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From: "David Davo Nunes da Silva" <87cuow602@sneakemail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Katherine and Johnny 1/2 {David Nunes da Silva} (fmM bd cons 1st hist)
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Date: Tue,  4 Jan 2005 21:10:01 -0500
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{ASSM} Katherine and Johnny 1/2 {David Nunes da Silva} (fmM bd cons 1st
hist)

Katherine and Johnny
by David Nunes da Silva
1968.    San Francisco.
(fmM bd cons 1st hist)
( web page  http://home.alamedanet.net/~dnds/westmore.htm )


I.   ARIA: soprano
-------------------
"That's  enough, Johnny, I want to listen."

The young man wore a fake army uniform, with a peace sign on his cap
instead of an eagle.  He had a dreadful American accent.   The public
address system squawked and reverberated, and his voice raised when he
got excited, and it made the P.A. system howl.   "General Westmoreland
has announced a new campaign of using napalmYAWWAAWH - I said napalm -
to clear the jungles.  What does that really meaEEYAWWHEE.   On this
Memorial Day, we need to remember that our soldierEEEYEE ..."

"Ouch!"

Johnny had pinched her again.

She slapped him, and he grinned.  But she couldn't not look at him.  He
had taken his shirt off and she couldn't get enough of looking at his
chest.   He saw she was looking at him.   Then he pinched one of his
titties with his fingernails, making himself wince.  And he pinched her
at the same time.  Not on her jugs, because of her bra, but as close as
he could get.   She pulled his hand out from her blouse, and she didn't
let go of it.  She held it tight, and looked back at the speaker.   But
as she listened to the booming voice, she heard the sound of a zipper
being pulled down.   She tried not to look.   She stared straight
ahead.  But somehow her eyes flickered over to him - there was nothing
to see, just a wark of his white American knickers pushing out of his
trousers.   He was trying to undo his belt with his left hand.   People
were starting to look at them.

"Can't you cats listen?"

It was a big black man with about a bushel of kinky hair.   Katherine
felt like she wanted to die.   She let go of Johnny's hand and sat up,
listening to some Bolshie talk about the Democratic Party.  That was
like Labour, and the Tories were called Republicans.  There was someone
called McCarthy and someone called Humphrey, and something called
primaries.   It was all very complicated - even the Americans didn't
seem to understand it.  She didn't pay attention to Johnny.   So it was
quite a shock.   He was stark naked, and his tadger didn't look like
the diagrams in the book, not at all.

"Cool,"

a long-haired man said, passing a hand-rolled cigarette.   Katherine
knew what it was, of course.   Everyone knew about pot.   Katherine
sucked deep.   No one seemed to care that there was a naked young man
lying on the grass.   But if Johnny started wanking in the middle of
this crowd, she really would die.   He had his hand on it.  She reached
over and pinched his titty.   She needed to get his mind off his tadger
and back on her chebs.   But she couldn't stop staring.  Without really
meaning to, she reached over and pulled on his tip, and fingered one of
his balls inside of the soft crepe pouch.   They were like soft-boiled
eggs.   But his tadger wasn't soft any more.

A little girl came by, handing out flowers.   "That man's bare," she
said solemnly to Katherine.   "I can see his bottom."

"He will be all right.   I'll make sure he doesn't catch cold."

The little girl frowned, puzzled.   "I like the way you talk." she
said.   Then she gave a daisy to the black man, and went along her way.

"You shall have a skelpin' for lollin' about in the scud, Johnny,"
Katherine whispered.   She undid the buttons of her skirt.   But she
didn't take it off.

"What's it like, getting a licking?" Johnny asked.  He was shy,
suddenly, and he looked about to see if people  were looking at him.
They were.   He blushed and put his hands in front of himself, then
pulled them away and tried to look as if it was fine, as if it were the
most natural thing in the world, lyin' around in the scud wi' a stonner
like a cudgel on him.

"Does a licking really hurt?   Is it like unbearable?"

"Aw it's worth it for a keek at your tadger, Johnny."

"You mean you'll get a lickin' if your dad finds out you went to the
peace rally?"

"I'll get a thrashing when I get home - no if.   Home by four I'm
supposed to be.  If he finds out I left school - if he finds out I was
here - and with a boy - O my God.  I don't know what he'll do.  He
won't belt me.  He'll just murder me."

"Let's go then.  We can get to your place by quarter to five.  That's
only a little late."

"No Johnny.  Pull my knickers off."

"But your lickin' - we'll be late."

"I'm getting licks.  I might as well get them for something."

"SHUSH!"

It was the black man.   Katherine looked straight ahead at the speaker,
but she didn't hear a word he said.   Johnny sulked.   But Katherine
pinched him, and pointed to her dress, and put her finger to her lips.
With a fat grin on his face Johnny put a hand up her dress, and she
lifted her arse off the ground.   He didn't tug at her knickers, but
slid his hand inside them, cupping her cheek.  Then he gave her a
really hard pinch, right on the edge of her crack just by her hole.  It
made her shudder.   He slid his fingers up her crack, and yanked the
waistband.  He was taking his time and she was getting tired of holding
her arse off the ground.  Johnny was finding it hard to get the
knickers down, it seemed - his fingers were getting into all sorts of
wrong places.   He pinched hard on her arse, but when he fingered her
place he was light as a feather.   It was nice.   Was that the way boys
did it?    She knew boys wanked but she didn't know how - was it like
this, just brushing lightly?   Did they just brush their tadgers with
the tips of their fingers?  Didn't he know that girls needed it harder?

Johnny pulled her knickers off, over her shoes, and he put them on his
face.

The long-haired man, who had thought it was groovy when Johnny got
naked, didn't seem to think this was groovy.   There was a family
sitting behind them - Katherine felt the parents eyes glaring, but
didn't dare turn around.   Johnny slid up beside her to whisper in her
ear, with a smug look on his face.   She giggled inside - she knew what
he was going to say : they should go to the bushes and - and .... But
he didn't say that.

"I want to take your licking for you.   Do you think your dad would let
me?"

"Johnny - he doesn't know about you.  I'm not supposed to know any
boys.   Go back to doing what you were doing."

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN - EARTHA KITT!"

The crowd rose to its feet.    This was their chance, and Johnny made a
run for it, carrying only his boots. Katherine grabbed his shirt and
trousers.   The crowd applauded for a long time, but Johnny and
Katherine made it only part of the way to the edge of the crowd before
people sat down again, and it was no longer possible to move, without
stepping over them.   People yelled "down in front!", but there was
nowhere to sit, so they had to keep going.

The singer's deep voice boomed, and echoed - but you couldn't make out
the words over the bad P.A. system - something about Christmas.
Katherine watched Johnny's arse as he stepped over people, a few steps
ahead of her.   It wasn't like the statues, or like the pictures in the
books in the library.   Watching an arse that moved was nothing like
looking at a picture.   Katherine noticed that Johnny had a scar -
several really, across both cheeks.  Her own arse was on fire - his
hard pinches still tingled.   She wanted to get her hands on his arse,
and pinch him all over, as hard as he'd pinched her.   She looked ahead
to see how far they had to go.   They were almost at the trees.  There
would be bushes to hide in under those trees.

"Get your balls out of my face, kid!"

Johnny was stepping across the legs of a man in a black leather jacket.
This crowd wasn't like the hippies near the bandstand.   They looked
like nastie boys from the Gorbals.   There might be a riot, and these
boys were looking to start one.   If they fought with Johnny - it
wouldn't be a fight.

"Awa an' bile yer heid," Katherine said, in broad Scots.

The nastie boys turned to look at her.  Johnny kept on going.  Her
skirt came to below her knees, but she felt bare, without her knickers.
Walking after a naked boy, carrying his clothes.  What would people
think?   Johnny, who was a few steps ahead now, turned back to look.
She said "pardon" to the man in the leather jacket, but as she stepped
across his legs, he reached up under her skirt.  When he stuck his
fingers up her pisshole he wasn't gentle.

"I'll get some too, bitch!   Want to see a real cock?"   He reached for
the zipper of his leather trousers.

Katherine stepped over the man and kept going, pulling herself off of
his hand.  It hurt.   But she kept going.  The man didn't get up.
Johnny looked like he was ready to start a fight.

She kissed him.

"Git awa wi ye, Johnny, don' get yeself killt."

Johnny grabbed for his trousers, but Katherine wouldn't let go.  He
turned away from her, and stomped off.   People got out of his way.
Katherine followed after.   Even his arse looked angry, clenched tight.
At last they reached the edge of the crowd - there was a little
space.   Johnny put his hand out for his clothes.

Katherine shook her head, and headed for the trees.

"We need to go.   Let me have my pants."

