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Bonnie (Mf, oral; inc, m/g, pedo)
by Penny
Chapter 1
I invited Mark, my cousin, to bring his family out to my summer
place on Long Island for a weekend. He hesitated, saying he had to
arrange a sitter for the younger kids. I told him I expected them to
come, too. I had plenty of room and it would be good to have some
youngsters making a racket in the place. It was too big and empty for a
40-year-old guy who liked kids, and the house and grounds demanded the
patter of little feet busily raising Hell.
Let's get one thing straight: I'm not crazy about Mark, who's five
years older than me. He's okay, and sometimes fun, but he's prone to
self-pity. Still: He's family. And I remembered more than a few times --
when I was a loner kid -- when Mark went out of his way to pal around
with me. Now he was on some hard times, I was doing pretty good for
myself and I figured it was payback time. He'd been essentially solidly
established and was making good money working for a financial paper --
until the big crash. His income went from Real Good to Unemployment and
to Mark, the job was everything. A little fresh salt air and sunshine
and barbecuing -- not to mention, a change of scene -- would do him
good.
Besides which, I genuinely liked Kate, his second wife, and his
kids -- one by her and two by his first wife. Kate had a wicked deadpan
sense of humor; always welcome. I'd been a little suspicious of her, at
first. After all, she'd essentially broken up Mark's (already crumbling)
first marriage and quickly accepted the proposal of a man 14 years her
senior and from a totally different background. But Kate had Stood By
Her Man when it hit the fan, and all three kids happily called her
"Mom." In fact, if Kate weren't married, I could have been looking
forward to her visit for more than friendly chatter and companionship.
She was a damn good-looking woman, in the full bloom of femininity, and
with all the self-assurance and sexiness that comes with it. And she
still had a helluva fine figure and a great, strong face and --
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Anyhow, about a week before they were going to come out -- for the
third weekend in August, an excellent time to get the hell out of
Manhattan -- Mark called me. He was sheepish and uncertain and I finally
wormed it out of him:
"Well, Kate's kid sister is going to be in New York for a couple of
days, and we hate to leave her alone in the condo..."
Kid sister? Yeah, I was beginning to remember -- and then it all
came back in a flash, from the wedding. Kate's kid -- but not "little"
-- sister, one Miss Irene Marie Pound.
YES!
"Well, there's plenty of room, Mark -- bring her along." I tried
not to drool on the phone, all the time figuring: Irene was six years
younger than Kate, which would make her about 24 or 25 now and she had
been an absolute knockout at the wedding at which time she'd been no
more than 15. Yes, I had done a good job of burying that memory; every
time I'd looked at her, I'd had an instant physical reaction and had
been growling to myself, "Jailbait -- Down, boy!"
"Are you sure it's not too much trouble?" he whined.
And I was thinking: If it is, you and your clan sleep in the pool,
but she is *definitely* invited.
"No, no problem. Let her tag along."
In fact, I suggested they come out on Thursday night and plan on
returning Monday evening. A nice, long weekend.
I hung up and found I had the same physical reaction to the thought
of Irene. I told myself she'd probably not handled the ensuing years
well. Most women who are stunning at 15 are, er, somewhat less than
appealing 10 years later -- as if they've burned out all the `beautiful'
assigned to them much too early. Or she was still stunning, but was
going to take one look at a 40-year-old guy and immediately begin
ignoring him, when possible. Or had gone dyke. Or turned nasty. Or was
embittered.
None of it worked. At 40, I had to take the time to jerk off before
I could concentrate on anything.
It didn't help.
Chapter Two
I heard Mark's car crunching on the gravel around 4:30 on Thursday
afternoon. The sun was still high and strong and I was out by the pool
with a cold beer and the latest Spenser novel. I almost wished they'd
been stuck in traffic; I hate being interrupted while reading Parker.
I trundled myself out of the chaise lounge and wandered across the
semi-landscaped yard to meet them. I've got three acres, but only one
was cleared. The house sits in the middle of that. Most of the property
is as it was before cars were discovered. The local wildlife also knew
it was a safe place. A couple of huge hares were standing on their hind
legs to see who the intruders were.
The little circular driveway is surrounded by brush, so I heard the
car doors opening and closing long before I saw the first signs of their
arrival -- in this case, Dolores, the 15-year-old. She was carrying a
duffel bag and one of those pouches that holds cassette tapes.
"Hi, Uncle Dan!" She was still very pretty, with a mischievous
smile that brightened dark rooms. All long legs and auburn hair...she
was going to be a beauty. She was showing that first glow of blossoming
into womanhood, and there were some outstanding secondary sexual
characteristics asserting themselves under her NKOTB tee-shirt. She'd
inherited her Puerto Rican mother's complexion and smile; she got her
blue eyes and hair color from Mark.
"Hi, Dolores! Glad to see you! Need a hand?"
She giggled. "No -- but Mom does."
"What do you mean?"
More giggles. "You'll see! Where should I put these?"
"Just drop 'em in one of the bedrooms downstairs. Your choice."
I stepped through the brush into the little clearing that is my one
and only concession to cars on the property. Parked next to my van was
Mark's Subaru.
"Hey, Mark, Kate, Penny."
All waved and grinned abashedly and I soon saw why. Kate's seat-
belt clasp was stuck and she and Mark were trying to free it. Which
reminded me: Between the two of them, danger lurked in every mechanical
device. Penny was sitting stolidly in the backseat, biting her lower lip
and trying not to laugh as she watched the fun.
When I saw the cause of the problem, I did bark out a quick laugh,
which I immediately tried to cover by clearing my throat. Somehow, Kate
had managed to buckle the snap with a piece of her pretty, lightweight
printed summery dress caught in it. Naturally, the first time she'd
moved more than a few inches, it had ripped a sizable portion of the
dress, exposing a sizable portion of her torso.
"Don't you dare laugh, Daniel," she warned, eyes bright with mirth.
"This is serious business."
"I can see that."
Penny coughed. She was going to lose it in a moment.
"Did you say something, honey?" Mark asked. He was kneeling on the
driver's seat, bent over the imprisoning buckle. He raised his head to
look at Penny and, of course, banged said head on the roof of the car.
"Say, Mark -- why don't you go down to the basement and get my red
toolbox so we can free the prisoner of fender here."
Rubbing his head, he nodded and said, "Good idea, and, oh, yeah,
great to see you." He started to offer his left hand -- he was rubbing
his head with his right -- realized his malaprop, switched hands and in
the process smacked himself in the eye. Same old Mark.
We managed to wait till he was a decent distance away before
breaking into muffled guffaws.
"'Prisoner of fender'?" Kate repeated. "I'll get you for that!"
Penny scrambled out and around. "Want to take a crack at this?" I
asked.
She looked at me with that look only a kid can give an adult. "Are
you kidding? I've got both their genes. I'd probably blow up the car."
"Watch your mouth, young lady!" Kate barked, but there was no bite
in it.
"It's more fun watching this," she replied.
"Want a kid?" Kate asked me.
"How much will you pay me?"
"I don't know. What's hamburger going for these days?"
