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Message-ID: <50659asstr$1110345002@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Gina Marie Wylie" <gmwylie98260@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Spitfire and Messerschmitt Ch 27 {Gina Marie Wylie} (teen, mff, cons)
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Date: Wed,  9 Mar 2005 00:10:02 -0500
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<1st attachment, "Davey Ch 27.doc" begin>

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	The following is fiction of an adult nature.  If I believed in
setting age limits for things, you'd have to be eighteen to read
this and I'd never have bothered to write it.  IMHO, if you can
read and enjoy, then you're old enough to read and enjoy.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	All persons here depicted are figments of my imagination and any
resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly a blunder on my
part.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	Official stuff:  Story codes: teen, mff, , voy, cons.

	If stories like this offend you, you will offend ME if you read
further and complain. Copyright 2004, by Gina Marie Wylie.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	I can be reached at gmwylie98260@hothothotmail.com, at least if
you remove some of the hots.  All comments and reasoned
discussion welcome.

Below is my site on ASSTR:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Gina_Marie_Wylie/www/

My stories are also posted on StoriesOnline:
http://Storiesonline.net/

And on Electronic Wilderness Publishing:
http://www.ewpub.org/

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Spitfire and Messerschmitt

Chapter 27 -- Friday Night Light

In my earlier dream I kept my mouth shut and Shellie never came
to hate me.  If Johnny Ito knew about Chibisama, then at some
point he might mention that he knew someone who knew her.  He
said he wouldn't, but what was that promise worth really?  A
promise to a rich boss's son?  About someone he'd never met?

I flipped the phone shut and decided that it would be better if
she knew.  On the other hand, I wasn't afraid of a little bribery
while I was at it.

I walked into my bedroom and both Emily and Shellie flashed me
smiles.

I shook my head and turned to Shellie.  "Who is C-Ko?"

She frowned.  I'd pronounced it like Johnny had said it, with a
clear American "C."

"It's 'say-ko,' she told me.  "Where did you hear the name?"

"A guy who works with my father."  I stiffened my spine.  "He's
Japanese, I think.  Besides computers he seems to have a lot of
hobbies.  Hot sports cars... and anime."

"There's an anime called Project A-Ko."  At least the "A" sounded
right.  "A-Ko is gifted with superhuman powers; her job is to
protect C-Ko, who is a very young girl, who can't decide if she's
madly in love with A-Ko or B-Ko, who is the villianess of the
piece.  Unless you count the transvestite."

I made a gesture with my hand going over my head.  "That's more
than I needed to know."  I tried smiling.  "How much are those
programs you talked about worth to you?  Maya and 3DS Max?"

"I can't afford them," she told me.

"If someone who's seen Chibisama's art and wanted to offer them
as a gift, freely given... would you take them?  Knowing he'll
know the town Chibisama lives in?"

I saw the emotions chase across her face... a hint of anger, only
replaced by something I would have first described as avarice...
no, hunger would have been better choice, I thought.

"Davey, for one of those, yes.  You understand about Pandora's
Box?"

Now, once again, she was beyond me.  "I know the story, yes."

She giggled.  "I'm reliably told that it takes clever people
three to six months of heavy work to come up to speed on either.
Chibisama is, I think, about to go into hibernation for the
winter!"

Well, I might never see her again, but at least she wasn't mad. 
And might even be happy.  Good enough for me!

"I'm sorry," I tried to explain.  "I was talking about anime, and
fans and how some wanted to be left alone.  He mentioned
Chibisama.  Somehow, I need to learn how to control my face."

Mercedes leaned close to Shellie and whispered to her, Shellie
whispered back.

"We've voted," Mercedes told me.  "No fucking way!  We like you
the way you are!"

"I could win a lot more money at poker..." I said weakly.

Shellie blew me a kiss and shook her head.

Across the room, Emily and Karen had been standing silently,
watching us.  Mercedes turned their way and smiled.

Emily nodded, turned and left.  Karen simply stared back at
Mercedes, then pointed at me.  "I want to talk to Davey,
privately.  This is his bedroom.  Could you give us a minute?"

Mercedes giggled.  "Davey's good, he's really good.  A minute
would be a complete waste!"  She linked hands with Shellie and
the two of them left.

Karen looked at me.  "You've done right by me from the first day
we met."

I remembered that day, remembered Pammie going down on her,
remembered Wanda and I.  Nope, I wasn't going to forget anytime
soon!

"It was never my place to talk."

"Well, I want you to change that.  Talk about me to Chuck.  Okay,
I was curious.  Now, I've been there and done that.  Wanda might
like it a lot, Pammie might like it a little, but it does nothing
for me except make me want to barf.  Tell him anything you like,
just get him to stop calling me.  He could, for instance, call
Pammie, who'd like to hear from him."

Let's see.  I'd gone head to head with Jack.  Terry Toohey and
his cohorts.  Fesselhof.  Now she wanted me to have a
heart-to-heart with Chuck Bradshaw.

