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From: Incest Man <familyincest@graffiti.net>
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Subject: "Veronica" Chapter 10
Date: Tue, 14 Feb 2006 11:07:01 -0800
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http://www.incesttabooo.com/veronica.html
Veronica
CHAPTER 10
By the time he arrived, I was in a state. I'd dome everything I could
to prepare -- tanned like crazy, read up all I could about his damn
ol' Mets, even bought a sexy peignoir -- and laid in plans for It. I
was determined to seduce my step-brother.
The night before he was arrive at Toledo Express Airport (which he
always referred to as "Toledo International Spaceport," just to rub it
in) I showered and stood bare-butt naked in from of the mirror on the
back of the door to the room I shared with Jeanne. I looked myself
over.
All of a sudden, in the past three weeks, I'd started developing again
-- wildly. My bust was up to a 29C, and my waist was still a little
bitty 19, and my hips were barely 26 inches. I was as tan as I could
be, and my hair, which hadn't been more than trimmed in six months,
reached straight and sleek halfway down my back. When I looked at
myself in the mirror, I knew I was damn sexy, and I knew that if I
couldn't get to him now, I never would.
I also knew I had to be Cool -- not too pushy, very much in control. I
had it all planned out, oh, yes, I did.
I went with Dad and Mom to the airport to meet him. He hugged me the
way he hugged everyone else, and I made damn sure that the sleeveless
top I wore was the only thing I wore on top, so he could feel my boobs
press into him. I sat next to him in the station wagon as Dad drove us
all back from the airport, and I made sure I was scrunched over so my
thigh (bare beneath the cutoffs jeans) was against his. And I could
not remember a thing about staying cool. Because he was an absolute
fox.
... The cure for bad speech is better speech and more of it.
He was a little under six feet tall and had this light brown hair,
except for a -- can you believe it? -- red forelock and had these
really light hazel eyes and a cute face and what a damn built he had
on him! He'd picked up his suitcases from the conveyor belt as if
they'd been empty; when Jeanne and I tried to help, we nearly got
ruptured. Even Dad couldn't lift one of them that easily!
All the way back from the airport we made small talk, and he was
always completely in control. When we passed Route 23 and I leaned
over (supposedly) to point to the new bowling alleys (and not
incidentally press my boobs into his arm) he just gave me a quick
glance and a funny little half-smile, and I wanted to cross my legs
'cause I was getting so wet down there.
By the time we'd reached the house, Mom had already told him I was
having some friends over for a slumber party (heh) and since Dad was
on midnight shifts and she tired out early, he agreed to watch over us
kids (double-heh) that night.
All was in readiness.
I brushed my teeth twice and showered and then gargled and showered
again and generally made myself as clean as possible. Then I doused
myself with Windsong and paraded around the house after dinner in my
swimsuit bottoms and a tee-shirt and nothing else and told him I hoped
he didn't mind watching us, et cetera, and found every excuse I could
to lean against him.
At seven, my friends started arriving, and at eight he had finished
calling all the aunts, uncles and cousins he had to touch base with.
At nine, my brothers were sent to bed, and Jeanne, pleading weariness,
sacked it. Alexis was out on a date, and Mom was fading fast. At 10,
Dad was dressed and ready to leave for work (he always got to work
early; Dad was a Depression baby and believed in showing up very
early), and Mom was fighting to stay awake.
At ten-thirty, it was four of my friends and me and my phantom step-
brother, who was sitting at the dining room table, reading a paperback
and scarfing down peanut butter sandwiches.
At 11, I sprung my trap. I pulled a chair away from the table and sat
facing him.
"Yes?" he asked, looking up from his PB&Js and his book.
"Antisocial?"
He grinned and closed the book. "Meaning?"
"Come in and talk to us. Lisa's here, y'know."
"Lisa's still five years younger than me," he said, not inaccurately.
"And she'd probably prefer not to be reminded of the potato chips."
I laughed at that. He hadn't forgotten any more than I -- or Lisa --
had forgotten. "We'd like you tell us about what it's like being in
New York."
He put that stare of his on me. Held it for about a ten-count. Then
smiled oddly and shook his head. "Somehow, I don't imagine a bunch of
13-year-old kids really being that interested in life in Brooklyn."
"Oh, come in and talk to us." I squirmed in mock-coquettishness,
"There's a bunch of nubile young women waiting for the pleasure of
your company."
I thought he'd choke, holding back the laughter. Finally: "'Nubile'?"
He rose and stood beside my chair. He was wearing faded old jeans and
a Mets tee-shirt and I was fully prepared to unzip and gulp him right
then and there. "Lead on," he said, fighting a grin.
I stood, letting myself get closer than I had to, and drew him by the
hand into the family room.
"Look what I found," I announced.
"This calls for a beer," said Dana Connally. And produced same from
her huge overnight bag. Debbie didn't have much in the way of a
figure, but what she had, she knew how to use. She was wearing a
flannel shorty nightgown, and it somehow was sexier on her than my
filmy little peignoir could ever be. I grabbed one of her beers and
gulped it. Dan merely watched as I let myself fall into the old
recliner. He was sitting on the old couch, no more than two feet away.
Lisa was next to him and Dana was on the other side of Lisa from her.
The other two, Angela and Barb, were on the floor, far, far away and
dubious -- and fading fast.
The beer hit me fast and hard. I said things I shouldn't have said,
even mentioned the potato chips. Dan reached past Dana to put his arm
around Lisa and said he would have kept them to that very day if they
hadn't gone stale and soft with age. Lisa blushed and scurried away.
Debbie squirmed in closer to him and grabbed his hand and held it.
I was still in the armchair. I asked him if he had a girlfriend and
tried to steer things in that direction. Occasionally, I made some
snide remarks to Debbie -- about where she was putting her hand, about
how short her nightie was -- and generally got stupid. My plan was
dissolving.
Somehow, the subject turned to comparing Ohio girls with New York
girls. He said New York girls were more sophisticated in some ways,
but Ohio girls were a little more direct -- and he liked that.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, in New York, girls play games, act like they don't want the
same things the guys want -- like what they've got is some kind of
prize, y'know? Here, the girls don't mind letting it be known what
they like and what they don't want. I like the honesty."
"You mean girls here are easier."
"Not 'bad' easier, but...less hung up. Yeah, easier, if honest means
easy." He paused and grinned. "And healthier."
"Waddya mean?"
"Girls out here seem to grow up physically a lot sooner and more
emphatically."