I was working at the buckle, very much aware how close my hands
were to Kate's rather abundant breasts, which were straining at the
flimsy bra exposed by the injured dress. Their finances may have gone to
hell in a handcart, but her figure was better than ever.
"Got it," I announced, feeling the little snick of the release.
"Praise be!" Kate said, grabbing the strap.
"Wait! Don't -- "
Too late. She was so eager to be freed of her bondage that when she
ripped the strap off, she also ripped away most of the top of her dress.
"At least you made it out alive," Penny offered cheerfully. She was
taking bags out of the back seat.
Kate looked down at herself as she stood. "Damn." Then she shrugged
and rolled the torn material around her waist. "Oh, well, I suppose it
actually covers more than my swimsuit."
"Oh?"
Mark called from the house. "Hey, Dan -- I can't find any red
toolbox!"
I didn't tell him there wasn't any red toolbox.
"It's okay, Dad -- she's sprung!"
Kate gave me a quick peck on the cheek. "Thanks for having us."
"My pleasure, babe. I like being surrounded by women who run around
in their underwear." I grabbed a couple of the bags and noticed, for the
first time, that Penny had been growing since the last time I saw her.
She had become more than a pretty little girl; she was a beautiful,
budding adolescent. Her slightly curly hair was the color of gold, and
she wore it shoulder-long. Her eyes were a pale blue. Her complexion was
fair, but too warm to be pale. And she'd inherited the best of the bone
structures of her mom and dad, which was saying a lot. She was going to
be an absolute knockout when she grew up.
Mark came out to help with the bags and stared at his wife's bra-
encased tits. I hung back with him as she and Penny preceded us toward
the house. He was staring at his wife's sleek back and the firm, rounded
twitching of her ass in the remains of the dress. He was shaking his
head.
"Don't worry about the dress, Mark. It happens."
"Oh, not that. It's just that every time I look at her, it's like
the first time. She just gets more and more beautiful. I am one lucky
sonuvabitch."
"Amen to that." We started toward the house. "Where's Bonita?"
"She's waiting in the apartment for Irene. Keep her company on the
way out. They're taking the Long Island Railroad. Should get here around
nine-thirty. They'll probably be yakking all the way."
"They keep in touch, eh?"
"And how. Every time Irene gets a flight assignment in the
Northeast, she calls and they gab."
"Flight assignment?"
"Oh, yeah -- Irene's a flight attendant."
We climbed the five wooden steps to the side door. Dolores was
walking around the living room, investigating my collection of books and
tapes in the alcove next the fireplace. She was wearing a swimsuit under
her tee-shirt, now, and her long legs flashed and tensed as she shifted
and bent. The bottom of the suit didn't cover much of her ripe little
ass. I cautioned myself not to respond to the sight, but did anyhow, of
course. I settled for reminding myself to behave.
"Where do you want to bunk us?"
"I gave the girls first choice of the bedrooms down here. You guys
get the one on the left, upstairs."
I heard the bathroom door open and turned to find Kate striding
toward us. She had put on her swimsuit and pulled a pair of denim shorts
on over the bottoms. I knew she was wearing the bottoms because the
outline was visible under the very tight shorts. And she'd been right --
the bra hid more than the white Lurex top.
Mark's breathing had shortened. "Hey, honey, help me put these
upstairs?"
She looked puzzled for a moment, then smiled slightly. "Sure." She
took one minuscule makeup bag from her husband and sashayed past us. We
both stared for a moment before Mark began to follow, his eyes fixed on
his wife's gorgeous butt.
"Mark?"
He shook himself and looked at me.
"Be sure the door is closed. Noise and all that."
He grinned and blushed like a school-kid. I'd stayed with them once
when they were first married. At first I'd thought there was a
malfunctioning air-raid siren nearby. Kate was a screamer.
I deposited the other bags right there in the living room; they
could sort them out. Then I noticed Dolores. The ceiling of the main
floor goes all the way to the roof for half its width and Dolores was
watching her mesmerized father follow her sashaying mother across the
balcony to the bedroom.
Penny came out of the bedroom and saw Dolores looking up. "Where's
Mom and Dad?"
I heard the bedroom door close. Dolores just nodded toward the
balcony.
"Oh, jeez," Penny said. "Everybody into the shelter!" She put her
fingers into her ears and headed for the sliding screen doors to the
rear deck and the backyard beyond, lean legs scissoring beneath the
thigh-length jumbo tee-shirt.
Dolores followed at a more leisurely pace. She was shaking her
head.
"What's the matter?"
"I never knew old folks could get it on so much. None of my
friends' parents do it so much or so loud."
I stepped onto the deck and closed the screen door behind us. "Your
folks are very much in love."
"And lust."
I laughed. "That, too."
"Gives me hope for my old age," she said and grinned.
"Old age? Hey, your dad's only a few years older than I am." I was
trying to kid her.
"Oh, I didn't mean it like that. I mean, you're single and do
stuff. You're -- well, you're not like a parent."
"Not that I know of."
We stepped off the deck onto the cool grass and headed toward the
pool.
"Is it okay if we swim?"
I looked out at the yard, where Penny was investigating the bird
feeder. "You have to," I said. "Unless the pool gets churned up, it
solidifies. Can't have that."
"Uh-uh. Can't let that happen." She walked a little bit ahead of me
and slowly peeled her tee-shirt up. The blue lurex or spandex bottom
covered maybe two-thirds of her butt. Hard, creamy ass flesh clenched
and twitched in front of me for the next three or four steps, during
which she completed the de-tee-shirting. Her hips were slightly flared,
her waist was taut and the top of her suit was no more than a narrow
band of very tightly stretched blue across her shoulder blades. She
shook her chestnut hair back and suddenly turned to face me.
"Hold my shirt for me?" She thrust it at me.
"Uh...sure."
She smiled again, this time slyly. "How do you like my suit?" She
slowly turned this way and that. Yes, her secondary sexual
characteristics were superbly developed. About a handful (and I've got
big hands), they were firm and jutting, even within the not-quite
confines of the stretch top.
Which is to say: She had great tits.
"There's not much to like," I said. "And I like it."
Just then we could hear the first distant wailing from the house.
It went louder and higher and then there was a shriek -- and the wailing
resumed.
Dolores's eyes were half-closed and her nipples were hardening. She
shook her self, turned and jogged toward the pool. A moment later, I
heard the splash. I strode slowly ahead, the tee-shirt in my hand. Penny
awaited me at the gate.
"She's gotten to be such a flirt."
I looked down at her, found her looking up at me, beautiful face
expressionless and utterly devoid of guile. The top of her head was
barely even with the bottom of my ribcage. We stepped inside the
fencing. Dolores's splashing pretty well covered the screams from the
house.
"Most pretty girls flirt," I said. "It's usually a phase."
"I know. It starts when they take first deliveries on the flirting
equipment." She picoted, watching her sister. "She's already had some
re-orders delivered."
I went to my chaise lounge and sat. She followed and stood beside
me, still watching her sister. Dolores seemed to be trying to swim the
length of the pool underwater on a single breath. She was almost making
it.