"You understand Chuck's a senior and I'm a freshman?  That my
talking to him is as likely to make it worse for both of us, than
make it better for you?"

Karen stepped close, leaned closer and lightly kissed my cheek.

"Most guys I've met," she said, "are assholes.  Some of them are
mean fucking assholes.  You're sweet, you care, you try."

"It's not as hard as you think," I told her.

She laughed.  "Maybe not for you."  She smiled at me.  "Pammie
told on you, you know."

"Told on me?"  What could Pammie tell people about me?

"That she stripped naked and threw herself at you.  That you were
polite, considerate... and firm about saying no.  You just don't
understand, Davey, that guys always say yes.  Always.  Except
you.  Unless they're queer... and you aren't."

"No, I'm not gay."

She smiled.  "I heard a joke, back home.  A young, handsome guy
in New York City is standing on a street corner and he sees a
group of beautiful women, all young and attractive.  He walks up
to them and says, "Hi, I live up in that penthouse over there, on
the top of the most expensive apartment building facing Central
Park.  Who wants to go up there and fuck for the rest of the day
with me?"

I shrugged, not sure of her point.

"You know how many women would say yes?"

"None, I imagine," I told her.  "Not unless he started talking
big bucks."

"None," she agreed.

"Now," she went on, "imagine a women in her fifties, a woman who
has seen a lot of better days, frowzy hair, frowzy clothes,
driving an old VW that's falling apart.  She pulls up to a group
of guys and says, 'Hi!  I'm horny!  Who wants to go over to my
trailer and fuck?"

"Lots of guys would say yes," I told her, getting the point of
the story.

"All of them would... unless one was you."

"I'd think about it," I told her honestly.

The smile Karen gave me said I was making her point, not the
other way round.

"You'll speak to Chuck?"

"Sure.  I'll wait until just before the game tomorrow night and
spring it on him."  Another way of committing suicide.

"Saturday at the party will be okay."

Karen smiled, turned, and walked away.

We spent some time then, books and discussion about school.  It
was close to dinnertime, and Mercedes was expecting her mom any
minute.  Then both Mercedes' mom arrived and my dad seconds
later.  Dad made me a little uneasy when he stood next to the
table we were working at, watching us.  He turned to Mercedes'
mom and grinned.  "Davey has unexpected depths.  If I was in a
room with four girls my mind would be on something other than
books."

She laughed.  "When you're looking at the books, you are as
focused as any person I've seen, Phil."

He chuckled.  "Okay, I deserved that.  I guess that's what the
word of the day is.  Focused.  For instance, there was an
insistence about a new computer.  Yet here he sits, and the
computer is in the other room, still in the box."

"That's the old one.  Shellie knows a lot about PCs," I
interjected.  "We got it set up, transferred my stuff from the
old machine and got the Internet working.  She's pretty good."

Dad looked at Shellie, then handed me a shopping bag.  "I'm not
supposed to know who this goes to," he said that while still
looking at Shellie.  He went on.  "What would be nice, Johnny
says, is that since these are review copies of some programs, if
whoever uses them could write some reviews and get them to me, I
could forward them to Johnny.  That way this whole transaction
would be completely legit.  Not, of course, that I would take
part in something that was even a little bit wonky."

He put the bag down between Shellie and me.

"Thanks," I told him.  "I'll see it gets into the right hands."

"Thanks, Mr. Harper," Shellie said.  "And thank your computer
guy, too."

Dad grinned.  "I heard you were shy and bashful."

"Sometimes people need to think beyond today," Shellie told him.

Dad nodded.  "Couldn't have said it better myself."

There was a general exodus after that, leaving me alone in my
room to contemplate my new computer and Shellie's backup DVD's. 
I reluctantly went out on the web, looking for more on
intelligence tests.  Just before I was called for dinner I
started reading about Turing Tests, which were pretty fascinating
all by themselves.

Of course, getting an octopus to respond to "Is the rain in Spain
falling mainly in the plain?" would be a little exciting.  What
was rain to an octopus?  Spain?  How would you explain the
concept of a plain?  It was enough to make my head ache.

The next morning I swam strongly; it was warmer, almost muggy. 
The air was still.  I finished up, and as I got out, I saw Wanda
sitting at a picnic table.  I couldn't remember if she'd been
there when I'd come out or not.  She waved me over and I sat down
across from her.

"Karen talk to you?" she asked.

"Yeah," I replied.

"Why is it, Davey, that guys like you and Jack, you're satisfied,
pretty much, with what you have?  And then there's guys like
Chuck and someone who's name will never, ever pass my lips again,
aren't?"

"I don't know," I told her.  "I couldn't imagine doing something
a girl didn't want me to -- and even that's not enough.  When
Irene wanted to do it like crazy... that brought me up short.  I
just couldn't."  I shook my head, remembering.  "Yet the other
day you woke me up, and..."

"And you liked it," she told me.

"Sure."  I thought for a few seconds.  "Do you think it might be
as simple as my being content with what's given freely... and
others aren't content unless they take it?"