He winked at me.
"You mean, like bigger tits sooner?" Dana asked.
"You betcha."
"Like Marie's?" she asked.
"Yeah. Too bad she's just a kid."
I took offense at that and opened the robe of my peignoir. I wasn't
wearing a bra beneath the chemise and it was all lacy and a little too
tight on my tits. "Who's a kid?" I demanded.
"Marie, you're all growed out real good," he said. "But you're my
sister, and you're still too young."
Blame it on the beer. I ran my hands up and cupped my tits. "'If
they're big enough, they're old enough.' Isn't that what they say? And
aren't these big enough?"
He pulled his gaze from my breasts to my eyes. "Don't fuck with my
head," he said quietly. "You know I like you, you know I think you're
sexy and you know you're my sister."
"And you know were not related by blood, so don't give me that...or
are you just mouthing off about me being attractive?"
"Sure, and the first time I touch you, you'll go screaming."
"No, I won't. Go on -- do it."
And there, in that dimly lit room, he leaned forward and put his hand
on my bare shoulder. He slid it down and just barely pressed my
breasts through the bodice of the chemise. I damn near came right then
and there. When his palm was over my right nipple, I said, "I'm not
screaming."
His fingers closed on my nipple through the satin and he pulled it a
bit. And said: "Are you trying to prove something to me, to you -- or
to your friends?"
For a few minutes, it had just been him and me, but now I remembered
the others sitting around, and I thought of the stories they would
tell...
He took his hand away. "I think it's time to call it a night. Enjoy
your party, girls." He got up and went into the living room, where his
pullout was.
There were more, beers and then we all sort of crashed, there on the
floor, on the couch and on cushions and Angie just sprawled on some
blankets and slept. The beer took its toll on me, and I was out pretty
fast.
It took another toll, too. Around dawn I got up to pee, and that was
when I heard the noises in the living room. I crept silently to the
corner, at the place where the stairs went up, and that was when I saw
Dana betray me.
Dan was sitting on the living room couch, perched on the edge of the
cushion, and Dana was straddling him. They were kissing hot and wet
and with a lot of tongue. I watched him slide his hands up under her
nightgown, and then he was lifting it. She didn't have much in the way
of tits, but what she had got plenty of attention. Dan licked and
kissed and sucked those hard little mounds while she, all long and
lean and lanky and sinuous, held his face against them.
He moved one hand down to rub around her cunt. She didn't have much
hair down there, but she had what he was looking -- and vice versa. I
could hear his finger squish into her, and her breathing got faster.
I also heard his soft sigh when he pulled his dick out through the
opening in his briefs and settled her onto it. Dana was taller than me
by a good seven or eight inches, but her hips and butt were almost as
small as mine, and she had to work her way down onto him. I only got a
glimpse, but his cock was about average length and a little thicker
than most and hard as a bar of iron. It was a tight fit, and all the
time she was settling onto it, he kept licking and sucking her
nipples.
I could have killed her. I was the one who wanted him! Besides -- he
was MY brother!
He put his hands on her skinny hips and guided her as she worked up
and down, back and forth. She was long-legged, Dana was, and had her
feet on the floor on either side of his legs. She did the work, but I
could hear both of them breathing harder, and I could hear her cunt
suck and squish on him as she moved up and down.
He settled against the back of the couch, his butt still perched at
the edge of the cushion, and moved his hands up to hold her forearms
as she leaned back. Both of them began moving, faster and faster. I
saw her bite her lower lip when she started to cum, and then he
hunched his hips up at her and held them there, and I knew he was
cumming in her.
Damn her!
He pulled her forward against him, and I heard his dick slurp out of
her as he kissed her lips and cradled her to him, exactly the way and
the time I'd always wanted.
She slithered out of his arms and knelt between his legs and kissed
and sucked his spermy dick until it was clean. Then she rearranged her
nightgown and whispered something to him.
I scurried back to my cushions on the floor just before she reappeared
in the TV room. All I could think of was the fact that she had his cum
in her cunt, and I did not.
I spent most of the next day sulking. I was not a good hostess to
Angela and Barb, and I was downright rude to Dana. And she seemed to
know I knew what had gone on -- and worse, to know I was wildly
jealous. I determined to make my phantom step-brother spend a lot of
time dating the Palm Sisters by showing off my assets for him whenever
I could get away with it. The problem was that I didn't get much of a
chance. That day he went out to a small town about 45 miles from our
house to visit other relatives, and the next day he went out there
again. Our mutual cousin Shana explained: Dan apparently had developed
a terrific crush on Dorothy, a friend of hers with a sweet face, a
gentle disposition and a Body by Hefner.
Shana was willing to talk about it in some detail. She and Dan had
kept up a regular correspondence year-round -- which I'd known about
for quite a while -- and they had a lot to talk about. She'd arranged
for a bunch of her friends from school -- most of whom were close to
her and Dan's age -- to wander over to the Dairy Queen by the quarry-
cum-town-swimming-hole and Hang Out. He and Dorothy had taken an
immediate shine to each other, which was no surprise in either
direction. Shana knew there'd been some smooching and groping, but
doubted it had gone very much farther than that. Dorothy had a
reputation for politely-but-firmly refusing to Go Too Far.
It was enough to put Dorothy on my perpetual hit list, thinking about
her acting like a priss and leaving my gorgeous Dan with blue balls.
Grrrrrr.
The next day he spent helping Mom around the house and with her
chores, and I spent most of it flashing him. It had an effect, much to
my pleasure. I kept thinking, Look what you missed and eat your heart
out!
What I really wanted, though, was to tell him to eat *me* out.
The next day, a Friday, he was going out there again. This time he was
to stay over with Aunt Mimi -- Shana's Mom -- and I decided it was
time to cultivate Shana's little sister, Irene. She was about my age,
but looked a lot more like it, maybe even less. But she was bright and
a bit hyperactive and jealous of the girls who, like Annette
Funicello, "already got theirs" and determined to prove herself in
competition with them, i.e., get the guys. She hadn't seen Dan yet on
this visit -- she'd been away at a horse farm for a couple of days --
and was really looking forward to the visit. Eventually, by clever
manipulation and downright lying, I lured her into "deciding" it would
be nice for me to stay for an overnighter at the same time Dan did.
The way I figured it, I would wait until Dan got back from what was
sure to be a heated and ultimately frustrating evening with Dorothy,
and then I'd have him! Aha!