"Do I detect a hint of jealousy?"
"A little." She pulled the big tee-shirt off and stood in her own
two-piece, which was considerably less flashy and more modest than her
sister's. "But I'm only eleven." She smiled brightly. "I think I'll do
okay. What do you think?"
Eleven? She had tits 14-year-olds would kill for. Penny was an
early bloomer. Her legs were still a bit skinny and she had no hips, but
her breasts were already forming nicely and proudly, and her little
peach of an ass was something I could have cheerfully take a big bite
out of -- if there was any skin that wasn't taut as a rubber ball.
"Yeah, you'll do okay. Go swim."
"Sure!" She whirled, whooped and leaped.
Had she glanced at my crotch, quickest of snatched glimpses, just
before turning? I wasn't sure, but I was glad I was wearing a jockstrap
and swimsuit under my shorts -- or else there'd have been no concealing
the hard-on there.
I grabbed the remains of my now-warm and flat beer and drained it.
This was going to be one helluva trying weekend -- and Bonita and Irene
hadn't even shown up yet!
Chapter Three
I left Penny watching Dolores's indefatigable swimming while I went
to the house for another beer and to get dinner under way. I started the
charcoal burning and laid out a couple of steaks and washed some
potatoes. While I was preparing the salad, Mark and Kate came downstairs
(a bit wobbly in the knees, if you ask me). Kate was glowing and Mark
looked content...for the time being.
"You guys get everything put where it belongs?"
Kate laughed easily and Mark grinned beneath his blush. He was
wearing an incredibly, wonderfully tacky Hawaiian shirt and oversized
shorts. Kate was wearing her little white lurex two piece with a
matching wrap around the bottom. When she walked, her hips rolled. Her
nipples were round, dark blotches inside the white top, which was
stretched to bursting by her tits. Between her and the two flirting
kids, I was going to be spending a lot of time choking the chicken this
weekend, unless something wonderful happened with Irene.
"Anything we can do help?" Kate asked as I chopped lettuce.
I stared at her. "After that business with the seat belt? You could
injure some valuable real estate. But I'd feel more at ease if you'd go
keep an eyes on those two marathon swimmers."
Kate smiled warmly and winked at Mark, than glided out the door.
She took off the wrap as she walked and that gorgeous, womanly ass was
demonstrating many wonderful advantages of sheer, white lurex.
"She's a lot of woman, cousin."
Mark nodded. "Maybe too much."
"Huh?"
"Listen, I should be pretty safe wrapping the potatoes in foil,
right?"
I nodded. As he mangled the aluminum foil, I said, "What did you
mean -- `Maybe too much'?"
"Shit, Dan, I'm almost 45. She's 30, just entering her sexual
prime. She's almost insatiable."
"Looks sated to me. Could almost hear her slosh." I went to work on
the radishes.
"She just turns me on so much, I always kind of rise to the
occasion. How's this?" He held up the first successfully captured
potato. It was a pretty miserable job of wrapping.
"Terrific. Listen -- As long as she's happy, what're you worrying
about?"
"Can I be blunt?"
"Hell, you can be the Easter Bunny. Shoot."
"Sometimes I think that no matter how much she cums, she's a little
disappointed when I stop."
"Are you bullshitting me?"
He shook his head somberly while he struggled to wrap another
elusive potato.
"Mark, you two were in the bedroom for 45 minutes. For two-thirds
of that time, she was screaming. The look on her face and the way she
was walking just now...That is one satisfied woman."
"I wonder... "
"Have you asked her about this?"
"Sure. She says I'm all the man she could ever wish for, that it's
beautiful and ecstatic...the standard line."
I stabbed a green pepper. "Standard line? Are you nuts? Are you
trying to imply that Kate -- *Kate* -- would hide something?"
"Well, yes -- so she wouldn't hurt my feelings. I think she wants
more than I can give her."
"Evidence?"
"Evi--? Oh." He deposited another pathetically wrapped potato and
began assaulting a third. "Well, I was watching a porno tape. She
usually doesn't bother with them -- says they're not romantic -- but she
was walking through, during this one scene where a guy with a huge cock
was giving a woman the business. Guy's dick must have been a foot long
and thick as a sausage. Well, she stopped walking and that, she watched.
Never took her eyes off the screen. And it turned her on so much, I
thought I was going to need a mop."
I laughed. "Hey, man, I've seen you in the shower. You've got
nothing to worry about."
"Dan, this guy had more soft than I have hard. Huge -- the way her
nipples got when she was watching him."
"Lot's of women fantasize about fucking a horse-cock, but most of
them don't care for it unless it's attached to someone they really
like."
"So I've read. So I've been told."
I went to work on a pair of perfect red peppers. "Why don't you
believe it?"
He took a deep breath. "Well, after that film I thought maybe she
was wishing for more. So I went out and bought something. A marital
aid."
"A what?"
"You know..."
"A dildo?"
"Yeah." A kind of cough, under his breath.
"A great big one."
"Yeah."
"As big as the guy in the movie."
Another cough. I went to work on the carrots.
"And?"
"And, well, uh, one night when I ran out of gas, I got it out and
lubed it up and started using it on her." He stopped wrapping and stared
at me. "Mark, she came for almost another hour."
"Nonstop?"
He nodded. "My arms gave out before she did. She took that fucking
thing inside to the hilt. I could see her tummy bulge when it was in. I
did it hard, I did it easy, fast, slow, straight, circles. Didn't
matter. By the time she was done, I was hard again. I rode her for
another 15 minutes and she kept cumming. Used the dildo again for about
a half-hour. She finally passed out with the dildo inside her. She was
still cumming."
I emitted a low whistle.
"She came for more than two hours without a pause and was still
cumming when she passed out," he repeated. "I think I've got a
situation, here."
"All in your head, Mark." Carrots done, I went to work on a
cucumber, peeling the skin.
"I think she wants more than just me."
"Even though she said the opposite."
"And I think she's going to go trolling."
"Now, Mark -- "
"And I think she'd like you."
"WHAT?"
"And I want you to go ahead -- "
I spun on him, cucumber poised for attack. "Forget it! Out of the
question!"
"Dan, she's going to go after somebody, sooner or later. She likes
you -- and I trust you. I know you'd never try to take her away from me,
so I'd be grateful if you helped me keep her happy."
"Sort of keep it in the family, huh?"
"Yeah."
"No fucking way. End of discussion."
"But -- "
"Mark, don't piss me off. I envy you Kate in your bed, I lust after
her, but I am not -- repeat, not -- going to fuck your wife."
"What if she asked?"
"Same response."
His shoulders slumped and I returned to the cucumber. I realized
that he'd actually convinced himself that he wanted this -- to have me
fuck his horny wife.
A few more silent minutes of devastating the potatoes and preparing
the salad, and I said, "Better go get those water babies in here to
change. We'll be ready to eat in a half hour."
"Sure." Dejected. He went out and summoned them. The two girls
scampered in, with Kate languidly bringing up the rear (so to speak).
"Mosquitoes out there," she announced.
