August Moone
Timing is Everything
Chapter 24
Happy Daze

	A deep bassy voice sang “You load 16 tons, and whattya get? Another day older and deeper in debt.”  that was a clue.  A host of prime condition mid model ‘55 Chevy’s was another.  The extremely well crafted architectural designs on the buildings, some slang he overheard--daddy-o, cool man, cool! Among others--that was another clue.
	Some kids in odd style clothing danced crazily with hula-hoops about them; girls in pony tails, jeans rolled up their ankles, fresh faces, more ‘55 Chevys.  More clues.
	Some boys wearing coonskin caps and running amok with pop guns…
	Some girls wearing apparently the most popular brand of typical footwear, saddleshoes!  August hadn’t seen such since--well, he had NEVER seen the shoes so popular.  Well, not since….
	More clues…
	Bigger clues to his new where’bouts came with some teen lads strolling nonchalantly slinking along sportin’ ducktail hairdos.  School letterman jackets but they clearly weren’t true jocks.  Chomping gum and eyeing some pretty teen girls in poodle skirts and other forms of dress style of the time period (guessed yet?).
	His biggest clues came with the prices posted on the window of a corner grocery store; flour at 55 cents, sliced bread going for 18 cents, a pound of bacon 70 cents!  
	There were not a car on the small town street older than 1955, it was like--like--freaky, man, real freaky--SquaresVille!
	August also noted that in the window pane of the corner grocery store--he had no reflection.  This wasn’t good.

	The HeadsUpDisplay was on, either; but he could “feel” himself, and himself was naked.  That wasn’t good, either--what if he should suddenly “appear?”  that would be bad, very bad.
	No one, though, seemed to notice him, that was a plus.  He could feel the walls, but somehow couldn’t seem to feel the sidewalk.  Nor the blazing sun, barely could he feel the air stirred up by the summer’s breeze and a quickly moving peoples.  Something up, something was different.  (Well, at least there weren’t any damn bears or naked purple Indians!)