Shana and Dan kissed lightly and sweetly, a non-erotic peck of warmth
and greeting, and then we all piled into the Blue Bomb -- a
seven-year-old Buick she was entitled to drive by virtue of her age
and relatively rural location. I would have been pleased and excited
at the start of my little adventure, except that Shana had a
passenger: Dorothy.
She was absolutely lovely and unselfconsciously sexy at the same time,
with her dark hair and flawless complexion and full lips and wide eyes
and that amazing damn body with those fantastically firm, full tits
under a tee-shirt and barely contained by a bra I was sure she wore
more for modesty than support. She was 16 and in full bloom. I think
of how she looked through the window of the Blue Bomb, and I can
understand why it was not unusual for our grandparents and great-
grandparents to marry at 15 and 16.
Shana made some joke about it, but I didn't laugh when I found myself
in the front seat with my cousin...leaving Dorothy and Dan in the
back. The held hands tightly through the entire forty-minute drive. I
dared sneak only two or three glances back at them all the time.
Those Buicks were big. There was plenty of room. Most of it was unused
because they were very close together.
Still, it was impossible to keep a mad on at Aunt Mimi's. She and
Uncle Don got married when she was 15 and he was 17 and the love
between them pervaded the entire old ramshackle house. She was a big,
rawboned, horsy-faced lady of indeterminate years and great big
laughing eyes that made you forget the moustache that never seemed to
go away (no matter what she did) and the little stubble of a beard
s'helpme on her chin. She made a fuss over Dan, of course, and over me
and kidded me about the way my figure had developed. Somehow, the way
she did it made it seem remarkable that I had such a body but
perfectly Okay and Set Yerself Down Here and Have Some Pop and Tell
Yer Old Aunt Mimi What You've Been Up To, Why Doncha? We had dropped
Dorothy at her house, and Dan was nice and polite and went into the
back yard to talk with Shana about her drawings and her first pastels.
All of which was fine until we heard car doors slam. Dan went into the
living room to greet Irene. She was all lithe and lean and tousled
blonde hair and little kiddish with tiny bumps inside her shirt, and
she greeted Dan by jumping him!
Yeah, she literally jumped up on him, wrapping her arms around his
neck and her legs around his hips. She kissed him right on the mouth,
hard and maybe deep and Dan went all red in the face and pulled her
off him. I could see a bulge in his cutoff jeans. He tried to hide it
but failed. Irene had two of her little friends with her and a few
minutes later, cousin Timmy -- Shana's big brother and Aunt Mimi's
oldest -- came in.
Timmy was Dan's age and a really ruggedly handsome guy even then.
Unfortunately, some of the circuits in his head didn't work. Timmy
couldn't deal with books and reading or any kind of pressure; he would
go into these fits. And he was not particularly gentle, either. Timmy
did what he liked and could get away with. I was never really
comfortable around him, and I could see Dan wasn't, either, but he was
polite and tried to be warm, which was more than I could do. See, any
time Timmy was alone with me, he was always grabbing my tits -- hard.
I had to follow through with my charade and immediately diverted Irene
-- who seemed reluctant to leave Dan, which bothered me. She took me
to her room, and I went through what was probably the bonding ritual
of girls our age at that time, discussing boys, the Beatles, clothes,
the Beatles, jealousies, the Beatles, free love, the Beatles, the new
Rolling Stones poster (clearly showing Mick's bulge) and, of course,
the Beatles.
[My favorite was George. Okay? Thank you.]
We listened to some 45s and then we were going over to the DQ --
[Dairy Queen.]
-- to hang out. I was very agreeable to this, as I knew that
eventually, Dan and Dorothy would show up there. The adjacent park --
Veteran's -- was about the only place they could go and fool around,
since neither had wheels. I hated the idea, yet I wanted to see them
together. I dunno why; I just did.
Anyhow, going over to the DQ and meeting Irene's friends was about as
exciting as I expected -- deadly dull. The boys in the crowd were
typical of boys my age, which is to say I had outgrown them a long
time ago, but they kept trying to "accidentally" touch my tits or get
me alone.
After what seemed like years there, Irene and I walked back to her
house. She told me she was glad I had spurned -- she used that word --
the boys who were turned on by my tits. She hoped that would help them
look for other qualities in a girl.
I told her to hold her breath till they were 19 or so.
She asked, How do you know? and I, like an idiot, told her a little
bit and hinted at more.
[Why "like an idiot"? Listen -- and stop interrupting me -- and I'll
tell you.]
Well, Irene decided that meant she could tell me stuff. Like, for one,
she'd Done It. She wouldn't tell me who, but she had done it and more
than once, and she liked it. A lot. She also told me that at some
point during the day -- probably when she went downstairs to get the
disgusting Cherry Kool-Aid for us -- she'd been briefly alone with Dan
and kissed him again and touched his hard on. He'd made her stop.
He'd told her she was a little young for that, and she'd told him she
was more than willing to give him a demonstration of her abilities,
and he'd told her she should wait a little longer for that.
By the time she finished the tale -- and we were nearing her house, in
the dark small-town Ohio July night -- her nipples were stiff as
pencil points inside her sadly flat tee-shirt.
"And I really want to -- y'know -- DO IT with him now."
That was when we heard the noise from the side of the house. Quietly,
we crept to the edge of the hedge and looked.
My phantom step-brother was licking Dorothy's nipples.
They were clinching in the shadows near a tree -- an elm; I remember
distinctly -- and he had her light shirt raised and her bra opened.
Her breasts were truly magnificent, and he was giving them their due.
He cupped them gently in his hand -- they needed hardly any support of
any kind, as large and thrusting as they were -- and was running his
lips over and around them and then licking and sucking her nipples.
Her flush was visible even in the shadows. Her cutoff clad legs were
wide, and he was rubbing his hand over the tightly-stretched denim
over her cunt, and she was rubbing up against his fingers.
I was horrified and turned on at the same time.
"Do you think they're gonna do it?" Irene whispered.
I just shook my head, unwilling to trust my voice.
I watched him caress those lovely 16-year-old tits and the damp jeans
taut over her swampy 16-year-old cunt, and I was sure he was going to
fuck her...but when he tried to unsnap the waist of the cutoffs, she
stopped him. Again and again, no matter how turned on they got, she
stopped him.
As I'd expected.
