so he just pressed it flat
against the puckery spot he had found.  He sped up the finger thrusts. 
Then, after pulling his mouth completely away, he suddenly closed it over
the now prominent nub and flicked lightly at it with the tip of his tongue,
a technique from one of Lennie's magazines.

   He was disappointed that it didn't work.  It did draw more moans and
more writhing about from her, but she didn't come as he'd expected.  So
much for his awesome knowledge of female sexual response.  He kept at the
flickery motion.

   Then Kim spoke, her lips near Kit's, but loud enough for Brian to hear.

   "You have a man between your legs, Kittie Sue," Kim said in a voice like
the ones in the phone sex ads at the end of porn tapes.  "A man's between
your legs, licking you and fucking you with his fingers.  Fucking you,
Kittie.  Now he's going to make you come."

   Brian looked up along Kit's body.  Kim caught his eye and mouthed what
looked like, "Suck it!" She pursed her lips and made an exaggerated gesture
of sucking.  He stopped flicking and started sucking, managing to form some
kind of seal despite the pubic hair.  As he sucked, he twiddled the nub
with his tongue tip, giving more pressure than the flicking.

   This worked.  Kit's head arched back and her hips thrust up and froze.
For a long moment she didn't move, didn't breathe.

   "You're coming, Kittie," Kim whispered loudly.  "Let it go!"

   With that, Kit began bucking wildly against his mouth.  He tried to move
along with her and managed to keep the seal and keep his tongue lapping at
the nub.  As she bucked, he thrust his fingers faster and deeper.  Kit's
flailing and bucking nearly sent Kim off balance under the water, but she
held up her end while Brian worked on his.  The thrashing was spraying
water all over him, but he thought the sudden oozing of moisture against
his chin was too warm and slick to be river water.  She shuddered and she
launched into an escalating series of throaty gasps that turned into drawn
out guttural bellows.  It seemed he was clamped onto a wild animal in its
death throes, and she was clamped onto him, as her fingers dug into the
back of his head and pressed his face even harder against her.

   Then, suddenly, she arched up one last time, rigid and silent,
straining. Then she sagged back, limp and wheezing for air.  Satisfied that
it was over, Brian drew his mouth away and gently pulled out his fingers.

   "Jesus," Kim said in awe.  "Is that what she did this morning?"

   "More restrained then."

   "Still," Kim said, "you'd think she'd have blasted the whole house out
of bed."

   "I thought so at the time."

   "Will you two shut the fuck up?" Kit gasped, still coming down.  "That
was the best thing ever happened to me, and you're making fun."

   Brian's response was to kiss her clit again, but she jerked and pushed
his head away.

   "No, no, no," she said.  "Awful tender right now.  Give me a few
minutes."

   Brian eased her down and took her into his arms.  She reached out to
pull Kim into the hug as well, and the three of them clung together without
a word.  All was still.  Silent.  He was aware at first only of the sound
and motion of their breathing.  The water stilled until there were only
tiny ripples from the slow current flowing around them.  As they held one
another, he began to sense more around them, but in terms of textures more
than shapes and sounds.  The smooth flow of the water, the oozing muck of
the river bottom around his knees, farther away the graininess of the
gravelly beach, the varied textures of the foliage, the tall grass, the
trees, the perfect flat blueness of the sky, and right there the electric
silken feel of the skin pressing against his on both sides.

   He clung to them both, but his mouth was against Kit's and his tongue
played with hers.  An urge to say something welled up, something he had to
say, but something he knew was wrong, wrong for the moment, wrong for the
situation, and wrong for their lives.  He pushed the words back down and
held on, with his arms and his lips, to all he could have.

   Finally, Kim broke the embrace and floated away.  Brian barely noticed
and merely held Kit all the more closely.  He wondered how much she could
taste herself on his lips, smell herself.  Did she think it as wonderful a
flavor as he did?

   From somewhere outside the cozy universe of him and Kit, Brian heard Kim
speak.  Only when he felt a nudge did he disentangle his lips from Kit's.

   "Huh?"

   "I asked, where's that fit with your story?"

   "What we just did?"

   "Yeah.  You never did anything like that with Patty?"

   "Not even close," he said.  "Always just fingers and always over
panties, below the waist anyway." While speaking with Kim, he moved behind
Kit and put his fingers to work gently rolling her nipples.  She was
floating up enough that when he pulled her back against his chest, he found
his cock poking between her ass cheeks and thighs.  She pressed her legs
together and tightened her buns, and the pressure on his cock nearly set
him off.  When she released the pressure, perhaps to reposition for another
squeeze, he moved his hips backward out of range.  She giggled and tried to
squirm back against him, but he kept out of range and diverted her
attention by pulling on her nipples.

   "And you just kept doing that same stuff?" Kim asked.

   "Yeah.  We were getting each other off, as much as two or three times a
week, so that was enough, I suppose.  Seemed enough for her, and I was
figured anything else was up to her."

   "How come you never fucked," Kim pressed.

   "That was her line."

   "Too."

   Brian kissed the back of Kit's neck.  "Yeah, too.  But different
reason."

   "What?"

   "She figured she was a virgin as long as I didn't get inside her.  She
said that was important, staying a virgin until marriage."

   "What about the fingers?"

   "Didn't count.  Just fingers, and not even bare fingers."

   "Sheesh!"

   "I'd pushed her that far, but it didn't feel right to keep pushing. 
Past that, I figured it was her call."

   "Of course, it's her call.  But what a fine line!"

   "Like I said, it was her line and I went with it.  I'm courteous, if
nothing else.  I also come to the door when I pick up a date, instead of
standing out on the sidewalk yelling, like a couple guys do when they come
after this girl near Lennie's."

   "Shit, my dates just lay on their horns at the curb.  Every goddamned
one of them."

   "So tell them no knock, no nooky!"

   Kim laughed.  "Yeah, I like that."

   Brian began to nibble on Kit's earlobe, but soon felt Kim wedging
herself between them.  "Come on!" she ordered, nudging them apart and
toward shore.  "There's another line to cross."

   Brian had been hard again since well before Kit's orgasm.  Riding with
her through that had pushed him well along toward the edge again, despite
his earlier feeding of the fish.  So when he found himself back on the
quilt, again flat on his back with his cock pointed skyward, he seemed in
scarcely any better shape for holding out than when he'd made his escape to
the water.  But that obviously wasn't a move he could repeat.  The girls
were crouched on either side of his hips, peering at his pulsing prick like
two entomologists scrutinizing a new breed of caterpillar.

   Kim hadn't had to say what line she had in mind.  It was the same one
she had been guiding Kit toward before he'd made his dash for the river. 
Very shortly Kit's lips were going to close over his shaft, and he was
afraid she would be having dessert far too soon for anyone's liking,
especially his.

   So he turned to a trick he'd developed by necessity in the blue glow of
Patty's TV when he hadn't wanted their evenings of exploration, and her
explorations inside his unbuttoned jeans especially, to end too soon in a
sticky mess.  It was his only hope now: the filmography of Christopher Lee.

   The progression from light to heavy petting and the weeks of sticky
messes had coincided with a Christopher Lee film festival on Channel 11,
the station they always had on for cover noise but that they all but
ignored.  Still, he'd picked up enough details about the movies early on
for the basics to stick with him, and later on it had been a dire necessity
to focus on the flickering screen rather than on Patty's hand moving inside
his pants but over his undershorts.

   That gaunt visage and deep British accent had quelled a surging in his
loins many times.  It was all he had now as Kim took hold of his cock and
began to explain to Kit the process of giving head.

   "On most guys," Kim was saying, "the sensitive spot is right through
here." She pressed the shaft against his abdomen and sketched a circle just
below the head with a fingertip.  Brian jerked in response, not just his
cock, but his whole body.  This was going to be a challenge.

   Horror of Dracula, he thought.  The best of them, with Peter Cushing as
Professor Van Helsing.  And Lee as the Count, stalking the women, entering
Lucy's bedroom . . . .  No!  Better steer away from that thought.  The
stake.  Think about Van Helsing and the stake!  Or was that the one where
Van Helsing ripped down the curtains as the sun rose?  Shit!  He'd have to
do better than that.  Kim was waggling his cock toward Kit's face.

   "Start with that little drop there on the end," Kim said.  "Go on. 
You've tasted it before."

   Kit leaned forward and licked up the drop.

   What was the sequel?  Damn it!  The one with Lee rising from ashes when
the servant mixes in blood from a fresh kill.  Dracula, Prince of Darkness!
Yeah.  And swallowed by the moat water at the end when the ice breaks.  No,
forget the swallowed part.  Icy cold water.  He could use some to dunk his
dick in.

   "You really like this stuff?" Kit asked after considering the taste.

   "Not at first, but now it tastes like sex.  Part of the whole thing. 
You like to suck cock?  You like the taste of cum."

   The Curse of Frankenstein.  As the monster, of course.  Not as classic
as Karloff, of course, but creepier.

   "It's kind of weird," Kit said, running a finger tip the length of the
tender underside.  Kim drew back and Kit took the organ in both hands,
holding it, moving it around, studying it, playing with it.  "You take a
part of somebody's body inside of yours, and he squirts something in you.
If you're fucking, it's still weird, but it's natural.  But when it's your
mouth, that just seems icky."

   "You want me to do it?" Kim asked.  "Poor baby's expecting a blow job
and I'd be . . . ."

   "No, no," Kit said.  "I want to do it."

   Then there was Fu Manchu.  Droopy mustache.  Taped back eyes to get the
phony slant.  Goofy fingernails.  Weird makeup.  A precursor to Tim Curry's
Dr.  Frankenfurter in Rocky Horror.  Hey, this was working!  Christopher
Lee comes through again.

   "Anyway," Kit went on, "I've read a lot of stories on the web about
sucking guys off and swallowing and guys filling their mouths so much it
leaks out, and licking a guy clean after he comes in her cunt, so you're
getting some of yourself too."

   Or maybe not working.  Think!  Hound of the Baskervilles, with Basil
Rathbone as Holmes and the doddering old guy as Dr.  Watson.  The hound out
baying on the moor.  Lee as Sir Henry Baskerville.

   "Does that stuff turn you off?" Kim asked.

   "At first," Kit said.  "Like the gang bangs and circle jerks and
cheating wives going home covered with cum and their husbands sucking it
out of their cunts."

   "Ew!" Kim made a face.

   "Yeah, and licking assholes.  But reading all that stuff made sucking
cock seem normal."

   "It is normal."

   "I've gone way past that," Kit said.  She was rolling him between her
palms.  "I do cybersex and my partner says he's coming in my mouth, and I
almost feel it."

   "So, what you think?" Kim asked.  "You want to try to swallow?  I mean,
first time out, and all.?

   Think, think!.  What else?  The Mummy.  Lee lurching about in bandages.

   "I'll try," Kit said.

   Oh, god!  Holmes.  Lee as Holmes in another movie.  Which one?  Shit. 
She's going to swallow.  Sherlock Holmes.  Holmes' brother too, in a
different flick.

   "All right!" Kim gently brushed Kit's cheek with the back of her hand.
"So go for it.  You won't get a chance if you keep that up."

   No shit, Sherlock!  Did the fucker ever play Moriarty?

   Kit slowly lowered her head.  Brian expected to feel the lips encircle
just the head and gradually take in more and more.  No, don't even thing
about it!  What the fuck else?  Fu Manchu.  No, did that already.  Still,
he did enough Fu Manchu movies to gag a dragon.

   Suddenly his whole cock disappeared from sight as she buried her nose in
his pubic hair.  Just as suddenly it appeared again.  She sat back gagging
and coughing.

   "Easy," Kim counseled.  "Take it slow!"

   When Kit regained control, she explained, "I've read so much on how to
deep throat, I gave it a try.  There are whole web sites with nothing but
instructions on sucking guys off."

   "Maybe so, and there are books on doing gymnastics, but that won't let
you do a double back flip first time down the mat.  Just play with it. 
Have fun."

   Kit nodded and lowered her head toward his crotch again.  This time she
took in only the head and a little more.  She closed her lips and pulled
back off with a slurping sound.

   Sequels.  Dracula.  What else?  Prince . . .  no, got that.  Count
Dracula, and Dracula Has Risen from the Grave.  Taste the Blood of Dracula.
Scars of Dracula.  Lame titles.  Worst title?  Dracula 1972, or something
like that.

   He jerked and dug his fingers into Kit's hair.  She had raked her teeth
along the sides.  It hadn't hurt, but it felt like she was about to bite it
off.

   "A little nibble, Brian?" Kim asked.  Then to Kit, "Think fudgecicle or
tootsie roll pop, not hot dog."

   Kit raised up a little.  "Sorry."

   "No, not tootsie pop," Kim reconsidered.  "I've seen you chomp into
those after hardly a lick."

   "Everybody bites," Kit said.

   "I don't," Brian said.

   "You're lying," Kit said.

   "It's true," he said.  "I suck it down to the core before nibbling on
the chocolate."

   "That's superhuman," Kim exclaimed.  "Nobody has that kind of patience."

   "I've always done it that way."

   "Shit, no wonder you're so good at pussy licking," Kim said.  "You ought
to try cocksucking.  More like tootsie pops."

   "Uh, I'll pass." He'd been appreciating the break in the action to let
the pressure ease, but this sudden turn in the conversation threatened to
deflate things entirely.  He reached up to stroke Kit's cheek, then hooked
his fingers behind her neck, pulling her gently toward his cock again.  "If
you promise not to bite, you can practice patience all you want."

   "I'll try," Kit said, then engulfed him again.

   This time she kept her teeth sheathed with her lips.  Little by little,
she took him deeper inside, slowly sliding up and down, her nose drawing
nearer his pubic hair with each stroke.  At first he felt himself butting
against something, her throat probably.  But she must have been relaxing
and opening more each time.  He'd read about how this works too, and she
seemed to be figuring it out.  He felt himself go deeper into the tight
space.

   Jesus!  What else did that blood sucker do?  Vampir.  And a bit in The
Magic Christian.  Oh, yeah!  Rasputin.  The prick that wouldn't die. 
There's an image.

   "That's great!" Kim said.  "It took me weeks to get that far down. 
Brian, shit!  Your cousin's a natural-born cocksucker."

   Yeah, the prick that wouldn't fucking die.  Shoot him, stab him, drown
him, deep-throat him, and he kept coming back for more.  Now, that's
stamina.  Focus on that.  Yeah, I'm Rasputin.

   "Now try using your tongue when you come up," Kim directed, "and kind of
swirl it around just under the head.  They love that."

   Kit added this new element to the rhythm, so on the downstroke the bulb
would be squeezed tight and then on the upstroke there would be the burst
of pleasure as her tongue swirled around exactly the most sensitive spot he
had.  He struggled for movie titles, tried to ignore what she was doing to
him.  By now he'd closed his eyes tight because just the sight of his cock
sliding in and out of her mouth was about enough to make him blow, vampires
and unkillable pricks notwithstanding.