	For awhile he just wandered the streets aimlessly, was there a purpose to his being in this particular time period--1955?  He was now just six years away from being born.  Was that significant?  More questions--no answers.
	He did take in to admire the cars.  Chevys mostly with a few Fords and other lame makes and models.  Old Studebakers and DeSotos were about, too, it was still early that the late model 40s cars were still popular.  
	The prices, the styles of dress, the mannerisms of the people, inasmuch as he had enjoyed his time in the Old West and then in the Depression Era, the time of the mid 1950s had its charm, too.  The quintessential Americana period of time, Uncle Milty on tv, in between “wars”, a good president who was popular and well liked, Howdy Dooty, and a reverence for what was right and wrong.
	August had thought that, too, back in the Depression era, that the sexual frivolity and outlandish debauchery were nill to non-existent.  Very little was he responsible for the shenanigans that occurred there, he had merely been the catalyst for unleashing--er, breaking down the barrier wall that kept those morals in tact and buried.
	He would have never suspected in his wildest dreams (or fantasies) that Olivia Walton would have a sexual tryst with cousin Corabeth!
	Be that as it may--the fifties were different.
	Weren’t they?  He could recall no such bizarre or outlandish sexual fromps occurring during that period--the sexual revolution didn’t occur until the mid 60s!  But still, girls were cute at any age and at any time period.  Mans downfall was constant, no one was immune to a pretty girl with dazzling eyes and creamy skin.  
	At a main street crossing August had a choice--to cross and enter into a residential neighborhood or go into the semi-business area where there seemed to be a popular hangout for teens; a local drive-in called “Arnolds.”
	On a whim--gotta love those whims, August trudged to the popular hangout.  He noted that he didn’t actually “tudge”, he more like “floated” along.  This was new.  Was he “evolving?”  Into what?  He didn’t know if he liked it or not, so far he could still “feel” things, the walls, sign post, corner mailbox.  But not the weather, he didn’t feel “hungry”, either, and that bothered him.  If he was evolving into something other than human he’d rather not, he longed for a nice thick juicy burger, with the works, a hard lemonade, and some pussy (young) on the side.	
	In the parking lot surrounding Arnolds there were a dozen or so hot rods, ‘32 Fords, ‘49 Mercs, early 50s makes, and so on.  One motorcycle.  August was enthralled, in his early years (uh--well, never mind) he had once owned such a vehicle, a vintage Harley.  
	The one at Arnolds was a Harley, nice chrome, leather, big block, semi custom.  Leaning against it was a greaser--er, one of those types sportin’ a DA, a duck butt hair style popular to a “certain” group of peoples in the fifties.  He wasn’t alone, leaning against HIM was a girl, mid teens as was the greaser himself.
	The girl was not a-typical of the fifties girls, this one was--well, a slut.  Super short tight pink skirt with an even tight short pink blouse.  They were kissing (and groping).  A small crowd had gathered to watch the goings on in Broad Daylight.
	August perused the outside area, very-very nice; normally his sights were set on the “younger” fare but this go-round there were teens that were very striking.  The fifties girls had something!
	August presented himself before some girls on the shady side of the popular hangout, they were yapping amongst themselves, giggling and blushing and watching the carrying on of the greaser & the slut.  One of the girls was blushing a deep red, August’s acute eyesight (in whatever form he was in) took to note the teen’s perky nipples.  
	August fondled himself, realizing that he was naked.  He didn’t feel the warm sun, the warm sidewalk, nothing.  But he could feel himself, he could “smell” the girl’s perfume.  He stood right up beside her, facing her; she was WAY pretty.  A simple girl, pleasing to admire, good complexion, presenting herself as all kinds of innocent.
	HA!
	Her sandy brown hair was back in a single pony, dazzling green eyes, sweet looking, perfect white teeth, a delicious smile.  Lightly August rubbed his extended schlong against her hand.  The girl was aware, she was startled and looked about--but nothing more.
	Hmmmmmm
	As per typical of a proper fifties girl, her attire was a long dress, covering the knees, bobby socks, typical fifties style shoes, pose, stance, and ex cetera.  Some thoughts roamed about August’s mind, nothing concrete--he wanted to see her naked, or at the very least in her panties.  But he didn’t see the HeadsUpDisplay of the Device Item.  Had his evolution into something else new disrupted the Device?
	More questions…
	The center of attraction, the greaser and the slut, mounted the Harley and struck off in a roar--much to the displeasure of the gathered crowd who wanted to see some “action” take place.  They clapped and jeered just the same then returned to their mundane drab little worlds.
	The girls August was among continued their own banter, some gushing and desiring to be with “the Fonz.”  August didn’t know what they were referring to, but…
	The grilie group scooted into the restaurant, August followed--he had nothing else better to do.