"No kidding." I handed her the salad bowl. "In the fridge, please?"
She smiled brightly and bent at the waist before the opened
refrigerator. Her ass was a caution, outthrust like that.
Broing! Boner time.
"There're some bug whackers out there. Would you guys turn'em on
for me? Just turn the switch till the nasty blue glow starts and watch
the fun. And toss those taters down into the coals, please."
"I'll do it," Mark said. To Kate: "You're still damp."
From what he'd told me, she was always damp. He went out into the
yard and began making the rounds in twilight.
"Kate, I've got to tell you something."
"Mmmmm?"
"Dolores is turning me on. She's working at it, but she doesn't
have to."
She made a face. "So now she's picking on you. Mark had the same
reaction and I told her it wasn't nice to go around teasing her dad."
"Or her Uncle Dan."
"I'll talk to her about it."
"Please. I don't want to be tempted by a kid. Get a couple of more
brewskis in me and I might convince myself that she wants to do more
than tease."
Kate chuckled. "She probably does. She really likes you, you know."
"She's 15. She's just a kid."
"Oh, she's grown up enough in some ways."
"Not between the ears, she's not. And how's Irene looking?"
"She's grown up enough, in all the ways. When I grow up, I want to
look like Irene. Looking forward to her arrival?" She stared pointedly
at my crotch.
"As if you and Lolita weren't enough to raise the flagpole."
"Why, thank you for the flattery!" She smiled. Dimples. Hadn't
noticed those before.
"It's truth."
"Well, if you're already salivating, wait'll Bonita gets here."
"Oh? She's -- what? Nineteen?"
"You haven't seen her in a while, have you?"
"No. Last couple of times, she's been away at school." Bonita was a
sophomore at Smith, on a scholarship. She'd spent her previous summer in
Italy, visiting ruins (presumably). This summer she was interning at the
Metropolitan Museum of Art. She was an Art History major.
"Bonita is gorgeous and hot and -- remember young Raquel Welch?"
"Who could forget?"
"Okay -- better. Sexier."
I whistled. "Maybe we better get some sheep in here before they
arrive. I'm going to be drooling over a 19-year-old. If Irene shows
signs of receptivity, warn her that I'm going to be, er, prominently
energetic."
"The prominence is already evident." She glanced at my crotch.
"Cripes."
Dolores and Penny came out, wearing loose shorts and oversized
shirts and thongs. Penny looked cute. Since Dolores's shirt was
sufficiently oversized for her braless tits to bobble enticingly, she
was again an ad for jailbait sex.
"Kate -- Lolita?" I whispered.
"Right. Dolores, will you help me with something, please?" Kate
strode toward the stairway to the upstairs bedroom, her daughter in tow.
Mark returned. "Mosquito heaven out there."
"We can't eat outside?" Penny asked.
"In a little while. Your dad has successfully engaged the nuclear-
powered bug zappers. I will fire up the citronella blasters and in a
brief time, the backyard will be safe for visiting humans."
"I'm still putting on jeans and a long sleeve," said Mark.
"Bug repellent's in the utility closet next to the bathroom down
here."
Penny looked up at the closed bedroom door. "You told Mom about
Dolores, right?"
"Right."
Penny looked at me, now. Her gaze was disconcertingly calm. "She
really wants to do it with you, y'know."
"If she feels the same way in five years, I'll be delighted."
"I'm serious."
I was busy working a garlic clove around the steaks. I stopped and
met her stare. "She told you?"
Penny nodded. "She's not a virgin, either. Hasn't been for a year.
Why not?"
"She's too young -- "
"She's big enough."
"And she's not big enough."
"You liked her body."
"Yes, but she's not big enough. In there."
"She's had -- "
"Believe me, Penny. She's not."
"But -- "
I reached into the vegetable bin and handed her a large cucumber.
"No, she's not."
Her eyes widened and her mouth opened. A little "Oh!" came out.
I took back the vegetable and replaced it. "Put the plates out on
the picnic table for me? They're in that cupboard." I nodded and resumed
preparing the steaks. "How do you like yours?"
"Big and -- uh, medium." She was blushing. She took a very long
time to put the plates on the table. In the interim, Dolores and Kate
came back downstairs. Both were dressed for outdoor dining, i.e., jeans
and long-sleeved dark blouses. Dolores looked abashed. Kate was keeping
her lovely lips pursed in a straight line, holding back a smile.
"Dolores?" I called.
"What?" she snapped. Then: "Sorry."
"It's okay."
Kate was stifling a laugh.
"Would you help set the table, please? Silverware and glasses." I
nodded toward the appropriate cupboard and drawers.
When she was outside, Kate said, "She really wants to do it with
you."
"If she feels the same way in five years, I'll be delighted."
"I'm serious."
I was cutting the steaks into New York strips. I stopped and turned
to her, with an intense feeling of deja vu. "She told you?"
"She's not a virgin, either. Hasn't been for a year."
"She told you?" This is a recording -- a recording -- a
recording...
"Sure. We have a good relationship."
"And what do you think of this desire?"
"I guess every young woman has a phase when she gets the hots for
an older, male relative. Especially a good-looking one who has a
romantic lifestyle."
"Oh, yeah. real romantic. Cooped up ten hours a day in front of a
CRT, trying to turn obscure bits of fact into a coherent story. Dragging
around the SEC or libraries. Hanging out for hours in some waiting room
while the guy who won't return my calls ducks down the service elevator.
About as romantic as driving a cab."
"She just sees the byline on a New York Magazine cover or a book in
the stores. She remembers the name on the Times list or a Tonight Show
bit -- she taped it, you know." Kate smiled. "Yes -- romantic. Handsome.
Single."
"You still haven't told me what you think of this."
She took a deep breath. I was glad she was dressed. "Well, if she's
going to get it on with an older male, I think I'd prefer it be you. I
know you, I like you and I trust you with her emotions."
"She's too young -- "
"She's mature enough."
"And she's not big enough."
"She turned you on."
"Very much." I was about to say "But she's not big enough, in
there" and do the cucumber routine again -- but then I remembered what
Mark had told me. No, that was not the approach to take in this case. I
just said, "I don't think it would be a great idea, Kate, and I'd prefer
that it be discouraged."
She nodded thoughtfully. "And that's one of the reasons why I'd
trust you with her. Thank you."
"Think nothing of it. Let's go grill some steaks."
By the time the salad was dispensed, the steaks were done and it
was full dark. I switched on some of the low-wattage electric lanterns
so we could see what we were eating. The night was filled with stars,
the steaks were juicy, the potatoes sizzling, the salad crunchy, the
beer was cold, good company abounded -- heaven. We topped it off with
the traditional toasted marshmallows (for the "kids," which included
Kate) and some coffee cake for Mark and me. His spirits, which had been
good during the meal, were sinking again. While Kate and the "kids" went
into the house to play Scrabble, he started talking about looking for
work. There were hints of the recession ending, but --
"In my field, you work for a loser, you're marked as a loser."
He went downhill from there. Through three more beers, he got
progressively more morose. And less coherent. Never could hold his
booze.