As soon as she stopped walking, her skirt, which she hadn't rebuttoned,
slid over her skinny bottom and dropped to the ground.   It had been
just luck it hadn't happened in the middle of the crowd.   Johnny
grabbed his trousers from her limp hands.

"Johnny, what's wrong with you?"   He was pulling his trousers up.

"You need to get home.  You don't want to get a licking."

"This is what I want."   Katherine grabbed at his tadger through the
wark of his trousers.

"You want to?   Here?"   There was nowhere to lie down; no privacy.
"What about - you know - a baby?"

"We don't have to do that.   Do you want to lick my fanny?"

"No.   Yes."   Johnny began to lick her arse.   Katherine bent over and
spread her legs apart, but he kept licking the cheeks of her arse.
"What are you doing, Johnny?"

"Licking your fanny."

Katherine turned around, and pushed his chestnut head into her crotch.
"This is my fanny, Johnny."

Johnny licked, and licked.   It didn't make her tingle.  When Johnny
pinched her arse, he pinched hard, but he licked like a butterfly's
wing.   That awful man - sticking his fingers in, hurting her.   But it
made her feel - hot.  Hot for Johnny's tadger.   She was going to have
it.  She didn't care that people could see them.  She didn't care about
the thrashing she'd get for being late.   She didn't care about
anything.  She pushed Johnny's head away, and pointed at his buckle -
he stood up and undid his belt and let his trousers drop to the ground.
His tadger had gone soft - while licking her fanny!   She sucked it
into her mouth and gave it a good bite, and began to work it over with
her teeth and tongue, with her eyes closed.   She grabbed his balls and
started to work the lovely soft eggs, pinching them so they skitted
away, inside their soft bag.   The flesh pushing and swelling and
hardening into the back of her throat seemed huge - she could taste his
beating heart, pulsing and salty and alive.

"I think you saved my life back there, with that biker."

"I can't talk and do - what I was doing - at the same time, Johnny."

"I wanted to fight him, when he grabbed your cunt, but you stopped me.
You kissed me.   Katherine?"

"Yes?"

"Can we kiss again?"

He didn't wait for an answer.   His kiss was firm, but brief.  He
pulled back a few inches, holding her tight, and looked deep into her
face.  "What makes you so grown-up?" he asked.

"Johnny, you do wank, don't you?  You know, masturbate?    Don't you
want me wank you?   I could use my hand, if you don't like - squirting
your juice - into my mouth."

"You didn't get angry at that biker.  You saw I was angry and you
kissed me to stop me fighting.   It's like I'm a little kid.   Do you
think its having your dad around that's made you so - mature?"

"Having Daddie on the dole has made me poor, is what it's made me.  I'd
like to see less of him - and his belt.  Johnny - I'm getting a
thrashing for being here - I want it to be good.   Can you give me a,
um, wank?  Like I do in my bed?"

"My dad's never around.  You don't know what it's like."

"Do you want to see my chebs, Johnny?"   Johnny nodded.   Katherine had
no chebs.  Her bra was stuffed with toilet paper.  But Johnny was
always looking at it - always pawing at it.   She unbuttoned her
blouse, and unclipped the bra.   She looked at his face, steeling
herself for his disappointment.

Johnny knelt.   He kissed her fanny - her cunt, he called it - like an
R.C. kissing the cross.   Then he kissed each jug.   Then he kissed her
mouth.   This time kissed for a very long time.

There was the sound of clapping.   Katherine opened her eyes.  A hippie
with flowers in his long hair was applauding them - and his girl,
embarrassed, was tugging at his jacket, trying to get him to come away.
But the hippie unbuckled his belt and dropped his trousers.   He
wasn't wearing any knickers.    Katherine hadn't realized that pubic
hair could be straight.   Or that tadgers could be that long.

"This is a private party, man,"  Johnny said.

"Groovy.   It's just so groovy to be naked, man.  It's like, natural.
Clothes are just a hang-up."

Johnny turned back to look at her face.  "You are so amazing,
Katherine.  I - I love you!"

His tadger was soft again.   Katherine decided it was a lost cause.

II.  GAVOTTE: tenor
--------------------------
They caught the N-Judah streetcar.

The passed Johnny's stop, but he didn't get off.   A block before her
stop, he said: "Katherine, um,  ..."    She couldn't think of anything
to say either.   They got off the trolley together.  Johnny crossed the
street to catch a bus, and Katherine began the climb up the hill.
Daddie would be home.   She'd get the licks as soon as she walked in,
bent over the table in front of the TV.  She wasn't very late.  But it
didn't matter how late she was; what mattered was how drunk Daddie was.

"Who was that boy?"

It was Daddie, behind her.   She waited for him to catch up.  He had a
grocery bag in his arm - a pack of beer.  He must have been in the
corner store, looking out the window, when she and Johnny got off the
trolley.   It wasn't Daddie's usual store, because it wasn't the
cheapest, but the Korean family who owned it stayed open even on
Memorial Day.  It was lucky she and Johnny had been too angry to kiss.

"He's a boy from school.   I don't really know him."

"Well I don't want you hanging around boys.   Especially not no greasy
dagos!"

"His father is George Nunes, Daddie.   You know, Nunes Buick.   Those
adverts on the radio.  He's the man the mayor keeps putting on
committees."

"He's a dago."   Daddie wasn't yelling at her for being late.   She
realized he didn't have his watch.   But when they got home he'd look
at the parlor clock - if he hadn't pawned that too.

"Mr. Ramsay, Sir?"

It was Johnny, out of breath from running up the hill.   "Mr. Ramsay, I
made Katherine late.   She helped me with my homework.   I didn't know
she'd get a licking for it.   Mr. Ramsay, um, I, um - can I take
Katherine's licking for her?   Please - um, Sir?   I don't know what
I'd do if she got a licking and it was my fault.  It wasn't her fault
at all."

Daddie tried to read the time on Johnny's watch.   "Katherine's not
supposed to be helping boys with their prep.    And I'll thank you to
keep away from her!"    Daddie turned to go, dragging Katherine roughly
by the wrist.

"Mr. Ramsay, Sir?"

Johnny knelt on the pavement.   Daddie drew himself up to his full
height of four feet, seven and a half inches.   With the boy - the son
of the uncrowned king of downtown - kneeling below him, instead of
towering above him, he was a different man.

"Please Sir, please."    Johnny bowed his head.   His lips were moving,
silently.   His hand moved to his chest, but he stopped himself before
making the sign of the cross.   He was praying to God to be whipped
instead of her.

"Ah, well . . ."    Daddie clenched his hand, and moved it up and down.
Katherine knew that George Nunes often had business dinners at the
St. Francis, and Daddie must have opened doors for him and his rich
friends, hoping for a tip.   The temptation to whip the man's son was
too strong.   "You shall have half of Katherine's punishment, boy."

Johnny gulped, and sagged.   Now that he had his wish, he looked like a
trapped animal.  His eyes darted about, looking for an escape.   But
there was no escape.   He rose to his feet slowly, with an effort, as
if his arms and legs had turned to water.   They silently climbed the
rest of the way up the steep hill and up the stairs of the old wooden
house, to the small illegal flat where the Ramsay family lived.   When
they got inside the door, Daddie looked at the clock.   It was five
fifteen.

"It's six o'clock, hizzie!   It's good for yer erse ye have a boy to
take half the licks."

Daddie wasn't looking at her, so Katherine quickly pulled her dress
down, hoping Daddie wouldn't notice that she didn't have her knickers
on.    She bent and put her hands on the table.

"Hizzie!   Showing yer erse to a boy.  I'd have whipped you on your
knickers."

"Well, he's seen it now, Daddie.   Go on and whip me bare."

Johnny said, "Mr. Ramsay, sir?   Before you whip her, when she was
helping me with my homework - well I had turned it in without finishing
it, and she said I ... that I should get a licking for that.   That
she'd get a licking if she did something like that, and ....   Um,
would you be willing to give me a licking for that?  Sir?"

"Won't you get licks from your own Daddie?"

"No, Sir.   I've never had a licking.   I've never had a spanking.   My
Dad doesn't care what grades I get."

"Ye poor soul."

"And please Sir, can you not whip Katherine at all?  Let me have all of
it?"

"O, aye, ye'll have your way of it."

Johnny walked over to the table, smirking.  "Put your skirt on, Kath.
You're not getting a whipping."   Katherine was still bent over, and
she said: "You have to look at the wall, Johnny."    Johnny turned
around, and Katherine grabbed her skirt and went into the kitchen.
When she came back Johnny was bent over with his trousers down.

"Where's yer knickers, boy?"

"Portuguese men don't wear underpants, Sir."

