Original Post Date: Thu, 13 Dec 2001 

                        Disclaimer

This is piece of fiction.  Any imagined resemblance to
people living or deceased is either the result of dementia
on the reader's part or that the reader is, in fact, a
character of this story.   It is assumed that readers of
this story have the permission of the state, mom, dad, and
pastor and are able to tell the difference between real and
make-believe.  Furthermore, the writer is fully aware that
he is bound for hell, but welcomes both praise or/and well
thought out, humourous insults on his writing skill.  Note:
he already knows he cannot spell 'warth shet'.

The events and descriptions of this story are the sole
property of Kenny N Gamera and should not be recorded,
reposted, or profited from in anyway without express
written permission of the person hiding behind that pen
name. Reposting and free archiving will be tolerated given
the writer's name and address remains attached.  Archiving
by Deja.Com and ASSTR/ASSM is assumed and encouraged.

Thank You and Good Day,
Kenny N Gamera
turtlemeat69@hotmail.com

ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/Gamera
ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/Gamera/Beggars_Can't_Be

                 Beggars Can't Be... Part 7
               Whereupon Kenny and Jenny Watch
                            by
                      Kenny N Gamera

(Note to the reader: the following three paragraphs are a
meaningless rant.  Please skip to "So anyway" to get
directly to the story)

   Somehow, (don't ask me how, I don't know how, and I
doubt that I will ever understand how so just leave me
alone about it, sob) we wound up at MacBurgerSlut's.  Mind
you, I really haven't a problem with MacBurgerSlut's in and
of itself.  Sure, they are single handedly responsible for
six hundred and ninety-three percent of all rain forest
acreage destroyed.  I couldn't care less about the
environment; I'm a geologist (okay, a geochemist, but that
is a kind of geologist) and, therefore, a wholly owned
subsidiary of Big Oil, Ltd./Inc.

   Nor do I, thus, have the least concern about the take
over by the global corporate conspiracy.  Hey, I was using
Microsoft(c) Word(tm)  while some of you were still using
WordPerfect(r) (for those younger readers out there, yes
there was once a word processor other than the half dozen
or so that the evil empire bundles with Windows(tm).  Heck,
at one time I not only was the only person I knew who used
Word(tm), some of my friends had never heard of it).
Besides, if you want to live someplace totally isolated
from the greater world economy and therefore live protected
from globalization, I suggest North Korea.

   Nope, none of these reasons explained my fear.  It was
Saturday night.  <pause>   After the Catholic Central
football game.  <dramatic pause>  Jeeze O`Pete, do I have
to spell it out for you.  <irritated pause>  The place was
full of semidrunk, not quite yet totally drunk, drunk, and
completely shit-faced high school kids with carefully
unsubtle emphasis on high to include those who's idea of
recreation failed to include alcohol.

   The rant is over it is safe to start reading again.

   So anyway, Jenny and I walked into MacBurgerSlut's hand
in hand which I thought was peculiar behavior for a "first"
date.  Granted, we had already done the nasty (God, high
school behavior is  catching), but since we were playing
first date we should behave accordingly, part of me
thought.  Fortunately, the reasonable part of me had
already decided to just enjoy it.  It was a "first date" at
MacBurgerSlut's after all.  Holding hands was therefore
perfectly and fittingly high school.

   The parking lot was crowded.  The entry way was very
crowded.  The dining area was completely crowded.  We had
absolutely no problem at all getting to one of the cute
little and bored burger bunnies behind the counter.  A
painfully young one named Stephanie pulled herself away
from her disappointment at being on the wrong side of the
cash register long enough to listlessly take my order for a
patty of ground herbivore with various accessories and
Jenny's order for a salad and diet pop/soda (of, sigh,
course).

   Unfortunately, as I had writen, the dining area was
completely crowded which left the pair of us without a
seat.  We stood together next to the place where one gets
one's straws, napkins, and little packets of catsup.  Jenny
scanned the restaurant (if you could call a fast food joint
a restaurant which I can't see what else to call it since,
as established in a prior, unrelated story, I owned no
thesauri).