   The pleasure was exquisite.  Not all the times he'd jerked off, not all
the times Patty had brought him off in his shorts, not even the help Kit
had given him when he had made like a fountain early that morning--nothing
had ever felt this good.  His fingers dug harder into her scalp.  If it
hurt, she didn't show it, just kept up that amazing rhythm.  He had surely
held out long enough for pride, but now he just wanted this to go on and
on. What else did Lee do?  In the 70s or 80s, all those silly-ass . . . .

   Then Kim whispered something in Kit's ear.  He could hear the voice, but
not the suggestion.  But immediately he felt fingers slide up his inner
thigh and begin to softly knead his balls.

   God fucking damn it!  The man did a couple of hundred movies.  What the
fuck else?

   He felt the surge building low and hot.

   What else?

   "Wicker Man," he shouted out loud.  "Island of pagans," he gasped. 
"Ritual sacrifice.  Burnt alive." Oh, yes, this was working.  The feeling
was like nothing ever before, but it just sat there.  So good.  That
clueless cop poking around and the islanders acting dumb.  The idiot
lyrics. A musical about pagan sacrifice with schlocky folk music.  Oh, this
felt good, teetering, but not too far.

   Then he realized his mistake.  That one was on videotape, not broadcast
TV.  The pagans fucking on the commons by moonlight, schoolgirls dancing
nude in a garden.

   And Brit Ekland.  Her lame song and inept dance when she was trying to
seduce the cop through the walls.  But totally nude.  Bare-assed naked. 
Swinging those scrumptious tits.  Stroking herself.  Humping the wall.

   Brian forced his eyes open to escape the movie image, only to see his
cock disappearing all the way into Kit's mouth, her nose vanishing into his
pubic hair, and, alongside, Kim pulling on her own nipple and thrusting her
fingers in her cunt.

   That was it.  He'd never before made much sound when he came, because it
usually happened secretly in his room with a parent or two down the hall or
just a thin wall away from Patty's parents.  But now a roar burst out as
the first of his white lava began to blast upward.

   Some chivalrous instinct caused him to forcefully pull her head off of
him, so the first burst glanced off her cheek.  But she determinedly
engulfed him again and sucked down his juice until finally he stopped
twitching.

   As he sank back and Kit finally took one last slurp, he became dimly
aware of Kim's gasping and squealing as she finished herself off.  Kit
slithered up Brian's body until her mouth was almost against his.

   "Want another taste?" she asked in a low sexy voice.

   He replied by turning her head and darting his tongue out to lick a
string of white off her cheek and ear.  Then he pressed his lips against
hers and probed her mouth.  She had swallowed what she had taken in, but
his own taste was very strong.  He still couldn't say he liked the taste,
or even that he was comfortable with the idea of tasting himself.  But he
definitely liked the effect on Kit, and Kim's praise on the point had
warmed him.  Kit's lips were both urgent and deliberate against his.  They
seemed to be melting together in something that was bound to far outlast
the contact between their lips or their bodies.

   "Aw, shit!" Kim burst out.  "You sure I can't have him?  No guy's ever
done that.  This one's a keeper."

   Kit stirred, but Brian held her against him, continued to explore what
it was that passed between them.  There was the texture of her lips, the
smell, the taste, but beyond that he felt flowing between them something
else.  He let it flow on his part, and could feel the same coming from her.

   "Jeez!" Kim continued.  "And pulling you off.  First guy I sucked off
held me down so I had to swallow, even though I was about barfing on him.
Good thing you did that, Brian.  You'd have blown her brains out with that
first shot."

   Brian was all but oblivious to the prattle.  He held Kit and told her
with everything but words that he loved her.  He was sure she was picking
up the same message from her.  Kim gave up and just watched.  Finally, Kit
drew away, looked deep into his eyes, smiled broadly, and rolled off of him
into a sitting position.

   Brian propped himself up on his elbows.  He looked at one nude girl on
one side and at the other nude girl on the other.  Kit had a shiny streak
of his semen in her hair and was absently letting her hand drift toward her
pussy.  Kim's shaved pussy was red and still spread from her own orgasms.
His own exhausted cock lay sideways on his thigh, a final string dripping
from the end, puddling there.  It was such a delightful sight, he laughed.

   "If our parents could only see us now!" he chortled.

   Kit's smile froze, then drained from her face with much of the color. 
Her eyes widened, then narrowed.  They flitted about to take in the scene.
Suddenly she reached to snatch up her shorts and tugged them on.  She
scrambled to her feet and pulled on her t-shirt.  She started away, then
turned and gathered her bikini.  Brian was too stunned to speak.  Obviously
Kim was as well.

   Kit started away again, but stopped.  Without turning, she said tensely,
"You think I'm some hick slut." Brian's mouth dropped open.  He dug for
anything to say, to explain, but he didn't know what he's said to bring
this on.  "Some horny whore." With that, she started forward again, running
this time until she reached her bike.

   Kim rose to her knees.  "Kit!" she called after her friend.

   "I'm not like them," Kit spat over her shoulder as she pushed off.  "I'm
not like you.  This shouldn't have happened."

   Then she was gone up the path and vanished with it into the trees.

   Brian stared after her.  What had he said?  Their parents.  Of course
they'd be shocked to shit by all this.  But Kit knew that from the time on
the porch when she turned her back to their parents through the window and
fingered herself.

   He was startled by a sharp pain in his shoulder.  Kim had slugged him.
She gave him a shove, toppling him off his elbow perch.

   "Go after her!" she hissed.  "Catch her!"

   Brian scrambled to his feet and started for his bicycle.

   "With your clothes on," she clarified.

   "Oh!" He pulled on his shorts and shoes as fast as he could and stuffed
the shirt in a pocket.

   "What's going on?" he asked as he picked up the bike.

   "She must have crossed a line and just realized it."

   "The . . .  oral stuff?"

   "Another line," she said.  "Get going!" She gestured at the picnic
debris.  "I'll get this shit."

   Kit's head start and Brian's lack of bicycling skills proved too much.
It wasn't until he had peddled most of the way that he remembered Kim had a
car back at the river.  They surely would have caught Kit with that.  Kim
must have been as surprised as him to have forgotten that as well.

   Brian managed to find the right roads back, but as he came in sight of
the farm, he saw Kit at the wheel of her family's Toyota, turning onto the
county road and roaring off the other way.

   "Shit!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.  "Shit!  Shit!  Shit!"

   Fortunately, Aunt Jen didn't connect the dots.  All she knew was Kit
went into town on undisclosed errands that might last through supper, his
dad was taking a nap, and his mom and uncle were still out doing something
or other.  And, she observed before he made it past the kitchen, though
Brian probably could stand to clean up after his bike ride, he might as
well give her a hand digging some weeds out of the garden now so he would
have to wash off the grime just the once.

   Under the circumstances, he preferred digging to waiting and wondering,
and scarcely heard his aunt's chatter as she picked lettuce and tomatoes.
He kept digging when she went in to start supper.  He kept replaying events
in his mind, getting a good idea of what had driven her off, and taking out
on the weeds what he knew he deserved himself for saying something so
stupid.

   So he took only scant notice when his aunt came out on the back porch,
across the farm yard from his hands-and-knees position in the garden.  He
gave slightly more notice to his dad coming quietly out the kitchen door
behind her, and actually devoted a few seconds to wondering if he'd really
seen his dad embrace his sister-in-law from behind and cup one hand on a
breast while the other was sliding south before she twisted away with a
head jerk in Brian's direction.  Any further thought on that, though,
turned immediately into recalling the feel of Kit's breast as he lay on her
bed that morning and the way she tensed and moaned as he'd slid his hand
from there to the patch between her legs.  He was more in her room in the
monitor's glow just then than in the garden in the dimming sunlight, but
then the Kit in his daydream leapt up and, as this incarnation of his
cousin had been doing since he'd started digging weeds, gave him a hurt
look of disappointment and shame, and vanished even as she said through
gritted teeth, "You think I'm a slut."

   "No," he said aloud to the void she left, as he had each time through
the cycle since his aunt had left him alone.  "I don't.  I'm sorry." There
was, of course, no answer.

   It couldn't have been much later that his mom and uncle drove up.  His
uncle wrapped one of his big arms around her as they walked from the truck
to the porch.  He unwrapped her when Aunt Jen came out and again gestured
his way.

   They're all hitting it off fine, he thought bitterly, and I'm fucking
things up.  By this time all he recalled from the earlier encounter on the
porch was a friendly embrace between in-laws.  That's where we should have
left it, his mind raced on, friendship between cousins.

   His mother waved him in and sent him to clean up.  Kit didn't return for
supper.  The four parents were acting like school kids, cracking jokes and
making digs at one another.  When his dad told what must have been some
sort of dirty joke, from what Brian gathered from the reaction, Brian's
aunt wailed that she couldn't believe he said that, and his mom set to
tickling him as punishment.  Aunt Jen came around the table to join in the
tickling and tip the giggling victim off his chair while Uncle Ron
guffawed. Brian was too distracted with his own thoughts to have heard the
joke in the first place, so he just stared.  His dad finally pushed his
attackers away to arm's length and protested between gasps for air that the
boy didn't get it anyway.

   He was still recovering when the phone rang and Uncle Ron went to
answer. He reported that Kit was helping a friend with a problem and would
be back late.  He looked at Brian, so Brian came back with some brief
comment and figured he'd managed to keep all trace of disappointment out of
his tone because his parents went back to their bantering and barely
noticed when he excused himself as being tired and ready for bed.

   As he sat on the bed in his undershorts, he feared Kit's stricken
expression and disappointed protest would haunt him all night, but as soon
as his head hit the pillow, he was gone.

   The dream again.  The new dream he surely would take back to New York.
The fucking Kit dream.  Except this time he was fucking her, but he also
wasn't fucking her.  It made perfect sense.

   He was on his back on sweat-soaked sheets thrusting up into her as she
writhed her naked body against his, plunging down on his cock to meet each
thrust, but she was also sitting on the edge of the bed fully clothed and
looking down at him.

   The Kit he was fucking moaned and gasped and screamed for him to fuck
her, fuck her, fuck her hard.  The one he wasn't sat quietly beside his
still form and seemed to be studying his still face, one hand over her
mouth in a thoughtful pose, the other somewhere he couldn't see.

   Then the Kit riding his cock did something with her pussy.  Tightened
it, like a hand on a bat handle, just squeezing and holding on.  So now he
was thrusting up into the tight cunt of the Kit who was gasping and
writhing and teetering on the edge of coming in a loud messy splash, and he
was lying perfectly still, breathing in the rhythm of sleep, feeling the
fingertips of the squeezing cunt distractedly stroke his cock's throbbing
underside, and waiting to see what the motionless watching owner of those
fingers, the thrashing moaning owner of that cunt would do next.

   Then the pressure eased.  The Kit fucking him kept fucking him, kept
sliding her satiny smooth tunnel along his thrusting pole with a lightness
that made it seem like fucking the air itself, but she pushed herself
upright and turned her head to watch the quiet Kit finish drawing her hand
away from his stiff but motionless penis and stand beside the bed.  She
fucked him and watched the one not fucking him hesitate.  She fucked him
and watched the other start to turn, start to walk toward the door.  She
fucked him and watched her turn back and watched her grip the bottom of her
t-shirt and watched her pause again for the length of only a few of his
urgent thrusts up into the one watching the one pulling the shirt over her
head then throwing it to the floor and bending to pull down shorts and then
standing naked and uncertain beside the bed on which he was plunging up
into her as she watched and waited with him to see what she would do.

   He moaned and thrust and clutched the bouncing breasts and waited
silently with only the slightest rising and falling of his chest.  He had
spent the entire visit waiting, eager to hear what she would say next, what
she would do next, wondering what she thought, how she thought, what she
felt, whether she felt anything for him or was she really just doing what
she said she was doing, playing with sex, playing with him, crossing some
lines but not others.  He fucked her and waited for her.

   Finally the Kit he wasn't already fucking took a deep breath, causing
her breasts to rise, then fall when the breath flowed out in a shuddering
sigh.  And this Kit hesitated no more.  This Kit, this real Kit, the only
Kit still in the room, ever in the room, put a knee on the bed and swung
the other knee over his hips and put a hand on his chest and reached the
other between her legs and took hold of his cock again and looked
searchingly into his open alert eyes and found . . .  what?  His answer had
been there for her to see all along.

   He opened his mouth to say something, any of the things he had been
saying to her shadow all afternoon since she had left, all evening.  But
she pursed her lips for a soft shooshing sound.  She must have found what
she sought in his eyes, certainly must have found it in herself already,
because her next move was to move the tip of his cock against her mound,
just as Kim had done, but now finding the opening and putting him between
the parted lips, just as the clock far off in the house bonged.

   "The hell with lines," she whispered, then slid slowly all the way down
until her pubic hair crushed against his.  Not until just before the
twelfth bong did she again raise her hips the few inches needed to complete
the first cycle of . . .  what?  The motions were the same as in the
fucking Kit dreams, the same as the motions in the old fucking Patty
dreams, the same as all the couples in the porn movies.  But Brian's
instinctive thought that he was, for the first time, fucking a girl clanged
wrongly.  As the last bong faded, he found the right words for it, the
words that fit the feeling.  He and Kit were making love.  And this was no
dream.

   Reality exploded and so did Brian's cock.  Kit had just slowly drawn
herself up his throbbing shaft, and just enough moonlight came through the
open window to give visual proof that he was indeed an ex-virgin.

   Really.  No dream this.  After three days of teasing each other, after
three days of going beyond teasing but still stopping short of going all
the way (though not much short), after three days of his step-cousin's
careful explanations of why they couldn't cross that last line without
disrupting both of their families just when they had come back together
after a decade, after three days of falling hopelessly in love with this
quirky, fascinating, frustrating girl despite the ready availability of her
generally naked, horny, and willing friend, after the three most intense
days of him life, Brian now snapped into full awareness.  She was really
here.  She was really straddling him.  He really was inside her.  This
object of his forbidden desire had awakened him at the stroke of midnight
and replaced the dreamgirl with the real thing.

   And when the reality hit, so did his orgasm.  Kit had eased herself up
until just the tip of his cock remained between her labial lips when he
moaned, as much from despair as pleasure, and instinctively thrust up all
of the way into her as the first surge coursed through his loins.  There
was no time to distract himself with movie trivia or baseball statistics.
There wasn't even time to think about holding back, not that he could have.
There was only time to feel the maddening mix of wild exhilaration about
finally going all the way and frustration about the trip ending almost as
soon as it had started.