The womenfolk came out to help clear the table. Kate looked at
Mark, sitting stuporous across from me, and rolled her eyes. I gave her
a little shake of my head.
"It's almost nine," she said. "Their train comes in at nine
thirty." The two girls helped me clear the table while Kate helped Mark
clear the doorway and the Alpine climb to the bedroom.
"Gonna be quiet tonight," Penny said.
"For a change," Dolores said.
We were carrying our loads into the kitchen. "Who won the game?" I
was trying to change the subject.
"The shrimp."
"Oh?" Penny was sticking her tongue out at Dolores.
"Yep. Turned 'or' into 'fornicate.'"
I stopped in my tracks and stared as they went to the counter.
Penny glanced back at me and grinned impishly. "I read a lot," she said.
I got the dishes loaded into the dishwasher machine, fueled it with
soap and started the Infernal Machine. It always sounds more like a
trash compactor, but it definitely does the dirty work. "I'm going to
the station, now. There's cable on the TV in your room."
Dolores made a face. "TV. Yuck."
"Can I come with you?" Penny asked.
"He doesn't want you going with him, you dope. He's going to be
picking up Irene."
"Who's a dope? Bonnie's going to be there, anyhow. Besides, how's
he going to know who they are?"
"Good point," I said. "Okay."
"I'm coming, too, then," Dolores said. Penny flashed her a
murderous look. Dolores glared back. What the hell as going on?
"Keep that up and you ride in the trunk. Go brush teeth and be out
here in five minutes, ready to move out."
I took the time to wash my face and change. Wanted to look good for
Irene, heh-heh. Stripped off the shorts, swimsuit and jock, pulled on a
pair of old Levi's and a clean shirt that emphasized my shoulders.
Sneakers, no socks. The casual, self-assured, successful writer look.
Irresistible, I hoped. Prayed.
Some night creatures scattered into the bushes as we walked out to
the driveway and somewhere over the Bay, on the other side of the road,
an owl was hoo-hoo-hooooting. Penny was gawking at the stars.
I got into the van and asked her, "Coming?"
"I never saw this many stars anywhere but at the Planetarium." She
was awestruck. I liked that, a lot.
Dolores scrambled into the back passenger-side seat -- the van has
four buckets -- and buckled herself in while Penny did the same in the
front. We pulled out of the driveway and started through dark, twisty
Eastern Long Island roads. No street lights and only two stoplights for
the six miles to the station. At the first stop sign, I glanced into the
rearview and saw what Dolores was doing to herself for my benefit.
Chapter Four
Dolores was slumped down in her seat, her legs wide. She had pulled
the very loose leg opening wider and high up on her thigh. She was
pantyless. I know -- I could see her fingering her pussy through the
leghole. And she was watching my eyes in the rearview.
All in a flash, you should excuse the expression.
I picked up speed from the intersection and pushed the limit a
little. Like it or not, I was getting a tremendous hard on, and since I
was bare under the Levis, it was going to be very, very apparent. I
hoped we didn't get caught at either stoplight.
Of course the first was bright red.
I glanced in the rearview. Dolores's eyes were half-closed. She was
pinching her nipples through her tee-shirt with one hand. The other was
still between her legs. She had one finger inside her cunt and another
was working on her clit, just rubbing back and forth in little circles.
Penny was chattering about how quiet it was out here.
"Yeah," I said. "Quiet. Real quiet."
"Don't you think it's nice out here, Dolores?"
"Wonnerful," Dolores mumbled.
The light changed just as Penny was about to turn to her sister. I
floored it. The acceleration kept Penny facing forward -- the same
direction as my dick, now aching and trapped in my jeans.
We barely made the other stoplight on the yellow, just as Dolores
was stiffening and shaking in the back seat. She was biting her lower
lip and shivering with her orgasm. Her eyes slowly opened and she smiled
at me and licked her lips.
We turned into the well-lit parking lot for the little LIRR station
as Dolores sat up straight and tugged her clothes into place. Then she
licked the fingers that had been working between her legs, taking extra
time to suck the one that had been inside her. Staring at me in the
rearview.
I put the van in park and asked Penny to go check the bulletin
board on the door of the station, to be sure of the schedule. She
complied willingly, scampering to the tiny ticket office, which was
closed.
"I want to do it with you," Dolores said. "Penny said you won't,
because you think I'm too young. She said you think I'm not big enough,
that your dick is too big. Lots of boys say that and -- "
"Forget it. And don't pull this on me again." I was half-turned
toward her, trying to sound tough and glare at here. All I could see was
the memory-image of her tensed and cumming.
"I tried to use a cucumber and it didn't fit," she continued. "But
that was when I was twelve. And I don't think you're that big."
She leaned forward suddenly and put her hand on my crotch. The move
was so unexpected and quick that I didn't catch her in time. Her small
hand came right down on my hard cock. I grabbed her wrist and she
grabbed my dick. I heard her little gasp of surprise and her fingers
relaxed -- after one quick, jerking squeeze that was almost enough to
make me cum.
She sat back in her bucket seat. Her eyes were wide, her mouth hung
open and her nipples were spikes under her tee-shirt. She had her hands
between her legs and she was twisting them, rubbing herself through her
shorts. "Please, let me do it, let me do it..."
She shook again. When she calmed, her eyes focused on me and she
said, very clearly: "I'm going to have you before we go back to the
city."
The distant warning hoot of the diesel sounded. Penny came running
back to the van. "The train is coming!"
I smiled. "I'll be right out. Dolores, go wait with your sister."
She just smiled and got out of the van, somehow making it
provocative.
I sat there a moment, pondering. She was sexy as hell and obviously
knew what she was doing. What would be the harm? For one thing, I
reminded myself, it was illegal. And thinking of what happened in prison
to men convicted of rape -- even statutory -- of young girls, my boner
began to shrivel. Unfortunately, my balls were starting to hurt.
I groaned and got out of the van. I stood next to the girls as the
train rumbled and whined to a stop. There were a few other people there,
waiting to meet the arrivals. Among the greeters were a trio of teenaged
boys who were meticulously studying Dolores and Penny.
There was no problem recognizing Bonita and Irene. They were the
two knockouts. Irene had grown up even lovelier than I'd remembered. And
Kate hadn't been lying when she'd described Bonita.
"Hi, hi, hello -- it's great to see you," I said quickly. Irene
brightened the night with a glorious smile and Bonita grinned.
"Hi, uncle Dan!" She gave me a quick peck on the cheek.
Broing!
I covered by quickly taking both their bags. "Come on, let's get
back to the house and unwind."
Penny and Dolores chattered happily with the two women as I stowed
the bags. Penny volunteered to take one of the swivel buckets in the
back of the van so she could look out the rear window. I put Dolores
behind me and Bonita next to her, figuring her sister's proximity would
keep the little vixen in check.
Which, of course, meant Irene sat next to me. Sheer chance, of
course.
Broing!
Bonita and Irene wore similar outfits -- old jeans and long-sleeved
man-tailored flannel shirts against the cool eastern Long Island night.