   Someone shouted over the general din of not sober teen
spirit, "Ms. Smith" which is (as I now realize that I may
have neglected to inform you, dear reader) the surname of
my darling Jenny.  Flailing my head around, I suddenly
failed to see anything other than teenagers in various
poses of chemically induced non-coordination.  Jenny,
however, succeeded in finding the voice's source.  A tap
against my arm and a finger point later, my overwhelmed
attention was brought to a table full of girls.

   This is after all a sex story, so as not to disappoint
the more dedicated perverts who may have wandered into this
story, I shall describe them in at least general.  They
were all about fourteen and had that fresh attractiveness
which at first excites and then causes massive waves of
guilt and shame (at least in those of us who the phrase
"she is old enough to be your daughter" means something).

   Their dress ranged from the extremely baggy seas of
cloth to almost non-existent, shrink wrap.  Each wore
exactly what she needed to draw attention to what girls
their ages shouldn't be drawing attention.  Their bodies
were still developing but had clearly reached a point of
maturity that told of their collective womanhood.  They
carried themselves with the pride that only a young woman
not yet used enough with herself to develop insecurities
has.

   About the time my thoughts were shifting away from "what
a bunch of cuties" to "they're old enough to be your
daughters," Jenny grabbed my arm and lead me to the table
with the proud announcement, "those are my girls.  Let's go
over and say hi!"

   I let the chance to say something like "you're not old
enough to have kids that old" pass and obediently followed
my tow.  I had no need to start thinking pure thoughts,
because I began to think irritated thoughts associated with
time resented and spent not alone with a new lover but with
people you don't know and she has the need to show you off
to.  The girls moved closer together, and Jenny took the
silent, assumptive invitation.  Somehow, we ended up
separated and I became surrounded by two larval babes,.
Both stared at me in a way that I predicted I would be
subject of a later discussion with lots of drawn out "so"
and much giggling.

   "This is the squad of cheerleaders I coach at Gil
Thorp," Jenny informed me, before introducing each in turn.
Afterward she added to the girls, "girls, this is Kenny
Gamera."

   Since I had spent my time concentrating on wishing we
were at another table, alone and otherwise getting to know
each other and not being displayed to jailbait, I had no
clue of the name of the cute Asian girl who said, "he's
cute.  Is he your boyfriend?" let alone any of the others.

   Jenny looked right at me, making eye contact.

   "Yes."

   Except for two of them in the corner who were too busy
glaring at me, the teens started to giggle.  A wave of
embarrassment with a hint of pride and a slight after taste
of utter awkwardness swept over me.  The conversation
continued around me, while I discovered that, despite my
supposed maturity, I could still shift nervously in my
seat.

   I kept myself distracted by thinking about what Jenny
had said, but the joy I felt continually looked over its
shoulder.  Finally,  my thoughts shifted to a few years
back.  Small, angry memories stomped into my mind causing
joy to retreat whimpering into a corner.  I felt my hand
rubbing along my left leg as the name Gina ran through my
head like a broken hearted postal worker with a brand new
assault rifle.

   "Kenny?"

   Jenny stood next to me, with her hand on my shoulder.
Her eyes studied me as if she were trying to find where the
exit wound was so she could figure out where the entry
wound might be hiding.

   "Uh?"

   "There's a table open," she pointed to where a girl in a
red halter top and cut offs stood.  Memory suggested that
she was late of this table.  "Amber is holding it for us."

   I stared up at her for a moment as the more pleasant of
my current thoughts gathered themselves into enough force
to take the field from those associated with a certain
former girlfriend about whom I do not care to discuss at
the moment.

   "Uh," and after a short pause, I then added, "okay."

   As I stood, the girl to my right touched my arm.  I
jumped which generated more concern in Jenny's look.  I
quickly pulled on a little composure.

   "Yes?"

   "Excuse me, Mr. Gamera.  But do you play chess?"

   Naturally, I replied, "uh?"

   "Just wondering."  She looked sheepish and the other
girls giggled.  "I mean you don't need to, like, answer or
anything.  I'm just, you know, curious."