	Inside there were at least two dozens teens from some nearby high school, high school colors and banners were on the walls, along with pictures of Elvis and James Dean, Brando, and other popular pop icons of the day.
	A jukebox playing the latest fifties music blared in a corner, hamburgers fried in the small kitchen by some short Oriental dude.
	“Boy, that Fonzi, he sure is one lucky guy!” spouted the same phrase throughout most of the teen crowd.  August determined then that the motorcycle fella had been the Fonz.  There, too, was one reference to the slut, “Boy, that Shirley is one lucky girl!”
	August saw his earlier target, the prissy a-typical good girl teen from outside, she chit-chatted with her companions and then made her way to the girl’s bathroom.  She went alone--well, not totally!
	She firstly fussed with her hair, read the latest dirty joke, hefted her young small fifteen-sixteen year old breasts, then entered into a stall for some business.  August didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t seem to “zap” her, to put her into “zombie” mode.  He could spy on her, that was cool, but not enough.
	Her typical white brief panties came to her knees, she leaned forward and commenced “business.”  August heard the unmistakable sound of peeing in progress, followed by a raspberry.  The shy type girl bit her lip, closed her eyes and August knew what she was thinking.  He just knew.  
	Especially when she slinked her hand under her clothing and between her legs.  She began moaning and turning a little shade of red.  She had finished peeing, her mouth opened slightly moving and her hand was “busy.”
	August was miffed, he peered between the crack in the door, over the top from the adjoining stall and from under.  At length he slipped under to be in the same stall, his cock was rock hard and ached, his balls were scrunched and ready for some action.
	Cautiously he inched his cock forward, ’Take it.’ he told her.  He thought the words strongly, then barely made a whisper.  The girl continued “fingering” herself, her nipples seriously becoming erect.  August leaned in, pressing the head of his cock against her cheeks.  The girl did nothing, not until the cock brushed against her lips.
	She suddenly sat back, eyes wide, ceasing fingering, and looking very startled.
	‘Shit!’ he bitched to himself.
	As the girl began using the toilet paper to “cleanse” herself August bitched to himself louder and stronger.  “I wish you’d suck my dick, bitch!” he burbled angrily. 
	The girl sat back again, eyes staring, mouth open, looking about strangely.  Uh-oh.
	August licked his lips and tried to think clearly.
	“Uhm, hello.” he said aloud.  
	The girl didn’t respond, she continued to look about with her pretty dazzling eyes, mulling, chewing thoughtfully on her lips, panties still at her knees.
	“Uhm, er, uhm, hmmmm, what’s your name?” August said for a change of pace.
	“Stacey.” she said quietly.
	Ok--August mulled, he didn’t know, not for sure.  “Uhm, hmmmm,” he was a might confused, but when was he not?  “Uhm, take your panties to your ankles.” he said.
	The girl paused and didn’t comply--not right away.  THEN, she DID, she eased her basic white no-style white brief panties down to her ankles and sat back up.
	‘Works for me!’  then, “OPEN your legs.” 
	Lo and Behold she did.  She sat forward (upon his continuing commands) and raised her dress way up to expose her nudity.  August straddled her legs and brought her hands up to his body, one hand to rub/caress his ass while the other masturbated him.
	“Have you ever given head?”
	The girl shook her head and didn’t quite understand the question.
	“Blowjob, cock suck, suck a guy’s dick!?”
	Stacey’s eyes bugged out, her face reddened deeply and she struggled to concentrate and breathe.  That would be a no.  the concept was even appalling.
	August wasn’t understanding his new power, not right off.  He pulled the girl forward and brought his gangly prick to her luscious lips, pressing forward into her mouth.  Stacey at first resisted, at first, but at August’s insistence and his urgent words, “SUCK ME!” she complied so-so willingly.
	He didn’t cum, but close counts.  He humped her pretty mouth, pulled out and humped her equally pretty face, humped her throat and contemplated checking out her pussy, a pussy he knew would be virginal; suddenly, though, the bathroom door opened and two girls entered.
	“Stacey, you still in here!?” yapped one of her friends.
	“Damn girl, what are you doing in there!?” yapped another.  This only brought about a small uproar of giggles from the invading friends.
	A confounded August stopped his doings and let Stacey be herself.
	The mystified teen took a quick moment to access what had happened, heard her companions and seemed most embarrassed.  Pulling up her panties she yelped out, “I’m coming, I’m coming!”
	“I bet you are!” giggled out one of her friends.
	Stacey blushed even more, wiped her fingers and flushed.

	The music played, conversations flowed, burgers were served.  August mosied about the gang, blatantly naked, jerking off here and there, grabbing some girls’ ass, breasts, pressing his prick against a girl’s face, and making raspberry noises.
	He was heard, felt, smelt, but not seen.
	He assumed that he HAD had some sort of power over Stacey.  To what degree he wasn’t sure.  He needed more testing.