They were at that awful point where she was rubbing his dick through
his now-very-tight jeans, and he was rubbing her pussy hard enough to
split the soaked fabric of her jeans, and I was ready to stand up and
march over and offer to take over for her, since she seemed unwilling
to do the right thing herself. At that very point the side door
opened, and the outside light came on -- one of those yellow things
that's not supposed to attract bugs but always does -- and Shana stuck
her head out.
"Hey, you guys -- getting late." And ducked back in.
They stayed there in the shadows for a few minutes more, murmuring and
cuddling, and then she stood, and he stood, and they clinched, and
then she walked off alone down the safe summer streets of that little
town.
Dan had a huge bulge in the front of his jeans. He stood, watching her
until she was out of sight, and then sighed and went inside.
"Did you see his hard-on?" Irene whispered excitedly. "The way his
jeans were all stuck out from it?" She giggled. I glanced at her. Even
in the shadows I could see her flush -- and the stiff points of her
nipples against her shirt. "Isn't he hot?"
I nodded and thought about it. My plan was foolproof. He'd just spent
about 40 minutes getting turned on by her and needed relief; so far,
so good. He was going to be staying over in the same house as me;
still good. Aunt Mimi's snoring would pretty much have immunized
everyone in the house against waking at small sounds; right on track.
And Dan was going to be mooning over Dorothy, and that was bad. He was
such a romantic -- not that he'd ever admit it -- that he'd probably
not even look at another woman, let alone a girl who happened to be
his step-sister. It would be just like Dan to think of that as being
unfaithful.
"We'd better go inside," I said. Irene and I sneaked through the
bushes, then walked loudly down the sidewalk and entered the front
door. Dan was sitting up with Shana, watching an Outer Limits episode.
Everyone else was sleeping. We got some pop and sat with him for a
while. Irene excused herself after a while and came back in a shorty
nightgown. You could glimpse her lean silhouette through it, but that
didn't make any difference; there wasn't much to see.
Shana said that looked like a good idea and did the same. With her
lustrous, dark curls and dark flashing eyes, she looked so lovely that
I began to think about her, for the first time, as a woman and not as
my sweet cousin.
As the show ended and the news came on WTOL, channel 11 -- which we
had to watch to get the scores for his damn ol' Mets -- I excused
myself and changed, too. I'd brought just a simple, summer-light
shorty nightgown. I didn't bother with a bra.
When I came back in the room, Shana -- always forthright -- said, "My
goodness, Marie! Where did you ever get those big, uh, bosoms? You
make me feel positively flat-chested!"
"How do you think she makes me feel?" Irene murmured.
"They were on sale at Tiedtke's," I said.
"Don't you think Marie has a great figure, Dan?" Shana asked.
"Fantastic," he said. "Sometimes I wish she wasn't my sister or a
kid."
"Within the context of a goal-oriented guidance system and with the
benefit -- "
" -- of more experienced leaders who can teach us how to evaluate and
respond -- "
" -- to unfamiliar and sometimes frightening circumstances! Yes!"
"And then, when we go into the real world, we understand a little
more, because we've already tested ourselves in strange waters -- "
" -- and found that we can swim, because we learned to do it -- "
" -- in a school?"
I groaned at the pun.
"Sounds fishy?" he asked innocently.
"Holy mackerel."
"No, it's 'Holy mackerel dere, Kingfish.'"
"I guess I just don't have any soul."
"But you're still one smart filly."
I frowned.
"Filly of soul?" he suggested.
I groaned again.
We both started laughing. Tyrell offered to drive me home. I didn't
think twice. We talked more on the way. We really hit it off, instant
chemistry, and it had started from the neck up, for a change.
He let me out in front of my house, and I waved good-bye. Inside,
Jeanne was home, and Mom. Jeanne immediately pulled me into our room.
"Marie, did you -- you know?"
I stared at her. "What?"
"Who was that?"
I told her, and she said, "Well, does he really have a big one? They
say all of them have huge -- " The look on my face stunned her.
"Jeanne, I interviewed him for the paper and he gave me a ride home."
"You didn't do it with him?"
"No -- though now that you mention it, it's not such a bad idea, I
mean, he is awful good-looking and..."
"Marie! He's a nigger!"
I was the one who was stunned this time. How had we grown up together
and been so close -- so very close -- without me knowing this about
her?
Because we never encountered anyone who was really different.
"Jeanne, he's a man who's a little darker than me. A smart, polite,
good-looking man. I think he and I might get to be friends. And don't
you ever use that word in front of me again."
She seemed a little shocked by that, and I suppose I was, too.
Socially conscious Marie -- as of about 40 minutes before. But it was
true. Something had happened to me during the time after the interview
with Tyrell Hamilton. Something burned inside him, and the flames had
caught me, too. My main concerns had been getting laid, passing my
class, getting laid, wondering when they were going to have a sale at
Penney's, getting laid and getting even with Dana and Irene. Suddenly,
I was thinking about things that were in the far distant future,
beyond the great dividing line of Graduation, beyond 1971, which was a
date lost in tomorrow. Suddenly, I was thinking about things like
responsibility and understanding and harmony.
And I was spending a lot of time thinking about Tyrell. Well, was it
true what they say?
[Yes, I saw "Blazing Saddles"; Okay?]
I started spending more and more time with the juniors and seniors
than I already was -- which was a lot, since I found most of the kids
who were my age were kind of backward. I started hanging out with the
crowd Tyrell spent time with. And pretty soon, I was fairly regularly
sitting next to him at our basketball games -- and thus having him
drive me home.
After the fifth game -- against Penta; we lost -- I got impatient.
"Ty, aren't you ever going to ask me out?"
We were at a grade-crossing, waiting for an endless freight to pass,
down by East Broadway. He waiting about a three-count and turned his
face toward me. "You have to be kidding."
"Why?"
"You're white, and I'm not, and you're not even 13 yet!"
"So?"
"Are you nuts? I'm almost 18!"
"So? I want you, Ty."
"So? That's statutory rape and considering that I'm not white, the
police will probably fire five or six warning shots -- into the back
of my little burr head!"
"Ty! You know me! We're friends, for crying out loud."
"And that's fine -- but that's it, girl." He watched me. "What the
hell are you doing?"
What I was doing, for the benefit of those who weren't there, was
pulling my sweater off and unbuttoning my blouse.
"Guess."
"Marie!"
The blouse was off, and I was reaching back and under for the hooks on
my ill-fitting bra. A moment later and it was gone, too, and not only
did it feel good to have the constriction off my tits, it made me feel
somehow wild and free to be sitting there with my boobs bare in his
car so anyone could look in -- even in the dark -- and see me.