"I guess.  I'm not sure that's as simple as it sounds.  Chuck
keeps pushing Karen.  I told him to back off, but he just blew me
off."

"Still, Chuck..." my voice trailed off.  I liked Chuck.  I had
trouble imagining someone I liked being unable to take "no" for
answer.

So, I was more thoughtful than usual when I got to school... and
happy to see Mercedes once again.  "Turing Tests," I said as I
sat down next to her.

"Touring what?  Hawaii?" she laughed at her own wit.

"No, it's a classic bit of computer science," I told her. 
"People have been practicing writing programs that can conduct a
conversation with someone on the other end.  The Test part is you
have to decide if you are talking to a person or the computer."

"How is this going to apply to seeing how smart octopi are?"

"Concept," I told her.  "How do we know what we're really
testing?  Just more to think about in framing an experiment."

Mercedes nodded.  "I've got a few ideas.  I've been making notes
and stuff.  Maybe tonight, after school, we can compare notes."

Me?  Notes?  "I've been keeping everything in my head," I said
weakly.

Emily spoke up.  "What about the game tonight?  It's away."

I wanted to hit my head against the wall.  In the past it had
been Dad gathering everyone up after school in his car and off
we'd go.  We could fit Emily in the car easily enough, but what
about Mercedes and Shellie?

Mercedes shrugged.  "I was thinking of staying home."  She
glanced at me, hinting it might be really fun to stay home.

"I want to watch the game," Emily said stoutly.  "Rob's been to
practice every day the last two weeks.  He might get some playing
time tonight."

"We should think about going," I told Mercedes.  "I know my
parents will be expecting me to go."  And Wanda would be
expecting me, too, I was sure.

"Don't forget we have an away baseball game tomorrow as well,"
Mercedes reminded me.  "And you have a pool party in the
afternoon."

I smiled, contemplating what a crowded calendar I had for
Saturday.

Second period I winced when I saw Shellie.  It looked like she
hadn't had any sleep at all.  Her smile was pale and drawn, and I
wanted to kick myself for having had anything to do with getting
her to look like that.

Still, on the way to algebra she smiled and shook her head.  "No,
it's okay.  I've never felt better."

"You don't look that way," Mercedes told her.

She smiled at Mercedes, too.  "You don't know, you just don't
know!"

When we all assembled for lunch, Shellie was sitting between
Mercedes and me.  I felt her hand underneath the table on my leg
for just an instant, a quick squeeze.  Her voice was barely
audible over the noise in the cafeteria.  "If I could kiss you
the way I feel right now, Davey, you'd squirt!"

I almost fell off my seat and Mercedes giggled.  Shellie went on,
"Now I'm going to take a nap.  Wake me when lunch is over!"  With
that, she pillowed her head in her arms on the table and was
asleep a fraction of a second later.

I decided that I wasn't likely to wake Shellie up, so I called
Dad on my cell phone.  "Are we going to the game tonight?" I
asked.

There was a hesitation on the other end, then Dad said, "Well,
Linda was saying she was going to take the girls... Wanda, Emily,
Pammie and Karen.  Kind of a girl's night out.  I wasn't sure if
you wanted to go or not."  He paused again, then said, "Maybe you
and your friends would like to come over to the house and have
some pizza or Chinese... get a movie or something to watch. 
There's always things I could do here."

I contemplated what I really wanted to do tonight.  "Just a
second," I told him.

I looked across the table at Emily.  "Dad was saying Mom was
going to take you, Wanda, Pammie and Karen to the game this
afternoon."

"That's what she said.  It'll be fun!"

Karen's expression was curious.  "Oh, we'll have a lot of fun!"

I turned to Mercedes.  "Dad says if I want, you and I and Shellie
could go over to my house, get something to eat and watch a movie
or something."

"Or something sounds like fun.  Sure."

I told Dad that we'd be at the house, after school.  Then I
folded the cell phone and slid it back in my pocket.

Emily and Rob were going wandering again, camera once more in
hand.  I thought about asking what they were taking pictures of,
but decided to leave it for another time.   Lately Karen had been
going with them, but today she stayed at the table and the three
of us worked on home work.

When the bell was just about to ring, Mercedes shook Shellie. 
She opened her eyes and smiled at Mercedes, then me.  It was a
smile that could have melted a slab of granite.  "While you were
asleep, I talked to my dad.  He said I could stay home this
evening and not go to the game.  We could go over to my place," I
told her.

Shellie giggled.  "I had a really nice dream."  She dropped her
voice so that only Mercedes and I could hear her.  "I made you
both squirt!"

Mercedes patted her arm.  "A girl after my own heart!  And all we
did was homework!  I'm going to have to try a nap at school
myself!"

We separated, Mercedes going to her class, Shellie and I headed
for geography.  "I've been thinking," she told me, as we walked.

"That's always good."

She punched my arm.  "You were right about Colonel Terrell, it's
time to move on.  I apologized to him before school today, and
I'm going to do it again after school.  Will you and Mercedes
wait for me?"

I'd forgotten all about her having to go in after school. 
"Shellie, Mercedes and I will always be there for you."