	Test Mode
	In the bathroom of Arnold’s (girls):  Angie, Betty, Christine, and Daphne.  Angie and Daphne were the oldest at sweet seventeen, Betty was ripe at sixteen with Christine the youngest at a pleasing fifteen.  Blond, blond, sandy blond, strawberry blond.  Cute, pretty, damn cute, real pretty.
	The girls came in after gushing and blushing and making eyes at some teen hunks, poo-pooing some other boys who were underclass dweebs.  The subject was sex, of course!  The girls giggled and blushed, oozed & ahhed and yapped amongst themselves (after checking to see if they were alone.)
	August hovered nearby, contemplating, wondering.
	The girls yapped about--”Did you see his BULGE?”
	“I wonder how BIG it is?”
	“Do you think he’s doing anybody?”
	“Do you think he works it?”
	“They ALL work it!”
	August only partly paid attention to their banter, he concentrated on the task at hand, one of which he had less of a clue as to it as he had before previously with his astounding abilities.
	Since he was invisible, and he checked in the bathroom mirrors, the risk was minimal.  He had, though, FOUR test subjects, he would have preferred just one, one at a time and gradually work his way UP to four, or five…
	But anyways, “Okay--” he said aloud, no one paid him any mind, they fussed with their hair, pushed their breasts up, applied makeup and perfume, and yapped endlessly about BOYS.
	“Pull your dresses up.”
	Nothing.
	That sucked.
	Big time.
	‘Fuck!’
	‘Okay, fine,’ he said to himself, “You, Angie, get in a stall.”
	To his mild surprise--compliance!  But he wasn’t sure, not for certain if she was merely complying to his wishes or acting on her own.
	Daphne, Christine, and Betty followed suit, each entering their own separate stall and assuming the position of sliding their typical brief undies down and sitting down.
	To Angie’s stall he came to, mulled, and then, “Open the door.”
	To his thankful surprise the girl did so.  This was something, what he wasn’t sure.  But something.  He stood in the arch of the open stall, masturbating.  “Give me your hand.” he spoke.  Angie stretched out her hand and took his cock, cupping his balls and pleasing him the way he liked.
	This hand action was followed by a blowjob.
	She wasn’t overly opposed.
	“Who have you sucked?” August asked, and casually wondered if his words aloud were being heard by the others? 
	“Jimmy Swoon.” she burbled after popping the cock out of her mouth.
	“Boyfriend?” he surmised.
	“Yes.” she answered.
	“When?”
	A brief pause, “Saturday nite at the drive-in.” naturally.
	“Do you swallow?” he had to ask.
	“Sometimes.”
	‘Sometimes!?’  then, “You suck your boyfriend--a LOT!?”
	“Yes.”
	“Do you have sex with him?”
	“No.”
	The lucky boy DID get to fondle and suck her titties and finger her pussy, but nothing more.  A blow job would do and was enough, so far.
	Jimmy Swoon was the first boy she had ever sucked, she had practiced on bananas, carrots, cucumbers, and string cheese prior to the first suck, she had been a little appalled at the “juice” that shot out of Jimmy’s cock.  Mildly she was aware that boys masturbated, she was mostly aware that they farted and had permanent erections.
	Betty gave HER boyfriend hand jobs until he came off onto her dainty hand.  He, too, like Jimmy, sucked titty and fingered poon.  Nothing more, though.  They kissed passionately and Chuck was almost getting her to get naked with him--Chuck DID get naked in the backseat of his ‘53 Chevy.
	Christine was a pure virgin, no sucking, fondling, or fingering of any kind, BUT she was curious and close to submitting.  But wasn’t sure.  She wanted too, but was afraid of the many complications.  She had brothers, two older and one younger, she had seen them ALL in various stages of undress--including total nudity.  And in turn they had seen her a time or two (or three) just as well.
	Daphne.  Cousin Bart from California had pegged her up the ass when she was twelve, he had been fourteen.  Brother Ford and his best friend she had sucked off when she was thirteen, they were fifteen at the time.  Both fucked her asshole and licked her cunny as well as showered with her, peeing on her while they were within.  Her pussy, though, remained virginal.
	To each of the Test Subjects August was sucked.  He fondled their titties, fingered their poons, spanked them, peed on their poons, and to Daphne and Angie he had them “assume the position” straddling the toilet, hands against the tiled back wall, their panties OFF, dresses up over their waists--August then plowed their backdoors and enjoyed himself immensely.
	Back out into the main room, snagging another burger and helping himself to a malted he was privy to catch a brief convo between a very young girl, too young to be hanging in a teen hangout.  She was so-so pretty, she was a pre-teen, breasts were just beginning, short, curly reddish brown hair, a sharp nose, very round face, and a very high pitched girlie voice.
	She was in company of two boys August had seen earlier, one was a dork the other a geek.  The Dork sported dark hair and a blue sweater with a letter for his prowess as some sort of jock, or a proud upstanding member of the glee club.  
	The geek was the epitome:  tall with serious red curly hair, accompanying freckles, high pitched almost girlie voice when he chortled; he told a slew of off-color and bad jokes one else thought funny but he.
	“Sure, Joanie, I’ll take you home.” spoke up the Dorkus Among-us.  The girl in distress, Joanie, seemed distressed and in a hurry.  The geek was referred to as “Ralph.”  Ralph waved to the two as the left, then went up to the girls just emerging from the bathroom--Angie, Betty, Christine, Daphne--they slapped his face one by one as they made they way by him.  
	“What’d I do?  What’d I do? He sparked rubbing his face, “All I said was ’how’s it going?’”