"Tyrell Leroy Hamilton, you will not be my first, and you probably
won't be my last, and if you don't promise to make love with me I am
going to jump out of this car and yell, `Help! This nigger's trying to
rape me!'"
"Marie, I want you."
His words, so calm and easy and serious, froze me.
"But you're trying to take charge of me, and I won't have that. Be my
friend, and we may become lovers, some day -- but I won't have an
owner for a friend or a lover."
I hadn't thought of it that way. I started pulling my blouse back on.
The caboose of the endless freight rumbled slowly by. Behind us, car
engines were starting. I felt like a shit.
"I'm sorry."
He was shaking his head as the crossing gates came up, and we started
across the tracks.
We drove across the tracks in silence. We drove down to East Broadway
in silence. As we pulled up onto the road that would take us back to
my house, I finally said, "Dammit, Ty, say something?"
"You have truly amazing breasts. I didn't know they were so big or
lovely."
"I'd really like you to get more acquainted with them. And more."
"Doesn't sound all bad. By the way..."
"Yes?"
"Do you know where we were parked when you threatened to get out and
yell for help?"
I thought about it -- and then it hit me.
"Uh-huh," he said. "Niggerville. Jigaboo Town. You could have
precipitated a race riot back there."
I was glad for the night, so he wouldn't see me blushing in
embarrassment. Then I noticed he'd driven right past the street where
I lived. "Where?"
"I want to show you something."
I started to get my hopes up, but then I remembered what he was like
and calmed down, fast. And with cause.
Ty drove us down past the Anderson grain elevators and parked. It was
dark there. He got out, and a moment later I did, too. We were looking
across the Maumee River and had a really lovely view of the water and
downtown Toledo.
"It's awfully pretty," I said.
"Until you get there," he said. "Until you get down on Washington and
Jefferson. Go by the Valentine or the Blade or to one of the Purple
Cows. Then it's just as ugly."
We were standing close. I pulled his arm around me. It felt good.
"People can be like that, too. Beautiful and impressive till you get
up close, and then you see them for what they are and see all the ugly
things in them."
I moved till I stood in front of him and pulled his other arm around
me. I covered his hands with mine and held them across my breasts.
"I've been close to you, Ty. I am close to you. I don't see ugly."
"I -- I've done bad things."
I kept my mouth shut.
"I hurt someone. Hurt bad. Someone who shouldn't have been hurt."
I held his hands tight over my tits. And listened. It had happened
when he was 14 and hanging out with other kids his age. All of them
were black, kids he knew in Niggerville. One of them knew this girl
who was just asking for it. She was lithe and lean and tight and had a
great ass, and the way she talked and acted, they knew she was just
asking for it, and they knew that if someone gave her some wine, she'd
do them all.
So someone gave her some wine. And she did them all. Many times. Long
past the end of the wine. Long past her willingness.
"I'd never been with anyone before, and even when she was crying and
asking us to stop, we kept doing it."
Except him. He'd persuaded the others to stop and let her go.
"That sounds like good to me, not bad," I said.
"It was -- but it wasn't the end."
A few months later, she came by his house when he was home alone.
She'd been drinking wine. She'd gone into that phase when a girl just
suddenly blossoms. She wasn't a skinny kid with a great ass, not any
more. She was a young siren, blooming. And she wanted to thank him.
"I should've made her go away."
But he hadn't. They'd spent the entire afternoon, before his parents
or siblings came home, fucking wildly. He figured he must have cum in
her four or five times. Whenever he got limp, she did things --
"With her mouth."
-- to make him ready again...and at fourteen-almost-fifteen he could
get ready a lot.
"That's not hurting someone," I told him.
"Yes, it was. I wanted to do it more with her, and when she wanted
more wine, I let her have it from Momma's closet so I could do it
more."
The problem came a couple of months later.
"One of the guys said she was dead."
I went cold all over when he said that. "Dead?"
She'd gotten pregnant and gone to the only abortionist a poor 13-year-
old girl -- black or white -- in Toledo could find in those moral,
enlightened days. That night, she'd begun hemmorhaging. She was DOA at
St. Charles.
"I killed her."
I turned to him. His arms dropped away as soon as I released his
hands. "That's not true."
He was nodding, tear-stained cheeks glimmering in the night. "Me. I
got her pregnant and -- and -- "
"And you were the only guy she ever fucked?"
He blinked.
"Yeah -- fucked." I said it hard.
"Well, no, of course not, but -- "
"You figure you're the only guy who fucked her that month?"
He tried to turn away. I grabbed him, my arms around his waist.
"Well?"
"I -- I -- "
"You know you weren't. Hell, she was probably fucking another guy that
day -- the same one who gave her the wine before she got to your
house."
"But what I did was wrong -- "
"She wanted it, didn't she? She went out of her way to ask for it? She
wanted to keep doing it? And you figure it's your fault?"
"She was just a kid!"
"So were you."
"So are you."
"I'm young, but I haven't been a kid since..." I almost told him, but
couldn't. "Well, I'm no kid." I pulled his arms around me. "Hold me."
And that's what he did -- just held me, close and strong and scared
and sobbing and trying to fight it all back, trying to be the tough
young buck, figuring this so-called white girl --
[Cause it's true. Put my hand down on a piece of paper -- here. See?
Do I look "white" now? Right. You do it -- see? Kind of off-beige.
What gets called "black" isn't really black. When was the last time
you saw someone dark enough to even try to qualify for "black"?
[Yeah, I thought so. So you think about this: Those aren't colors or
races or hues, they're just the fucking labels we use so we can
generalize or categorize and excuse ourself from thinking any farther
than the label.
[Okay?
[Your goddam right I'm hot about it! Want to find out why? Listen.]
-- this so-called white girl wouldn't figure him out, but I did,
because when you're that close, there's no color, no race, just
holding and being held, and I have a news flash for all the racial
purity folks: We're all the same. The reason I know is that holding
Ty, I could see through him just like anyone else. He was just looking
to stop hurting, same as me and you and anyone else. Hurting doesn't
have a race, unless the race is Human.
Well, one thing led to another, and before long I was doing more than
holding. His was the first uncircumcised cock I'd ever held or sucked
or fucked, and when he came, he groaned, and he cried, and I
understood that. He was crying cause there was nothing left in him
that he hadn't shared, so I held him till the sun came up, and we
never talked about that -- but something had been established, a bond,
you know? We never did anything sexual again.