   He grabbed her hips and pushed her down to meet his pulsing upthrusts
and pulled her up to give him room to draw out and ram up again and again,
sheerly by instinct, as he arched up into her as deeply as he could go to
spurt the last few times.  Then he sagged back, the burst of pleasure
instantly gone, driven away by despair over his miserable performance.

   How long had he dreamed of this moment?  Studied for it?  Practiced for
it with his ex- girlfriend, doing everything with her but this final act
that had just flitted past almost before he could realize it was no dream?
How many times had he run the whole sequence through his head, imagining
how it would be, rehearsing mentally the things he would say and do, the
ways he would make it as memorable for the girl as for him?  And how often
during the last few days had he pictured doing what he just did with this
particular girl whose cunt was still engulfing his miserable excuse for a
cock?

   Cock, hell!  It was a wee-wee, good for nothing but pissing.  He'd
watched plenty of cocks doing their duty--videotaped cocks, anyway.  Huge
slabs of meat pumping away for hours, it seemed, in every possible hole or
between comparably huge boobs, and driving women into constant writhing
frenzies.  Of course, he knew it wouldn't be exactly like that.  Those were
the movies and he was living a real life.  But how could real life be so
dismally embarrassing?

   Then her body was against his and her lips on his and her hands
alongside his face, tangling in his hair as her tongue probed to find his
and touch tips before she drew back enough to speak.

   "That was fantastic!" she gushed.

   His disappointment in himself quickly turned to surprise over her ironic
slam.  She was a lot of things, but cruel hadn't seemed one of them.

   "Don't . . .  I'm sorry . . .  I couldn't . . ."

   "Sorry?"

   "Yeah, I mean, shit!  What the hell am I going to do for an encore to
that miserable performance?  Go to sleep and snore?  The first time
shouldn't . . . ."

   Her fingertips against his lips stopped him short.  "I mean it," she
said, and he could tell from her voice that she did.  "I loved it, I mean,
you couldn't hold back, couldn't help yourself.  That was so hot."

   "You mean it?"

   "Fucking right I mean it.  What a trip!  Don't you think it's kind of
flattering for a girl to take a guy from fast asleep to blowing his top in
a minute flat.  I mean, you open your eyes and see you got your thing in me
and, kablooie!"

   She was so obviously telling the truth that he felt ashamed to have read
her wrong.  And her enthusiasm was so great, he found his disappointment
swept away and replaced with pride.

   "It was that rush of seeing it was you and realizing it was real," he
explained.  "I mean, I've like wanted that since I saw you, right from
then." He realized he was babbling, but couldn't stop himself.  "No,
'wanted' isn't right.  'Needed' is the word.  I needed you and then, whoa,
I had you, and, ka-blam!"

   "Yeah," she said.  "Me too.  It was like, I'm so nervous, or you would
have set me off right then too.  Except," a hint of trouble tinged her
voice, "our parents are just down the hall, and . . . .."

   "I'm sorry for what I said," he cut her off.  "This afternoon, I mean."

   "What'd you say?"

   "You know, something about our parents."

   "You didn't say anything wrong," she said.  "It just hit me wrong.  My
bad."

   "But what . . . ."

   "Don't go there," she said softly.  "Better things to do."

   "Okay.  Don't tell me why you left.  But can you say why you came back,
why . . .  this?"

   "I tracked down Kim at work --"

   "The stripper bar?"

   "Yeah.  The manager tried to hire me."

   "I'd be a regular customer," he grinned.  "But what'd Kim say?"

   "She said to look at you and do what I had to do.  Not what I want, or
what I should, but what I can't help doing."

   "Don't think, just feel?"

   "Something like that."

   "So --"

   "So I watched you sleeping for, I don't know, a quarter hour or so."

   "Do I snore?"

   "Not tonight."

   "And --"

   "And you'd think a guy would wake up when a girl starts jerking him
off."

   "How long --"

   "A good five minutes."

   "That's where the dream came from."

   "You were saying my name."

   "You were on top, just like --"

   "-- I really did."

   "So what made you decide?"

   "No deciding to it," she said.  "I had no choice.  I just did it."

   "That's the way the moment was structured," he said.  Her blank look
told him she'd missed the reference.  This had been one of his ways of
keeping a separate identity from the common herd: specializing in obscure
literary, film and musical trivia.  Usually it was a kick to see a line,
like this one from Vonnegut, whiz over someone's head.  But this time it
wasn't fun.  He wanted to connect with this girl in every way he could. 
Being peculiar, even brilliantly peculiar, might just not be the way to do
it.  He was considering an alternative response when she proved him wrong.

   "So it goes," she whispered back.  Then she made further speech
impossible.

   It was a probing kiss that lasted until he felt himself stir down below.
How long that took, he had no good idea, because he was too lost in the
moment to count how many moments came and went.  With no hurry or
distractions, in the dark of the earliest part of the new day, he had time
to feel the texture of her lips, to slowly explore the shape of her face
with his fingertips, to smell her and taste her and feel her and hear her
reaction to his touch.  It was when she moaned as he massaged her scalp
that he felt himself coming back to life.  Then he realized he was still
inside of her, and swelled rapidly.

   The development obviously didn't escape Kit's attention.  Still lying
against his chest, her face buried in the crook of his neck now, she raised
her hips slowly and lowered them again, starting a drawn-out rhythm that
brought him back to full mast.  He moved in time with her, a slurping sound
marking each stroke.

   Only then did it hit him.  He froze and gripped her shoulders to pull
her back to find her eyes.

   "I came in you," he said.  His words were tender and full of awe, but
also driven by anxious concern.

   "I noticed," she said, her eyes half closed.  She was trying to resume
the rhythm, but he held her in place.

   "Isn't that a problem?  I mean, I wasn't protected and you . . . .  Um,
I don't know, but, I wouldn't, you know . . . .  You're not on, uh, I mean
. .  .  ." He trailed off, hopeless of finding any words, let alone the
right ones.

   "No," she said calmly.  "I'm not on the pill.  But my period ended the
day before you got here.  So, unless your little guys can swim around in
there for a few more days, no, there's no problem."

   "Oh." Now he was sure he was bright red.  "So . . . ."

   "So," she rasped in sultry whisper, straining to put her mouth close to
his ear, "I'm going to fuck you every chance we get and I expect to be
bulging with your little guys by the time you leave."

   He hesitated long enough to stifle what he was about to say about
leaving, then whispered, "No problem.  I'm all yours."

   As he again matched her slow rhythm, he slid his hands around both sides
of her chest and found her nipples pressing against his ribs.  He worked
his fingers between them and rolled the nubs between thumbs and
forefingers. She reacted instantly with a yelping intake of breath.  But
then she pushed herself up and carefully pulled off.  He felt like half of
his own body had been pulled away.  She shooshed down the start of his
question.

   "I'm right at the edge," she explained.  "But not here."

   "Wha--"

   "Remember?  I can get a bit loud." She giggled.  "I want to get
loud--often.  Let's go get loud in my room.  Loud and wild."

   They were pushing out the screen to take the path they had followed the
night before when Brian asked if they weren't forgetting something.

   "What?"

   "Clothes," he suggested brightly.

   She seemed to give this more thought than it deserved.

   "It's only midnight," he added.  "Somebody might still be up."

   "No," she said.  "We don't have to worry about that, but grab something
for morning, just in case the chore patrol starts before I wear you out."

   "Is that a challenge?" he asked, as he gathered fresh clothes from his
bag and she scooped up her scattered garments.

   "You bet," she grinned.  "First one to poop out or beg off has to do all
the milking."

   "Deal."

   He started to dress, but she shook her head.  "Just carry them.  I bet
you've never been naked outside."

   "No," he admitted.  "You?"

   "All the time.  I go out late at night, when everybody's in bed. 
Without a stitch." They were climbing out the window as she spoke, then
began walking gingerly around the house toward the addition where Kit's
bedroom was isolated from the main part of the sprawling farmhouse. 
"Except for shoes," she added.  "At first it was just to be outside naked.
Then I'd go a little farther, like out in the corn or down toward the
road."

   "What'd you do?  Just walk around?"

   "At first.  Then one night I took along a blanket and went way out over
the hill to a clearing where I figured I was out of earshot.  Nobody's ever
awake that late, but I was spooked, so it must be a half mile.  Anyway, I
laid down under the stars and got myself off.  I went so far because I
wanted to see how it felt to really let loose.  I mean, in my room I'd do
it, but thought I had to keep it quiet.  Turned out I didn't, but I didn't
know that yet.  Out there, though, I'd just let go, and it was better that
way.  So that's my naughty little secret.  I do this way more often than a
good girl ought to."

   Brian's cock was so rigid it barely waggled as he walked.  He wasn't
sure what had him more aroused: the story or the moonlight on Kit's bare
ass in front of him or the knowledge that in a very few minutes he was
going to be inside her again.

   "So," she asked, "you do all your diddling in your room?  I mean, when
Patty wasn't diddling you."

   "Uh, yeah."

   "You ever get caught?  It's like boys must have more of a problem.  Not
just keep quiet, but what about the mess?"

   "Well, uh.  You know.  I, you know . . .  wash the towel right away."

   "You don't think your mom ever caught on?  Soggy towels in the
hamper--how often?"

   He stopped and squirmed under her wide-eyed, expectant gaze.  "Couple
times a day, tops.  She never said anything."

   "Maybe she was being tactful."

   "My mom?  Hardly.  I was just careful." He decided to counterattack. 
"How about you?  You ever get caught?"

   "Not by my parents."

   "Somebody else?"

   Her eyes were alive with excitement as she answered.  "Sometimes I'd
walk along the county road.  Almost nobody would be out that late, but
sometimes a pickup or something would come along.  I'd hear them coming and
could duck off into a field or crouch in the ditch.  But this one time I
was standing there, like this." Her hand went between her legs and two
fingers slid into her hole.  She contorted her face in an theatrical
grimace of pleasure.  Brian was barely able to breathe.

   "Right in the middle of the road.  Something about the risk of getting
caught made it better.  I didn't think I would, but just being out there,
doing that . . . .  Anyway, I was pretty far gone when the pickup came up
over the hill and caught me square in the headlights.  Must have been too
distracted to hear."

   "Did you keep, uh, doing it while it passed?" Nothing about her could
surprise him by this point, but she shook her head.

   "Fuck no!  I hauled my naked butt across the ditch into a bean field. 
That sucker screeched to a stop and probably watched me jiggle all the way
across."

   "What if he'd tried to catch you?"

   "No way!  I had the third fastest time in the state in the 200 that
spring.  But I got a whole lot out of thinking about what might have
happened if I'd just stepped to the side and waited."

   "You ever see the truck again?  Any rumors get going?"

   "Naw.  I saw he had out-of-state plates before I skeedaddled."

   "What do you think he'd have done?"

   "What you're about to do, except on dirt and weeds instead of sheets--if
I'd waited and let him." She took her fingers from her crotch and raised
them to his lips.  He sucked them with a flourish of exaggerated lust, but
then realized he was tasting his own juices along with hers.  He still
wasn't comfortable with that idea, but he quickly dismissed the doubt and
slurped even more loudly.  Anyway, this taste was better than the mix at
the previous day's picnic of the taste of her pussy juice with that of fish
and whatever it is that rots at the bottom of rivers.  He hadn't minded
that, because the taste was bound up with the act.  He especially wasn't
minding the taste of this mix because he was sampling it on the way to her
bed.

   "Let's go," she said, withdrawing her fingers and turning toward the
door.  "I am so ready to come.  I need you in me now."

   Her room was hot and stuffy with both windows closed, cutting off the
crossways flow they'd enjoyed the night before.  This was a hotter night,
hotter still inside.  She moved toward a desk fan, but he couldn't wait,
not for the little comfort the air flow might bring, not for her signal of
when it was all right to enter her or in what position.  He simply grabbed
her from behind, knocked the clothes from her hands, pushed her onto her
back on the bed, and climbed between her parted legs.  Without a word
between them, he slid right in.

   It was her turn for an instant orgasm.  As soon as their pubic bones
banged together at the bottom of his first energetic thrust, she gasped and
started to come.  As he rammed into her again and again, she went through
her familiar sequence of yips and yelps, crescendoing into fullthroated
animalistic roars by the time she arched her back up to take him as deeply
as possible into her for the shuddering finale.

   As exciting as it had been to be not just a witness to her climax, but
the cause of it, he hadn't come yet.  Still he stopped pumping when she
sagged back to the bad, but remained inside her, as hard as ever he had
been.  Sweat was pouring from him and mingling with hers to form rivulets
flowing from her body to soak into the sheets.  The scents of the different
hot fluids, sexual and otherwise, mixed in a powerfully arousing odor. 
This was a smell that had never existed before, the smell of his and Kit's
unrestrained lovemaking.  He savored it as he felt her breathing slow
beneath him.

   "You must be right," he eventually whispered into her ear.

   "Huh?  Right about what?" She was coming back to the real world, though
slowly.

   "Right about moving the show here.  I can't believe they haven't all
burst in to see who was torturing you."

   "You're making fun of me, " she protested.  "I'm not that loud."

   "Like the tarmac at LaGuardia," he teased.  "And you know you're loud.
You said so.  Anyway, I love it, but how do you know this room is okay?"

   "I started my jerk-off jaunts when I was in my old room, where you are.
Dad was just finishing this wing, figuring it for storage and utility
rooms. But I said I wanted to move out here.  So he put a lot of extra
insulation in all the walls of this room, inside walls too, along with
separate electrical heat.  When I moved in I gave it a try, screamed my
lungs out, then strolled back to the kitchen and living room where they
were.  Nobody heard a thing."

   "Nobody said they heard a thing," he suggested.

   "If you screamed bloody murder in your room, do you think your parents
would just go on watching a "M*A*S*H" rerun and baking bread?"

   "The idea of my mom baking bread is funny, but, yeah, they'd be busting
the door down."

   "So relax," she said.  "You don't have to hold anything in either.  You
were pretty quiet there."

   "Uh, that would be because I'm still a ways away."

   "You didn't come?  I was, uh, kind of distracted.  So why'd you stop?"

   "To give you a break."

   "Hell," she responded.  "Time's awasting.  I gotta get more of your
little guys, now."

   Brian grinned broadly as he slowly started to move in her again.

   "Ah, shit," she said.  "You really didn't come.  You're hard as ever. 
God, that feels good.  Why the fuck didn't we start doing this two days
ago?"

   "That would have totally blown my gaskets," he said.  "Anyway, I kind of
liked the anticipation."

   "Me too," she grinned.  "But you want to try a different position?"

   "We just got into this one.  Bored already?"

   "Hardly.  But it's too hot for this."

   "What you got in mind?"

   "Your choice," she said.  "Just turn the fan on and don't block the air.
It's not ladylike to sweat so much."

   He was about to quip about other things that might not be ladylike, but
suppressed the urge.  He pulled out reluctantly, as he'd been enjoying the
feeling of sliding against her slick body.  He reached over to flip the fan
switch.  The breeze did feel good, he had to admit.