"That's very uncivilized.   Ye should wear knickers."    Daddie took
off his belt.

Katherine said: "Daddie, give him a spanking first."

"Aye."  Daddie hung his belt around Johnny's neck, and smacked the
boy's arse with his hand as hard as he could.   Johnny let out a yelp.
Daddie kept smacking the same cheek.   Johnny gripped the table.   His
jaw was quivering.    Then Daddie shifted his position, and gave the
other cheek its turn.   Then he waited.   Johnny was almost sobbing,
his breath ragged, and his whole body was stiff with fear.   When his
eyes strayed to the belt-ends, hanging below his face, he flinched -
and Katherine knew he was smelling it too.  She had spent a lot of time
bent over that table, with the belt around her neck, waiting.  He was
more scared because he didn't know what was coming.  But as the time
passed, he slowly relaxed.   Then Daddie took the belt from his neck.

Johnny sobbed when the folded belt smacked across his arse.   Five more
times it came down, and Johnny made the same noise each time.   He
looked down at the table, no longer looking at Katherine.     Katherine
was ashamed of the beer-stained, beat up table.   It came from the
Salvation Army shop, like all the furniture.   There was washing hung
up to dry.  Johnny lived in a mansion.   His shoes must cost more than
her Daddie made in a month.

Katherine waited for the second set of six to start.   Twelve was the
least she'd ever got for being home late.   But being late with a boy
would be more.

"Ye took it well, boy." her Daddie said.

Johnny looked up.   "Kath, could you please turn around?"    When she
turned back around he had his trousers up.

"Sit down, John.   That's your name, is it, John?"

"Jo�o," actually. "Jo�o Maria.   They call me Johnny."

Daddie took a can of beer from his grocery bag.   He looked in the bag,
thinking.   Then he took out another can and handed it to Johnny.  They
looked around for the can opener.  Katherine found it.    She hadn't
been invited to sit down, so she busied herself, tidying up - she
wished she could have done it before Johnny saw the pigsty she lived
in.  She listened to them talk.

Daddie said: "I've heard of some Frenchies called Jean-Marie."     He
pronounced it "Jeen-Merry."    Katherine said "Zhawhn-Mahree," under
her breath.   Really her Daddie was more embarrassing than the
furniture.  He said: "Do the boys at school chuffle ye?  Call ye
'Mistress Mary'?"

"It's worse than that, Sir.   My real middle name is Maria de Fatima.
My aunt had a dream, the night I was born."

"Ah.   Well I suppose that's Roman, pay attention to dreams and
such-like."

"Yes, Sir.   Thank you for the licking.   I'll never do anything to
make Katherine late again.  ...  Sir."

"Aye.   Well, Johnny, what do you think of these hippies and all these
riots."

"I think we have to fight the communists, Sir.   But I'm not sure we're
doing it the right way.   I think that's why England isn't helping us,
Sir."

"You think we need to invade the Commies - like D-day?"

"Maybe, Sir.   I might be drafted.   I might be part of it.   I don't
feel like I'm ready for that yet.  I'm just a kid."

"The army'll make a man of ye."

"I'd like to be a man before I go in, Sir.   That's why ...   Sir, can
I come talk to you?   And if I do anything that's like a little kid -
anything you'd give Katherine a licking for, could you give me a
licking?   Please, Sir?"

"You can come see me, Johnny."

"Thanks, ... um,  Dad."

Katherine's Daddie put on his bell-hop's uniform.  He had the night
shift on Thursdays.   She had told Johnny that her Daddie worked at the
St. Francis, but not what he did.   Well no, she had told him - she had
just lied about it.   As soon as Daddie was gone, Johnny would say.  "I
thought you said he was the manager?"   The door closed.   Katherine
braced herself for the question.

"Your Dad is so cool!"

Katherine finished tidying up.   Johnny's beercan was full to the top.
He had just pretended to drink it.

III.   DESCANT: soprano
--------------------------
Katherine  took off her skirt: she still had no knickers on.    She put
her hand on Johnny's belt buckle.

"Doesn't it matter that I took your licking for you - that I love you?"

"Johnny, it was very fine, what you did."

"So why are you mad?"

"I'm not mad."

"Why did you tell your Dad to give me a spanking?   It really hurt.
And that waiting for the belting to start, with the belt around my neck
- that was the worst.   The belting wasn't so bad - not as bad as
waiting for it to start."

"You really have never had a licking.   The spanking is a warm-up.   A
belting hurts like ten kinds of fire without a warm-up - you wouldn't
say it wasn't so bad, if you'd gotten it without the spanking first.
Dad went easy on you, giving you a spanking.   And he only gave you
six."

"Only six?   Only six?   What do you usually get?"

"Thirty."

"O, God."

Katherine took off her blouse, and her bra, and she undid Johnny's
buckle and pulled down his trousers.    She started to undo his shirt
buttons, but he shooed away her hands and did it himself.    Katherine
went to the desk and took a little box out of the drawer, the kind
prescriptions come in; it was labeled "prophylactics."    She took out
a little packet the size of a teabag. She asked Johnny if he knew what
it was.

"I know what it is.  I've never actually seen one."

"I want you to masturbate me with your hand first."

Johnny hugged her, and kissed her eyes.   He knelt down, and looked
into her fanny - her cunt.   He began to brush it very softly with his
fingertips.   It felt nice, but she said: "Rub harder."

Katherine got down on the rug, and took Johnny's hand in her own, began
to guide his fingers.   She said: "Since I started doing this, every
single time, I've thought about you, Johnny.    You were going with
Betsy Azerkarian then.   I never thought it could come true, that you
would - that I'd really have you."

"Betsy Azerkarian is a spoiled brat!   I hate her!"

"You know what they say in school."

"What?"

"Johnny wanted to take a gal's cherry on,
so he went with the gal Azerkarian.
But she said 'lots o' luck'
when he asked for a fuck,
so he's humping a Scots Presbyterian."

"But that's not true - Betsy fucks - uh - we - "

"Johnny, it's fine.   I didn't think you were a virgin.    So you were
lying, when you said you had never seen a rubber johnnie?"

"No - I pulled out.   I finished with my hand.   I tried to buy some,
in Daly City - but they wouldn't sell them to me."

"Och Johnny!   Betsy let's you fuck her, just once, and you dump her.
And then you go after the most conservative girl in the school.    But
I'm a hussy too - just like Betsy.  You wanted someone who would say
no."

"No it's not like that! - I want to fuck you!"

"Ouch - that hurt!"

"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

"That's what hurts, Johnny."

Johnny opened the packet, and began to wank his limp shaft.   "I'm
going to fuck you, Katherine.   It may not be the best fuck, but we'll
keep on doing it, and it will be better next time.   And the time after
that.   Forever!  I think about you when I jerk off too.   I think
about you all day long.  But when I imagine doing it with you, we don't
- talk so much!"

Johnny wanked his tadger up, and put on the johnnie.   He started
shoving in and out, very carefully, going a little further in each
time.    There was no pain.  It was what she wanted most in the world,
Johnny's tadger.   But she was too wound up, too excited.  It always
felt tingly good, wanking, imagining it was Johnny's tadger.   It was
her number one, sure fire way.   But she didn't feel that way now.
She didn't feel ... wicked enough.   When she was wanking, imagining it
was Johnny, she always felt like such a bad little girl.

Johnny pumped and pumped.  Katherine relaxed a little.  And she looked
at Johnny.  And she began to feel wonderful.   It wasn't like wanking
at all.   She had Johnny and she wanted him - she wanted hugs and
kisses.   She didn't feel like sex.  Maybe later.  But she'd let Johnny
finish.

Johnny was working hard, with his eyes closed, trying to shoot his
juice by thinking about sexy things - sexier than where he was, what he
was doing.   Thinking about Betsy Azerkarian's chebs, probably.    But
it was working.   Slowly, but she could tell from his breath he was
feeling something.    Katherine was glad for him, but she didn't feel
sexy at all.

He was nearly there when the door opened.  Katherine's mither came in.

"Shame on you, Kath-i-kin," she said.  "Your boyfriend gets a belting
and you don't put vaseline on his bum."

IV.   ADAGIO SOSTENUTO: contralto
--------------------------
"Glaiket  dunder-heids we been,"  Mrs. Ramsay muttered.

She went into the bathroom, and Johnny struggled to get into his pants.
He was starting to do his shirt buttons when she came out.  She sat
down on the couch.

"Drap yer trousers, young man!"