I sneaked into the house and -- Miracle of miracles -- no one caught
me. I took that as a Sign.
I lay awake for a long time, thinking that this was amazing -- knowing
even then we weren't going to be lovers again -- that this afro senior
and me were that close that we'd used fucking and sucking and loving
to seal our bond, and it felt right. Damn, but if felt good and close
and tight!
But no way that was going to be left alone; no way. The weeks passed,
and about 10 days before the class elections, I went over to room 128,
which was the room Ty's backers had drawn from the pool as a campaign
headquarters. I went over there pretty much every day, and it was more
and more crowded, which was a good sign.
When I walked in, the place went quiet. Everyone was looking at me. I
said Hello to a few people and looked around, but Ty wasn't in sight,
and when I asked Chuck -- who had sort of fallen into managing the
campaign -- where Ty was, he just shrugged and said Ty had to go. The
same thing happened with the next four people I asked.
Pretty soon, I was alone in that room.
It felt like a mortuary.
I called his house and they told me he wasn't home yet, so I left my
name and number. When he hadn't called back, I called again at nine-
thirty and they told me he'd gone to bed early because he wasn't
feeling well.
I didn't see him around school the next day, a Thursday, but I did
notice that some of his mimeographed campaign posters were missing. I
knew he worked after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I knew
where, so I hitched a ride out to the shopping center to the discount
store where he was a stock clerk. When I saw his battered old junker
in the parking lot, I felt better -- whatever was going on, Ty was not
too sick or hurt to go to work.
I found him in the back of the store, unloading boxes of toasters from
the back of a truck pulled right up to the loading dock. There were
two other guys working with him. One of them noticed me and said
something, and the other turned and muttered something to Ty. The two
other guys were staring at my tits -- I was wearing a tank top, but
they were still too big to hide. Ty saw me, took a deep breath and
told the other guys he was going to take a short break.
I followed him off the loading dock and we went back to stand near the
trees that lined the truck road behind the store.
"What's going on, Ty? I went to 128 to find you and -- "
"I'm withdrawing from the election."
"What? Why?"
"And we can't be together any more."
"What the hell -- "
"That's all there is to it." He started to walk away, but I grabbed
his arm and jerked him back toward me.
"Like hell it is. You tell me what's going on, and you tell me now!"
"It doesn't matter -- "
"It does to me!"
So then he took an envelope from his pocket and from the envelope he
took the photographs and held them out to me. I recognized the top
two; they'd been missing from George's basement workshop. I didn't
recognize the others, because I'd never seen them. But I knew when
they were taken. There I was laying on my back, sucking a huge cock
with a dripping, open pussy right over my face.
I was stunned but managed to say, "I don't get it."
"If I run in the election, I'll win. If I win, these photos -- and
some films, I was told -- start making the rounds. You'll be ruined.
Your family will be ruined."
"Who -- "
"I don't know. There was a letter with the pictures. No return
address, no signature. It just said quote if a nigger won the school
election, his white cunt was going to be the most famous underaged
piece of ass in the state of Ohio unquote."
"They're bluffing."
He snorted. "I don't think so. And I don't know how they found out
what we did unless someone -- like you -- told them."
"I didn't tell a soul! And who told all the people in 128 it was my
fault?"
He handed me the envelope. It was addressed to Chuck.
I felt my guts go icy and I thought for a minute I was going to be
sick. Ty was right: They weren't bluffing. And I knew who they were,
too. And he was right about us not being together again.
"I'm so sorry, Ty. I'm so -- " I couldn't say anything else, so I just
shook my head and ran away from him, crying.
I walked all the way home, about six miles, and didn't get there till
past dark. Mom was pissed off, but by the time I got home, she wasn't
nearly as pissed off as I was, and when I told her that this wasn't
the time to start with me, she got the message and turned into
superMom, wanting to know if I wanted to talk about it. I told her I
had to work it out for myself.
And that's what I did. I figured it out for myself. Ed Sautter had
stolen the photos from George's workshop, and he had sent the hate
mail and blackmail threat. It didn't seem likely that he'd done it
alone, either. That kind of racist is a coward and can never do
anything alone. They always have to have a half-dozen or so people
helping them, usually hiding their faces.
I called Roger the next day and told him what had happened. I asked
him if Ed couldn't get in trouble with the law for having that stuff
in his house. He explained about search warrants and said he'd ask a
buddy on the State Police. When he called me back, he said Sautter
could make a stink and drag a lot of stuff out in court, if it got to
court. But, he said, his pal had told him there was someone else who'd
be interested, and if I wanted, Roger would take care of it.
He wouldn't tell me anything else. He told me I'd have to trust him. I
finally agreed to let him take care of it. I didn't hear anything else
for about three days, during which time the Ty-less election came and
went.
The Toledo Blade story reported that the coroner had ruled it an
accident. Sautter had apparently been taking drugs and stumbled into
the pool, striking his head on the edge as he fell. His roommate found
him floating, in the morning. He hadn't heard Sautter return from his
business meeting with three men in a black Lincoln. The roommate
thought Sautter had sold much of his photography equipment to the men,
because Sautter and two of the men had pretty well cleaned out his
darkroom. The police said more than a thousand in cash had been found
in Sautter's pocket, so they gave the story credence.
The roommate and Sautter's girlfriend were so shaken by the tragedy,
said the newspaper, that they were going to leave the area and try to
start their lives over. Their exact destinations were undecided.
Years later, of course, I figured out who Roger had called and why
they'd been so persuasive. After all, Ed was cutting into their
territory by making porno films. And he was jeopardizing their whole
business because citizens tend to get outraged at all porno films when
something involving minors get into distribution, even willing minors.
At the time, though, the only thing that puzzled me was who had let on
to what Ty and me had done that long, weeping night. I was mooning
around the house, all morose and sad because of how good I'd imagined
we could be together -- a luxury I could indulge because we hadn't
been together long enough for all the normal hassles and irritations
to mar the dream -- and I'd sort of fixated on figuring out who had
spilled the beans. Maybe Ty had told one of his friends and he'd said
something? That didn't seem like Ty. Or had we been seen? Who?
... The cure for bad speech is better speech and more of it.