   .  "Okay," he said.  "I have one I like from the movies.  You're on
hands and knees and I get behind and . . . ."

   "Doggie style!"

   "Yeah."

   "Does that make me a bitch?"

   "Er, do you want to be a bitch?"

   "That's one of my web identities.  I have everybody on one chat board
asking the moderator to throw me out.  But not now, not with you.  Right
now I'm a slut who wants to fuck every way there is to fuck."

   "You're amazing," he said.

   "I'm horny," she said.  "Fuck me now!"

   She rolled into position and waggled her butt at him.  He moved in
behind on his knees and probed with his penis in hand for her opening.  He
found it, but couldn't get the angle right for entry.

   "I'm too tall," he said.

   She arched her back to change her angle and reached back to guide him
in. Still no success.

   "All right," she said.  "I have an idea.  Somebody at a sex advice site
had this problem.  Stand beside the bed."

   He did so, and when she scooted back until her knees were right at the
edge, the bed's height put her pussy in just the right place.  He slid
right in.  Although his shins banged against the bed rail with each thrust,
he hardly noticed.

   The round shape of her ass and the way it jiggled with each impact
nearly put him over the top.  But he wanted it to last this time, so he
stopped just long enough to let the surge pass, then slowly pumped again.
At this angle and with the moonlight coming through the unshaded window, he
had a clear view of his cock appearing and disappearing between the curves
of her ass cheeks.  He took hold of her hips on either side, and the feel
of those curves sent another jolt through him.  He slid one hand along her
side and could just reach a swinging breast.

   He had to slow and recover again.  Just the curvature of the breast in
his hand was almost enough to tip him over.  Again the surge passed, and
again he started the rhythm.  He felt her shift her weight, so she was
holding herself up on one elbow.  Then fingers were brushing his shaft, but
only incidentally, it seemed.

   She was fingering herself as he fucked her.  He fought against the
swelling feeling that thought brought on.  To cut down on the overdose of
stimulation from so many sources, he closed his eyes and released her
breast.

   Better.  He had a chance now.  He wanted this to last a very long time.
To never end.  Maybe be interrupted now and again for, say, school, and
work, and playing catch with their children, but to always be doing this,
exactly this, making love to this girl who had as tight a grip on his heart
as her cunt had on his cock.

   He found just the right rhythm, just the right depth for his thrusts,
just the right diversionary thoughts when needed.  Practice makes perfect,
and this was so perfect, so right.  After a deliciously long time focused
solely on the way her pussy felt as it sheathed and unsheathed his plunging
sword, he took a chance and opened his eyes.  So perfect, the way her ass
flexed and rippled.  Things seemed under control, so he took another chance
and reached for the other breast.  This was the somewhat smaller one, but
it too swayed and the nipple brushed along his open palm.  He captured the
bobbing nipple between fingers and tugged.

   "Harder!" she moaned.

   He tugged harder on the nipple, producing a deeper moan.

   "Harder!" she repeated.  "Fuck me harder!"

   He had been fighting the urge to slam into her as hard as he had seen
guys doing in the movies.  But with her permission, her demand, he drove
each thrust in hard and to the hilt, sending ripples through her ass and
making her breasts bounce wildly.

   "Yesss," she all but screamed.  "Fuck me!  Fuuuccckkkk mmmeeeeeeee!"

   She didn't utter another coherent word for the duration of this
screeching, writhing orgasm, but she did manage a purposeful movement.  She
reached farther back to stroke his flopping balls.

   That one touch pushed him into the abyss after her.  His balls clenched
in her light grasp and a more intense pleasure surged through his shaft
than ever he had brought on by himself.  He was acutely aware of everything
about this moment.  The fingers on his balls.  The warmth of her depths. 
The movement of her breast as he lightly pinched the nipple.  His own
throbbing thrusts just out of synch with her contractions.  The glorious
music of her gasping squeals.  His sense of rightness about being deep
inside her, filling her with the stuff of his need, his passion, his love.

   When finally their convulsions ebbed, he slipped out and plopped on his
back beside her.  She cuddled against his side, without regard to the heat
trapped between them.

   "Wow," he said.  His voice was raspy.

   "Wow is right," she said, her breath still not recovered.  "And did you
ever let go!"

   "Maybe not as much as the first time.  Only so much water in the well
until it recharges."

   "No, I mean the way you bellowed.  God, that was hot!"

   "Bellowed?" He was puzzled over the comment.  He didn't recall saying
anything.  Not that he recalled being silent, he just didn't have anything
about sound in his vivid memory of the moment, except for the sounds she
made.

   "Oh, yeah," she cooed into his neck.  "Like a bull doing a cow.  You
know."

   "Uh, yeah, I guess."

   "You didn't hear yourself?"

   "I was kind of paying attention to you."

   "You were kind of rattling the windows."

   "Guess I got carried away."

   "Guess so."

   She snuggled closer.  The sudden silence washed over Brian along with
the airstream from the fan.  Other than the whirr, the only sounds were the
pounding of his own heart and her regular breathing.  After awhile, he
thought she had gone to sleep.  Remembering the challenge, he chuckled at
the image of her sitting nude on a milkstool tugging at long dangling
teats.

   "What's funny?" she asked.

   "I thought you fell asleep."

   "No way.  I was just thinking about the next position."

   "Already?  I might have to recharge batteries here a bit."

   "I have a recharger right here." She scooted around onto her side,
pointed opposite his direction on the bed, until her mouth was alongside
his hip.  She reached across and pulled him onto his side.  His limp dick
slapped against his thigh.  Then her lips were around him, sucking him in
all the way.  She kept her lips clamped around the base and twiddled the
head with her tongue, breathing noisily through her nose as she sucked and
twiddled.  He couldn't believe how little of this stimulation he needed
before he felt himself start to swell inside her mouth and soon press
against what he figured to be her throat.

   Suddenly she pulled back, releasing him and gagging for a moment.

   "Guess I need some practice at that," she said.  He couldn't see her
face, but could tell she must have been grinning.

   "You seemed to have figured it out yesterday."

   "It just takes some getting used to, opening the throat like that."

   "You need a practice dummy?  I'm here for you."

   "Appreciate it." Then she lifted one leg and inched her hips his way. 
"You need any practice?"

   Her bottom leg bumped his head and kept pressing against it until he
lifted enough to let her thigh slide underneath as a soft, slimy pillow. 
Her very wet crotch glistened nearly in his face.  He could see his semen
still oozing from her hole and could smell quite strongly their commingled
musk.  After their exertion in the heat, the smell was almost unpleasant,
so he tried breathing through his mouth alone.  That was better, but he
still had to reconcile himself to what she obviously wanted, whether she
had thought about the full nature of her request or not.  This wasn't just
a dab of his own semen, this was a puddle of it.  He would be right in the
middle of it, covering his face with it, drinking it.

   But there she was, taking him into her mouth again, tasting the sloppy
mix of their fluids on and around his cock and obviously working toward
drinking another dose of his part of the concoction.  She wasn't asking him
to do anything she wasn't already doing, and doing to very good effect.  He
didn't have to look down to see that she was bobbing along the full length
of his fully reinvigorated shaft.  He could feel that well enough.  But he
looked anyway, craning his neck sideways to see past her body.

   Yes, that was his penis disappearing entirely into her mouth.  That was
his cousin's nose nuzzling his balls on the down stroke.  This was her
well-soaked cunt, his oozing semen, her matted pubic hair, his tongue
coming out from between his lips.  Yet it couldn't be, wasn't, the Brian
and Kit who had met for the first time just that week.  These were
different people tangled up in one another, different now.

   So the new and improved Brian, lately of New York City and now a citizen
of the world of people who have sex like it's just something people do,
began to lick his fellow citizen's clit.

   It was slimy, yes, and at least a little disgusting at first, and he
couldn't entirely ignore the smell, even breathing only through his mouth,
but he licked what seemed to need licking and sucked what seemed to need
sucking and swallowed when that seemed necessary.  By the time the focus of
his attention began to convulse and move, he was thoroughly enjoying
everything about eating Kit's pussy, no matter what.

   She obviously was enjoying it as well, gauging by the sounds coming from
the area of his now unengulfed genitals--unengulfed because she had tipped
her head back for a gurgling screech.  It was difficult to stay on target
through her thrashing, but he clamped his hands around her ass and hung in
there.  Finally she squeezed her thighs together to force him away.

   "Just . . .  uh, give . . .  about half a minute," she gasped out as she
recovered.  "Then do it again!" With that she enveloped his cock again, but
was off it almost immediately.  "Please," she added, then slurped him back
in.

   "My pleasure, milady," he said, doing his bad British accent.

   "Shut up and lick!" she mumbled around his cock.

   She came again before it was his turn.  This time he brought it on by
pursuing a question he had been pondering for several minutes.  He had
already almost brought her off by inserting a finger, then two, then three
between her pussy lips as he sucked on her clit, probing in as far as he
could.  That quickly proved to be too awkward a position to hold, so he
replaced the fingers with the thumb and found it much more comfortable. 
The question arose when his free index finger settled between her ass
cheeks for leverage as his thumb stroked in and out.

   What, he wondered, would be her reaction if he were to put the finger
into the asshole?  When Kim had done that to him in the river, it had sent
him spewing into the murky water.  Is this some magic button?

   So he gave it a try.  Her breathing was already a little ragged, so it
seemed the right time.  He found the puckery spot, relubed his finger with
a dip into the honeypot, and began to probe.  It was tight at first, but
soon enough yielded.  He had the tip inside.  The first knuckle.  The
second knuckle.  Not so much by plan as accident, his fingertips came
together with what seemed nothing more than a thickness of cardboard
between.

   That's when she blew.  This one was a bucking, clutching, thrashing
orgasm that gave him some concern, not just about damage to his head and
neck as he held on tight and rode out the storm, but also because his dick
remained in her mouth through the apparently out-of-control process, and
she had teeth in that mouth.  He thought a lot about those teeth and felt
them at times as her muffled outbursts vibrated his cock.  It was just a
light scrape here and there, but that was enough to distract him from being
swept into his own orgasm.

   Once she subsided, she pushed his head away and went to work on him in
earnest.  He finally came when she followed his lead and began probing at
his asshole.  She needed only a knuckle 's length to turn the trick.  He
couldn't have had much left to squirt, so she had no problem slurping it
all down.

   In a few moments, he was limp and shriveled and she was nuzzling into
his side, nibbling at his neck.  No way was he going to be up for another
round any time soon.  Faintly, he heard a single bong.

   "Huh?"

   "What?" she asked.

   "I thought you said you can't hear from the living room."

   "You can't."

   "I heard the clock."

   "Easy," she reassured him.  "That's a deeper sound that carries through
the floor."

   "All right." He thought about his mother bursting in.  "Did I, uh,
bellow again?"

   "Not this time.  Just some grunting."

   "Oh." He thought.  "Can I ask a question, and you won't take it wrong,
or anything."

   "What?"

   "I mean, it might sound weird, but --"

   "Ask!"

   "When you were really going there . . .  not just the noise, but the,
uh, movement . . . .  What I mean is, are you kind of doing any of that on
purpose, or does the, you know, the orgasm make all the rest happen, like
you're out of control?"

   "Hmm." She sat up.  "There's this throbbing anxiety guys on the net
express about women faking orgasms."

   "That's not what --"

   "I know," she shooshed him.  "But just so you know, every time I've come
with you, it's been the real thing, and the best ever."

   "Me too."

   "And I can't help making some kind of noise."

   "Just a little."

   "But when I told you to just let go, I took my own advice.  I'd kind of
programmed myself to really let loose.  Before it started, I sort of
thought maybe since it's better when it's louder, maybe it'd be better if I
just, you know --"

   "Let loose."

   "Let loose, like all the way."

   "So?"

   "So what?"

   "Is it better?"

   "Well, one or two samples is hardly scientific."

   "You're right," he grinned.  "We need more experimentation for a
statistically valid hypothesis."

   "Any volunteers for the testing?"

   He answered by pulling her down into a kiss.  She melted into the
embrace.  Their faces were both slick with bodily fluids of various
origins. He idly counted the types and sources and was up to four types and
six sources when she surprised him by jerking back.

   "What?"

   "I'm sorry," she said

   "Why?"

   "I forgot . . . .  I mean, it didn't occur to me I was . . . .  You
know, when I kind of stuck my twat in your face after . . .  uh, you know."

   "Hey, no problem."

   "I didn't mean to --"

   "I didn't think you did, but so what?  It seemed like we were pretty
much doing the same thing."

   "Yeah, but that's like a big deal for guys, I thought.  There's a whole
category of porn stories about husbands eating out their wives' snatch
after they get it from another guy, like they're accepting her back that
way.  But it always seems pretty gross, the way it's described."

   "Eww!  That is gross.  But this wasn't from another guy."

   "Still --"

   "Still, about one minute after I thought 'ick,' I thought 'wow!'"

   "Really?"

   "Really.  It's kind of like that letting go thing.  Sex is messy.  You
try to keep it all tidy and clean, and it's --"

   "Not sex anymore?"

   "No, it's still sex," he said.  "It's just all bound up, like trying to
get Patty to go a little farther this time than the last."

   "I thought that was exciting for you.  Like when she just touched your
dick and you came."

   "That was more self-delusion.  I'd gone along for so long wanting to,
you know, let go.  And then if seems like this is it, here we go.  Show
time, folks!"

   "But it wasn't."

   "By the time I got that, I'd already blown."

   "So the sloppiness --"

   "Is letting go to the max."

   "Really, it was okay?"

   Rather than answer in words, he began kissing his way down her neck and
chest and belly, lingering along the way, but eventually he gave her his
answer.

   * * * *

   The dim sound of the faraway clock stopped after the fourth bong, just
as Brian's softening dick slipped out of Kit's pussy and they rolled away
to let the dismally ineffective fan give what relief it could in the
closed-up room.

   "Guess we crossed the line, huh?" he said once his breathing was back
under control.

   "What?"

   "We seem to have crossed the line."

   She giggled, just a little at first, but then she rolled into him, her
body quaking against his as she laughed.  Just as her orgasms had done at
least a couple of times, her laughter touched off his.  When they subsided,
she rolled away again.

   "Oh, yeah," she said.  "It would appear that we crossed the line."

   "I'd say."

   "I'd say we rubbed out the line."

   "Obliterated it."

   "Sped over the sucker so fast the whirlwind swept away all traces."

   "The line is dead," he said somberly.

   "Long live the line!"

   He propped on an elbow and looked at her, his serious tone sincere this
time.  "But did we really?"

   "Really what?"

   "Really cross it?"

   She sat up with a quizzical look.  "You're kidding."

   "No, really."

   "Where have you been the last, what, three hours?"

   "Four."

   "Okay, four hours.  We've fucked, what, four times?  Five?"