	He wasn’t sure if it was his Narly Senses or what, but he was sparked to followed the two that had just left, the Dork and the pre-teen.  They were outside hopping into a ’51 Chevy in serious need of TLC.  August hopped into the backseat and cruised along.
	He listened to fifties music, abused himself, amused himself in the backseat checking out the scenery whizzing by him, paying no attention to the convo in the front seat.  There was still this thing about Who he was, er, who he had evolved into, to what degree did it mean, was there any recovery or was he doomed to this new existence?  The HeadsUpDisplay he had been used to previously was now gone, but seemingly replaced by something new.
	He didn’t know if he liked it or not, he didn’t know the dangers or any thing of his new powers.  Good, bad, or indifferent, though--he had little choice in the matter.

				******
	  
	They came into a quaint residential neighborhood.  It was early summer, 1955, somewhere in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.  The Dork driving the car was called Potsie, this known as the car came to a stop in front of a very nice two story home and the pre-teen freckled face girl hopped out piping, “Thanks, Potsie!” 
	Potsie.  He had never in his life heard anyone called Potsie!
	He didn’t know whether to stay and hang with Potsie, or be with the girl.  He shook his head, what was he thinking!  He jumped out just in time as the Dork Supreme sped off.  Joanie quickly made for her house, nice yard, trees, detached garage, green trim on white.  No cars in the drive but a couple of oil stains.
	The girl made her way around the side between the house and garage.  August paused a moment, a might uncomfortable being so vulnerable with no way to conceal himself should something go awry.  At the hedges August came to, looked about and noted the Harley parked nearby.  Hmmmm, yes, indeed--it was the SAME Harley from Arnold’s drive-in.  my, what a co-winky-dink, huh!?
	Joanie fished out a key from a nearby plant and fumbled opening the side-kitchen door.  August said, “Stop!”
	To his surprise she did.
	This day she wore something of some sort of uniform, it was brown, plain, with a green stripe sash.  A brownie scout?  She remained still.  That was something.  He didn’t know what, but it was something.  He moved towards her, mused, masturbated and “touched” the girl--on her butt.
	She didn’t move.  She didn’t shriek, scream, pee, or freak out.
	Hmmmm
	August looked around, saw no one and so chanced it--again.  He raised her short brown straight dress up to expose her rear, he smiled; nice white panties with flowers imprinted on them, one half snuck up the crack of her butt.  August placed his hand on her tush and gave it a brief squeeze.
	“Mmmmm, are you a virgin?” he asked.
	“Yes.” she replied still staring straight ahead to the door.
	Hmmm, this was something--Q&A.  he liked it.
	“No.” suddenly came from the girl.  It caught him off guard, she also farted.

	Carefully he caressed the girl’s butt, slipped a hand inside her panties and cupped nice pert soft cool twelve year old butt, his prong demanded attention and he took her hand guiding it onto his schlong.
	“No!?” he suddenly remembered.
	But before he could get the nifty info, a car pulled up.

	August assumed it was Joanie’s brother, he was semi tall, sandy red haired, blue eyes, fresh face, geeky about 40%, dweeb the remaining.  He drove a cherry red ‘55 Convertible in mint condition.  August stepped aside and spoke “Be yourself” to the hapless girl he had almost shagged right then and there.  
	The girl returned to “normal mode” and chit-chatted with her brother.  They opened the door and entered into the quintessential 1955 Americana suburbia home.
	August followed.
	The two raided the refrigerator, yapped about school, their parents, friends, typical stuff.  Joanie quickly, though, disappeared, “Ritchie” scratched his balls and ripped a nice one in the kitchen, then moved on into the living where he was heard to rip another.
	It didn’t bother August, he found no booze in the refrigerator but some lemonade and fudge.  Good combo.  He helped himself and heard another car drive up.  Moments later a tall woman entered, red haired.  She was okay, not a bad looking dish, typical 50s mom, carrying some bags of groceries.
	She made a face as she “walked into the funk” left by son Ritchie.  Ritchie returned to the “scene of the crime” and helped take some of the bags, they chit-chatted themselves but it was clear that the mom didn’t appreciate walking into the gas bomb, and Ritchie was embarrassed about it.
	August vacated the kitchen and sought out his primary subject.