Johnny couldn't believe she thought a spanking was anything like enough
punishment.   He dropped his pants and bent over her knee.  Mrs. Ramsay
was a big woman, with strong arms, but Johnny wasn't frightened.  It
felt safe and comfortable on her soft fat lap.   It was like the hugs
he used to get from Nana Rosalia, before his mother fired her.   The
smell was the same.  Then she began to rub his bottom.    Her fingers
soothed the welts and bruises.   It felt as good as kissing Kath.  He
wanted the spanking to start.  A long hard spanking for breaking this
woman's heart, fucking her daughter. But he heard the sound of a jar
opening, and a big glob of cold vaseline was glopped onto his bottom,
and rubbed around.   He wanted to feel it shoved into his asshole, like
the time he got constipated and Nana Rosalia stuck her finger up his
butt.   He remembered the smell of vaseline.  But she only rubbed it on
his welts.  She gave him a couple of pats.

"Now, tell me what you're doing here, young man, fucking my daughter,
with my man's belt-tracks across yer erse?"

Johnny stayed where he was.  He liked being there, bent over, looking
at the rug, with his bare bottom under her hand.  His erection was rock
hard and pushing into her apron.  He had almost exploded before she
walked in the door, and now he was shoved between her thighs, his
foreskin was pushed back, and the slightest motion scraped the burlap
across his most sensitive spots.   If she spanked him he would squirt
for certain - he couldn't imagine anything more embarrassing.  But he
didn't want to stand up, it felt so good.  He squirmed a bit, working
his raw tip against the raspy fabric.  She pinched her fat thighs
together.  It was like super-masturbating, unbearably pleasurable.
Like jacking off with sandpaper - he could feel it coming - he was
getting very near the screaming stage -

"Mom, I ...I mean, Mrs. Ramsay ..."

Katherine interrupted.   "He was wonderful, Mither.    He made me a bit
late, and he knew I'd get licks, so he came here and begged Daddie that
he could take them for me.   Begged on his knees!   And Daddie invited
him to come back - to drop by anytime."

"You're not supposed to have a boyfriend."

"When Daddie went to work he left us both in the flat."

"It seems you're a 'hit,' young man.   Are you good at maths."

"No."

"Here's an easy one.   I'm 32.   What does that mean?"

"I think you are a very good-looking woman."

"Liar.   Do you know your girlfriend's birthday?"

"April 4th."

"And she was?"

"Sixteen."

"And?"

"I don't know."

He got a smack on his bottom.   What was she getting at?   16?  32?
Birthdays?  Oh.   "When Katherine was born you were sixteen."

"And when I did - what you were doing?"

"Um, fifteen?"

"I had my wedding anniversary this year.  My 16th anniversary.   What
does that mean?"

"That when you got married you were - um - I don't want to say it."

"Then don't do it!"   She spanked his greasy bottom very, very hard,
about a dozen swats.

"We used a c-c-condom."

"I can see it.  You dropped it on the rug.   We used 'em too.   We used
to wash 'em out and use them over again."

"I'm glad Katherine was born."

"Get off my lap, ye basturt!"

Johnny slid onto the floor, kicked out of paradise.   The spanking had
felt so good.  He wanted more.   But he was glad he hadn't squirted all
over Mom's apron.  Oh.  It seemed that he had.  Oh, well.  The
after-spank giddy happiness was intoxicating.  Stronger than getting
stoned.

"Listen young man, when I got a pudding I had to leave school.   I had
to wed the shilpit wee basturt.   He's a drunk.   He gambles.  And he
barely makes enough money to buy the belts he wears out on my erse!
You do that to my daughter I'll kill you!   I swear I'll kill you!"

"I won't!"

"I'm glad you say that, but I've been sixteen.   Take some johnnies.
Take the whole box of johnnies.   No, leave me one - that should last
me for a month or two."

"If anything should happen, Mrs. Ramsay - not that it will, but if it
did -  Katherine won't have to drop out of school.  I am just a kid,
but I don't drink, I don't gamble.  And I would never, ever hit Kath."

"Then ye're a blunt-heid.  And ba'less t'boot!   A man should be the
master.   Katherine won't tell you any different.   And what are you
going to do with a baby in school?   Money for nappies?   Don't think
I'm raisin' a wean."

Katherine said "Mither, he's George Nunes's son.   Nunes Buick."

"So, you're a wally toff!   Think you have the money to buy a shag with
a Scotts girl!"

Johnny put his face into the musty carpet and his hands over his head
and he groveled.  His pants were around his ankles and his greasy,
welted bottom stuck high in the air.  She spanked it.

"Get out!   Get out!"

Johnny got out.   He didn't stand up until he was outside the door.
His pants came off as he was crawling across the floor, and the door
closed behind him.   At least he had his shirt.   He tried to think of
a way home where he wouldn't be seen by other kids from school.

V.  GIGUE: cello
--------------------------
It was  hard to step out the door onto the street, bare.

And it didn't get easier.   His shirttails sort-of covered his ass and
sort-of covered his dick, but anyone could see he was bare.  It
wouldn't be long before someone called the cops.   He was going to tell
them a story about initiation into a gang.   But he didn't think it was
going to work.   If he was lucky, the cops might take him home, and not
to jail, but his dad would still find out.   If only his dad wasn't so
- so - if only he was cool like Katherine's dad.     His dad would
scream bloody murder about the welts on his ass.   As if a bruised ass
was such a big deal or something.

After walking two blocks in his shirttails on the streets of San
Francisco, Johnny turned around and went back.   His bare feet were
sore, anyway, after just a couple of blocks.  At the door, he got into
his groveling position before knocking.  When the door opened it
clonked him on the head.   He backed up on his elbows and knees.

"Please Mrs. Ramsay can I have my pants back?   I know I deserve to
walk home naked but I'm afraid if my dad finds out that Mr. Ramsay
belted me it might cause trouble."

"I don't have your trousers, Mr. Nunes.  Katherine took them and went
out after you."

"I'll go find her."

"No, you'll just miss each other.   Come in and sit down.  She'll come
back when she doesn't find you.   I'll make us a spot of tea."

Johnny crawled in.   He didn't want to plop his greasy ass on the
couch, so he knelt by the coffee table.   His tea was served in a
beautiful, delicate china cup - she had one too but it had been broken
and glued back together.   Katherine didn't come back.   Mrs. Ramsay
offered him a biscuit.

"I should go look for her."

"Well you can't go like that.   None of Duncan's things will fit you.
And not Katherine's.   But I have a dress that might do - it hasn't fit
me since I was eighteen but I still have it."

"Wearing a dress is as bad as going bare."

"It's plaid.  You can say it's your kilt - if you've picked up a bit of
Scots."

"I don't want to get vaseline on your good dress."

"I'll clean you up."   And she went to the kitchen and poured water
from the kettle on a rag.  "Hold your shirt up."

Johnny was still kneeling.   He felt like a baby getting his diaper
changed.   The steaming hot rag stung like blazes, but as she rubbed
his bottom it soothed the soreness.   Her chapped, calloused hand
wasn't bothered by the heat of the rag.   His prick started to come up.
She washed around his balls and washed the semen off his shaft.
Finally she washed his asshole, and his prick got really hard.  She
gave it a playful slap with the rag.   He stared hungrily at her hand.
The skin on her knuckles was cracked and dry.

"See if you can fit that wullie into Katherine's knickers."   She took
a pair of dark green panties from a drawer, and a plaid skirt from
another one.  The panties were way too small, but he got them on.
Johnny had to press his shaft against his belly, with the bands of the
panties and the skirt pressing across it.   But once his prick shrunk
the skirt would fit well enough.    It was something a Catholic school
girl would wear.  It didn't look like a kilt.

"Try Katherine's sweater."   She reached around him from behind to tie
the sweater around his waist, her fingers brushing the tip of his prick
where it stuck up above the waistband of the skirt.   With the sweater
he looked, from a distance, to a blind man, as if he might be wearing a
pair of dopey-looking plaid Bermuda shorts.    Close to, it looked like
he was wearing a dress, and had a girl's sweater tied around his waist.
But he didn't think anyone would call the cops on him.   She slipped
a pair of condoms in the dress pocket,  kissed his cheek, and shooed
him out the door with a smack on his bottom.

It was well over a mile from Katherine's house to Johnny's.   At one
time, kids from most of the rich neighborhoods in San Francisco had
gone to one high school, while several other high schools served the
poor neighborhoods.  But a de-segregation plan had changed that.  There
had been talk of sending Johnny to private school, but that would have
been an embarrassment for his liberal father  -  to be part of 'white
flight.'   So Johnny went to a public school in a poor neighborhood.
The shortest route took Johnny through a neighborhood that was even
more run down than Katherine's.   The old wooden houses in Katherine's
neighborhood were at least painted; here there was broken glass,
peeling paint, and burnt out buildings that hadn't been cleared away.
Used condoms and syringes.   Rats.  The kids here, mostly Mexican, also
went to Johnny's school.