   "Uh, four, I think."

   "Fucked four times," she continued.  "And when we weren't fucking --"

   "No, you're right.  Five." He held up a fist and counted on his fingers.
"First time in my room, three times here, then the one in the bathroom." He
cocked his head.  "You sure they wouldn't hear us there?  I thought all the
insulation was in here."

   "No, that room's pretty good too.  Can't have the pipes freeze.  But
where was I?"

   "We've engaged in full genital intercourse five times since midnight ..
. . ."

   "Right.  We fucked five time, and there were at least four or five more
that you got me off doing other stuff, and a couple of times you came
outside the, uh --"

   "Outside the biologically correct receptacle?"

   "Exactly, so --"

   "I'd say you're multiorgasmic," he broke in.

   "Well, duh!  And if you don't quit doing that to my nipple, I'll come
again."

   "You want that I should stop?" he asked with mock innocence.

   "Don't you dare," she warned.  "But how about you?  I thought guys
couldn't come seven times in four hours."

   "From what I hear, that is an attribute that fades about the time the
gut starts to flop over the belt."

   "Want to up your average to two an hour?" She began to knead his balls,
very softly, but to no effect.

   "Sorry.  Dead soldier."

   "Died in the line of duty."

   "With utmost valor."

   "Up-most valor," she giggled.  "Up-most.  Get it?  Get it?"

   "Yeah," he groaned, "I get it.  But it's not up now."

   "We'll have to administer CPR in a bit, but how could you ask?"

   "Ask what?"

   "We flat-out fucked five times after we absolutely agreed that's the one
thing we wouldn't--couldn't do.  And you're asking if we really crossed the
line!  Just whose dick was doing what to whom?"

   "That's not the line I meant," he said seriously.

   "What other line was there?"

   He released her nipple and moved his hand up to stroke her cheek.  "The
real line," he said softly.  "The one that matters.  It was your logic.  We
go too far fooling around and actually make love, and we risk falling in
love.  It wasn't just going all the way with sex you were worried about, it
was loving and needing each other and doing what it takes to be together.
And that, you said, would disrupt the family.  We're just step-cousins, but
our parents would never go for us being a couple, lovers.  You know, love.
That line."

   "Oh," she said almost too softly to be heard.  "That line."

   He steeled himself to ask, not sure he wanted an answer, but needing one
too much to let the question go.  "Do you think we crossed that line?"

   She gave no response at first.  He was barely able to breathe while he
waited.  Desperately, he tried to drill the right answer into her with his
look, his mental transmissions.  He thought he could see the answer in her
eyes, had been feeling her answer all along, but he needed to hear it.

   "That line," she said at last.  "We trampled that line into the dust."

   She leaned into him and he met her halfway with a kiss that successfully
raised the dead before their lips finally parted so they could rearrange
their bodies.

   "Anything we haven't done yet?" she asked.

   "No doubt, but I'm too horny to wait while you call up the Kama Sutra on
line.  Lady's choice."

   "I liked that first one."

   "For old time's sake, then." He scooted to the middle while she
straddled him and slid effortlessly down until their pubic bones were again
pressed tight.  Once they'd reestablished the already familiar rhythm, she
spoke again.

   "So much for my grand theory."

   "Just one thing you didn't figure on."

   "Yeah," she agreed.  "I thought we could dance right up to the line and
dance back.  No one hurt.  Just good dirty fun.  But I didn't figure on how
strong the pull would be at the line.  Finally, we just couldn't resist. 
Got sucked right in."

   "Nah," he said.  "You got it all wrong."

   "Huh?"

   "It wasn't just misestimating the gravitational pull at the event
horizon."

   "The who?"

   "You don't watch Star Trek either?" He shook his head.  "What I'm
getting at is a more fundamental flaw in the . . .  ahhh!"

   What stopped him was her squeezing her pussy muscles around his cock and
clenching it tight while she continued to move her hips.  He moaned and
fought off coming.

   "Geez!" he said once she'd resumed the regular rhythm.  "Another trick
from the internet?"

   "There's a whole web site for the proper care and fucking of a penis. 
But that's hard to keep up."

   "Well --"

   "I know.  Practice makes perfect."

   "You know," he said.  "We're way too good for a couple of virgins."

   "Ex-virgins," she corrected him, "by a little more than four hours.  But
between my internet sources and your friend's porn flicks, what is there we
don't know?"

   "How to make love survive in an impossible situation?" he suggested.

   She laid against his chest, clinging tightly, but kept the pelvic rhythm
going.

   "Yeah, there's that," she said.

   "But I was about to tell you what went wrong."

   "What's that?"

   "Your theory didn't account for the people.  Probably couldn't have. 
You figured, okay, here's this guy who's going back to New York soon, and
here's this girl who's staying put, and they can just agree they'll do this
but won't do that, and, hey, no sweat."

   "That was the idea."

   "It was a fine plan when hatched, but what you didn't figure was how
we'd change before we got anywhere near the line." He stopped moving and
tilted her head up so he could look in her eyes.  He held the gaze, then
said, "I was in love with you before we ever got out of the cornfield." He
let a few beats go by.  "And you?"

   "A little earlier.  The kiss at the first turn-around."

   "That was part of it, for sure," he said.  "But what really melted me
was the way we'd talk like we'd known each other forever when you were
helping me out with my rows.  It was piddling stuff, like people we know
and things we'd done, what we want to do.  Just talk, but every word reeled
me in a little more.  Know what I mean?"

   "Sure.  It hit me like that too, but I was already gone when we kissed."

   "Anyway --"

   "So, big miscalculation, huh?"

   "Huge," he affirmed.  It wasn't a couple of neutral parties to a sterile
little contract standing there at the other side of the line.  The party of
the first part and the party of the second part do hereby agree to do this
and that and a few other things, but never, ever put their parts together
or their hearts together."

   "Dumb idea, huh?"

   "No way," he protested.  "It was brilliant.  We'd have gone along
milking cows and making chit chat about farm life versus city life, if you
hadn't had that idea about playing a little naughty.  Opening up that one
thing left it all open."

   Brian wrapped his arms around Kit and squeezed.  She squeezed back. 
Their talk had given form to what he'd been feeling for the past four
hours. The line between them just wasn't there.  His energy, his emotions,
thoughts, seemed to flow straight into her and hers into him.  They seemed
to be melting together.  The clarity of the image startled him and he
almost drew back.  But then he let go, let go fully and let the sense of
oneness flow.  He wanted to ask if she felt the same way, but the only
words he could think of to express the concept were "Vulcan mind meld."
That would just spoil the moment, so he kept quiet and squeezed all the
more tightly.

   Then she gasped and whispered, "Do you feel it?"

   "Yes," he said.  "But what do you feel?"

   "Like . . .  I don't know.  Like there's only one of us."

   "That's it."

   "Two bodies.  One mind."

   "Not even two bodies."

   "No.  Just --"

   "-- us.  I in you, you in me."

   "Don't let go!"

   "Never."

   They clung together, not moving, not speaking, all of him inside her,
not just the part embedded in a part of her, and all of her enveloping him,
not just that one part around the other.  There they stayed, motionless,
yet they were rocked and buffeted by the flow between them, so they clung
together.

   Then she jerked and sucked in a sharp breath.  Her head snapped upward
and he saw the startled look in her eyes.

   "Oh god!" she gasped.

   "What?" He was alarmed.

   "Oh, I don't . . .  I'm . . .  ahhhh!"

   "Kit?" But then he knew.  She was coming.  There had been no physical
stimulation of any part of their bodies for several minutes, but she was
coming hard.

   Her surge washed over him, into him.  Suddenly she was thrusting and
grinding, and so was he.  They strained against one another, bucking and
thrashing separately, each seeking friction and pressure in the right
places, each drawing breath separately, each moaning her own moan, grunting
his own grunt, squealing and throbbing as the individual need overwhelmed
their separate physical bodies.  But it was one orgasm they were having. 
One mighty push to ecstasy, and the liquid flowing into her and onto him
were one and the same.  Gradually they slid back from the peak, but
remained as they had begun: one heart beating together.

   Surely she felt all that, Brian thought.  He couldn't have sensed
something like that, something so powerful, so unexpected, unless it was
real.  Except it was beyond reality, he knew.  Beyond the rationality that
was so much a part of him.  By instinct, he opened his mouth to analyze
what had just happened between them.  But what came out was much different.

   "Ah, Kit," he breathed.  "Ah, my love.  I love you.  I live for you."
His words suddenly struck him as absurd, too bizarre to believe himself. 
He had to laugh.  This couldn't be him saying these words and meaning every
one of them.  Certainly this couldn't be him hearing her murmuring softly
into his chest, then raising her voice so there could be no mistake . ..  .
.

   "I love you," she was saying.  "I love you."

   He repeated his words again and again.  They bubbled out of him with his
laughter, his giddy happiness.  And she kept saying her words, but was she
laughing as well, or was she sobbing?  Or both?  He held her tight.

   * * * *

   She was still on top of him, and he was still inside her, when she shook
him awake.  He instantly felt himself stir.

   "We fell asleep," he said groggily.

   "You did," she said.  She pushed herself up.  "I've been thinking --"

   "Of round--what is it, seven?"

   She pulled off of him, leaving his cock to flop against his belly and
leaving a sense of sudden incompleteness.  Something about her attitude
seemed strange, but he figured the little sleep she'd had over the past two
days finally was having an effect.

   "Thinking," she went on, "of a way out of this mess.  But, no.  No round
seven --"

   "Or is it eight?"

   "Whatever.  You have to go."

   "Go?"

   "Dad will be waking for chores in half an hour.  It's about half past
five.  Get back and clean up.  Pretend you're asleep when he comes."

   "Chores?" he groaned.

   "Yeah, chores.  What were you figuring?  Tell him, 'Oh, sorry, I'm all
tuckered out from fucking your daughter all night?'"

   "Well . . . ."

   "Go!" She scooped up his shorts and pants and tossed them to him.  "Git
while the gittin's good!"

   He started pulling his shorts on as she located her robe in the mess on
the floor.

   "What's your idea?" he asked.

   She seemed strained when she answered, or, rather, didn't answer.  "I'll
tell you later," she said.  "Now git!"

   He started out the door, but then turned.

   "I suppose I'm the one who pooped out, huh?"

   "What?" she asked.

   "The bet.  I do all the milking?"

   "Oh," she replied distractedly.  "I suppose."

   Once outside, Brian had barely cleared the back steps when he had to
stop.  The entire eastern sky was streaked with pinks and reds, the sun
still just below the distant horizon.  A beautiful day, he thought.  A
glorious start on a wonderful life.  Even the new Brian, fresh-born citizen
of this new world, couldn't take the dawn as a sign from on high, not even
a sign he wanted to see.  This was no divine foretelling of a future shared
by him and his new-found love.  Nor was there any inevitability to such a
future, or any other.  You make your own meaning and you make your own
breaks.  He might be middle-class and white, living with loving parents and
going to a good school with decent friends.  But he was a New Yorker, so he
knew you don't never get nothing handed to you.  That ain't the way the
world works.

   So he stood and watched the sun rise and splay wonder across the sky and
gave it his own meaning.  Whether through Kit's idea or some other way,
they would make this thing work.

   "Whatever it takes," he swore to the dawn.  "Whatever it takes."

   Brian was in for two surprises after Kit's dad woke him for chores on
the fourth and last day of his family's visit to his aunt and uncle's
Nebraska farm.  One was that two hours had passed since dawn and he
actually got a little sleep after returning from Kit's room.  His uncle
explained he'd overslept for about the first time in his life and had found
a note on his shaving mirror that Brian had volunteered to do all of Kit's
chores that morning as a going-away present.

   "I'm sure she'll find a way to show her appreciation," the big farmer
drawled.

   The comment instantly put Brian on alert.  Could he know something about
what had gone on in his daughter's room?  Naw, couldn't be.  If he knew, he
wouldn't be making a light quip.  He'd be using his city-bred nephew to
fertilize the sweet corn.

   -- Mr.  Bones, did you hear the one about the city slicker who nailed
the farmer's daughter?

   -- No, Mr.  Interlocutor, I haven't heard that one.  What'd he do?

   -- Became landfill.  [Ba boom.]

   No, Uncle Ron didn't know.  Still, there was something strange about his
expression.  Brian couldn't figure it out, but the man seemed to loom even
larger over the bed than ever.  This was one big Swede.  At supper the
first night, Aunt Jen had talked about how her husband, well before his
first marriage, had walked on with the Cornhuskers as a defensive lineman
and probably would have started if he hadn't blown a knee out.  He still
had a little bit of a limp.  Still, this guy could lumber down any street
in even the South Bronx without concern.  By the time you could fill him
with enough lead to bring him down, surely he would crush your head in his
huge hands.  Well, maybe not, but Brian had no wish to show this bull
anything red.

   Good morning, Uncle Ron, his last words would be, I fucked your daughter
a half dozen times this morning, but she's the one who started it.

   "I'd better get at those cows," were Brian's actual words.  Oh, oh! 
Would he take that wrong, like he was so sex crazed he'd take on barnyard
animals?

   "Better.  They're pretty full by now.  Need any help?"

   "Oh, no.  Kit's a good teacher." Shit!  How would he take that?  She'd
sure taught him plenty, and not just about milking cows.  He had to force
himself not to think about any of that.  If he did, he would give something
away, and then he would be mulch.

   "All right, get at it.  Daylight's burning."

   Brian relaxed when the door closed on the man's back.  Then he had his
second surprise.  After just a couple of hours of sleep, and after all of
the physical exertion and emotional firestorm, he was overflowing with
energy.  He threw his clothes on, full-length jeans this time as he hadn't
packed enough shorts, and headed for the barn.  And he actually whistled
while he worked.  It was a love-song medley until he realized what he was
doing.  Then, with a chuckle, he started whistling the dwarf's marching
tune from "Snow White."

   "Hey, farmer!" he heard behind him while he was whistling his way
through his sixth cow.  His mother's voice.  "Nobody's that happy slopping
cows unless he's been doing something he shouldn't oughta."

   He tried to keep from looking anywhere near as guilty as he felt. 
Obviously, she knew something.  Maybe everything.  Except . . .  her smile.
That wasn't a mother-about-to-ground- her-wicked-son-for-life smile.  It
was just a fresh-air-and-sunshine smile.  It'd been a casual quip, he had
cause to hope.

   "Not much trouble to get into out here on God's little acre," he
ventured.  If she knew anything, she would take that as a challenge and
start into it, so they might has well have it out in the open.  But then he
had a second thought about openness and fumbled for a distraction. 
"Anyway, you milk cows.  It's pigs you slop."