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
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From: friar.dave@teamhbbs.com (FRIAR DAVE)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: MARIE 11 of 18
Message-ID: <8B45247.00F801BDEA.uuout@teamhbbs.com>
Date: Sat, 04 Nov 95 09:43:00 -0800
Distribution: world
Organization: Team H BBS *510-236-5114* anime / pagan / adult / fat /
GLB
Reply-To: friar.dave@teamhbbs.com (FRIAR DAVE)
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"Some kid," Shana said. "When I grow up, I want to have a bod like
that `kid'!" Then the sports report came on and Dan made us all shut
up while he listened to how his damn ol' Mets had lost to the Dodgers.
After the news came the late show -- Forbidden Planet. Shana had to
get up at six for her job at the Five & Dime. She gave Dan a peck on
the cheek and said good-night and admonished Irene and I not to stay
up too late. Then she went upstairs to bed. I heard her washing up,
and then I heard the door to her room close and lock. I went to the
kitchen and got more pop.
I made sure to walk in front of the TV and sit up on the floor at an
angle. After a few minutes, Irene said, "Marie, you better move. I can
see right through that gown in the TV light. And so can Dan."
"Oh, don't worry," I said, never taking my eyes off the TV. "He's my
step-brother and I'm just a kid. He probably doesn't even notice."
"I notice."
"I noticed you noticed," Irene chipped in. I looked this time, when
Irene started to giggle. Dan was blushing. He had another hard-on.
"Irene!" I said.
"You, too!" She pointed. I looked down. My nipples were hard and
pointed and clearly so for being silhouetted. "Nice view."
"I don't care who looks," I said. "It doesn't bother Dan."
"Well, actually, it does."
I turned and looked right at him. "Does it really?"
He nodded. "And you know it."
Irene suddenly made a great show of yawning. "Well, I'm going to hit
the hay. See ya in the morning!" She gave Dan a big wet kiss right on
the lips, holding his face with her hands and making the kiss longer
than it should have been, and then she went upstairs, too.
I was still staring at Dan. "Want me to move?"
He nodded. I was starting to think my plan had a chance, after all.
I stood and took my time walking toward him, staying between the TV
and him. His eyes were on my tits. "That was some good night kiss."
"Yes."
"I can top that." I bent at the waist and watched his eyes follow my
tits as the nighty drooped and gave him a good view. Then I duplicated
Irene's action: I took his face in my hands and kissed him on the
lips. And -- maybe -- added a wrinkle of my own by pressing at his
lips with my tongue until he finally let it in. By the time I drew my
lips away, I was dripping wet and wondered if he could smell my
juices. I kissed him again, and this time took his hands and led them
to me, till he was cupping my tits.
He started to fondle my breasts -- and suddenly pulled his hands away
and pushed me gently away.
"Don't," he said. "This is wrong."
"I want -- "
"It's still wrong, to me."
I stood in front of him. "But you want me, I know you do."
He nodded. "A lot. And doubly because -- well, you know."
"Know what?"
He changed the subject abruptly: "That was you watching Dorothy and
me, wasn't it?"
"You knew?"
He looked at me as if the question was stupid.
I countered: "Well, I won't leave you all frustrated."
He groaned softly. "Dammit, Marie, don't tempt me like this. I want us
to be friends."
"And we can't be friends and do that, too?"
"You know we can't."
I looked down at him. His dick was sticking up like a tent pole inside
his jeans. His breathing was shallow and fast. His lips had been
sweet, and I kept thinking what it would be like to have him mouthing
my breasts the way he'd been doing it with Dorothy, and I was terribly
annoyed, because I knew that when Dan dug in his heels, nothing was
going to move him.
"Damn you!" I hissed and stalked upstairs. I sat in the bathroom for a
long time, trying to calm down, then I took a hot bath and masturbated
like crazy. It didn't help enough.
Finally, sometime around one, I went and crawled onto the mattress in
the middle of the floor in Irene's room. I slept, frustrated and
horny. But not soundly.
Which was why I woke when Irene got up. I could almost get back to
sleep, so I lay there quietly and tried to will sleep. After a while,
I realized she hadn't come back to bed, and there was no noise in the
bathroom.
I got up to investigate. All the other doors -- to Shana's room and
her brother's room and my aunt-and-uncle's room -- were closed on the
second floor. So I crept quietly down the stairs. The TV was still on,
the sound very low. The TV was the only source of light in the room.
It was enough. There were plants on a little opening in the stairwell
and I peered between the leaves. My tan and dark complexion helped,
too. Natural-born commando, that was me.
Irene was sitting next to Dan on the floor in front of the couch. She
had some crackerjacks in one hand. The bowl was on the other side of
Dan from her. She was looking at his crotch, and he was looking at her
face. I could just hear what they were saying as Forbidden Planet was
getting close to the end.
"Why do you keep touching me there, Irene?" Dan said. "You wouldn't
like it if I was always touching you there."
She shrugged and munched her Crackerjacks. "I like it. Don't you?
Timmy likes it, all the time. I touch him lots of ways."
"What ways?"
She swallowed the last of her confection. "Promise you won't tell, and
I'll show you."
He hesitated a long time. I could see his cock throbbing inside his
jeans. Finally, he nodded. "Promise."
She slowly put her hand over his dick-bulge and then unzipped his
jeans. She reached inside and fished out his dick. It stood straight
up. She gripped it tightly in her little hand and jerked a little on
it.
His breathing got shallower.
"You can touch me, too, y'know," Irene said, leaning over and staring
up intently into his face. Her hair was all disheveled and sun-blonde
and her face was cute -- but very sensual. Her eyes said she knew
exactly what she was doing. "Please?"
She turned sideways, kneeling spread-legged next to him. She took his
hand and led it between her legs, under her nighty. I knew when he
began caressing her, because her eyes half closed, and her mouth
opened a bit.
She bent and licked the head of his cock, and he groaned softly. She
kept licking and jerking, and then she stiffened, and I knew he was
sliding his finger into her little slit. Her skinny young hips began
hunching up and down.
She released his cock and unfastened his pants, He lifted his butt as
she pulled them down his thighs. He kicked them off the rest of the
way, because her hands had gone back to his dick and his balls. She
opened her mouth and took the head of his prick inside and I watched
him again lift his hips and heard him murmur, "Damn, damn, damn..."
She took his other hand and led it to the front of her nightgown. He
searched for and found her nipples and rubbed them, then moved his
hand to her head and caressed her face. She opened her mouth and
spread her lips wide to take more of his thick cock in her mouth. She
had soft, full lips, but she was small, and her mouth was small for
her face, and she had it filled with just the head of his cock.