"Hey, Johnny - cool dress!"

It was Mongi - Carlos Montoya - and a bunch of his gang, playing
basketball.    They were tough kids and Johnny was afraid of them.
They tossed him the ball.   Johnny could never make a free throw, and
didn't jump all that well, but when it came to slipping past guards and
receiving, he was the best there was.  He always knew what each player
was doing - eyes in the back of his head, they called it.  There was no
net - the hoop was an old washtub rim - and Johnny made the shot with
an eye to getting possession of the ball when it came through - the
most important skill in street basketball.   He jumped and batted the
ball to Alejandro, a little guy, who thus became his team.    Alejandro
knew better than to try a shot.   Johnny set it up, Alejandro got the
message, and it was : pass, jump, shoot - two points!   Against six
guards!   But of course he didn't recover the ball, and there was no
way on earth two guys could stop six guys from scoring if they wanted
to.   But when the ball came through Alejandro was under it.  Not tall
enough to get the ball, but in the right place to be in the way.  Mongi
jumped and batted it, but not in the right direction - and Johnny
intercepted.   Johnny passed to Alejandro, with a toss of his head.
Johnny went in, took the pass, and faked going in for a jump - everyone
blocked him - and Johnny passed back to Alejandro, who had placed
himself to make a clear shot.   Short - but smart.  But he missed - hit
the washtub rim but it didn't go through.

Mongi said: "Let's choose real teams."

"I got to go.   Say, have you guys seen Kath Ramsay?"

"Yeah - she was carrying your pants.   But she's cheating if she was
supposed to wear 'em.   She had a dress on."

"Thanks, guys.   See you around."

"See you Johnny - love the green panties!"

Johnny picked up Katherine's pink sweater - which had a poodle on it -
and tied it around his waist again.   He was about half a block away
when Mongi shouted out: "But Scotsmen don't wear anything under their
kilts!"

The game had really beat up his bare feet.   But he put them down one
after another, until he came to the dividing line between the poor
neighborhood below, and the rich one on the top of the hill.   An
expressway had been put in, cut into the hill, and the retaining wall
was forty feet high - a Berlin Wall between two cities.   Johnny took
the only way across, a pedestrian bridge that required a stair climb of
over eighty feet.   The streets on the hill were narrow and winding;
too steep for sidewalks, there were stairs instead.   The houses were
small, except for Johnny's, and not very old; it was by no means the
best address in the city.   Johnny's dad could have afforded more.  But
if Johnny's dad had bought an old mansion in Pacific Heights or Nob
Hill, the neighbors would have looked down on him - a fisherman's son -
although he would undoubtedly have been richer than they were.
Johnny's house was at the very top of the hill.

When he finished the long climb, Katherine was waiting in front of his
house, red-eyed and puffy from crying.    Johnny caught her eye, and
beckoned her - he didn't want to be seen in a dress, in front of his
house.  He changed in a secluded corner.  He took off the panties,
which were ruined.  Katherine looked at his prick in a matter-of-fact
way, and handed him his pants.  It was somehow far more intimate than
the sexual way she had looked at it so far.  Like a wife looking at her
husband.  Safe in his pants, he led his girl to the front door of his
house.  He didn't use the servants' door, which he usually used to go
in and out, because he was afraid Katherine would think he was ashamed
of her, or something.   They went up the broad front stairs to the
columned porch, and he opened the huge bronze-studded door with his
key, and they went into the marble front hall.
VI.   RONDEAU: soprano, tenor
------------------
Johnny's  mansion was like the public library.

There were statues, although they weren't as nice as the Greek gods
Katherine had examined for lessons in male anatomy.   One was a bronze
man, but deformed and elongated, with a bent penis.  It was polished as
if someone had been using it.   Johnny led her up the grand stairs.

"Oh there you are, John.  I didn't know you were home."

"Hi, Mom."

"And who is this beautiful lady?   Will you introduce us?"

Katherine blushed to the roots of her hair.   Besides her eyes, which
must be a sight, her hair no doubt looked as if she'd been fucking in
the shrubbery - which she had been, in the park.   Her clothes - in
this place she would have been ashamed of her clothes, even if they had
been clean.

"Miss Ramsay, this Marigold Nunes my mother, and this is Harriet
Gallison.   Ladies, may I present Miss Katherine Ramsay.   Miss Ramsay
arrived in this country from Glasgow last year."

"We are very pleased to have you here, Miss Ramsay."

"It is Mrs. Frank P. Gallison, actually, Miss Ramsay.   I had the
pleasure to be in your country a few years ago, but I'm afraid I didn't
get to Glasgow.  I'm sure I missed a wonderful city."

Katherine knew she was supposed to say something, but had no idea what
to say.

Johnny's mother said: "I hope you will be honoring us at dinner, Miss
Ramsay?"

Johnny gave her a ferocious pinch on the arse.  It made her yelp, and
jump, and Mrs. Gallison was shocked.   Katherine said: "Yes, Ma'am,"
and curtseyed the way she had been taught in Scotland to curtsey to the
Queen, should she ever need to.   Except she tripped.   She turned and
ran up the grand staircase.   Johnny ran after.   She allowed him to
catch her at the top of the stairs, and sank into his arms, sobbing
again.

"Why on earth did you say you would go to dinner?   Didn't you
understand I was trying to warn you?"

"You don't eat supper with your parents?"

"This is dinner with my parents, or maybe just my mom, and about twenty
other people.  Really boring old people."

"Well, I'm hungry."

Johnny led her by the hand, down a long hallway, and through a door -
into his parent's room, she assumed, since there was a massive
four-poster bed.   But the clothes that were strewn on the oriental
carpet were Johnny's.  He said, "Sorry about the mess, it's the maid's
day off," and opened one of the closet doors.   It wasn't a closet but
a kitchen, larger than the one she slept in.   He opened the fridge.
"I have plenty of food," he said.

"But don't you have to get back, Kath?   Won't you get a licking?   If
you call and say you got invited to dinner, won't your mom and dad
think we're just fucking somewhere?"

Katherine took a rubber johnnie out of her pocket.  "Mither gave me
this when I went to look for you."

"That's incredible.   I thought your parents were strict."

"Daddie gave me a licking once, because I said Gary Grant was handsome.
I saw his picture in a magazine."

"When I was - um - fucking Betsy Azerkarian, I got home at four in the
morning.   My parents didn't seem to care."

"Mither said we shouldn't to do - what you said - it in the park,
though - she said that wasn't safe.   She said we could come home and
use the kitchen, and she'd go out.  So I won't get a licking if I don't
come home for a few hours.  I don't have to go.   But if you want me to
go, tell me to go, and I'll go."

"I don't want you to go."

"You have my virginity, Johnny.   Or does it only count if you juice
into me?   We can do that too."

Johnny said: "Come on!"    He was trying to sound masterful.   He led
the way out into the hall, through a narrow door and up a rough wooden
ladder to the attic.    Behind some boxes and furniture, under the low
sloping roof, there was an army cot with a blanket.  Johnny pried up a
board with his fingernails, and drew out his treasure, last year's
school yearbook.   There was also a flashlight, and a red leatherette
book with a gold crest, titled "R.C.M.P. - Weekly Calisthenics Diary."
The last thing he took out was a wooden board with one end whittled
into a handle.

"This is where I have sex with you, Miss Ramsay.   Every night since
before Thanksgiving.   Looking at your picture."

"You can use me any way you want, Johnny, and then dump me like you did
Betsy.  I don't expect anything else."

"Why do you think I wouldn't want you?"

"I'm not very good looking."

Johnny handed her the book with the gold R.C.M.P. crest.   She opened
to the first page:

My goals for the week of:    Nov      6  1967
1. No P, no B, No dem!!!
2. B on English paper (B+)
X  3. Ask K. if I can sit next to her at lunch.

Good [   ]     Passing [   ]     Failed [ X ]
My plans for future improvement are:
20 su, 20 pu, 20 s.         X     .

There was a small brown stain in the corner of the page, like a coffee
stain - it looked like a fingerprint.

Katherine asked: "What is 'No P. No B. No dem'?  And what is '20 su, 20
pu, 20 s'?"

"No pot, no booze.  No demerits at school.  If I break a goal I have to
do twenty sit-ups, twenty push-ups."

"And '20 s'?"

Johnny pointed to the paddle.   "That week I swore I would talk to you,
but I was too scared to do it.   So I got the punishment.   I'm doing
better now - I asked you to the peace rally.  But we got our math tests
back.   I didn't do so well there.  Would you like to watch?"  He
turned to the last filled-in page.