   "Looks like you're slopping the cows too," she said with a laugh.  He
followed her gaze to the wet splotches on his jeans where he had missed the
bucket.  He laughed more out of relief that she obviously knew nothing than
at her wit.  Kit must be right about how soundproof her room was.  The kind
of noise they'd been making would have drawn squad cars from three
precincts if they'd been doing it in the Columbus Avenue apartment he
shared with his parents.

   "So," she went on, "how you liking country life?"

   "Fine."

   "What do you like best about it?"

   Fucking my cousin, is what he didn't say.  He did say, "Oh, the way it's
so wide open.  Like that sunrise this morning.  It wasn't just a sliver
here and there between buildings, it was the whole eastern sky."

   "Oh?  You were up for the sunrise?"

   "Er, uh, yeah, just for a, uh, potty run," he scrambled.  He did take a
piss after returning from Kit's room at dawn, so he wasn't lying.  "I saw
the sunrise and had to stop and watch."

   "I'm sorry I missed that.  I just got up.  It's nice sleeping late, not
having to go, go, go and fight the crowds."

   "Yeah, that's great too," Brian agreed.

   "How about the people?" his mom asked.  "You've met some of Kit's
friends."

   Oh, yeah, like the girls parading naked through the corn and Kim doing
everything in the river but fuck him.  "The people here seem nice," he
managed to say with a straight face.

   "Yes, I think so," she said.  "We're meeting some friends of Jen and Ron
tonight, and they say they're, ah . . .  nice."

   Brian had a stab of apprehension.  He'd been hoping the same pattern
would go that night, with the parents keeping to themselves, so he and Kit
could continue where they'd left off before dawn.  "Are we, I mean do you
want me there too, or go along, wherever?  Me and Kit, that is."

   "Oh, no.  Just for the grownups, and it's at the friends' place.  Might
be pretty late.  Is that all right?  You can fend for yourself."

   "Sure," he said with relief.  "Maybe we'll hit a movie or something." He
didn't expound upon the "something" he had in mind once the farm was
vacated except for him and his cousin.  It would be much better to be able
to open the windows for a breeze and not have to worry about being heard.
"Er, I think they have movies out here."

   His mom didn't seem to hear the last.  "Speaking of Kit," she began.  He
tensed up, and tried not to show it.

   "Yeah?"

   "You two seem to be hitting it off well."

   "Uh, yeah, she's . . .  uh . . ."

   "Nice?"

   "Yeah, nice."

   "Good." She seemed about to say something else, but then stopped.  Then
she did speak again.  "How about your aunt and uncle?"

   This ground was much more solid.  "Oh, they are terrific," he gushed.

   "Anything you, oh . . .  any questions about, you know . . .  anything?"

   Usually his mom didn't stammer, but Brian was too eager to get out of
the conversation to ask the one question that had bubbled up just then. 
Without his own troubles to fog him over now, he had a quick flash from the
previous afternoon of his dad grabbing Aunt Jen's tit.  Uncle Ron had just
draped a brotherly arm around his mom, but what his dad did--what Brian
thought he saw him do--was more like what Brian and Kit had started in
doing almost from the start.  Way past family affection.

   But he wasn't going into any of that.  No way.  And he might have just
imagined them doing what the next generation actually had been doing
earlier.  Instead he just commented, "Everybody's great.  I wish we'd
gotten out here years ago."

   "Yes," she said with a suddenly tight face.  "Me too.  We should have."
Then she said she would see him later, and she left the barn.

   Okay, Brian told himself, knock off the paranoia.  If anybody had a
clue, you'd be dead meat by now.  Still, the exchanges with his mother and
uncle just underlined his anxiety about the future.  He'd been going along
with a blind conviction that somehow everything would work out and he and
Kit would be together.  A happily-ever-after scenario, without a plan for
how to bring it about.  Well, Kit had said she had a plan.  She didn't say
what, but she was the one most worried about what their parents would
think, so if she thought it would work, it must be better than anything he
could come up with.  Then he reflected on the two conversations he'd just
had.  Obviously he cared what they thought too.  He hoped her plan was one
that somehow would have a happy ending for everybody, certainly for the two
of them, but for their parents as well.

   He relaxed back into his milking and was hitting the pail with every
squeeze by the time he finished the last cow.  He realized he didn't know
what to do with the filled milk cans, and was heading for the house to ask
when Kit came around from the wing her bedroom occupied.

   "Just up, sleepyhead?" he greeted her brightly.

   "Never went to sleep," was the oddly flat response.  "I did the rest of
the chores so we could clear out of here."

   "Sounds good," he beamed.  "But what do I do with the milk?"

   "Oh, Dad will take care of that.  I'll tell him you're done.  You had a
shower yet?"

   "Huh-uh."

   "Grab one and meet me at the truck in a half hour."

   "Sounds great.  We have a destination?"

   "The river."

   His smile broadened.  "Just us this time."

   "Not quite," she said with no inflection and no expression, then
scurried away.

   * * * *

   As the pickup bounced along the same dirt road the cousins had bicycled
the day before, Kit fended off Brian's attempts to start a conversation,
especially his questions about not being alone at the river.  It seemed she
was more trying to shut him up than anything else when she stuck her right
hand between her legs then stuffed her fingers in his mouth for him to suck
on, especially when he could taste nothing on them.  He sucked anyway.  She
didn't seem to respond, didn't even seem to be there mentally.

   When they cleared the line of trees sheltering the clearing and beach
alongside the decaying bridge, Brian saw another pickup already there, one
that was even more of a battered old workhorse than the one he was in.  Two
forms were out in the water a little closer to one of the big rotting
timbers than the spot in the channel where he and the girls had been
frolicking the day before.

   "That's Kim," he said, peering.  "But who's the guy?"

   As they pulled alongside the other truck and Kit shut off the engine, it
clicked in Brian's head what he was seeing.  The two were waist deep in the
water.  The girl's back was against the slime-blackened wood.  Her arms and
legs were entwined around the guy.  The guy had long brown hair plastered
halfway down his back, and from what Brian could see he looked pretty
muscular, and probably a bit older than the rest of them.  Kim's bare
breasts were bouncing against his bare chest, and he was obviously
thrusting into her.

   If Kit was going to answer the question, Brian cut off her chance by
bursting out in surprise, "They're fucking?"

   "Shit!" Kit spat out as she yanked on the door handle.  "She couldn't
fucking wait." She started out the door, but Brian caught her arm.

   "What's going on?" he asked.

   She ignored him and leaned long on the horn button.  The blare startled
the couple in the water into stopping, for a moment anyway.  But then Kim
said something to him.  He resumed his thrusting motion faster than before
and her breasts bounced more wildly.

   "Fucking slut!" Kit growled.  She tugged to get away, but Brian kept his
grip firm.

   "I don't get it," he said.  "Is this another level, another line?  What?
We watch them go at it, and they watch us?  That's --"

   "Stop," she said, finally looking at him.  "I didn't know how to say
this, so I thought I'd just get us here and figure it out from there."

   "Look," Brian went on, "I was just hoping to spend the day alone with
you, and maybe figure something out before I got to go tomorrow.  You said
you had a plan and --"

   "This is it," Kit broke in.  "This is the plan.  I've figured it out."

   "I don't get it.  What's this have to --"

   "Just go with it," she said, looking away again.  "It's better if I
don't explain first.  But, yeah, it has to do with crossing another line."

   "Okay, I still don't get it, but, hey!  You want to push things more? 
That's okay.  We started that way.  Anything you want to do, you know I'd
do anything for you."

   "Good," she said firmly.  "This is the only way I could make any sense
of it."

   "What --"

   "Trust me!" she pleaded.  Her eyes softened.  "Please.  And go with it.
You'll see.  It's the right thing."

   Brian bit back his next question.  He had no idea what was going on, but
she gave him something to go by.  Yes, he would trust her.  He loved her.
He was determined to spend his life with her.  So trust was no problem.  He
followed her gaze toward the river.

   Even at that distance, Brian could see the guy's rhythm had changed from
a steady pumping to what Brian had just that day discovered to be the final
deep pushing that starts just before the first spurt.  He remembered how
he'd strained to empty himself as far inside Kit as he could.  The guy
inside Kim was doing that now, pressing tight against her under the water
even as he leaned back and presented his silently grimacing face to the
sky. Finally, he relaxed and the two decoupled.  Kim, though, had gone
through no such contortions.  Brian had seen Kim come, and knew there was
nothing subtle about it, even if she wasn't as noisy and active about it as
Kit.

   The sight of the two in the water had Brian breathing hard, straining
inside his pants, and desperate to get back inside Kit.  He'd seen people
fucking in the movies, sure, but this was real and right in front of him.
When they did it again, he'd probably be close enough to see Kim's juice
glisten on the guy's cock before he'd plunge back into her.  And they'd
have just as close a view of him and Kit.  He wondered what it would feel
like to be watched by others, especially by some strange guy.  He hoped the
guy wouldn't have a cock the size of the men in the porn flicks.  The
muscles were bad enough, compared with Brian's stringy build.

   "Damn her!" Kit spat.

   "Why?" Brian was befuddled by her attitude.  Obviously this get-together
was another of Kit's setups to push the line.  He wasn't entirely sure
where this line was, after they'd spent midnight to dawn obliterating what
had been the "final line." Probably watch and be watched, but maybe she had
more in mind.  He'd seen orgy scenes in the movies--hell, that seemed to be
the point of those movies, to build up to an orgy.  The three of them in
the water the previous afternoon had omitted only one thing or else it
would have qualified as a small orgy.  If he and Kit had already crossed
the last line before that, the three of them might well have gone much
further.  On the short drive here, Brian had been speculating that Kim
would be the reason they wouldn't be alone and that Kit's intentions were
to take things those extra steps further, both between Kim and herself and
maybe between Kim and him.  He'd decided he could go with that, mainly
because of what he'd seen pass between the two girls when they had kissed.
As he saw it, Kit would be making love to Kim through him.  And who was to
say he'd be more than a bystander if they decided to plunge over the line
they'd had between them over at least the latter part of their long
friendship?  Yeah, he could go with that, if that's what Kit wanted.

   But how would this extra guy figure in?  Once something got going, could
it have limits?  If the limits vanished, how would he feel about that? 
Well, that would be something to deal with if it started to happen.  But
right now there was another question.  Whether Kit had in mind an all-out
orgy or a hands-off session of mutual watching, why would she be so upset
about Kim getting an early round in?

   Kim waded from the water, heading their way, with the guy trailing close
behind.  As had been obvious before, both were naked, and the guy was
indeed packing an impressive set of muscles, not to mention a tatoo on each
forearm.  Brian was relieved to see that what dangled between the
muscleman's legs was not so impressive, at least not so soon after
discharging.  He knew the size range his own penis would go through, and
the guy was in that range, more or less.  Normal human male, anyway. 
Somehow he'd expected any of Kim's lovers to be supermen in some way.  This
guy's muscles weren't that great--not superman great, anyway-- and his cock
was about average.  Add in that he was a bit of a runt vertically and--his
greatest failing--he hadn't managed to get her off by the time he came.  So
what else did he have to deserve her?  Not money or mechanical ability,
another glance at the guy's rust-bucket truck suggested.  Hell, maybe it
was the muscles.  He'd expected more of Kim.  And this must be one of those
guys who just lays on his horn when he picks her up for a date.  Kim
deserved better.

   As the two stepped onto the beach, the guy caught up and slipped an arm
around her back, pulling her hip against his while his hand clutched her
far breast.  The other one bounced wildly as they approached.  So did the
guy's still-only-half-mast cock.

   "Just warming him up for you," Kim called out as the pair rounded the
truck's hood to draw up to the driver's window.  Something about her
expression fell short of the lightness he'd come to expect from her.  Then
Brian realized what she'd said.

   "Huh?" he asked.

   "Yeah, sure," Kit said.  She obviously was on edge.  "Looks more like
you burned him out.  Kim, damn it, we--"

   "No problem," Kim shot back, her edginess apparent too.  "You'd be
amazed at this stud's recovery time."

   "Kit--" Brian began, but she pulled her arm away and slid out of the
pickup.  She looked back in.

   "Come on," her forced jauntiness taking on something like a leer.  "Time
to party."

   With that, she peeled her top off and her breasts bounced free.  He
hadn't thought she was wearing anything underneath.  Then she quickly
pulled her shorts and panties down together and kicked out of them.  She'd
stepped out of her sandals already, so suddenly she was as naked as the
other two.

   The guy, still nameless to Brian, released Kim and, with the same hand
that had been holding Kim's breast, hooked Kit behind the neck and pulled
her toward him.  For just a moment, she seemed to resist, then she stepped
forward and pressed her body against his.  The two were almost the same
height, so she didn't have to tilt her head back, as she had with Brian in
the cornfield, to kiss him.  He kissed her first.  That was clear.  But
then she clearly kissed him back.  She made a show of kissing him back, it
seemed to Brian.  Or maybe that's what he wanted to believe, that it was a
show.  Maybe this guy turned her on as much as Brian did--or more.  Mr. 
Muscles would still be here after Brian boarded the plane for the coast. 
Maybe that was the point.  It's been fun, Cuz, but gotta look to the
future. And the future was looking pretty imminent from the way lips were
parting and hands were roving.

   Well, the guy's hands, anyway.  Once it was obvious the hand behind the
neck wasn't necessary to keep her there, that hand began to trail down her
back and came to rest on the lower swell of her ass.  His other started on
her thigh and moved up over her hip, just one side of center, over her
stomach and settled on her breast, the larger one.  Her hands remained at
her sides, not moving to stop his.  When his hand reached her breast, she
stiffened and seemed about to reach up to yank it away, but then she
relaxed and reached around to cup both of his ass cheeks.

   Brian was too stunned to move or speak or do anything but sit in the
truck cab and watch.  All of his attention was on the couple groping at one
another, so he was startled when his door opened and he felt a tug on his
arm.  He hadn't even noticed Kim leave the guy's side and come around the
truck, and he was too fixed on how the guy was twisting Kit's nipple to
resist as Kim pulled him out of the cab.

   But when he realized she was unzipping his pants, he pulled back.

   "What is this?" he asked.

   "Go with it!" she told him softly.  A glance down showed that her eyes
were sad, but her hands kept on task, unbuttoning the pants, pulling his
shirt over his head, then tugging the pants and briefs down together.  He
let her strip him and he stepped out of his pants, but he had already
resumed watching Kit and the muscleman paw each other.  The hand on her ass
had moved around to work on her pussy.  Kit pulled back from the kiss as
his fingers apparently found their way inside.  Her face seemed strained.
Was he hurting her?  But then she attacked his mouth again.

   "Do you know what happened?" he asked Kim.

   "Yeah.  Kit called and told me." She gestured at the guy.  "He spent the
night, so I brought him.  He's all right, not a motor mouth about who he's
with, I mean."

   "Why?" Brian asked.  "What's going on?"