"That's good," she said, "because I thought we were going to go
to the game tonight.  I was expecting to ride with you and that's
what I told my parents.  I might be able to convince them that
I'm studying most nights after school, but not Fridays!"

"So, we just won't update them on the schedule change," I told
Shellie.  As far as I was concerned, lying to Shellie's parents
came under the heading of "social work."

And sure enough, right off the top, the Colonel called on Shellie
and she was polite and called him "sir" and confined herself to
the answers.

Then it was PE, and while I wanted to talk to Chuck, it didn't
work out until at the end of the period.

"Chuck!" I called and he grinned and came over.

I hadn't really thought about what I was going to say, so I
decided not to beat around the bush.  If I was going to get
pounded to a pulp, better to get an early start.  "Karen Grissom
is my friend," I told him.  "I met her right after she got
banished here, she's in the study group we've got for the honors
classes."

"All girls, right?"  He laughed.  "Good for you, Davey!"

"Yeah.  She says you keep calling her and she's asked you not to.
 She asked me to have a word with you."

"She's cute, she's sexy... and she came on to me."

"Well, it didn't work out.  Please Chuck, I know we're not bosom
buddies, but could you just leave her alone now?"

He didn't have an expression on his face; I wished I could do as
well, because I didn't have a clue what he was thinking.

"You're a straight-up guy, Davey.  You just up and say what you
want.  You're not afraid of me, of Coach, not anyone.  I heard
about those guys you took down that day in the cafeteria.  I
heard about Fesselhof getting busted.  Jack has some good words
to say about you.  And here you stand, in my face, telling me to
stay away from a girl."

"She's my friend," I told him.  "Once you asked me and I told you
about Pammie.  It's something a friend would do.  And now, as a
friend, I'm telling you that you're bothering Karen."

He nodded.  "Okay, you tell her from me, that it's confusing when
someone comes on to you one day, then tells you to get lost the
next."

"Think of it," I told him, "as a test drive that didn't go
well."

He raised an eyebrow.  "You know what she did?"

"I can guess.  Yeah, pretty much."

"And she told you about that?"

I nodded.  He probably didn't want to know who else had told me
about it, though.

"And I thought guys were supposed to be bad about kiss and
tell."

"Chuck," I told him honestly, "if you'd stopped calling when she
asked you, I wouldn't have heard about it."

"But she told you about it?"

"We're friends.  She wanted me to know that it wasn't... all your
fault.  She understands and is sorry for causing the
misunderstanding."

"We're late for class, Davey."

I was indeed late for Spanish.  When I walked into the room, Mrs.
Campo asked me for my homework sheet, and I handed it to her. 
She glanced at it and then told me to recite the conversation for
the day, playing the part of Maria.  I spoke the part that
started the conversation, and then she told me I was Carlos as
well.  So I stood there and had a conversation with myself, as
those were the only two speakers.

She waved me to my seat.  "You will not be late again, no?"

"No," I agreed.

I sat there and listened as she went on with the lesson.  It
wasn't until ten minutes or so later that I realized that she had
spoken to me in Spanish and I'd understood easily what she was
saying.  And while my most of my responses had been, "Si, senora"
and "No, senora" I hadn't thought about replying in English.

I left Spanish at the end of the day feeling pretty good.

I met Mercedes and reminded her that Shellie had the business
after school, so we went to the office.  Shellie was already
there with her parents.  Mercedes and I sat a ways away, talking
to each other.  I didn't have trouble finding a subject to talk
about.  I explained what had happened in Spanish.

Mercedes promptly rattled off a couple of sentences that I had no
idea what they meant.  She thought that was funny.  "You have
what, a hundred words?" she asked.  I nodded.  "That's the
vocabulary of a three-year-old, Davey.  About the same knowledge
of grammar.  At the end of this year, you will be about as
literate as any five year old."

I was crestfallen, but she shook her head.  "It goes faster,
after that, I think.  But still, to learn another language...
it's not easy."

Shellie and her parents came out of the counselor's office, so
did Colonel Terrell.  He shook hands with Shellie's parents,
nodded at Shellie, then left.  Shellie said a few words to her
parents, and they left too.  She came over to us and we stood
up.

"Free, free at last!" Shellie said.  "On to the weekend!"

We walked home together, talking about my three-year-old Spanish
proficiency that I'd acquired after just a couple of weeks. 
Shellie agreed with Mercedes, but was happy to hear I thought I
was doing well.

We put our books down and went straight to my room.  I pushed the
door shut, and even before I turned around, Mercedes and Shellie
were kissing.  In the next two minutes, they undressed each other
while I watched; trading caresses as well as kisses.  Then
Shellie came to me, lifted her lips for a kiss and kiss we did. 
Mercedes came up behind me while Shellie and I were trading deep
kisses and undressed me by reaching around from behind me.

When I was undressed, the three of us formed a triangle, arms
around each other's waists.  Mercedes looked at Shellie, then me.
 "I swear I'm like a little kid in a candy store -- not sure who
I want to eat first."