	He found her, in her room, in her trainer and panties.  The door was open just a crack, August helped himself, waltzing in, seeming “zapping” the girl to his whim by saying, “Don’t pay any attention to the door.” she didn’t.  this was new.
	Well, though she was small in stature, skinny, straight, not an overly pleasing face, not much on the titty department, or any other department, butt bare assed naked she was upgraded to Okay.
	August had her “take off your panties.”  she complied.  “Lay on your bed.” she complied with that, too.  Her room was kind of messy, typical.  Small, a few odds and ends depicting her likes.  After laying out on her bed Auggie got to his knees before her, opened her legs and began noshing.  Her pussy was furry, a light covering concealing her love entrance.  It reeked of urine and “funk.”  August was entranced.
	So entranced that he missed noting whether or not she was virginal!
	After licking until his tongue wore out he crawled up onto the girl and laid his prong against her cunny--and there came a peck to the partially closed secure door--and Ritchie waltzed in.
	“Joanie!” he shrieked.  August got off of the naked girl, Ritchie shot a look out into the hall--then closed the door.
	“What are you doing?”
	Joanie didn’t know.  She was confused.  So was August, sort of.  Ritchie rubbed himself, “Are you crazy?” he yipped.
	Joanie gulped and sat up a little confused and tried to capture what had happened, how she had come to be on her bed.  She noted that her pussy was on fire, she fingered it--with Ritchie her brother right there!
	“Mom & Dad are right downstairs!” Ritchie complained.
	Joanie said nothing, still confused.
	Joanie sat up, most confounded, wrinkled brow--”We’ve done it when they’ve been home!” she chirped.  Oh?  August smiled.  Ah.
	Ritchie said nothing but moved closer to his naked sister.  He cast a check over his shoulder and then worked the zipper down on his turquoise-like jeans.  He fished out his rock hard cock and Joanie leaned to it, gripped it, fished out his furry nads and began SUCKING on the head of his cock!
	Ritchie made some yummy pleasing sounds as he was sucked, ran his hands through her kinky too permed extra curly hair and eased the length of his normal sized schlong into her mouth.  Joanie didn’t object, she latched onto the pecker and slurped it until brother Ritchie began to flex his ass muscles.  His cock jutted into Joanie’s mouth, his eyes fluttered, he rocked and then began straining as he shot wad after wad into Joanie’s mouth.  His gangly cock emerged from her mouth and humped her face, Joanie hauled out his balls and sucked on them, his cock still spurting.
	Someone was coming up the steps, by the lumbering sound it was the daddy who had arrived while August had been noshing Joanie’s pussy.  Ritchie freaked and panicked, there was no way out, he dove into Joanie’s walk-in closet, Joanie quickly began pulling up her panties--just as her middle aged daddy opened the door and saw his baby partially-mostly nude.  He got an eyeful. 
	The door shut hard and Joanie remained standing for a few seconds, Ritchie opened the door and peeked out, “Coast clear?” he whispered.  Joanie was still too stunned to reply.  Ritchie rubbed himself, he hadn’t put his schlong back in where it belonged, it was hard again and glistening.
	Joanie was too freaked out to “do anything” about Ritchie’s condition.  Ritchie fumbled his dong reluctantly back where it belonged, opened the door and peeked out, then dashed to his own room.  Joanie scratched her head, farted, and put on some other clothes and went to the bathroom.