   Kim put a hand on his chest.  "Kit swears it's the only way.  You
crossed one line, so you have to cross another, is how she was talking this
morning.  It was great, but it went too far and it has to be fixed.  This
is the fix.  You fuck me, she fucks him, and it's back in balance.  What
you did loses its power, she says.  It's just sex."

   "That's bullshit!" Brian burst out.  Kit and the nameless guy looked
around.

   "Don't talk!" Kit shouted.  Even at a distance, the veins standing out
on her forehead were distinct.  "Just do it!" She turned back to the
muscleman with exaggerated passion.  "Fuck me!" she commanded.  "Let's do
it.  Do it now!"

   "No problem, babe," the guy said, "except this." He stepped back, lifted
his still limp dick like he was cradling a sick bird, and slowly waggled
it.

   Kit stared down but didn't move.

   "So help me out here," he said.  He put his hands on her shoulders and
pressed down.  She seemed to resist for a moment, then sank to her knees.

   "You, uh . . . .  What do--" she stammered.

   "Suck it," he hissed.  He took hold of the ailing member again and,
arching toward her, began to rub its head along the line of her
pressed-together lips.  "Help me out, babe, give me some life.  I'm gonna
fuck you sooo good, babe, but you gotta make it happen."

   Kit glanced sideways at Brian, meeting his eyes.  He'd once watched a
grade school boy trapped in a doorway by two bigger kids apparently
demanding his lunch money or something.  Brian had been in an idling taxi
with his mother and had pointed at the scene, but she'd said you can't know
what those boys had.  So they just watched.  Kit's eyes went through the
same changes that boy's had.  At first Brian had thought the boy was going
to lash out at the bullies, and he thought Kit was about to push the prick
and the penis attached to him away and end this idiocy.  But then the boy
had sagged and his eyes went dull and he'd reached into his pockets and
handed the contents to one of the bullies.  Kit broke the gaze, closed her
eyes, and opened her mouth to allow the cockhead to push past her lips.

   She buried her nose in the thick wet pubic hair.  Brian watched her
cheeks move in and out as she sucked.  He was standing only a few feet
away, but he felt like he was watching from behind a smeared taxi window as
the traffic moved away.

   "It's what she wants," he heard Kim say, as if from outside the taxi,
muffled by glass, almost drowned out by street noise.  He was already back
in New York, already lost in the crowd, already back in his life as if he'd
never come to Nebraska.  Cars and buses and taxis and delivery trucks
flowed by, not river water.

   "Huh?"

   "It's what she wants," Kim repeated.

   "She wants him?"

   "No.  She wants to have a way to get past you getting on that plane
tomorrow.  We've been going by what makes sense to her, the birthday
presents, the picnic, last night.  Now all she knows is she can't spend the
rest of her life missing you."

   "I can," Brian said softly as he watched the man's buttocks flex and the
thickening shaft emerge partially from Kit's lips and disappear between
them.  Her fingers were dug deeply into his ass.  His fingers were tangled
in her hair.

   "But she can't," Kim pleaded.  "We went all through this on the phone
earlier.  This is what makes sense to her.  If you love her, give her
this!"

   That made the most sense to Brian of anything that had happened since
they'd arrived at the river.  Except there was no river and no city
street--nothing.  There was just this emptiness to get through.

   He turned to look at Kim.  He cradled her face in his palms and bent to
kiss her, a small light kiss barely brushing her lips with his.  He pulled
away just enough to speak.

   "Let's do it," he said quietly.

   At first she didn't move.  Just looked into his eyes.  These eyes had
brimmed with flirtatiousness and gaiety and desire over the past couple of
days, but now they brimmed with tears.  When he nodded to reaffirm what
he'd just said, she dropped to her knees, the same position Kit was in.

   Just as Mr.  Muscle had been shortly before, Brian was limp as a nose
nestled into his pubic hair and a chin pressed against his dangling balls.
He could feel Kim's lips move on his shaft, could feel her tongue probe its
most sensitive spot, could feel the suction, the warmth.  Her fingers
lightly kneaded his balls.  She encircled his member with thumb and
forefinger and stroked the part not in her mouth as she licked and sucked
at the head.

   He could feel all this, could distractedly appreciate how her technique
was better than Kit's, could even agree that all this had to be done.  But
he couldn't respond.  He could only watch how each stroke the guy made into
Kit's mouth, even as he grew, brought his pubic bone all of the way against
her nose and slapped his balls against her chin.  There was nothing limp
about him any more.  His glistening cock was as straight as a gun barrel
and much thicker around as it drew out almost all the way before sliding
back in.  Still, Kit was taking him all the way to the root each time.

   "Practice makes perfect," Brian whispered to himself.  She would have at
least this after he was gone.

   "Close your eyes," Kim released him long to say.  He closed them, tried
to concentrate on this girl, her mouth, his cock, as she went back to work
on him.  But it was no good.  None of it.  Nothing stirred.

   "Ready, babe?" That was the guy's voice.

   "Yeah, sure," Kit said.  Weeds rustled.  Maybe she stood.  Maybe she
laid down so he could climb on her.  Brian closed his eyes more tightly.

   "How you want it?" the guy asked.

   "Uh, doesn't matter, but I want a ground cloth."

   "Huh?"

   "I'm not getting on my back in the dirt and weeds," Kit insisted.

   "Oh, all right," the guy said.  "I'll look." A ways off, a door opened
and after a bit shut.  Then Kit's voice was nearby.

   "How you two doing?" she asked.  Brian's eyes flew open.  Kit was a
couple of feet away, standing with her hands on hips and her head cocked to
one side.  The muscleman, his prick so rigid it pointed upward, was
spreading out the same ragged quilt Kim had brought the day before.

   Kim drew back to answer, but in doing so gave all the answer necessary.
Brian's penis flopped out of her mouth to droop downward.

   "You really wore him out, girlfriend," Kim said lamely.

   "He'll come around," Kit snapped.  "He has to." She glared at Brian. 
"Don't you get it?  We have to do it this way."

   "No, I don't get it," he replied, his voice tightly controlled.

   "Damn it," Kit growled.  "There's no other way.  Don't you see that? 
I'm going to fuck Shit, Kim, what's his name?"

   "Rick," Kim said.

   "Rick.  I'm going to fuck Rick now.  You can watch and then fuck Kim or
you two can come over next to us and we all fuck together.  Or," she
gritted her teeth, "you can play 20 Questions and skim rocks.  That's up to
you.  I'll be over here fucking Rick.  Then tomorrow you get on the goddamn
plane and next week I fuck four or five more guys just to finish clearing
you the hell out of my head.  All right?"

   "Kit," Brian pleaded, reaching out for her, "we don't have to--"

   She backed away.  "We have to.  This whole fucking thing was a dumbshit
idea.  It went too far and we have to fix it."

   With that, she spun around and pushed Rick onto his back on the quilt.

   "Yeah, baby," he purred.  "I got what you need to clean out the
cobwebs."

   "Oh, shut up and fuck," she said irritably.  She squatted over his torso
and took hold of his cock, but then froze.

   "What?" Rick asked.

   "I forgot."

   "Now what?" He reached up to pull her down on him, but she stood and
backed away.

   "A condom," she said.  "You need a condom."

   "Ah, shit," he spat.  "Kim don't never make me wear no fucking monkey
suit."

   "I'm not Kim," Kit said.  "She's on the pill.  I'm not."

   "I'm not packing," Rick said.

   Kit looked over at Kim, who was still on her knees but had twisted to
watch.  Kim hesitated, then shrugged and shook her head.

   The condom demand had struck Brian as sensible, but not the part about
the pill.  Kit had explained that morning, when he'd expressed concern,
that she had just come off her period the day he'd arrived and there was no
chance of pregnancy for these few days--no need for protection.  They were
both virgins, so she'd told him to fire away.  Now she was claiming concern
about pregnancy, but not disease, without even knowing the guy's name until
two minutes ago?

   Brian reached down and pulled Kim to her feet.  He spoke in a low tone
in her ear.  "Give her one."

   "What?"

   "You're a slut, not an idiot.  You probably have a purse full of them,
for the guys you're not sure of."

   She looked away.

   "Give her a fucking rubber!" he snarled.  "Let's get this shit going. 
It's what she wants, right?"

   Kim sneered, but she went to Rick's truck and returned with a foil
square.

   "Here," she said and sailed it frisbee-like toward Kit.

   Kit plucked it from the dirt and sat heavily next to Rick.  She held up
the foil and looked at it, but made no move to tear it open.  Rick took it
from her.

   "I'll slap that puppy on," he said.  "Makes no difference to me.  I need
some pussy now."

   As he watched Rick rip the foil open with his teeth and roll the
sheath--orange, for some reason--down the shaft, Brian felt a hand on his
shoulder.

   "What do you want to do?" Kim asked softly.

   "I don't know.  Just watch, I suppose.  What else, I mean . . .  I'm
sorry, I don't feel much like--"

   "That's okay," Kim said.  "But you sure you want to watch?"

   "That seems like the point of the plan," Brian said bitterly.  "If it's
going to have the effect she thinks it will, I'm supposed to watch. 
Right?"

   "I suppose," Kim said.  "But will you hold me?"

   "Sure."

   Kim spread out some of their clothes as a makeshift ground cover and
they sat side by side, each with an arm around the other's back.  Brian had
seen plenty of couples in just this pose watching concerts or plays in
Central Park--wearing more clothes, of course, though sometimes not much
more.  That had been exactly one of the things he'd thought about as Kit
lay in his arms that morning.  He hadn't spoken about it, fearing he would
put her off by seeming to have her life all planned out for her.  But he
recalled just this image: he and Kit sitting hip-to-hip on a blanket in the
grass as, say, "A Midsummers' Night Dream" was performed.

   Now he was acting out a scripted role in A Midsummers' Day Nightmare. 
On stage Kit was again swinging a leg over Rick's legs and positioning
herself over his costumed cock.  With what struck Brian as a dramatic
flair, she held the pose for several moments.  Just get it the fuck over
with!  he raged silently.  She can't be stringing this out for the sake of
cruelty, can she?  He hadn't thought so.  And maybe she wasn't, because she
wasn't looking around for his reaction.  She was just hesitating.  Rick
reached for her breasts, but she pushed his hands away.

   "Give me a second, huh?" Kit said.  Finally she did look toward the
audience.

   "Well?" she called.  "Are you going to do it or not?"

   Kim gestured at Brian's midsection, where his penis hung limp and tiny.
"Guess not," she shrugged.

   "Fine!" Kit spat.  "Suit yourselves.  It's just sex.  Just fucking.  Do
it.  Don't do it.  Makes no difference."

   With that, she leaned forward, reached between her legs, fumbled a bit,
and then eased herself down.  Brian's angle of view couldn't have been
better, or worse.  He could see clearly the sheathed cock part her labia
and slowly disappear inside this girl who had captured his heart and who
was now doing her best to tear it out.  Along with the cock, Brian watched
all the hopes he'd built up over the last couple of days vanish.

   One image he held onto for awhile and was seeing it as much as he was
seeing Kit begin to grind her pelvis against Rick's.  He was seeing himself
leading his cousin--his lover--through the Museum of Modern Art, twisting
and turning through the galleries, until he stops her and covers her eyes
with his hands and turns her around, eyes still covered, and tells her to
look as he pulls his hands away.  She opens her eyes and stops breathing as
she sees the giant canvas splattered and dripped and washed with fantastic
layers of paint.  What do you see?  he asks.  What does it mean?  How does
it make you feel?  She tells him and he tells her about seeing different
things each time he's come here, and so they come back again and again and
spend their lives figuring out what is there in the paint, but always
interested far more in what the other sees.  He wanted to hold that image,
but the Jackson Pollack and the life contemplating it melted away as Rick's
hands came up and clutched Kit's breasts.

   Brian couldn't help now but watch as Kit began to move up and down on
the shaft, most of its length emerging, then plunging back in as she came
down and he thrust up.  He had seen earlier that one of Rick's tatoos was a
rough rendering of the Marine ensignia.  Now he could see the other was a
better-drawn parody of the symbol for medicine, except it was a woman's
nude body in place of a cross and the snakes entwined around her had their
forked tongues out licking her nipples.

   "Don't look," Kim said.

   "Huh?"

   "Don't look."

   "Why not?" He kept looking.  "She wants me to look, doesn't she?"

   "Only so you'll get the message," she said.  "But didn't you already get
it?"

   "I suppose so."

   "What's the message?"

   "I suppose it's about how it's nothing but sex.  Those two.  Her and me.
Just sex."

   "Bullshit!" Kim hissed.

   Brian turned to her.  "Huh?"

   "It's a bullshit message," she said, keeping her voice low.  "It's never
just sex.  There's always something else.  Adventure.  Comfort.  Gratitude.
Curiosity.  Feeling wanted.  I suppose sometimes angling for some kind of
gain.  It's always something, usually hope."

   "Hope?"

   "Yeah.  Hope something real might happen, something that's not just
sex."

   "Has it?  Feeling something real, I mean."

   "For me, way too often."

   "But?"

   "But never with a guy feeling the same way."

   Brian looked back at the copulating couple.  He knew he ought to be
feeling something, but that first wave of nausea had passed and now he was
just numb.  He had seen just this sort of scene time and again on videos,
and always the images made him hard and horny.  This was no video.  It was
happening a few feet away.  But this was Kit, and his penis hadn't so much
as twitched since this had begun.

   "You know," he began, "this is real." He stopped, realized what he
seemed to be saying.  "No, not that." He gestured at the pair.  Rick was
going through all the gyration and ecstatic grimaces of the typical actors
in porn movies.  Kit seemed more like a machine, expressionless, stiffly
getting the job done.

   "I know," Kim said.  "You and Kit.  That's real.  I saw that before we
ever got into the corn."

   "I love her," he said, his voice cracking so much it must have been
barely audible.  But Kim apparently heard.

   "I know." She buried her head in his chest.  "She loves you too."

   "So why--"

   "She thinks she can unring the bell, thinks she has to unring it.  But
she's wrong, wrong about both."

   "Yeah." He looked away from the scene and softly kissed Kim's hair. 
Then what she had said worked its way fully into his head.  "What do you
mean?"

   "Huh?"

   "What you said.  I got it about she can't unring the bell.  This isn't
souring me on her one bit.  Making me miserable, oh yeah.  I mean, she's
doing it to kill what we have.  But no way is it killing anything I feel.
And I don't see how it's going to work for her either."

   "Except the miserable part," Kim suggested.  "Shit!  She's like it's a
dental drill in her, not a cock."

   "Right.  But why say she doesn't have to unring the bell?  I thought
she's sure this is the only way."

   "Because," Kim said hesitantly, "she knows there's another way.  But
she's scared."

   "Scared of me?  Of being together?  Commitment?"

   "No, I think she wants that."

   "So?"

   "She's scared of what she has to do to make it happen."