She began bobbing her head up and down on him, still jerking with one
small hand. She shifted back to get her face lower over him. The girl
was young, but she definitely knew how to suck cock, and she
definitely was enjoying herself. Dan was arching toward her.
"I'm gonna -- gonna -- "
"Mmm-HMMM!" It was muffled, but definitely affirmative. She reached
down with her other hand and began caressing his balls -- of which I
had a great view -- and then he started to cum.
She sucked and gurgled and swallowed, and he came for what seemed a
long time. She was utterly intent on sucking and drinking him. I
couldn't even feel jealous -- just envious. She was jerking with her
hand harder and faster, and I watched her little cheeks concave and
bloat and saw her throat work as she swallowed. He came a lot and some
slipped out around her lips, lubricating her hand on his shaft.
Finally, his spasms became irregular and then slowed and then stopped.
She sucked his limpening dick in and pushed it partially out of her
mouth rapidly, like a little kid playing with a piece of spaghetti. He
sank back to the floor and groaned, deep and relieved.
She let his prick slide out of her mouth, and it flopped between his
legs. Her lips were all slick and spermy, and so was his cock.
He pulled her up to him and cuddled her close, but she was having none
of that. She pulled her nightgown up over her head and jammed one
enormously swollen nipple into his mouth. He took it greedily, licking
it and maybe even chewing a little on it.
Irene sighed and pulled his hand back between her legs. Her ass was so
tiny, and her body was so lean and smooth! It was all glistening with
perspiration, and she looked slippery and sinuous as an eel -- a sexy
young eel. He reached back and squeezed her cheeks, then slid his
fingers back and caressed her little, smooth cunt. Finally, he
extended Badfinger, and she settled happily onto it and jerked her
hips up and down. I could see his cock re-erecting. In no time at all,
it was hard again, solid as a brick and looking just as thick compared
to her lithe slenderness.
She murmured something to him I couldn't hear. His reply was audible:
"But I'm afraid of hurting you."
She said something that was obviously reassuring and shifted so she
was straddling him.
"First, I want this," he said. His hands came around and cupped -- and
covered -- her ass. He guided her until she was standing over him,
with his head resting back against the couch and then he began to eat
her.
Now I was definitely jealous, because from the way he ate her, I knew
she was getting it good. He licked and sucked and nibbled and mouthed
and tongued her. I watched her ass clench and her hips hunch, and I
watched her thighs shake as she came and came again. I could see her
juices on his chin. He worked his hands around her farther and slid
one finger against the back of her cunt, and she shook above him. He
worked the finger of another hand between those tightly squeezed,
corded masses of hard little ass, and she pushed back and against it,
taking it into her teeny butt-hole to the first joint. I saw her tense
until every muscle in her back was clearly defined, and great beads of
sweat popped out all over her body, and she came again.
Finally she couldn't stand, and he lowered her against him. She sobbed
into his shoulder and shivered again as he caressed her back and
kissed her forehead. She said something to soft for me to hear.
-- and I heard him say, incredulously, "Never? No one? But you taste
so sweet, how can anyone resist?"
"The same way you resist Marie." That was clear enough. My eyes
widened, and there was no one to see them.
He looked troubled for a moment, but then she was sliding down until
her little cunt was nestled against the throbbing thickness of his
glans. She eased herself up and reached down in her crotch to spread
her labia and then she slowly worked her cunt onto the knob.
"Damn that feels good, cousin Dan!"
She worked her way down onto him, impaling herself on my step-
brother's solid dick. It stretched her little cunt a lot, and she
really seemed to be enjoying it. She was very wet, and when she'd
taken it all and begun raising herself up again, his emerging cock was
shining brightly in the light of the television.
She levered herself up and down, faster and faster, groaning and
sighing as he panted: "You're so tight and hot -- Ahhhh!"
I watched him move one hand out of sight, on her front to nipple-
height. She jammed herself down and shook against him, vibrating those
narrow, prepubescent hips over him. His balls started to jerk. Then he
moved his hand lower and twisted his arm and I guessed: He was moving
his thumb over her clitoris. She shook faster and harder and then held
herself still against him and quietly shrieked her pleasure. His balls
pulled up tight and throbbed, and I could see her cunt lips stretch
and thin around his fat prick as it swelled with each spurt. She
grabbed his face and kissed him hard and long as he came in her and
she came with him.
They collapsed together and lay like that for a long time. She pulled
her little cunt off his cock slowly and then put her nighty back on.
"Promise you won't tell?"
"No one," he vowed.
She giggled. "Can we do it again -- soon?"
"I hope so, Irene. That was terrific." He pulled himself upright and
slid back into his jeans. "But not tonight."
She giggled again. "Y'know, Marie wants to do that with you."
He nodded as he sat heavily on the couch and an ad on the television
began touting the great deal at Bender's Buick on Alexis Road. "I'd
like to do it with her, too, but I can't."
"Why not? You're not blood relations any more than you and I are."
"Because she's special, in a different way. Some day we'll need to be
able to talk to each other in a special way and this -- " He nodded
toward her and the place where they'd fucked. "-- would get in the
way. I'm not sure why, but I don't think it's a good idea."
"Well, if you'd rather do it with me than with someone with a bod like
hers, that's not a problem for me!" She was positively glowing. She
gave him a big kiss, and I took that as my cue to go into fake slumber
mode where they both figured I should be: On the mattress in Irene's
room.
I had a lot to think about. For one thing, I'd just watched my little
-- in every sense of the word -- cousin do everything but rape my
step-brother. And she'd enjoyed it as much as she'd confided she
enjoyed fucking. And I'd just heard her put in a pitch on my behalf!
And I'd just heard Dan tell her what he'd never told me: Some of the
reason why he kept restraining himself and me from getting it on.
I didn't mean to, but I dozed off pretty fast and resented waking in
the sunlit morning. No matter. I did. Irene never told me of her
escapade with Dan, and I couldn't very well ask, could I?
Dan and Dorothy never got together again -- she kept putting him off,
the fool -- and the Fourth came and went, and then so was he, back to
his city and his girlfriends there. I was left with memories and
fantasies and questions. I sort of coasted through the rest of the
summer, developing just as fast as I before. It seemed like only a few
days before school began.
School. My freshman year in high school. I remember it vividly --
because that was the year the stolen pictures and the shots taken by
Ed Sautter came back to haunt me and hurt me more than I had been hurt
since -- well, since the first time.
[Later. I promise.]
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