   I marshaled myself enough to give her a blank stare and
say... well you know...,"uh."

   Jenny in a much better job of not acting not okay.
"Sorry, ladies, I'm afraid pretty girls effect him that
way.  He should be in better operating condition next time
you get to see him."  She grabbed hold of my arm.  "Let's
go, Kenny."

   By the time we had reached the table, I had rejoined
reality enough that I hoped that she would not ask...

   "Are you all right?"

   I looked up to confirm that the girl in the red halter
had left.

   "Yes, I'm fine."  My mouth formed something that one
could call a smile if that particular one was generous.
"Pretty girls do that to me."

   Her expression didn't shout "bullshit" because her voice
did it instead.

   "Kenny..."

   I interrupted, "Jenny, please.  Don't push.  I'm trying
very hard to impress you, right now.  Don't force me to
make you come to your senses."

   She reached out and touched my arm.  I looked down and
stared at where her fingertips lay on my shirt sleeve.
Then I closed my eyes and begged myself not to cry.

   "She hurt the you really badly, didn't she?"

   I shook as the sob I had been trying to hold back made a
mad dash to the outside world and racked my body.  Willing
away tears, I mentally picked on myself.  My first date
since... With a woman that I barely knew, but still loved
deeply.  In a restaurant full of people... Being watched by
a table full of vicious teenagers...

   And I fall completely apart.

   Real sauve, I thought to myself.  Real cool.  No wonder
you're alone.  What woman would ever want a pathetic little
boy like you.

   I felt her fingers move away from their resting place
even as I heard her shuffle from her seat across from me.
I prayed that she wasn't walking away even as my mind's eye
watched her march to the door.  I fought the tears back
wondered how I could escape with at least a little dignity.

   "Move in," Jenny whispered into my ear.  I felt her body
pushed against mine to make room next to me.  "Against the
wall."

   I complied as she snuggled up against me.  Her arm went
around the my shoulder.  Her mouth moved against my ear.

   "Don't worry.  No one is watching us," she told me as
she stroked my hair.  "You're okay."

   God help me, but I let go and began to weep.  Despite
all those rules to which no woman would ever admit
existing, I cried as she held me and whispered assurances.
It made things both worse and better as I struggled with
the knowledge that this little scene only confirmed.  My
body inched closer to hers as I craved the feelings of
comfort even while I feared my weakness was pushing her
away.

   How and where and when the feelings passed, I neither
know nor care.  All that mattered was that, as per normal,
they passed.  I found myself in a crowded fast food joint,
wrapped in a pretty, young school teacher.  I opened my
eyes and stared at the warm salad, the cold burger, and
once shake.  Jenny must have noticed my gaze.

   "Let's go.  You can follow me to my place."

   "But, Jenny... I thought you didn't... and Kim and
Sherry... I..."

   "Fuck that.  Fuck them.  And fuck you.  Preferably all
night."  Her hand went to my crotch.  "Again."

   I looked up.  Surprisingly, few of the teenagers had
paid attention to us.  Of those who had, most turned away
when they noticed that I noticed that they noticed.  One
who had asshole football star all but written all over him
flashed me a thumbs up before returning to his asshole
friends.

   "Looks like some people may be thinking about us later,"
Jenny squeezed my penis through my clothing.  "Let's live
what they're going to be imagining."

   We got up from the table and, all normal like, moved
over to the trash.  I dumped the untouched food.  Jenny
waved to her students.  They looked away giggling as we
walked out the door.  We had parked at the end of the lot
near a couple of near identical Oldsmobiles and with a car,
of that species which parents with almost enough money buy
their teen-aged children to ruin, between us.  Jenny
escorted me to my car.

   Then, she kissed me.

   "Kenny, I..."

   A noise interrupted her.  It had been a gasp, in
particular, the sort of gasp that a girl makes when someone
has done something naughty someway pleasant to her
somewhere.

   We turned to the bushes from whence the noise had come
and could see that the someone who had done the naughty
something to the girl was a girl herself.  They were the
two students of Jenny's who had glared at me earlier.
Jenny grabbed my shoulder and pulled me down to her level.