My goals for the week of:    May  27  1968
1. Ask K. to peace rally at Polo Grounds
2. STOP BEING SO SHY WITH HER !!
3. math test - 65                                         .

Good [   ]     Passing [   ]     Failed [   ]
My plans for future improvement are:
50 su, 50 pu, 50 s.

Johnny put an X in the box marked 'Failed', and he put an X by "math
test 65," and wrote (61) after it.   He said: "Ten of each, morning and
evening, till they're done."   He did ten sit-ups, and ten push-ups.
Then he dropped his trousers, took the paddle, and lay on the floor on
his left side, and delivered ten very hard swats to his right buttock.
Then he turned more on his belly, and gave ten more to his left
buttock, although he could not manage the same force.

"Would you do it, Kath?    I can't get it to sting enough on that
side."

Katherine took the paddle, and Johnny turned fully on his belly, with
his hands under his chin and his big grin on his face.   Katherine gave
his left cheek ten swats.   "Did that hurt enough?" she asked.

"Depends what you mean by enough."   His tadger had shot up, and he
grabbed her and gave her a pythonlike hug and a very hard kiss.   He
pulled down her dress, which hurt and popped one of the buttons.  He
grabbed her arse, squeezing a cheek in each hand and sinking in his
fingernails, and he rammed into her, smashing their bodies together.
It hurt horribly.  When he pulled out he reached in his pocket for a
johnnie, but he fumbled it getting it out of the wrapper, and reached
for another one.

Wrapped, he rammed into her again, staying inside for a long time until
he pulled out, and took several very deep breaths before smashing in
again.  His breath became very ragged, he began to pant, and then to
shout - Yeyah, yeyah, yeyah, yeyah, ah, ah, ah, ah aaaaaaa.   And it
was over.    Katherine had not enjoyed it.   There was blood all over
the place.

"When do we have to be at dinner?" she asked.

"Katherine - don't talk about other things when were in the middle of
having sex!"

"I thought you were finished."

"I had an orgasm, yes, but I'm not finished.    I can stay hard for a
while, and keep fucking until you have an orgasm - haven't you read
Masters and Johnson?"

"What's an orgasm?"

"It's - never mind.   Dinner is at eight, and it's about that now."

"We'd better go then - I said we would."

"Don't you need to do girl stuff - brush your hair, makeup?   Take a
shower?"

"But we can't be late."

"Come on.   Don't put your dress back on.  You can walk around my house
naked."

Johnny led her back to his bedroom.    "I told you not to put your
dress on.   Strip!"

"But if we're late."

"You will do as I say."

"Or you'll take a slipper to me?" Katherine said, laughing.

"If I have to."   Johnny was taking off his clothes.    Since obviously
they weren't going to dinner until he put them on again, Katherine went
along with it and took off her blouse and shoes.   Her dress she just
let go - it was torn as well as having a button popped, and it just
dropped to the floor.    Johnny marched her into his private bathroom,
and they stepped into the bathtub, and Johnny ran the shower quite
hot.shower

She really needed the shower, and so did he.   But before they had
showered much Johnny reached up and unscrewed the shower head.   A jet
of water shot down and pounded on the floor of the tub.   Johnny
squatted down and slid his body under the pounding blast - it looked
like it hurt.   He squirmed around until his belly was under it, and
then he pulled his limp tadger into the path of the blast, wincing at
the pain.   He gasped and writhed and shook and screamed.   And then he
pulled himself out from under the shaft of pounding water.

"Pretty good isn't it, considering I came inside you just about a
minute ago?   You try it."

"I don't want to."

"Kath!   Do you want me to get my belt?"

Actually, she did.   She was pretty sure Johnny would enjoy it.   But
he said: "You said - use me any way you want to.   Well right now I
want to watch the water beating your cunt."

Obediently she stepped into the shower, and knelt down.  She timidly
moved her fanny into the path of the torturing water.

About forty seconds later, Johnny said: "That, Miss Ramsay, is what
Masters and Johnson call an orgasm. You - get to have some more."

VII.  CORO: bass e baritone
--------------------------
Katherine  wasn't thinking very clearly.   She was having her hair
brushed.   Brushed and brushed.  She was in her grannie's kitchen in
front of the fire.

Her grannie was putting her nappy on.  Pretty white nappy.  "Katherine.
Katherine!"

"Uhh.  Um.  Yes?"

"Which shirt do you want?"

Johnny was holding up two little boy's shirts.    She was in his
bedroom - her grannie had been dead since she was six.   She felt all
fuddled and her fannie was sore.   It must have been Johnny who had
pulled up the boy's knickers she was wearing, while she had squirmed
and fussed like a baby.   Grannie wouldn't have been so patient.

"I nae wan' eyther damn shirt."    What a smacking Grannie would have
given her for that.

"Your blouse has bloodstains on it," Johnny explained patiently.   "I
guess we'll go with the plaid since you're Scotch."

"Scottish, not Scotch - and I'm nae snooly teuchter."

"The blue then.  It goes with the jeans."

Katherine submitted to the shirt and stepped into the jeans, which were
too tight across her arse but had to be rolled up at the cuffs.   At
least the shirt wasn't too tight across her chest.

"Ye can stop smirking at me, Johnny Nunes!"

He tried to keep his mouth firm but broke into giggles.   "Let's try
some jewelry.   At least that's something little boys don't wear."   He
led her into his mother's room, and rummaged through her things.   He
picked out a pearl necklace and put it over her head, and pulled her
hair through.    She inhaled his masculine smell.  Somehow it was more
male after the shower.    He stood back and took a look at her.
"Perfume, I guess."   He sniffed the stopper of a little glass bottle.
"This one's yucky so it's probably a good one."   He daubed the perfume
on her chest - what would be her cleavage if she had one - and didn't
do back up the buttons.   "Earrings? Here's a ring - see if that fits
any of your fingers.    Here's a whatchamacallit - a brooch.  It's got
pearls.   That'll do it.  Come on, Kath, we're late for dinner.  No
time for your shoes."

People were eating soup.   Johnny made Katherine hold his arm as they
walked in.   Everyone stopped eating to look at them.   They were quite
a sight.   Johnny was in a tailored cream-color three-piece suit, with
a red tie.   Immaculately combed.  She looked like a ten-year-old boy
whose clothes didn't fit.  And Johnny had accidentally mussed up her
hair, and wouldn't let her take time to fix it.   Johnny's mother
tapped on a glass.

"I think most of you know my son John.  This is Miss Katherine Ramsay
from Scotland."

They sat down at places marked with their names, some distance apart.
The soup plates were taken away by the servants, but soup plates were
brought in for her and Johnny, as if to shame them for being late.
The balding white-haired man next to her asked her what she thought of
the riots.    She asked him if he thought they would effect the
primaries, and if it would help or hurt McCarthy.   He began to talk
very fast.  Katherine tried to eat her soup quickly; she didn't
understand him anyway.   Then the man on the other side interrupted and
started to talk about someone named Kennedy.     They began to shout.
Katherine found that by looking at one man, the other man would go
quiet, and then the man who was talking, did not have to shout.   But
it made it hard to finish her soup.

She asked the less ugly of the two men, how the American election
system was different than the British.

"As you say, Miss Ramsay, the English system is far superior.  Under
the American system, New Hampshire, one of the smallest states ..."
She did not listen to the rest.   She hadn't said the British system
was better and she most certainly hadn't called it English.    A man on
the other side of the table defended the American system.   Katherine
turned to look at him, so he got a chance to talk for some time.

Katherine said: "So the voters of the Democracy party, are voting about
who the candidate of the Democracy party should be?   I don't think
Labour voters in Scotland are ever asked who the Labour candidate for
Prime Minister should be.  That must be why American politicians are so
much more good-looking.  Fancy voting for Harold Wilson."

"Exactly, Miss Ramsay.   The only really fair system is the one they
use in France.   Proportional representation."    This was a man who
had left his place at the table to join the argument, and was leaning
over Katherine's chair.   If she had any chebs she would suspect him of
looking down her shirt at them.   Johnny had said there was no room for
her bra, and had left one or two buttons undone.    The man touched her
a bit, leaning over.  The man across the table interrupted, but she
flashed her eyes at him, and he backed down.

Everyone at the table was looking at the man behind her.   All the men,
anyway.  Perhaps the women weren't as interested in politics.   Johnny
had his idiot smirk on his face again.

The fish was cleared away.  Katherine had only taken a bite, so the
servants left her plate and brought more food, a huge steak with some
sauce on it.  She was getting further behind and plates of food were
piling up.  The man on her right dropped his serviette and was clumsy
picking it up again, touching her bare foot all over as he felt for it.
She asked him if the San Francisco elections were as complicated as
the national ones.