The shirts were tucked into the waists of the jeans, and man-tailored or
not, they were well-filled. I glanced at Irene as I made a right,
turning out of the parking lot. In profile, she was awesome. The fine,
straight nose, the long lashes, the soft lips, the sandy hair pulled
back in a ponytail -- gorgeous. And the thrust of those proud breasts
against the shirt was enough to make a groan man cry.
We exchanged miscellaneous pleasantries during the drive back.
Irene was on a week-long break. She'd been on the London-Orlando run for
five weeks and was due for reassignment. She was hoping for New York-
Madrid. She'd read my last piece -- the Times magazine one about New
York City's huge stock of empty, structurally sound housing left empty
while poor folks slept in the streets -- and liked it a lot.
Bonita and Dolores were thick as thieves behind us, whispering with
great animation. For some reason, that made me very nervous. As we
pulled into the drive, both giggled and I caught Bonita staring at me as
if making some judgment.
When we got to the house, everybody was so busy with greetings that
only Dolores -- and, possibly, Penny -- noted the guy with the flagpole
in his pants. Dolores made a point of making me aware of her stare.
The others descended on the cold buffet Kate had assembled as I
headed immediately into the bedroom to deposit the new arrivals' bags,
then high-tailed it upstairs to my bedroom. I stripped, groaning at the
relief of having my cock freed for a few minutes, and stepped quickly
into my bathroom. I could hear an occasional lurch of group laughter
from the main room downstairs. A cold, soaked wash cloth diminished my
ardor to manageable levels. I pulled on a jock and my swimsuit, then
ducked into a tee-shirt and padded downstairs barefoot.
Bonita and Irene had pulled the hems of their shirts out of their
jeans and were sprawled on the banquette in the bay window. Each had a
can of brew and a sandwich and some potato chips. Kate was sitting in
one of the wicker reading chairs. She'd turned it to face the others and
not the fireplace. She looked so completely unaffected, all aglow with
pleasure at having her loved ones around, that I again envied Mark.
Dolores was sitting on the raised brick skirt of the fireplace, knees
tucked up to her chest and the oversized tee-shirt tugged down to her
ankles, so it covered her legs, too. Penny sat Amerindian style on the
throw rug in front of the fireplace.
They quieted as I approached. Girl talk. Uh-oh. They were all
looking at me as I constructed one of my patented diet-killer sandwiches
(slab of rye bread, dijon mustard, roast beef, slice of cheese, ham,
slice of cheese, salami, slice of cheese, tomato, lettuce and another
slab of rye, this one with Thousand Island dressing). I was passing up
my usual slice of onion in hopes of a Close Encounter of the Irene Kind.
Grabbed a bottle of Guinness stout. All the while, exchanging pleasant
stupidities with the five of them. This is known as Small Talk.
"Where're you going, Mark?" Kate asked as I opened the screen door.
I flipped the switch for the outdoor lights with my elbow. "Going
to sit out here and read and eat and smoke my nasty pipe and let you
female-type people get on with the talk that went into Pause Mode when I
came down."
Irene and Bonita erupted with laughter and I felt my ears redden
for no tangible reason. Kate had one of her Cheshire cat smiles now and
nodded as I left them. When I stepped into the pool enclosure, I
activated the Thermonuclear Bug Whackers and settled back onto the
chaise lounge. Back to my Spencer!
About sixty pages later, Penny came out and frumped down into the
other chaise lounge. Her expression was annoyed.
"What's up, pretty girl?"
"Dolores is really pissed off at me."
I closed Spencer and reached for my pipe; time for a refill.
"Give."
"Oh, Dolores said she was going to come out here for a swim. I
whispered to Mom that she'd just be bugging you again and told her she'd
been bothering you on the way to the station. So Mom told Dolores to
stay with us. Dolores got pissed off and went into the bedroom and
turned on MTV." Penny's evident disgust became more pronounced. "She
hates MTV almost as much as I do. She did it just so I wouldn't go in
there."
I, on the other hand, actually liked limited doses of MTV.
Something was wrong with this picture. More importantly --
"What do you mean, she was bothering me on the way to the station?"
Penny rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Uncle Dan! Do you think I'm
some stupid, naive little kid? Or do you think I'm blind? I saw what she
was doing." She giggled with disarming suddenness. "And I know you saw
it, too."
I very nearly sprained my thumb packing the pipe. "Oh?" It sounded
forced and strangled even to my own ears.
"I saw how big and hard you got down there." Another giggle. "Are
you going to -- " She paused, squinting, searching for the proper expression.
" -- jerk off?"
I groaned. "Penny, I don't think this is a really good subject for
our conversation."
Her expression became surprisingly hard. "One of the things I
always liked about you was that you never treated me like a little kid.
Until now. I know what the score is. With Mom and Dad going at it all
the time and Dolores always in heat, how could I not know?"
"Well, then, uh, why bother asking?"
Suddenly, the Little Sophisticate was an uncertain kid again. She
shifted around on the chaise and finally said, "Well, I just wondered,
that's all."
I was lighting my pipe, stalling her into telling more.
"And, well, I just wondered if..."
"What?"
She shook her head rapidly. "Nothing. Never mind."
"I think you asked me just because you wanted to watch me squirm.
And I feel bad that you wanted to make me uncomfortable. Are you happy
now?"
Her shocked expression told me I was wrong. She stood abruptly and
glared. "That's not true! I don't ever want you to be sorry I'm around!"
"Then why'd you ask me that question?"
"Because...I wanted you to let me watch you do it, okay? Are *you*
happy now?" And she stalked off toward the gate.
She turned abruptly. "Oh. I am supposed to enquire whether it is
permissible for Bonita and Irene to swim in the pool at night." Very
formal and grown-up.
"You may inform the ladies that it is entirely permissible,
provided there are at least two people present at any given time."
"Thank you."
"You are most welcome. Good night..."
She executed a sharp about-face and strode away.
"...shrimp."
Without looking back, she raised one arm over her head, Badfinger
extended in the classic salute. But I saw her shoulders shake and knew
she was laughing. Good. I returned to my Spencer. Hawk was on the case.
The only question remaining in the last 20 pages was whether Susan
Silverman was coming back to our hero.
I finished the pipe and the book at the same time (she did return).
I gathered my detritus and headed toward the house. Now, what could I do
to get Penny completely back to being my buddy? I glanced up at the
stars. Orion's Belt twinkled at me. I waved back, saying thanks. I knew
what to do.
MTV was belting out from the bedroom and Kate was absent. "She went
up to bed," Bonita said in response to my quizzical expression. She and
Irene were talking softly and quietly. Penny was in a reading chair and
she was engaged in -- oddly enough -- reading. I looked over her
shoulder. "Gravity's Rainbow." Sometimes that "kid" scared me. It took
me two weeks to get through it and she was devouring it the way grown-
ups ate up romance novels.
I put my dishes in the sink and went down to the basement. I exited
the basement through the side door, then walked around to the side of
the house, where the pool-enclosure lights were blocked. It didn't take
long to set up the instrument, even in the dark; its fittings were
familiar old friends. When I had it all aligned and ready, I went up
onto the deck and cleared my throat at the screen door.