					****

	Spy Games
	Seemed like the thing to do, once more August Moone had found himself residing in a typical Americana home.  The family was the Cunnighams, a nice American family, not overly dull but not overly exciting, either.  August had already learned that Ritchie 16 and Joanie 12 were fooling around with one another.  August prowled about the neighborhood to see who else was doing likewise.
	He watched Uncle Milty on the black & white no remote control tv, marveled at the simple furnishings of the quaint Americana abode, and drooled over the young teen girl Ritchie had brought home to show off to his parents.
	August had a twitch, he was still interested in the house (er, its occupants) and would make the home his staging area.  His “twitch” took him out of the house, it was dark, a cool summer’s night, peaceful and tranquil and 1955.
	He merely crossed the street from the blasé Cunninghams and peeked about the neighboring neighbors.  Here he found goings on going on in the back alley of a two story house, white with yellow trim--yeeck!
	Here in a vitage rebuilt ‘49 Mercury a teenage girl gave her teenage beau a hand job while he suckled on her titties and fondled her between the legs.  Her dress was askew and the girl was making all the motions of one having had her sex being tantalized.
	The hard-up hard-on boy sat back, panting and very close to climaxing.  Gently he put his hand behind the girl’s neck; a pretty thing was she, but appearing all sorts of inncoent-like, a tight yellow sweater, a typical fifties style dress, with panties moved down to her knees.  Sandy blond hair pulled back into a long dangling pony tail.  She beheld a very sweet smile, and it was this smile that “Doug” wanted wrapped about his phallic.
	“Sherry” didn’t seem to want to.  She didn’t out loud protest but resisted being “put into the position” to suck.
	Doug was frustrated, his cock was aching for relief (and not by hand).
	Fine, he tired for a new tactic--maneuvering the girl down in the backseat, working her panties passed her knees.  Sherry wasn’t going for it, she held her dress and undies in place, still silently protesting “going all the way.”
	Poor Doug was frantic and settled for humping her pussy through her clothes.  The girl DID place a hand on his naked ass, rubbed it, but she was a “good girl” and this was all happening too fast.
	Enter the Moone of August.
	He had heard the horny horndog Doug say something under his breath, “I wish.” August mulled, his powers now were quirky, unknown, unfathomable.  He didn’t know what they did or how the did it.  He was as mystified about his doings as anyone else!
	He suddenly became aware that he was IN the car.  How he had done so without realizing it he didn’t know.  He chalked it up to the quirkiness of his new being.  Leaning against the seat to look into the backseat area he noted further that he could see very well, despite the fact that it was virtually pitch black out.
	“Sherry,” he said in a low voice, “calm down.” once more he worked his mysterious magic (aka Device) that was now obviously a part of him.  It had worked well with Angie, Betty, Christine, and Daphne at Arnold’s, and now it would work here.
	Sherry DID calm down, that was a beginning.
	Then, to her hard up horndog boyfriend, “Doug, take her panties down.”
	There was no resistance, now--the basic white brief undies slid effortlessly down her long teenage legs and dangled off of one ankle.  August sighed, this was working, he didn’t understand how exactly, but fuck it, it was working!
	“Doug, take off ALL of your clothes.” then, “Sherry, help Doug get naked.” 
	Sherry didn’t hesitate once, nor Doug.  She helped strip her lover down and then he in turn did likewise to her.  Doug was harder than ever, now.  He did NOT know the pleasures of cunnilingus.  So August helped him.
	It was a glorious sight, Centurion, glorious!  Doug nestled down between Sherry’s legs, licking/lapping happily away at her young tender virginal poon.
	“Pull the lips open,” August urged, “get your tongue to flick the “meat” of her pussy” followed by, “slip your finger into her asshole, wiggle it around, keep licking her pussy, nip/suck her clit.” the whole nine yards of cunt munching.
	It was Sherry’s first suck.  She was a total virgin, she didn’t even finger herself!  (well, that was gonna change.)  Doug was a virgin, too--despite what he bragged to his friends.  His eyes rolled, ass clenched up, Sherry sucked him into orgasm.
	She made several faces, retching and gagging all the way, but the cock never left her glorious mouth.  Doug couldn’t hold it back no longer, he was no longer in control, the juices flowed out of his cock and gushed into Sherry’s mouth, filling it until the goo oozed out of the corners of her pretty little mouth.
	Thereafter they lay in the backseat arms and legs akimbo, groping, fingering, kissing, and recovering.  It was short lived, it didn’t take long for either of them to return to “orgasm mode.”
	Doug had sisters, Sherry had brothers.  Naturally as siblings they had all seen one another in various stages of undress to total nudity.  They had heard one another fart, had seen “wet” accidents, and so on.  But neither Doug or Sherry had had any sexual relationships or any other forms of sexual inappropriate behavior with their siblings--or none to them, either!
	That sort of behavior was reserved for their dates.  Sherry was reminded constantly from both her father & mother about boyfriends.  Doug was given the same lecture from just his father a few times, “be careful and don’t knock the girl up.” 
	There was, however, no time to “wrap that rascal.”  After much ado about heavy petting and groping in the backseat the two horny teens were now ready for the ultimate orgasm--one stemming from sexual intercourse.
	With a little more goading and subtle “help” from August Moone the Unseen, Sherry gripped and then guided Doug’s stud into her body.  She clenched and tightened up her body as the cock entered her, breaching her in tact hymen.  Doug sunk himself into her and relished it deeply.
	August found himself entranced by their actions, they fucked slow and then sped up to fuck fast.  August found himself placing his hand on the teen boy’s bare ass, squeezing the cheeks while he himself humped the seat.
	A tumultuous orgasms sprang from the both of them.  
	They kissed, fondled, more groping, passions not dying or subsiding but reach new plateaus.  On their own they switched, August slipping in a few continuous “suggestions” about how they should carry on afterwards, to continue making love now and then, pleasing one another orally, and so on.
	Though Sherry was a demure girl, a clean-cut proper girl, there was no denying the joys of getting banged--despite the plausible consequences.
	“After you CUM in her pussy, you get down there and clean it up!” August told Doug.  The boy hesitated a bit, but then lapped up the mixed juices of his and Sherry’s, then they went for another go!