   "Like run away?  I don't think our parents would be that down on us. 
Hell.  We're old enough.  I agree it would be best to get their blessing,
but why just assume they're going to disown us or something?"

   "It's not so much them coming down on you she's worried about, but what
happens between the families." Kim stopped, then said, "But look, it's not
my call.  We went over this last night and this morning.  I think there's a
way to get their okay without blowing everybody apart.  But it's risky and
she's worried about it.  She might be right, and I've been going with how
she sees it.  It's her family and her call."

   "My family too," Brian said.  "Isn't it my call too?"

   Kim didn't answer.  She looked toward Kit and Rick, but Brian wasn't so
sure she was seeing anything.  He watched her face and waited.  Then she
turned back to him, her eyes flashing with excitement, the dull, hopeless
look entirely gone.

   "How many times did you two make love this morning?" she asked.

   "It was all making love," he said, "even when we just held each other."

   "Fuck the poetry!" she exclaimed.  "I mean the times you were fucking.
Was it like that?  Did she look like she was being flogged?"

   "No way!" He curled his lip.

   "What was different?"

   "Everything.  Except the, uh, you know--"

   "The cock in her cunt part?"

   "Yeah.  But everything else was different.  I mean, I never felt so much
aware.  She'd touch me, just a fingertip, lightly . . . .  She'd trail it
along my cheek, like this." He demonstrated by running a fingertip along
Kim's cheek.  Kim shuddered and moaned, but Brian absorbed that as part of
the demonstration.  "That's what I did.  It was electric.  I tingled
everywhere from that one touch.  I had just come for about the third time
in an hour or so, but it brought me right back.  All of that was in that
one touch."

   "I know," Kim whispered.  Then she gripped his forearm.  "Look at
yourself," she said.  Just thinking about it."

   He looked down to confirm what he had felt without realizing it.  His
cock was as stiff as it had ever been and twitching with his rapid heart
beat.

   "Do you think she felt that way too?" Kim asked.

   "I know she did."

   "Look at her know!  Does she feel that way now?  Is she tingling?"

   "No way."

   "So it's not sex that does it for her.  It's you.  This isn't driving
you out of her heart.  It's proving she can't do that." Kim laid her hands
along his cheeks and tugged so he had to meet her eyes.  "You two are
magic," she said forcefully.  "That is nothing.  Not for her.  Rick could
fuck a tree stump and think it's magic, but it's empty for her."

   "What are you getting at?"

   "Make it magic!" she said.

   "Make what magic?"

   "That." She made a sweeping gesture toward Kit and Rick.  "Just a gut
feeling, but you need to get over there and whisper sweet nothings in that
girl's ear to help her through this."

   "Help her--"

   "--fuck Rick.  Exactly.  Take this negative bullshit and turn it around.
She has this dumbass idea fucking means something.  It don't mean shit. 
It's you two that matters."

   "What are you talking about?" he pleaded.  "You say make that . . . 
make that magic.  What's that mean?  No, first, why should I want to have
anything to do with it?"

   "Because she started it as a negative thing to kill your love."

   "That's what hurts."

   "So turn it around.  Make it positive.  Embrace it.  Encourage her. 
Support her.  Be part of it instead of a victim of it.  She can't fucking
admit it's a shitty idea, so turn it into the best idea she ever had
because it gives you a chance to show how much you love her."

   He searched her eyes, saw the reasons, but saw no hint of the method.

   "How?"

   "Shit if I know," she said.  "You gotta do some of the work." She put a
hand on his back and pushed.  "Just get your bare ass over there and work
some magic!"

   During the few steps across the clearing, Brian first thought about just
pulling Kit off and replacing the strange dick with his own.  Voila'!  That
would be magic.

   But, no.  He instantly recognized the flaw.  She chose to fuck this guy
for reasons that made sense to her when she started the ball rolling.  Even
if she already was thinking it was a rotten idea, it was her idea.  He
didn't have time to think it all the way through, but it was clear that
pulling her off would just pile negative on negative.  So by the time he
knelt beside her, he knew only what not to do.

   Neither participant seemed aware he was there.  Rick had his eyes closed
and was making enough noise with his moaning and his
ooh-baby-ride-me-hard-baby kind of patter to cover Brian's steps.  Kit's
eyes were clenched tight and the veins on her forehead were standing out.
When she had ridden Brian, she'd looked at him and her face had been smooth
and relaxed.

   Magic, huh?  She needed a tranquilizer.  What to do?

   He concentrated on her face, looking for clues.  At first it was hard
not to think more about the way her breasts flopped each time she bottomed
out or about the dark rough hands pawing her ass or, of course, the cock
driving up into her.  As for anything that cock was attached to, he was
scarcely aware.

   Gradually, the rest blurred out as well, until all he could see was her
face.  She was so tense, so strained.  He couldn't bear to watch her
expression.  She was being fucked with a corncob, if you went by the look
on her face.

   "Kit," he whispered from an inch away from her ear.  Her eyes flew open
and she stopped at the bottom of a stroke.  She turned to say something,
seeming as angry as she was surprised, but he put a finger to her lips.

   "Don't stop," he said softly.  He lowered his hand to her stomach and
put the other on her back just above the swell of her ass.  "I just came
for a better view." He drew her upward and she lifted her ass to reveal
most of the glistening cock, then he pressed her down and it disappeared
inside her again.

   "Brian--" she began.

   "Shh!  Don't talk!  I want to watch you fuck him.  That's what you want
me to do, isn't it?"

   She hesitated, then nodded stiffly, her questioning eyes still on his.
Her look seemed troubled, unsure.  He needed to change that look.

   "I know the drill," he said.  "I watch and I won't love you any more."
His hands continued to guide her up and down on the shaft.  "That's the
plan?"

   "You know it is," she said.

   "Oh, my dear, sweet love, don't you see it won't work?" His cheek was
against her hair, his body moving in the same rhythm as hers.  He voice was
deep and soothing.  "Don't you see I will love you forever, no matter
what?" She gasped at his words.  He expected contradiction, but none came.
"And you," he went on, "you will love me forever too.  You know you will,
despite this."

   She opened her mouth to speak, but he moved around and pressed his lips
against hers, silencing her response, whether it might have been protesting
or affirming.  He wanted her to listen and feel, not to think.  Although
her mouth was a moving target as she lifted and plunged, lifted and
plunged, he kept his tight against it, his body moving with hers as though
they were fucking Rick together.  Her lips, stiff and resisting at first,
gradually yielded and softened.  Finally, when she was kissing him as much
as he was kissing her, he pulled back.

   "Don't answer," he told her.  "I know you love me." He looked in her
eyes and saw it was true.  But he also saw the trouble still there.  The
next words formed in his mind, insisted on being spoken.  He didn't know if
they would remove that trouble or increase it, but they had to come out.

   "Be with me always!"

   Her eyes widened and filled with tears that rapidly ran off her cheeks
and soaked into Rick's chest hair.

   "How?"

   "We'll find a way," he said.  He didn't know what that way might be, but
he had no doubts about his answer, his commitment.  Then there came another
voice from Kit's other side.

   "You know how, " Kim said.

   "But--"

   "No," Brian cut her off firmly.  "We will make it happen." He lifted the
hand from her back and laid the backs of his fingers lightly against one
cheek.  "Do you believe me?" He saw the answer in her eyes even before she
spoke.

   "Yes," she whispered.  Her eyes were alive with hope and, he knew, love.
Then she froze and looked down.

   Rick had been so silent through the whole exchange that Brian had nearly
forgotten about him.  He saw now the silence was due to Kim's hand over her
boyfriend's mouth.

   "Oh, my god," Kit breathed.  "What am I doing?" She started to rise, but
Brian firmly pressed her back down.

   "Finish it!" he said softly but with clear authority.

   "That's okay," Kim broke in.  "I'll take care of Rick.  You two--"

   "No," Brian cut her off.  "This was meant to drive us apart.  It won't.
But we have to prove that." He looked back at Kit.  "I want you to finish.
Fuck him hard!  Fuck him good!  Give him the best fuck he's ever had!"

   "Hey!" Kim protested, but with a smile.

   Brian pressed Kit back into the rhythm.  "Trust me," he told her.  "It's
magic.  You're fucking him, but you're loving me.  It's his cock, but it's
my heart.  Alakazam!"

   The strain was gone from her face now.  She closed her eyes and began to
roll her pelvis as she had on Brian earlier.  "Bri-annn . . . ." She drew
the name out.

   "No," he said.  "Open your eyes.  Don't pretend it's me.  Look at him.
This is Rick.  That's Rick's prick in you.  You're loving me, but you're
fucking him.  You're fucking him, and I'm loving you all the more.  Magic."

   "Yes," Kit hissed.  She was breathing more deeply now, looking down at
this man she had meant to use for one purpose but now was being urged to
use for another.

   "Good," Brian said.  "Now kiss him!"

   Kit leaned forward until her breasts pressed against Rick's chest and
her lips were against his.

   "Taste him!" Brian said.  "He tastes different than me.  Feel his beard.
Feel his tongue.  Feel his cock.  He feels different, doesn't he?  Remember
how this started?  Remember?  Adventure.  New experience.  Crossing lines.
You've crossed this line and I've crossed with you.  So feel this new man.
Feel how different he is.  Feel how different you feel."

   "Oh, god, Brian," Kim said.  "That's it." But Brian barely heard.

   "We fucked and that was brand new," he said near Kit's ear, and
therefore near Rick's.  "But that wasn't just adventure, my love.  That was
the start of ever after.  You know that.  But right now you're fucking
Rick. This is adventure and nothing but.  Go with it.  Make it feel good.
This is brand new.  He's not a stranger on the internet, not some stranger
watching from a pickup.  He's a stranger about to come inside of you.  Feel
him come, make him come."

   Kit worked her mouth against Rick's.  She stroked his unshaven face as
his hands clenched her hips and guided her ass in broad circles.  Brian
stroked her hair.  He leaned forward and sucked on her earlobe.

   "Listen to him," Brian whispered.  "His breathing, listen.  He's getting
close.  He's going to come.  Feel how hard he is.  He's going to come."

   Kit wrenched herself from Rick's lips and sought Brian's, but he pulled
out of her reach.

   "You're fucking Rick.  That's the adventure.  Go with it.  Be with him
fully.  Then be with me fully and forever."

   She attacked Rick's lips again in a near frenzy.  He was slamming up
into her, sending violent ripples through her flesh with each thrust.  Both
bodies working against one another were dripping with sweat.  Rick turned
his face to the side so he could find air.  Kit tilted her head so her lips
were near Rick's ear.  Her breathing now was as ragged as Rick's as their
chests heaved together.

   "Fuck me, Rick!" she rasped.  "Fuck me hard!  Fill me.  Come in me,
Rick! Fuck me!"

   "Yeah, babe," Rick was saying.  "That's it.  Right there.  So close. 
Right there."

   Brian was kneeling almost motionless next to writhing bodies, his hands
entirely off of Kit now.  He could almost feel his own cock up inside his
cousin.  He was stiff and ready to be in her, but it seemed he was so much
a part of this coupling that he might well come right when Rick went off.

   "He's going to come now, Kit," Brian told her.  "And you're going to
come.  Let it go, sweet baby, let it go.  Feel him and let it go."

   "Oh . . .  yes . . ." she hissed.  "I'm . . .  uh . . .  feel it . . . .
Oh, god!"

   Whether that last was a reaction to feeling her own orgasm begin or
instead to feeling Rick begin to pump, Brian couldn't tell.  From the
timing of Rick's grunts and grimaces and Kit's sudden stiffening, he
figured Rick had launched first and touched off Kit.

   Brian suddenly found himself far distant from the twin geysers of sexual
energy, as if viewing it through thick glass.  He distractedly thought that
Rick, as he came, looked just like one of the actors he'd seen in a couple
of Lennie's porn movies.  They both bristled with muscles and grimaced
through their orgasm as if they were straining against a wrench to loosen a
rusted bolt.  He'd thought that sort of thing was just acting, and maybe it
was.  Maybe Rick had seen the same movies and figured that's the way you do
it.  Except in the movies the grimacing actor would have the presence of
mind to pull out and spew all over the actress' ass or tits or face.  Never
inside.

   Well, Rick's face was contorted in just the same way, but he was doing
his shooting from a point a few inches up inside of Kit.  Sure, a rubber
was catching it all, but this guy was the second guy ever to come inside
her and it certainly didn't help Brian get through this moment that he
thought the guy was a total asshole.  Christ!  How could Kim have anything
to do with such a dickhead?

   Somehow it helped that the spewing cock was encased, that none of the
jism was touching her.  But he sensed he should never tell Kit about this
thought.  As he saw Rick strain and thrust, Brian affirmed to himself that
this was for the best.

   Then he was sure of it.  What Brian had thought was a tightly restrained
orgasm on Kit's part now proved to have been just a tensing for the real
thing.  Just as Rick seemed to be finishing, Kit's orgasm climbed.  Brian
had seen her come, felt her come many times since midnight, and this time
was familiar.  But it also was quite different.  She was at least as loud
and physical this time, just as frenzied in grinding against whatever she
could feel to grind against.  Brian's mouth and neck still hurt from the
way she jerked her hips about when he brought her off with his head between
her legs.

   Yet this one was different.  Maybe it was only because he was on the
outside looking in this time, but Brian didn't sense the kind of connection
between Kit and Rick as he had when he came in response to him.  When the
feeling hit her now, he could tell that she went inside herself with it
rather than let it flow into her partner.  Other than the fact that her
face was turned from Rick's as her scream mounted, Brian couldn't pin down
what made this orgasm an act of isolated passion, probably like the ones
she had on her naked strolls late at night well out of earshot of her
parents.

   This is fucking, Brian thought.  That's all.  It's not making love. 
This wasn't just an abstract idea anymore.  He could see the difference,
feel it.

   Although Kit obviously was coming, and coming loudly, it still seemed
she was blocked from letting it cascade out fully.  Brian reached out to
press his palm against her lips and felt a surge jolt through him.

   "I love you," he managed to gasp out.

   The words spurred her past all barriers and brought her out of her
shell. She ground harder against Rick, but her eyes now were on Brian's. 
She strained toward him and grunted out what sounded like "you" before her
lips found his and she expended the rest of her frenzy into him, more
screaming into his mouth than kissing him.  The air she gasped in for each
new outburst was the air from his lungs and the air he breathed was laden
with her passion.  Air, passion, love, hope . . .  .  all flowed between
them and through them.

   And something else.  Maybe Brian could feel it only because he wanted
to, needed to.  But he also sensed a future.  Kit had stuffed a strange
cock up her cunt as a way to push him away, but now she was closer to him
than ever.

   Whatever future they faced, they faced it together.

   "Wow!" he heard Kim say as Kit collapsed onto Rick's chest.

   "Magical enough?" Brian asked her.  

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