"Anyone here interested in taking a look at Jupiter's moons through
a Questar telescope?"
Penny, slouching over her book, jerked upright in her seat, eyes
wide. Her head swiveled slowly toward me. "A telescope?" she breathed.
"Yep."
I know her feet must have touched the floor somewhere between her
chair and me, but I didn't observe it. I barely got the screen door open
before she reached it. I'm still not sure she would have waited for it
to open. "Jupiter's moons!" and she was dragging Uncle Dan into the
darkness.
"Over here, where the pool lights don't reach," I said, aiming
about 80 pounds of Penny in the right direction.
"Come on -- hurry!" she demanded, pulling 210 pounds of Uncle Dan
helplessly in her wake. This, I figured, had to be what the skipper of a
luxury superliner like the QE2 experiences when a tug ties on to it.
"Wait, wait, wait," I said when we were in the shadows. I explained
about night-sight and made her stand, fidgeting, with her eyes closed
for the requisite 30 seconds. Then I showed her to the telescope and
watched the fun. She had no trouble learning the fine controls so she
could do her own tracking on her target.
She was grabbed by the eyeball, hunched over the instrument and
immobile. Silhouetted in the night, I was struck with wonder at the
intensity of her interest, the totality of her fascination. She was
drinking in the night, sucking up the stars, and I doubted all the
wonders of the universe could sate her hunger. In this, she was no
different than any healthy kid. I thought of that most pitiful of
creatures -- the school teacher who's been ground into apathy by
underfunding, disconnected parents, lack of community support and
respect and generally shitty conditions. I was filled with a flare of
rage at the unbelievable, wasteful stupidity of a society that allows
anyone who voluntarily chose to teach the Pennys of the world to be
forcibly jaded to the glorious miracle of that thirsty young mind. The
fury burned so brightly that I wondered if I could glow in the dark, and
I forced myself to be calm, tried to think of something else, to quench
the anger or at least bank it as coals.
I heard a distant splash. Ahhh, yes, the lovelies and their
midnight swim. I was about to excuse myself for a little recreational
ogling when Penny asked if we could see Saturn. Well, no, since Saturn
wasn't up. But Mars was and I sighted for her.
Then I made my break.
Big as I am, I walk very quietly. I don't like to disturb the other
tenants on the land, the four-legged ones. So it was an accident. I
intended to just walk through the gate of the pool enclosure and stand
there in the light and try to chat up the young women -- primarily,
Irene. And wax my eyeballs on the sight of them in their swimsuits.
As it happens, at six-foot-five, I can see over the wooden fencing
pretty easily long before I get to the gate. And they didn't hear me
coming.
They were standing in the shallow end, in waist-deep water, facing
each other. Irene was just undoing the knot in the single strip of
fabric holding up the top of Bonita's maillot. The water held it to her
breasts, and then Irene peeled it down. Her lips were tracing the line
of exposure.
Broing!
Chapter Five
In profile, Bonita's breasts were amazing. Pear-shaped and quite
large, they were nonetheless defying gravity by jutting. Until that
moment, I'd always thought Playmates were airbrushed into that thrust.
Her nipples were hard and Irene was feasting on them, first one and then
the other and then back, while caressing Bonita's sleekly curved waist
and hips. Irene's nipples were very long and very hard inside the top of
her strapless two-piece. Very long, as in maybe three-quarters of an
inch. Considering how tight the stretch material was, that was pretty
amazing all by itself.
Bonita was shifting slowly from side to side, her hips rolling and
her butt twitching. She ran her hands over Irene's head and shoulders
and then gripped her face. She turned Irene's face toward her and
fastened her mouth on Irene's. Their arms went around each other and
they clinched, hands moving constantly. They fell to their knees,
pressed together. The water was now at the level of their necks. When
Irene pulled away, a bright blue strip floated in the water: her top.
Bonita urged her to stand. As Irene stood, Bonita slicked the bottoms
down over Irene's legs and just then I sensed someone approaching.
Penny!
I turned and strode to intercept, but it wasn't Penny; it was Kate.
I gestured for quiet, reached her in two strides and turned her toward
the side of the house where her youngest daughter was still -- I hoped
-- gazing at the heavenly bodies of her choice.
"I was just going to check on Bonita and Irene."
"They're fine." I cleared my throat.
"Dan, why are you herding me? What are they doing?" She turned to
face me and her hand brushed the tent in my pants. Her eyes got very big
in the night as comprehension sank in. "They're not -- ?"
"They're not hurting anyone," I said. She planted her heels and
froze, staring at me in starlight.
"You mean my sister and my daughter are lesbians?" she finally
hissed, horrified.
"I dunno, but right now they're lovers. Leave them alone."
"But -- I feel so -- so -- "
"Think how I feel. I've been fantasizing about Irene all evening."
I never found out what she was about to say, because Penny came
charging up: "You've gotta see this, Mom! It's amazing!"
"Yeah, Mom, go take a look," I agreed. "I'm going to go get a
beer."
I heard quiet splashing in the pool. I was jealous of both women. I
strode to the house, changing my mind about the beer. This called for
brandy. Then I decided on beer again. In my state, a couple of belts of
brandy would convince me that I should take up Dolores on her
invitation.
Which was when I realized there was no more MTV coming from the
bedroom. But there was another sound. I crept to the door and listened.
Panting and moans. And words, barely intelligible: "Oh yeah -- oh yeah
-- gimme -- uh -- more -- unnnh -- more! -- harder! -- oh yeah! -- "
Like that.
Brandy.
I put an unreasonable amount in the snifter and took it onto the
front deck, the one that faces all the greenery that defends my house
from the road and runs in front of the first-floor bedrooms. I sat on
the Adirondack chair in front of the bedroom Irene and Bonita would
occupy. Served three purposes. For one, it kept me away from the noises
Dolores was making. For another, I'd know when my sapphic fantasy girls
were done in the pool and I could go to the back deck. And, as long as I
could hear Kate and Penny murmuring from the shadows at the side of the
house, I'd know where they were.
About two-thirds of the way through a bowl of my pipe tobacco, I
heard the door to the bedroom open and close. I crept over to Dolores's
door and listened. Silence. I picked up the remains of my brandy and
went around to the side of the house, greeting Penny and Kate.
"I hate to break up the star search, but we've got to repack the
telescope or condensation will form inside the housing."
"Oh...okay." Penny was very polite about it. "Can we do it again
tomorrow night, Uncle Dan? Please?"
"Honey, he may have other plans," Kate cautioned.
I bent and kissed Penny's forehead. "Sweetheart, you and me go on a
tour of the heavens tomorrow. I'll set up the big one and we'll see if
we can't spot Mons Olympus, okay?"
"What's that?" Penny asked. "It sounds dirty!"
"Penny!" Kate gasped.
"Mons Olympus is on Mars and it's the tallest mountain we know of
in our Solar System."