	For no other reason than “just simply fucking because” August went home with the still very horny Doug.  Sherry he had walked up to the front door--after pulling the ‘49 Merc around from the alley to the front street.  A brief kiss and then the daddy was at the door--it was two minutes after ten.
	Doug had snagged Sherry’s panties, a rag had been used to clean up the mess from their fucking and Sherry’s broken cunny.  The panties had been used to wipe her cunny after their last fuck.  August had Sherry wrap her panties about Doug’s schlong.  She sucked him one more time but he was empty--and sore.
	At Doug’s home August followed him, he still didn’t know why.
	A light was on, but all had gone to bed.  The house was well kept up, but August saw signs of little kids’ toys here and there, some misplaced socks and underwear.
	Up the stairs and down the hall, Doug pausing to peek into a room whereas the door was partially opened.  August peeked, too, and saw a small nite light on and in a single bed up against the wall was a sleeping little girl about seven years young or so.
	On a whim August “urged” Doug to “check on her.”
	Doug entered the room, closing the door behind him.
	There was another bed in the room, against the opposite side, a twelve year old slept here, she was snoring.  On August’s urging Doug eased down the covers of his sister Amiee, his seven year old sister.
	A two-piece pajama set she wore, Sure Shot Annie Oakley.  With the covers down to her ankles, August further urged, “Take her pajama bottoms down to her ankles--slowly.”
	There was a little hesitation, but there was, however, compliance.
	Aimee’s thin pajama bottoms were eased slowly down to her ankles.
	The sleeping girl lay in plain white kiddie panties, not a snug fit and she had wet in them, too.  “Take off your clothes.” August said.  He was liking the new power--he still didn’t understand it--but he liked it.
	Doug stripped off all his clothes, Sherry’s panties still engulfing his aching but well satisfied prick.  He then sat back down on his sister’s bed and with August still urging him, took Aimee’s hand and had her stroke his organ.
	August then had Doug finger Aimee’s pussy, it was virginal, very virginal.  Doug lightly ran the back of his fingers up and down the slit, then enamored with the young poon went down on her.  He was partially on his own but helped out with his hidden desire by the Unseen.
	Doug got harder and harder, his desire now overwhelming.  “Take her clothes off,” August suggested, “open her legs and lick her pussy out good!”
	When there were signs that the little girl was “waking up” August put her back to sleep.  Doug continued, resting his cock against her slit and humping until he spewed.

	*author’s note:  yep, there’s more--lots more, a few more chapters anyways.  In case yer interested you can email me at simplerecipes@msn.com <mailto:simplerecipes@msn.com>  I’d appreciate any feedback/comments, etc.
	And yes, there IS an end to this epic--you won’t believe what happens, but you’ll have to keep reading to find out!  AND there is a Book II, the Further Adventures of August Moone--unbelievable stuff there, too.  (yeah, I’m just a guy with WAAAAAAY too much time on his hands…)