Shellie nodded.  "Sometimes," she said, her voice soft, "I wish
there were four of us, so no one would have to be alone, even for
a minute."

"Four would be really, really complicated," I said, thinking
about it for a second.

Mercedes though, she smiled and landed a little butterfly kiss on
Shellie's nose.  "You have someone in mind, sweetheart?"

Shellie shook her head.  "I don't either," Mercedes told us.  
"How about you, Davey?"

"A second ago you were saying something about how this made you
feel like a kid in a candy store.  I love you both; I don't know
about candy stores, but this is my idea of heaven!"

Mercedes kissed me, and then she kissed Shellie.  When she pulled
back from Shellie, she nodded at me.  "Okay, you said you felt
like kissing Davey hard enough to make him come.  Let's see if
it's true!"

Shellie reached down and wrapped her hand around my erection and
leaned close to kiss.  I kissed her hard, corkscrewing my tongue
around hers.

Shellie melted into my arms, molding her body as closely to mine
as she could.  She started to rub my hardon against the soft down
of her pussy hair, and almost at once, I could feel moisture,
whether hers or mine, I couldn't say.  She lubricated my cock
that way, getting me ready to enter her, I thought.

I was starting to feel my eruption coming; I desperately wanted
to hold off and not come too early, but it was like Shellie knew
every button to push, every point where pressure should be
applied and just how much.

I still might have held out for a little longer, but I felt
Mercedes move up behind me, nude now herself.  She used her
breasts as dainty fingers tracing lines across my back.  It felt
like I was turning inside out, emptying a big part of my body
weight in sperm against Shellie's abdomen.

I felt my knees start to wobble, and I hastily sat down on my bed
before I fell down.  Mercedes stood looking at Shellie, the smile
on her face was Mercedes at her wickedest.  She pushed Shellie
back against the bed, having her sit down next to me.

I could see dabs of white jism that had spattered across
Shellie's belly.  I was fascinated by the color difference
between what I'd shot against her, and her skin... and Mercedes
was darker-skinned by far than Shellie.  What would Mercedes look
like, spattered with semen?  It was a truly erotic thought.

Mercedes however, had her own ideas of erotic.  I knew she was
kneeling between Shellie's legs, licking her pussy.  When I saw
Mercedes' tongue follow a short trail of sperm, I blinked.  She
was cleaning Shellie up!  I looked at Shellie, leaning back now
on her arms, her face a huge smile; shy, happy Shellie writ very
large.  And when the last trace of semen was gone, Mercedes
redoubled her attention, her tongue licking and flickering over
Shellie's pussy.  I'd softened a bit, after I'd come, but that
had changed almost the instant I knew what Mercedes was doing.

Up to now, we'd all three only touched each other together in the
very earliest preliminaries.  I leaned down and ran my tongue
over one of Shellie's wonderful breasts, circling her nipple.

She groaned with pleasure and then started to shiver.  I lightly
nipped her nipple with just my lips, as I brought my hand to her
other breast.  Shellie's next groan was significantly louder, and
I could feel a deep thrum inside her as her whole body was
vibrating.

I reached out and ran my fingers down one of her braids, feeling
the bumps and curves as I let it slip across my skin.  For an
instant I was back yesterday to my odd daydream, remembering that
when I hurt her, that undoing the braids had been the most
terrible statement of how she felt about what I'd done.  She
turned her cheek so that she brushed against the back of my
hand.

I looked at her and saw a beautiful woman, full and ripe, grown
and mature.  Once again things happened inside me I can't
describe.  How could I come to care about someone so much?  I'd
made love to Wanda more times than Shellie.  I liked my sister,
and I doubted if I'd ever say no to her if she was feeling horny
-- but the feelings I had for Shellie were a thousand times what
I felt for Wanda.

"Ahhhhhh!" Shellie said, falling back bonelessly on the bed. 
"Ummmm!"

I glanced down.  Shellie might have moved in relation to me, but
Mercedes was still between her legs, her tongue moving in
conjunction with Mercedes' fingers.

Mercedes looked up at me.  "Take me from behind."

Her bottom lifted up as she continued kissing Shellie's pussy.  I
found I had to be on my knees, but I could see Mercede's pussy
lips and that was target enough, not to mention sexy enough.

I slid inside Mercedes easily, smiling as I did.  Was this what
Shellie meant she was going to make Mercedes squirt from a kiss?
I began to take strong, slow, deliberate strokes, going as deeply
as I could, taking my time.

Her bottom started to corkscrew, and I could feel her vaginal
muscles pulsing against me.  I groaned in pleasure myself, and I
kept up my slow pace steady, though it was nearly driving me
crazy.  I just wanted to start jack-hammering into her, seeking
my release.

Shellie moaned, her head rolling back and forth.  That helped me
focus, to continue my steady pace.  Mercedes' motions started to
grow more frantic, much faster.  "Oh Davey!" she breathed, her
voice tight with desire.  "Harder! Faster!"