He started to talk about something called the supervisors.   People
didn't interrupt him as much, so she had a chance to gulp down the
salmon.

Now that they were talking about local politics, the men were starting
to shout, and to insult each other.   Katherine cast a few glances
about, and quieted things down.   There was a man who hadn't spoken,
across the table, but he seemed very interested.   He had been staring
right at her.   She asked him if he was involved in San Francisco
politics.   He started talking, so she got a chance to eat a few bites
of the steak.   The fish had been salty, but the wine was very good,
and the servants kept filling her glass.

The man on her right leaned over and said: "Miss Ramsay, I'm appointing
a committee on the subject of youth in politics.   I wonder if you'd be
willing to help out the city.   You could come to my office."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible."

She wished she knew the man's name, but she couldn't see his
place-card.   The man on her other side was called "The honorable
Gaberton Gorman."   How odd for the son of an English baron to be in
San Francisco.    The silly git was drunk.   When he saw she was
looking at his card, he said, in an American accent:

There was a wee bonnie Scotch lass,
who had the most beautiful ass,
not soft round and pink,
as you probably think,
but gray with long ears and eats grass.

Katherine said: "Scots!   Not Scotch!"   He held out his wrist for a
slap.   The man on her right shouted "Contest!    Contest!   The Scots
Lass!   And no more oldies, Gorman!"

The first one was from the man behind her.

Well, really, kind sir, you're a wanker.
If you tumble a lass you must thank her :
if you plead with a lass
for a piece of her ass,
it is common politeness to spank her.

He held out his wrist for a slap.   Katherine obliged, although she
didn't see what he should be slapped for.   Then the man on her right,
who had proposed the contest, produced:

Och aye that Yank lassie can blubber!
Ye'd think I'd attempted to club her.
I's writin' me ma,
an' I misspelled "Skidddaw,"
so I asked if she carried a rubber.

He also reached out his wrist for a slap.   Katherine gave him a nice
loud one.  Then the man across the table produced:

A bonnie young lass on Loch Linhe
says "I'll show you my knickers - a penny ;
but don't pay the lad
who is wearin' a plaid,
'cause under his dress there ain't any."

He reached across the table for his slap.   There was a wait, until
finally the bald man at the foot of the table came over and recited:

She's sweet and she's smart and she's sassy,
and happy to lick-y my ass-y,
and when I want tail,
she simply can't fail ;
for there's no one as pretty as - Lassie.

He put his hand on the back of her chair as he reached across her
front, so she could slap him with her right hand.    Then Gaberton
Gorman (hon.), stood up drunkenly and carefully pronounced:

On the yon bonnie banks of the Orrin
he said "The lasses want purfoom that's forren.
When shagging a sheep,
I just need to keep
a handful of grass in my sporran."

Johnny was still scribbling on a bit of paper.    But he waved to admit
defeat - so they made him judge.    "What's the prize?" someone asked.
The proposer of the contest shouted: "The prize will be:

Three wanks,
or four spanks,
or two Yanks,
or just thanks."

The man behind her said: "Ooo - I know what I want.   Can I get them on
the table?"

"The prize will be given on the table!    Clear space!   Clear some
space!."

Johnny wanted to hear each limerick again.   He said: "They are all
very good."    But that was greeted by booing and hissing.  So he said:
"The two finalists are, Wanker and Loch Linhe!"

"All right!   Go wanker!   Go wanker!"

The proposer announced: "The two finalists will recite their entries on
the table."

The wanker man shouted: "In the nude!" but the Loch Linhe man clambered
onto the table fully dressed, and raised himself to his knees.  He
recited his verse for the third time.  The wanker man had kicked off
his shoes, and he climbed up and stood on the table, dropped his
trousers, kicked them off, and knelt down.   In his socks and knickers,
but wearing shirt, white tie, jacket, and cummerbund, he recited very
loudly, and with grand gestures, miming "spank her" with a big smack
with his mitt on an imaginary arse.   He was pretty well blootered, and
he knocked over Katherine's wineglass.   The others made him get off
the table until the winner was announced.

Johnny stood up.  "The winner is - Loch Linhe."

There was polite applause, and the winner stood up.  "I'm afraid I will
have to take - just thanks."

The proposer shouted: "A kiss!   Thanks can be a kiss - on the table,
Bishop!"

The Loch Linhe man climbed on the table again, and Katherine stood up
and kissed his cheek.  Someone shouted "Three kisses." so she kissed
his other cheek, and his forehead.   There was more applause.   Then
the wanker man said - "Hey, I'm in second place.  Don't I get a
consolation prize?   One spank?"   And without anyone agreeing, he
climbed on the table, and pulled down his knickers.   He dropped face
down on the table, flipping his coattails out of the way.

The proposer said, "You might as well give him a spank.   He'll stay up
there if you don't."

Katherine leaned over and gave a buttock a mighty swat.   There were
cheers.   Then she gave its brother the same medicine, and someone
hissed.  "Hey, no fair - he was only supposed to get one.   I want one,
if you're handing them out."

"But that was one spank," Katherine protested.  "When my daddie belts
me, one lick is the belt hitting both cheeks.   So when he does it
cross-wise, a hit on one cheek plus a hit on the other still counts as
one lick.  Johnny counts the same way."

The man they called "Bishop" said: "That sounds like a cross-belting!
I haven't seen a proper cross-belting since I used to get them from my
Pa.   There were lots of Scots settled our part of the Carolinas.    Do
you have marks from a belting now, Miss Ramsay?  Does Johnny whip your
thighs too, with your legs apart, so the belt wraps around?   That
hurts best of all; we called it white mountain lightning.  It made a
man out of you - or a woman."

"I don't have any marks.   I was supposed to get a licking today, but
Johnny took it for me."

All the men were listening.  Someone said "Johnny's holding out on us!"
The bald man began to chant: "Oh! Johnny!   Oh! Johnny!   Take it
down, Take it down, Rah, Rah, Rah!"  but Katherine held up her hand,
and said "Not in front of his mother."    The men hung their heads, and
held out their wrists for slaps.   Katherine ignored them.

The beef was cleared away, mostly uneaten, at least by the men, and
dessert was served.  The wanker man was still lying face down across
the table.    The servants placed the little bowls and spoons on the
table, working around him, and they spread a cloth over the spilled
wine, and put another over his naked arse.  Along with the ice cream,
boards with different sorts of cheese, and tiny crackers in little
baskets, were put on the table.  And many kinds of brightly colored
drinks in crystal decanters.   Katherine sensed a different man
standing behind her, and turned to look.   It was Johnny.

"I shall be going to bed, Miss Ramsay, as it is a school night for me.
I wish you good night.    Good night, mother."    He walked out of the
room.    No one else had left, and now Katherine didn't know how.
She didn't know the proper thing to say to her hostess.   Johnny's
mother rescued her.

"Perhaps you will want to bid John a private goodnight, Miss Ramsay."

"Thank you, Mrs. Nunes.  I will."   She stood up and tried another
curtsey.   She tripped again.

Johnny was waiting outside the door.   After a kiss, he said: "I
thought you might be ready to escape - they're good for hours yet.
They're still only half plastered.   You were lucky.  You inspired a
literary competition - more or less.  At the last party, they measured
to see who had the longest dick - erect dick, of course.  It wasn't me.
The winner chose to get fucked in the asshole with a bottle - but he
didn't put that in his column!    A bottle of good, um, Scottish, isn't
cheap.   We had to give it to the servants."

"I haven't said good-bye to your mother.  What should I say?"

"Just wait five seconds."

It was fifteen.   Johnny's mother dashed out, pulled Johnny out of the
way by his belt, and took Katherine in her arms, and kissed her on the
cheek.

"Darling, I am so glad.   And what a triumph!   You must come to all my
parties.  But John, why did you use your old clothes?   I have closets
full of dresses.  Christian Dior.   And you could have brushed her
hair."

"Mothers don't understand sex appeal.  That's what makes them mothers."

"Mrs. Nunes, Ma'am.   I need to return your jewelry.   I hope it was
all right for us - me - to borrow it?"

"Well I am very fond of the necklace.   But you must keep the pin,
Katherine.  A little token."

"I couldn't possibly."

"I insist."

"Here it is, Mrs. Nunes."

"Very well."   Mrs. Nunes's face lost it's big smile.

"And the ring."

"That ring, Miss Ramsay, does not belong to me.  I cannot accept it."

"Who does it belong to?"

"That ring was John's to give to whomever he wished.   If he has given
it to you then I would say it belongs to you.   I must return to my
guests."

And she left them without another word.    Johnny kissed Katherine
again.