The ladies helped me carry the telescope and tripod inside and
Penny watched closely as I disassembled the mount and put everything
back into its case. I bid both a friendly good night and then refilled
the snifter, took my pouch and my pipe and myself out to the pool
enclosure. I had an Elmore Leonard novel awaiting me.
I was stretched out on the chaise and enjoying the silence when I
heard, "Knock-knock?"
I turned my head. Bonita. She was carrying two cans of beer and was
wearing one of the terrycloth bathrobes I keep in the bathroom closet
for guests to use.
"Who's there?"
"Banana. Knock-knock?"
"Who's there?"
"Banana. Knock-knock?"
"Who's there?"
"Orange."
"Orange?"
"Orange you glad it's not banana again?"
I groaned.
"Now that I've ruined your evening, mind if I join you?" She still
had the infectious grin. When Mark and Regina had been on the splits,
Bonita and I had gotten to be good buddies. Somehow, she could always
hit me with that grin when things seemed at their worst and before I
could say "starving writer," I'd be grinning, too.
"Come in and abuse me some more," I said, grinning back. She
settled into the chaise opposite mine and then raised her eyebrows while
staring at the brandy.
"Oh?"
"Oh." I closed "Double Dutch Treat" (I was halfway through "Cat
Dancer") and put it down.
"Special occasion?"
"You got it." I took a big slug of the brandy. "I'm disappointed.
Doubly. Partly with you."
She looked genuinely shocked. "Me? Why?"
"I saw you and Irene in the pool."
Her mouth sagged open, then slowly closed. She was about to speak,
but I cut her off.
"Disappointed -- not that you were making love with a woman, but
that you didn't have the good sense to be more discrete about it. I was
the one who stumbled onto you. It could have been Dolores."
"She knows the score."
"You got that right," I muttered.
"Excuse me?"
"Never mind," I said, louder. "Penny could have found you. Or your
mother. She'd be horrified."
"Mom's cool. What makes you think she'd be shocked?"
"She was." I told her of the conversation Kate and I had.
Bonita thought it over, then nodded. "Yeah, it was thoughtless."
She drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. That caused some interesting
tidal effects on her robe. "Well, I'm no lesbian. I like
women, too, but I like men." She turned a frown on me, drank some more
beer and asked, "What was the other part of the disappointment?"
"Irene."
"Irene?" Then: "Oh!" She grinned.
"Yeah, I've been hungry for her all evening."
"But we only got here a couple of hours ago."
"Yeah, well, I've been looking forward to some gorgeous single
female-type company all evening."
She finished the beer and automatically popped the tab on the
second. "Haven't been getting any, eh?"
"Oh, that's not it, so much."
And bit by bit, she wormed it out of me about Dolores, and her
games and come-on behavior. And she said essentially the same thing her
mother and Penny had said.
"But she's only 15, for crying out loud!"
"How does it go? 'If they're big enough to bleed, they're big
enough to' -- "
"Bullshit. She's a kid. Sexy, gorgeous, horny -- but a kid."
Bonita suddenly came over to me and kissed me lightly on the lips,
then a bit less lightly. She caught me totally by surprise. Just as I
began to react, she went back to her chaise lounge.
"Explain," I managed to croak.
"When I was 15, I had the most tremendous crush on you. I wanted
you to make mad, passionate love to me. I tried everything I thought I
could get away with to turn you on."
"I remember. And you did turn me on."
She smiled. "I know. But you never let me come on too strong --
never laid a glove on me. I thought I was ready for that, too, but maybe
I wasn't, and if you'd taken me up on it, I might've had a really messed
up head for a while. And you're resisting again, and Dolores sounds a
lot more brazen than I dared to be."
"That's for damn sure!"
"So here's my poor Uncle Dan, all revved up by a lolita, all
charged up for Irene -- and he finds Irene getting it on with his
niece."
"Worse than that, even."
"Huh?"
"Then his niece gives him a kiss and it tastes like Irene-juice is
still on her face. I'm jealous!"
"Of me or her?"
"Both."
It took a moment for that one to sink in. Then she came back beside
my chaise lounge.
"Really?" she whispered, staring me in the eye. "Really?" She bent
over me, bracing her hands on the arms of the chaise lounge. The robe
fell open at the top. She wasn't wearing anything I could see under that
robe.
"Really?" She repeated and pressed her lips to mine. I groaned into
her open mouth and managed to restrain myself from throwing her down and
fucking her.
She finally raised her face and breathed, "You know, I still want
you, a lot." As she spoke, she ran her fingers down over my arm, then
across my hip and thigh and finally rested her hand on my cock. Her eyes
widened as she gripped it.
She stood straight and straddled the chaise lounge, letting her
robe fall open. She moved forward till her neatly trimmed cunt was right
over my face, then slowly lowered her crotch onto my more-than-eager
mouth.
She was juicy and sweet and very, very hot. I kept my eyes open and
had a groundhog's view of her -- trim tummy, tiny waist, outrageous
breasts, hard nipples...which I quickly reached up to tweak. As I licked
her and sucked her, I ran my hands down and then around her back,
finally fastening onto her firm, rounded ass. I pulled her down against
my mouth and began teasing her clit. She was flowing now, bathing my
face in her sauce. When I began circling her clit and she began shaking
with her orgasm, she was drooling cunt juice into my mouth.
She straightened slowly, then moved down on the lounge. She reached
down and unfastened the zipper and waist-snap of my jeans. My cock bobbed
up, purple and angry at the long confinement.
She moved to one side of the lounge and dropped to her knees as she
gripped my aching dick.
"It's so big, I -- " She looked up at me. "I don't think I'm up for
something this size, tonight -- but I will be tomorrow."
I groaned as she began moving her hand on my cock. Oh, well, I
thought, a handjob from her would be better than my own, at least. And
she had promised to do better tomorrow.
"But I want you in my mouth tonight -- now!" And then she ducked
her head down and gobbled about a third of my prick before she reached
her limit. She didn't try to be arty about it. She just latched on and
went into leech mode, sucking and jerking.
Thirty seconds passed. All of thirty seconds.
"I'm gonna cum!" I breathed hoarsely.
She sucked harder and jerked harder and then I let loose. She made
a soft noise, as if she'd been hit in the back with a pillow, then
swallowed and sucked for oil. Some of my cum ran out of the corners of
her mouth, but she never stopped sucking as I fired off again and then
the semen just poured out of me in one continuous, blissful stream. She
kept sucking and tonguing until I was done and then swallowed with a
loud GULP.
I lay limp as she let my shrinking cock fall from her mouth. She
rested her face on my thigh and stroked my shriveling prick with the
tips of her fingers. After a few seconds, she raised her face to look at
me, questioning. I motioned to her and she quickly crawled up into my
arms and pressed herself against me. We kissed a couple of times. I
could taste Irene and me in her mouth.
"I've wanted to do that for so long," she whispered, snuggling.
"Me, too."
"Really?"
I stroked her back through the robe. "Truth."
She giggled. "Still want Irene?"
"Well, uh..."
"Truth?" she admonished.
"Yes."
"Me, too. I better get going."
"Into bed with Irene."
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