   She then moved her mouth to my ear and whispered. "Kim
and Colleen.  Let's watch the little sluts.

   If my head were spinning at this point (and trust me,
sibling, it were, yes, it were), it should be excused.  A
few hours ago, I felt happy and content.  A few minutes ago
I was making an utter ass of myself in front of a woman for
whom I had fallen completely; I was sure I had lost her
forever.  Now, I stood against my car watching two young
girls having sex.

   Oh, as for the woman I had just thought I had driven
away, she began kneading my flaccid penis through my pants.
Jenny grabbed my necktie with her not kneading my penis
hand and pulled my face to hers.  She kissed me in a way
that I believe has been described as allowing one to know
for certain that one has been kissed.

   "Watch them, Kenny.".  She released my crotch and
necktie together.  Forcefully, she turned my head with both
hands.  "See those little lesbian lovers.  It's so hot to
watch them kiss."

   I numbly complied with her instructions.  They were both
brunette and of the same height.  One had, however, the
natural slender build that anorexic girls kill themselves
for.  The other had the normal sexiness that women don't
realize men love.  They hadn't progressed far into their
passion.  We had caught them hugging and kissing, making
out not quite yet making love.  The thin girl's hand
wandered along the overturned heart of her friend's butt.
The other hand moved beneath the back of the girl's short
top.  I watched the cloth move as the hand fumbling with
the only thing it could be fumbling with: a bra strap.

   Part of me knew that I sure as hell shouldn't be
watching.  Another part said something to the effect of
shut the fuck up and just enjoy the show.  Another part
tried to figure out what was going on.  The most part just
felt to numb to care.

   A little part wondered why I wasn't getting hard.

   Jenny moved behind me.  Her hands grasped my shoulders
and kneaded them in time with the swirls the thin girl made
on her friend's breasts as she expressed not young love but
a desperate young lust.

   I remembered the frustrations, the hopes, the confused
needs, wants, and desires.  Memories flooded my mind,
memories of emotions mistaken for love by minds too young
for their bodies.  I relived, for a moment, the rejection
and the naive angst that followed.

   The short top came off.  The bra fell away.  In the soft
light of the nearby neon lamp, I saw my very first teenage
tit.

   I shut the fuck up and enjoyed the show.

   Jenny sucked in her breath.  "God, it's so different
than when they're in the shower.  Look, Kenny, at how hard
Colleen's nipples are."

   The shirtless Colleen threw her head as the thin girl...
Kim... moved down from her red lips to the pink crowns on
the peak of her breasts.  Colleen's face was clearly Irish;
I could almost recall that her eyes had been green.  I let
myself imagine her dressed as a peasant girl, her head
thrown back as it was then, but instead ready to accept my
penis in her mouth.

   Jenny moved her hand away from the massage and gently
slid her fingers along my arms.  I slumped down against the
hood of one of the Oldsmobiles, bringing my ears close to
Jenny's mouth.  Her teeth bit into an earlobe.  Blood began
to make its way into my penis.  Jenny's hands returned
there as well.  She began to fondle me gently through the
fabric of my slacks as her tongue explored my earlobe.

   "God, Kenny, you're getting so hard.  Is it Colleen's
titties?  Do you want to have her?"  Jenny whispered with
soothing  hoarseness.  "Or is it the thought of two girls
together?  Is it that, Mr. Gamera?  Do you want to hide in
their closet as they make each other cum?"

   When my penis twitched at the thought, she bit my ear
again.  We watched Colleen's hands slide beneath the front
of Kim's tee shirt.  Her arms pushed up the material,
exposing two small breast almost as perfect as Jenny's.

   "Yes, you want them both; you want to be the man in the
teenybopper lesbians' closet."  She continued to whisper,
her mouth holding station close to my ear.  "Just imagine
them together, eating the other out, making each other
cum."

   Kim returned to kissing Colleen's lips.  Colleen pulled
her into a strong embrace.  The tightness of the hug held
her shirt up allowing Colleen to rub their nipples
together.  Colleen moved her free hand down to slip it
under Kim's skirt.