"It's much too late for you to go home.   We'll just have to find a bed
for you here.  Let's see, whose bed - I mean what bed - would be best?
I just can't think."

"Johnny, I have to go home.   When Daddie comes home after work I have
to be there."

"I'll wake the cook.   He can drive the caddy."

"Don't do that, he'll be exhausted.  I'll just walk."

Johnny said: "He's a servant."    Katherine was shocked.   But Johnny
was quite polite to the man.  "I'm really sorry about this, Numata.
Miss Ramsay has to go home - it's unexpected - a family obligation.
If there was any other way.    But of course it's not safe for her
to walk, and you're the only one I can ask.   That was a great dinner,
by the way."

Johnny slipped into the back seat with her, and kissed her.    "This is
going to sound awful, but I'm looking forward to jerking off - wanking
- tonight.   I wish we were going to bed together, to cuddle in my big
bed and for you to fall asleep in my arms.  But I don't think I would
have been able to fuck any more.  Not until morning.   I'm exhausted.
But jacking off - I can do that.  I can't wait to find out how much
better thinking of fucking you is, now I have really done it.    I'm
getting tight in my pants."   Johnny unzipped his pants.    It was dark
in the back seat of the limousine, so Katherine didn't mind pawing
around until she felt the stiff meat, and giving it a rub.   Not too
much, since Johnny was a screamer.   But she wasn't going to say
anything - not with the poor cook sitting in the front seat.    Johnny
undid the zipper of her little-boy jeans, and reached in.  That opening
they put in boys' knickers was so - handy.

"You better go, Johnny.   School tomorrow."

"Oh, fuck.   History homework. - can't do it.   Mom'll keep me talking
for a while.   She'll want to know all about you - I'll give my name
rank and serial number, unless she tortures me.    But I won't hit the
sack 'til midnight.   I'll have a quick jerk so I can fall asleep - I'm
too keyed up to sleep, otherwise.   But I can't possibly do my
homework."

Johnny kissed her again.   But then she shoved him out the door.   He
tapped on the driver's window.   "Walk her to the door of her
apartment, Numata.   You carrying?"

"Of course, Sir.   Are we expecting a problem?"

"Not tonight.   But keep a look-out.    Better to park a block away.  I
don't want the neighbors to see the car."

"It is conspicuous, Sir."

The cook drove very fast through the empty streets.   Katherine tiptoed
across the parlor, although her mither was snoring deeply and had been
drinking.   Katherine could smell the cheap red wine: Mither hated it
but it was the cheapest way to get drunk in California.   She set the
alarm - school tomorrow.   It was exactly midnight.  She slipped her
fingers down to the top of her fanny.

VIII.   RICERCAR MASTURBATA: duo percussio
--------------------------
Johnny  was dizzy with happiness.   The things he had wanted most in
all the world had happened to him today.

The things she had wanted most in all the world had happened to her
today.   And Katherine was sick with misery.

A hundred times, dreaming in his cot in the attic, he had kissed her.

Lying awake, on her pad on the kitchen floor - a hundred times he had
kissed her,  in her mind -  thinking of him.

And running down the streets of the City.  Hand in hand and running
down the streets of the City, in her mind.    In his mind, on the
streets of the City.

A hundred times, lying on her mat, working her hand in her fanny, she
had spoken the words "Johnny, I love you."   And a hundred times he had
answered - in her dreams - in a hundred different ways.   That he
should say "I love you" to her!  That was more than she had even dared
to dream.  But when he said it today, all she could think about was
Betsy Azerkarian's chebs.   She knew he had said "I love you" to Betsy
too.  She just knew it.  Said it and taken her virginity and dumped
her.   And now he had Katherine Ramsay's.  Who would be next?

She had such cool parents.  They really cared about her.   They had
made her into such a wonderful person, in spite of never having had it
easy.    They gave her discipline, and that gave her so much dignity.
She had maturity, self-discipline, and courage - she wasn't a goof-off
and a screw-up    She was all the things he wanted to be.

His mother was so generous.    And she really loved Johnny.   She gave
him so much.    He lived in a whole different world.   A world of
openness, liberality, new ideas.  Not just money.  Style, poise,
confidence.  He had all the things she wanted to have.   And money.
But none of it was for her.

In the park today, he had kissed her!   Naked together under the trees!
Such a thing was too wonderful to be true!

In the park today, naked together under the trees, he had kissed her.
But such a wonderful thing couldn't happen to her, not happen and be
for real.

And running down the streets of the City.  Hand in hand and running
down the streets of the City, in her mind.    In his mind, on the
streets of the City.

He loved her so much, but he was so worthless compared with her.

He was worthless, but she was so in love with him!

His prick - his tadger - was not coming up.   When he thought of her,
there was so much to think about.  He was never going to get to sleep.
Jacking off was for when he was bored.    When a dick-head like him
had a chance with a girl like her - it was too much - too - he just
couldn't concentrate - he was never going to climax at this rate.

Every touch on her fanny - her cunt - sent shocks of pleasure into all
her sexy places.  Her nipples pounded with it and her arse tingled.
He would dump her in a week, perhaps a day - but he couldn't take
tonight away.    She pinched the top of her fanny.   He kissed her, as
he had before.  He fucked her, as he had before, more times than she
could count.  But this was not imagination any more, it was memory.
She had imagined his lips, his hand, his tadger - but she could not
have imagined his desire.

She was so sexy the way she talked.  "Aw it's worth it for a keek at
your tadger, Johnny."   "You do wank, don't you Johnny."   Did he ever.
Wanking was such a sexy word.   Whoever decided to call it jacking
off?    She was so sexy she could start a riot.  She had started a riot
- if the table knives had been sharper there would have been bloodshed.
The way she looked in that little boy shirt - and those jeans - holy
fuck those little boy jeans - there can't have been a prick at the
table that wasn't pounding.

She knew there was nothing sexy about her body.   When Johnny looked at
her, his tadger simply wilted.  He could, just, squirt his juice inside
of her, if he kept his eyes closed.   But one time tonight his voice
had quivered with desire, and it had turned her inside out - when he
had said: "Do you want me to get my belt?"   Her chest was awful, but
he liked to pinch her arse, and it was so sexy having it pinched.
Perhaps if he spanks my arse red, and then fucks me from behind, he
won't need to keep his eyes closed.   And spanking him with that paddle
- wow!  He has absolutely the finest arse on the planet.   If I live to
be a hundred I'll still be wanking with that memory.

She has absolutely the hottest teats on the planet.   It had been so
funny to see Judge Hamilton go sprinting for the john - as if anyone
would think he was going there to pee!   His own pants had made the
sign of the tent like everyone else's, but she was so much more than
that.   He wanted to kiss her, and just look at her.   But most of all
he wanted to cuddle with her, in the big down-feather bed that he
hadn't slept in, not since he had set out to make himself good enough
to ask her.

She had gone under the stream of water, willingly, joyfully, thinking
it was torture.    When it didn't hurt, she had imagined a belting from
Johnny.  That would be sexy for him, however disappointing her chebs
had been.  And that was one imagination that she was going to make a
memory!  And when Johnny is fucking the next girl, and he closes his
eyes, perhaps he will see Katherine Ramsay's arse, turning red and
striped under his hand.

He had only wanted to show Kath how he masturbated, using the stream of
water in the shower.  He had wanted to do something for her, so it
wouldn't be all take and no give.   But he was such a screw-up.  When
he tried to cajole her it came out all wrong.  He had almost started to
cry - his voice was shaking.

He was so sexy, no wonder he was a heart-breaker.   And she wasn't
exactly complaining that he had left Betsy Azerkarian for her.

He loved her so much, but he was so worthless compared with her.

He was worthless, but she was so in love with him!

I'm too happy to think straight, but I need to.  Why am I fooling
myself?   I said "I love you."   Did she say "I kind of like you"?  Did
she say: "I don't utterly despise you"?  No, she didn't.

Johnny got 61 on that maths test.   Sixty-one.   Is that even possible?
Wouldn't you have to know all the right answers and pick the wrong
ones on purpose?   Johnny's not going to work for NASA but he's not an
idiot.   And that book!    Why does he do so badly, if he tries hard
and he's not a tumshie-heid?  Perhaps, when he's between breaking
hearts, he will let me help him with maths.  And when we walk to the
library, if I touch his hand, perhaps he won't pull away.

She is kind.   Maybe she'll let me sit next to her at lunch, even
though she despises me.   And if I really, really, try, maybe I can
spend a day with her again.   Maybe she would go for a walk with me.
The thought of even touching her hand makes my prick rise.

And running down the streets of the City.  Hand in hand and running
down the streets of the City, in his mind.    In her mind, on the
streets of the City.
         
--- end posting 1 of 2 ---

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