I couldn't resist it; I gave into my impulse.  I leaned close, my
hands going around to cup her breasts; my mouth was next to her
ear.  "Patience, my sweet!"

"Fuck patience!"  She was, I could see, getting really worked
up.

I had to let go, there was no way to press against her like I
wanted and still hold her breasts, my weight so far forward.  I
moved back and resumed my pace.  She was really getting worked
up, bucking and twisting, pressing back against me.

I kept that up for another couple minutes, and again leaned
close, my fingers rubbing her back, ending up rubbing her
breasts, harder than I usually did.  "Like this?" I whispered in
her ear.

"Daveyyyy!" her voice was a desperate wail, the last syllable of
my name drawn out.

"I guess so," I said as I resumed.  Bluff, I thought, I really
couldn't contain myself any more.  Hearing her like that also
touched deep inside me.

I thrust harder and faster.  Her ass cheeks clinched around me. 
I groaned and came again, buried as deep inside her pussy as I
could stretch my hungry erection.

For maybe a minute, the only sound in my room was our mutual
panting for breath.  Mercedes finally stirred, giving my cock
another squeeze.  "You were mean," she said, looking back at me.

I smiled at her and she giggled.  She pulled forward, moving now,
and I slid out.  She moved a few more feet and settled in next to
Shellie, spooning in behind her, her hands unerringly seeking out
Shellie's breasts.  I moved to come in behind Mercedes, my arm
lying across hers and touching Shellie's.

"That was nice," Shellie said softly.  "Really nice."

"It was," I agreed, my cock partly erect already, nestled in
Mercedes' ass-crack.

Mercedes moved and kissed Shellie's ear.  "You and I, Shellie, we
need to exercise or something.  Davey's ready to go again!"

I wasn't, not really, but it did tickle my ego.

We lay together for about twenty minutes, just sharing contact
with each other, with nothing between us.

Mercedes: pragmatic, bossy Mercedes, who, it seemed didn't like
to be teased, finally spoke.  "The only problem I see right now,
is that to go take a shower we have to parade nude through your
family room."

"Nobody's home," I told her.

"One of these days you'll be wrong," she said.

"Dearest Mercedes," Shellie said, turning on her back, and
leaning up to give Mercedes a quick kiss.  "Everyone on the block
can hear us and tell what we're doing.  We are, my darling, very
noisy."

"I love it when you talk dirty," Mercedes told her and we all
started laughing.

We did get up and we did parade nude into the bathroom and there
was, indeed, no one home.  Twenty minutes later, we trooped back;
wet, mildly hornier than we'd been when we started the shower. 
There had been a lot of mutual scrubbing, and as Mercedes so
quaintly put it: rub-a-dub-dubbing.

I know it probably sounds bizarre, but we got dressed and
Mercedes sat down at the computer and pulled her notebook out of
her backpack.  She started Word, created a document and started
transferring notes to the computer, talking as she typed.

I made a few comments as she went, and then she looked at me.  I
went over a few of the points I'd noticed, working from memory. 
I talked steadily, and she typed as I talked.  Then we started
going over things, this idea and that, with Shellie chiming in
occasionally with a comment of her own.

We were still at it after an hour and a half when Dad appeared in
my doorway.  "You left your door open, Davey."

"We're surfing the net, Dad."

He glanced over at the tousled bed and back to me.  "I can see
what you're doing.  Davey, could I talk to you for a moment,
outside?"

Mercedes came right back, "Are you sleeping with my mother, Mr.
Harper?"

He looked at her without expression while I sucked air.  Shellie
turned bright red.

Dad finally laughed.  "No.  And to make it clear: I'm not Bill
Clinton and I'm not playing games with words.  I've never slept
with your mother, been in bed with your mother, had sex with your
mother, oral or otherwise."  He paused and laughed harder.  "Not
to say I haven't considered what it would be like a time or
two."

"Why do you want to talk to Davey in private?"

"Because I have something I want to say to him that I feel should
be his choice whether or not he should share it with you and
Shellie."

There was a definite, "come hither" look in my father's eyes and
I got up and followed him.  He went through the family room and
into the living room, Mom's most sacrosanct holy of holies.

He looked me in the eye.  "Fesselhof was released earlier in the
week."

"You said that," I told him.

"It is still the belief of everyone that it was Fesselhof who
fired the shots into the family room."

I could only shrug.  I believed it myself.

"There were terms and conditions to Fesselhof's release.  He
wasn't to come near you or your friends.  He wasn't to come near
this house."

Another shrug from me.

He shook his head.  "The FBI is following him.  About two hours
ago, he drove past the house."

Such a simple thing!  He drove past the house!  I worked my neck,
trying to keep myself from exploding.  It wasn't an easy thing.

"He was stopped a short while later and warned again.  He told
them he was 'just driving' and was unaware of where he was.  He's
currently in a holding cell at the police station, waiting for
his father to come and get him."

"So, even though he broke the rules, he goes free once again?"

"Pretty much."

I waved at the phone.  "You should call Chief Ortega.  Willy Coy.
 If I see Fesselhof and I think he's a possible threat to me or
my friends, what I did to Terry Toohey will seem like a group
hug."