   Jenny continued to masturbate me one handed through the
material of my slacks, as she worked my zipper down with
the other.  She stopped long enough to reach inside and
pulled my penis around from my underpants and into the
night air.

   "Can you imagine Kim down on her knees in front of
Colleen?  Not suspected that you are watching or that she
is getting her best friend ready for her first dick."  She
let out a soft moan.  "I can tell that you are ready,
Kenny.  Ready to fuck Colleen's virginity away.  Making her
a woman

   "Would you like that, Kenny?  Would you like to make my
little student into a real woman.  Not just another lesbian
bitch who hasn't a clue about what she is missing."

   Kim pushed Colleen away and leaned back, arching up
against her arms.  She sat Indian style, which had pulled
her skirt up to a greater than indecent level.  Her shirt
fell, however, since her small breasts were unable to hold
it up.  I longed to see them again, but just for a moment;
Colleen leaned down and brought her face to Kim's crotch.

   "Watch her eat the little slut for you, Kenny.  It'll be
wet and ready for your cock.  And soooooo hot around it.
And tight.  Have you ever had a teen virgin?

   "They're so tight and hot, Kenny."

   Colleen continued to lick at Kim; Jenny pumped my dick
with one hand as her other played with my testicles.  The
also rubbed her chest against my back.

   "Oh, I can feel that you want them so bad.  You want
them.  You want to fill them up with your spunk."  Jenny
stuck her tongue in my ear and then continued with the
fantasy, "God, they're so sexy, and as Kimmy comes, you
step from the closet.  They are scared and cry and beg.
'Please, Mr. Gamera, please don't tell.  We'll do
anything.'

   "Would you like that Kenny?"

   Kim stretched back even more.  This gave Colleen more
room to bob her head beneath her lover's skirt.  Jenny
continued to masturbate me slowly.  Every worry left my
mind as my body shook.  My eyes closed.  My dick grew tense
as I fought the urge.

   "Colleen," Jenny whispered to me instructions for the
teen we were watching.  "lick that cunt for my boyfriend.
Get it good and wet so Mr. Gamera can fill her with his
cum.  My cum.  Yes, Kimmy needs Mr. Gamera to fill her up
so Ms. Smith can have her cum."

   Jenny went back to talking to me in her fantasy.  "Fill
that little slut, Kenny.  Fill that lesbian cunt with your
man juice.  Your lesbian girlfriend wants to eat it from
her cunt."

   The word `cunt' was too much.  I blasted out.  Just a
little, however, which did not surprise me giving the
activities of the night before.  If anything, I was
surprised with how much Jenny was able to bring out of me.
I was also surprised when Jenny moved in front of me and
licked my it from the hood.  She looked up and opened her
mouth.  Maybe a teaspoon of my ejaculate sat on her tongue.
She closed her mouth and swallowed.

   She looked me straight in the eyes.

   "You can't have them; they don't want you.  They don't
know better.  But if they did, they still couldn't have
you, Mr. Gamera."  She reached over and kissed me.  I could
taste my bland, salty fluid on her tongue.  "You belong to
this bi-sexaul slut, and you are hers and hers alone."

   I stared.  She had a stern expression.

   "Listen, I don't care what happened to you.  Or even
what her name is.  Get over it.  Don't mope, take me home,
and fuck the hell out of me."

   I heard what sounded like a thump from inside the Olds
that I leaned against.

   "What's that?"

   "Kenny, I don't know and don't care."  She stood and
pulled me up as well.  "Let's get back to my place."

   She left me to repack my dwindling asset and went around
to her car.  Quietly, she stepped into it.  In fact and
despite her energy, our whole exchange had been quiet.  The
two girls had never become aware of our peeping.  Or maybe,
we had been quiet enough that they could pretend.  Which
ever case, Kim had begun to return Colleen's favour as
Jenny pulled out of her spot.

   I retreated into my car.  As I began to back from my
parking space, my lights shone into the teen wreck that had
been between Jenny's and mine.  In it, the meaty football
player raised a pint bottle in my direction.

   A salute.