Dad laughed.  "And I told Vic that if I see Fesselhof, I'm going
to shoot him dead on sight.  I don't care what his excuse is. 
I've been cautioned, but I don't care.  Like you, my family, and
my family's friends are important to me."

"But you didn't want to tell it to me in front of Mercedes and
Shellie?"

"Davey, things keep happening to you.  I honestly don't think any
of it is your fault, but things keep happening.  At some point,
someone is going to voice concern for bystanders in your
vicinity, particularly if things keep happening.  I might not be
sleeping with Mercedes' mother, but we certainly engage in verbal
intercourse: Ruy doesn't like what's happening with you and
Mercedes.  He's worried about his daughter's safety.  As any good
parent should be worried about their child.  Shellie's parents, I
have it on good authority, are simple folk, who, if they don't
hear something at church, pretty much ignore it.  But if they get
excited, if Ruy gets excited, they might forbid their daughters
from being around you."

My heart did a flip-flop.  "It's not my fault!"

"I know, I said I know.  Cars whiz past you.  Guys come up to you
at lunch, wearing coats in the summer.  Someone shoots up the
family room.  Put yourself in your friend's parents place: would
you want your kid around a trouble magnet?"

"What am I supposed to do?"

"You're only thirteen, Davey.  Fourteen in a few days and you're
growing up fast.  You've started making adult decisions.  Make
another.  Tell your friends about Fesselhof or not.  Maybe it
might make it worse; maybe it will make it better.  I don't know
your friends that well, I can't make the decision for you.  I am
leaving it to your judgment."

After a bit, I went back to my room and sat down heavily on my
bed.  Mercedes looked at me, without much expression on her face.
 Shellie just sat quietly on a folding chair I'd fetched for her
earlier.

I lifted my head and looked at Mercedes.  "Did you know your
father is uncomfortable with you being around me?  Because I'm a
trouble magnet?"

Mercedes made the universal "fuck it" sign.  "Yeah.  Fuck him. 
I'm a big girl and I can decide for myself who my friends are."

I looked at Shellie and she giggled.  "I don't tell my parents
the truth about the time of day.  What's one more lie?  They
aren't interested in anything outside of church or home."

"Fesselhof drove past the house while we were together a little
while ago.  The police are following him."

"Would they stop him if he got out of the car, carrying a gun?" 
Mercedes asked.  It was, I thought a sensible question.

"I'm sure."  Then it hit me; what Dad had really been saying. 
The police were following Fesselhof.  Odds were, Fesselhof knew
beforehand, but if they stopped him after he went by our house,
now he would know for sure they were following him.  Next time,
he'd do something so that he'd come alone.

"Fissionhof," Mercedes said deliberately, "is an insignificant
pimple on the universe's asshole.  Fuck him!"

"You put that so eloquently!" I told her, laughing.  Even Shellie
smiled.

Shellie looked at me, then at Mercedes.  "We've spent a long time
on octopi."

"We have," Mercedes said.  "You want to change the subject?"

Shellie nodded.

"What would you like to do?" I asked Shellie.

"The other day, we were reading parts.  Hearing the words spoken
aloud... it gave me some new ideas.  Could we do it again, with
the new stuff I wrote?"

"Sure," I said, and Mercedes echoed me.

Shellie moved and sat down at the computer, pulled up hotmail,
and then started something printing.

"It's five pages," she said, sounding apologetic.  "That's all
I've had time to work on."

"Five, fifty, a thousand," I told her.  "Shellie, we love you. 
Not a problem."

"Not a problem!" Mercedes repeated with emphasis.

For an hour we spoke what Shellie had written.  In that time, at
long last, I paid attention to more than just the words. 
Chibisama was a ronin, a samurai whose master had been killed
while she was away on an errand.  She lived to avenge him, but as
ronin, she had no status.  As a woman, she had no status.

I didn't really understand all the social interaction, but the
general story outline was clear.  Mercedes and I each had several
parts to read; it was pretty ragged, but we got better and
better.  And Shellie was working on the dialog, making it better.
 When Mercedes would make a suggestion, you could watch the
wheels go round in Shellie's head, and she'd agree or disagree. 
Very quickly Mercedes and I learned that when Shellie wasn't
sure, she was open to suggestions and when she was sure, it was
like trying to muscle a dead tank out of the way if you argued
with her.

I haven't said anything about those words.  I should.  It's not
like they were regular poetry: no iambic pentameter or anything
like that.  But there was alliteration and allusion, irony and
puns.  Word plays... all sorts of things that made it fun to
read.  The characters seemed alive and interesting.  Even with us
just reading the parts, it sounded good.

Dad popped into the family room in the middle of a reading.  He
waited until we finished, then nodded to the two girls. 
"Mercedes, I promised your mother I would get you home shortly
after ten.  Shellie, what time do you need to be back?"

"That would be fine, the same time as Mercedes."

Dad smiled slightly and held up his cell phone.  "This is the
first game I've missed in six years.  It was harder to do than I
thought.  Probably going to be another six years before it
happens again.  The numbers are 42 to 17.  Three TD's by Chuck,
two by Jack, one by Rob and one by Percy Reston of special teams
who returned a punt all the way."

Shellie held his eyes for a second and then nodded.  It was
pretty clear Dad knew she'd lied about where she was.  "Call it
ten minutes, then," he told us, turned and left.

We hugged, kissed, and then the girls gathered things and
eventually we drove into the night.  We dropped Shellie off
first, and I told her I'd see her tomorrow afternoon. Then we let
Mercedes out, and we just brushed fingertips, knowing we'd see
each other very soon.

On the way back, neither Dad nor I talked until we got home.  We
walked into the house, and Dad put his hand on my shoulder.  "Get
something to drink, come out to the pool."

I shrugged, got a coke, and watched him pop the top on a beer.  A
few seconds later we were outside again, the night still a little
warm.

"Harper men," he said.

"Okay," I said, not sure what this was about.

"Me?  I met your mother in school; it was love at first sight. 
Yeah, I'd screwed a few girls before her, but it was just sex. 
When I met her, I knew she was the woman I wanted to marry.

"My father took one look at my mother, got down on his knees and
proposed.  She thought he was kidding, because they were standing
in line at the Ferris wheel at the state fair and she'd never
seen him before.  My grandfathers, both sides, met someone they
loved and proposed to on very short acquaintance."

"Okay," I said, still unsure where he was going.

"My father winked and nodded when I told him your mother was
special.  Facilitated is the term they use these days.  He even
paid for our first night together in a hotel room.  God, it was
good to do it in a bed for a change!"

I swallowed.  I'd never done it anyplace else, not really, unless
you counted the times standing up.

"I will, within reason, back you up with their parents.  If you
tell me you are coming here to study, that's what I'll faithfully
report, even if the house smells like a cathouse afterwards.  I
will not do more than that.  If you have to have someone back at
such and such a time, and you don't make it, I'm not going to
bail you out, unless it's truly my fault.

"This is all contingent on what I think of as 'benign
relationships': where the parties aren't out to hurt each other
or run away or shirk their responsibilities.  Don't do it."

"Yes, sir."

He chuckled.  "You sound happy.  Davey, I've had a hell of time
in my life trying to keep your mother happy.  Candidly, sexually,
that hasn't always worked.  Her tastes are larger and more
catholic than mine.

"I can't imagine how one guy can keep two women happy, when I
can't keep one content.  Even so, I admire you for giving it a
shot.  I never thought of it, I'm glad I didn't, but hey... go
for it."

I tried to think, but my brain was running off in a million
directions of once.  "Thanks," I told him, "I appreciate you
being honest with me."

"Being honest, Davey, means I'm trying to tell you I don't think
you, or anyone else, is man enough to keep two women happy."

I laughed, and he looked at me, obviously curious.

"Think outside the box," I said, quoting one of his favorite
statements.  "You think it's I go and make Woman A happy, then I
go and make Woman B happy and that I'll never be able to make
them both as happy as can be."

He nodded.

"You forgot what Woman A and Woman B are going to do to keep each
other happy."

I'll tell you, there is nothing better for the ego than seeing it
written in clear letters on your father's face that you have
found a clue to the universe that eluded him up until then.

He started laughing, and I just watched, curious what was next. 
Finally he stood up.  "Poker tomorrow, same time, same place."

"Who is coming?"

"The usual crew, sans the sheriff and the judge.  I found a
couple of volunteers."

"Who?"

He grinned.  "Woman A and Woman B, eh?  I'm in awe, Davey, simple
awe.  You'll see tomorrow.  Patience."

There was a crunch of gravel outside as Mom's car pulled up
outside on the driveway.

We went out to meet them, talking and having a good time.  Pammie
and Karen, it seemed, were going to stay over.  I was politely
asked if Karen and Pammie could use my bed.  In a way, I felt
almost as good about that as Dad's comments earlier.

Later, the lights out, I bunched up my pillow on the couch,
pulled the sheet closer around me and contemplated my great good
fortune.  Once upon a time, if I'd been kicked out of my bed so
that two girls could sleep in it, I'd have been pissed.  Now, I
just mentally blew them a kiss and wished them well.

I had, I thought, extraordinary parents, and it was time I
realized that and paid both of them homage for what they had done
and were doing for their kids.  Pammie and Karen had headed for
my room with considerable haste.  When last seen, Wanda had been
sitting with her arm around Emily, snuggling and kissing.  Dad
had been eying Mom with a degree of eagerness I'd never seen
before... probably because previously I'd have looked away so
that I wouldn't actually "see" them.

I lay on the couch alone, but not alone.  I had the memories of
Mercedes' breasts dragging across my back, Shellie smiling at me,
rubbing my erection against her pussy.  Listening to Mercedes beg
and plead, ending with a squeal of pleasure that was anything but
what Mercedes was normally like.

What a great and glorious thing life was!

<1st attachment end>


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